Get comfy-here we go into part 2 of the Pink Door. If you missed part one click here first.
The feel of weathered metal, the anticipation of the unknown and the sound of her breath hot and damp filled the space between her ears. Her hand began to tremble as the creaking door inched it’s way to an open stance. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. The smells were faint but somewhat familiar. A scratchy voice beckoned her to a back corner, softly bathed in a crystal glow.
One foot in front of the other, slowly making her way to a soft velvet chair. She looked into the face of deep character and darkened eyes. The gesture of a hand and the mumer in voice caused this woman to lend her palm for further examination. Words fell to a whisper as her eyes became fixated on the pale pink lips that had lost their supple shape. Her ears burned as the passionate tales of an old soul and her lover swirled round and round until her mind was full and half a day was spent. The essence of vanilla bean and dark cocoa lingered as insightful words trailed off and the light of day pierced her eyes. She squinted and took a deep breath of smug city air with a sigh of relief. This act of poor judgement and indulgence of curiosities had not caused her demise, in fact it was a pleasant way to pass the time. But now the light of day was falling and it was time for her daily transformation to commence. Just as she began to remove the pointy red shoes it happened. Her exit from the city was blocked. An unfortunate accident had closed off the freeway and forced her to detour from route.
With eyes like saucers and a heart beat that threatened to leap from her chest she noticed the similarities to the tales that were spun all afternoon. The afternoon’s images, so intricately described, began to unfold right before her. She passed the lemon tree which sat on a corner just past a white picket fence that contained a small child in blue cotton dress, chasing her tiger striped kitten. Just past the lemon tree was a familar old man walking his dog, the very same black and white dog described to her earlier that day. He was pointing to a drive just a few feet ahead. This drive led to a diner with a Moroccan blue door just like the shack that the mysterious old soul had described as the place where she met her “true love”.
The car swirved off the road and parked right up front. She entered the diner and took a seat on a stool at the counter. While enjoying her second cup of turkish coffee she noticed the essemce of vanilla and the bitter taste of dark chocolate lingering on her tongue. A chill rolled down her spine as the burn of a stare on the back of her neck quickly stole the moment. Slowly, very slowly, she turned to engage the eyes that remained so intently focused on her shape. Her chest tightened as her throat let out a tiny gasp. The dainty cup filled with her delightful brew fell to the floor and shattered the silence. Those eyes, those hauntingly beautiful eyes, that hair, that dark wavy hair…
Don’t miss the conclusion of this tasty little tale coming very soon. I think I’ll go grab myself a dainty cup of coffee. Cheers…
She was the kind of girl who had it all; poise, confidence, beauty and charm doesn’t require a man. Her high heels and polished suits pounded the pavement by day while her bare feet and free spirit danced in the garden by night.
Her gypsy soul was responsible for creating a special place unseen by others. It was private yet free and uninhibited. It was the only place that she had ever, really, felt like herself. It was the kind of place where a girl could go to be completely alone, which was just the way she liked it. She had created a dual life- a business woman who earned a good living in the city by daylight and then disappeared into the country without a trace after dark. In the darkened sky, just before the moonlight, this woman became a girl. A young spirit with no identity, no responsibilities- just freedom and bliss.
Her professional and personal life were completely separate . It seemed as though she lived two completely different lives, each with it’s own unique personality. This switch in persona happened the moment she pulled off those heels. The business hair came down, her make-up was off and all clothes were free flowing or not at all. She lived in the garden and talked to the plants which bore the most succulent fruits. Each bite became sweeter than the last and every night the juice slid down her chin and onto the dirt floor. She bathed in a waterfall that feed a restful pond on the edge of a garden, filled with candle light and music. She danced without thought, she slept deeply, and she ate whatever she wanted. There were no rules in this garden, just colorful birds and fragrant flowers. This woman never seemed to age as her dual life went on for years without any reason for change. Her life was beautiful and perfect outside the pink door.
It was a Wednesday and it felt like a day no different from any other. After she dressed in a business suit, and red heeled pumps, her hair went up into the perfect twirl and off she went. The city was hot and noisy but her day was uneventful, yes, very uneventful, until she reached the pink door. This weathered old door with chippy paint and a slightly rusted metal handle would change everything. It would send her world into a tail-spin and make her question every inch of her life. It would threaten the gypsy girl who danced away the night and make this confident woman question her judgement. Opening that door seemed like a ridiculously stupid thing to do but something was calling her to it. This force unseen tugged at every fiber of her being and a voice from the other side seemed to utter her name in a whisper. Although curious by nature, she was always cautious and remained very private, but the voice kept calling and calling. She cupped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes but the voice never stopped and the temptation grew stronger. Will her hands be forced to touch the rusty patina and open that door?
Will she open the pink door? Libby said she would. I would. Would you? That’s all we have time for today. Come back later, or you’ll miss the rest of my story. Have a great weekend my friends.
With the change in season comes a change in wardrobe. That’s when my inner Shopping Goddess rears her ugly head. She is a complete Diva and refuses to settle for what’s on sale. There are alot of great deals out there on very wearable items. This Diva turns up her nose on what everyone else is wearing and insists on her own style.
Well I have news for her. This girls on a budget and needs a compromise. So instead of a cyber trip to Anthropologie for a $108.00 beach hat, we went to Target and got this…..
This simple hat is perfect for the beach and cost less than $10.00 on sale of course. Well I’m afraid that no self-respecting Goddess would be caught dead in something as generic as this. I said compromise right? Well here’s what I did and it only added $8.00.
I took a few pieces off a vintage hat to sew on the brim and then raided my junk jewerly for a few embellishments to hang on the antique ribbon around the middle. The big flower on top is part of a head band from Forever 21 and retails for $8.oo. I pinned it to the top. For a more casual look you simply remove it.
My next spring fashion project, was a worn out moon stone ring that I transformed into this…..
I took a .25 cent craft tile and glued it on top for a funky look which beats the $118.00 version at Anthropologie.
That same inner Godess that’s makes me such a rebel inspires my Chic Geek to work her magic.
It’s never too early to learn how to look designer fabulous on a dime store budget. Here’s my little Diva in training…..
At this age it doesn’t take much to look good. A pair of Christmas PJ’s paired with a tee shirt and cotton skirt from Target and she’s picture perfect.
Spring is here but it doesn’t have to cost you dearly to look good. Shop your own closet, first, for pieces and parts that you can incorporate into something new with a designer look.
Okay that’s my fashion editorial for this season.
Shopping is my favorite sport! She shops, she buys, she scores
What’s in your closet?
Shhhhh! Are we alone? I hope so because I am about to reveal a secret that’s meant to stay just between you and me. I have a secret longing or obsession you might call it. It’s not anything dirty and no I’m not a serial killer. But it is kind of weird and lately it has been driving me crazy. It involves my insane curiosity and a love of vintage bubbles and old weathered buildings. This fetish has caused me to engage in several drive-by shootings. I’ve been caught lurking while on foot in the past and told that I can’t photograph this place. As strange as this sounds, the words ”you can’t” only makes me want to do it all the more.
The weathered red doors and thick wavy glass call my name. It beckons my car to drive across the old cobbled bricks and take it’s picture and then this quiver takes over my body and I yearn for so much more.
What I really want- is to see what lies beyond those antique doors and rusted panes. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of old chairs and vintage light fixtures hanging from the old wooden beams. My heart beats out of control and it’s all I can do to keep myself from pulling over and running for an unlocked door. Hell I’d even climb in a window if I thought I wouldn’t get caught. Just this afternoon as I drove past the crumbling bricks, covered in ivy, I saw something that tempted me beyond restraint. I quickly pulled my car to a halt and began to unbuckle so I could take advantage of just the moment I had been waiting for. It was an open door. I had to beat on my chest to bring back my own breath.
What do you see inside the door? I know there are treasures just waiting to be seen and they lay just beyond that door. The lofty architecture of old buildings makes my head spin and the thought of vintage furnishings left untouched sends me over the top. I slipped on my darkest sunglasses and wrapped a scarf around my head but before I could open the car door, it happened. That damn landlord came poking his head out and started toward me. You can bet I started her up and put my foot on the gas. I pulled away as quick as I could and never made eye contact.
Why do I do this? It’s not a crime to drive down that cobble path. Some of the old mill has small business tenants. Why can’t I simply ask for a tour? The very same thing that draws me to this place also makes me reluctant to ask for a deeper look. This place makes me crazy and I am desperate to know what lies behind her walls. It’s an obsession that grows stronger with every year. I think I remember entering the front building for a furniture sale when I was a young child but I can’t be sure. I vaguely recall huge cement steps that were hard for me to climb. Maybe I saw something that intrigued me then or perhaps I am afraid to dismantle the fantasy- of me in all my glory- finding weathered treasures and vintage bubbles left behind. I have even dreamed about it. Maybe I just know deep down that this ridiculously crazy fetish needs to be laid to rest, once and for all.
Do you see what I mean about the shadows that are cast just inside the windows? Are you intrigued? Am I the only one who has crazy obsessions or do any of you have secret desires that pull you in like a magnet, for no apparent reason? Do you think I am a bit strange or is there more to this calling? Leave me your thoughts on this- I need to know!
Fingers flying , eyes crossed, and brain flickering- I’m back. My computer is patched up and ready for another cyber adventure. The keyboard is a little dusty but no matter.
My soul has been refreshed and my mind filled with inspiration. A computer melt-down allowed me time to rejuvenate with nature.
I spent time in my sleepy garden, looking for signs of spring. The snow is gone and the tulips are just beginning to poke their heads from beneath the soil. Amidst their silence is a vibration of over-whelming energy just waiting to be released.
The sun is shining through little embellishments placed here and there and the nakedness of the trees is masked by a glow of light that warmed my face.
As I ventered down the path that led me past the pond, I came to an open field filled with remnants of a long winter and a few hopeful signs of spring.
I found myself in a curious state similar to the days of my youth, as I set out to explore what lay beyond my garden gate. (These days I travel fully armed with my camera and accompanied by my fury friends, who never pass up the chance for a walk outside the yard.) I was surprised by the variety of things I experienced along the way, all the while the birds sang and the geese chanted. If you close your eyes you can hear the echoing sky in your ears and feel the crisp March air bite at your cheek, but no worries, the sun is peeking out just in time to ease the chill.
The carnage of life’s past wasn’t limited to skeletal remains. This old convertible was scattered about the field and reeked of vintage charm. Much like the bones I found, these pieces were mangled and scattered amongst the weeds.
I was intrigued by the faded green paint and weathered leather. I could just imagine the feelings of pleasure it brought to a young teen as he revved the engine in the middle of Main Street.
An empty nest waited for a new family to arrive, while emerging buds began to pop.
As the afternoon rolled in and the drizzling cold of the morning began to fade, I heard the most amazing sound. It was just like the snap, crackle, and pop sometimes heard when milk is poured on a bowl of crispy cereal. As I looked high and low for the origin of that mysterious crackle, a smile came over my face.
The magic of the sun had forced the pine cones hanging over head to burst open one by one in a joyful explosion. Their sticky aroma filled the air with a heavy scent of Pine Tar. It may sound simple or somewhat insignificant to some but to me it was an amazing feat in nature. I felt alive and so much a part of the Earth and her secrets.
As my journey came to an end and the path led me back to my own garden gate, I felt privileged to be reminded of how amazing life is.
With all the extra hardship surrounding many of the people we care so much about or maybe even yourself, a little mending is in order. To those who are struggling today, I send a hug sealed inside a bubble of hope, floating your way.
Take some time to pamper yourself and don’t neglect your inner child.
Don’t be afraid to indulge just a little. I assure you, you’re quite worth it!
Life is much more exciting and a little softer when seen through the eyes of a child.
Be sure to take the time to experience the good things that life has to offer and remember- as long as you have breath there is hope!
It’s good to be back.
FYI to all my sofa diary friends. My computer went poof after my previous post about magic. So guess what…. I haven’t been able to work- no work- hmmmm, not so bad. I think my computer took the whole fantastical fun thing to heart and gave me what I wished for. Magic? maybe not be awefully ironic, don’t yah think? I’ll be back as soon as my computer is fixed or replaced if deemed terminal. Love ya all- now talk amongst yourselves till I get back. Oh yeah, be careful what you wish for
( a cool August evening over the pond- shot from my bathroom window)
The spark of excitement and the essence of change floating is around you in the form of tiny sparkles. Sometimes things are just more beautiful and vast than words can describe. It is as if there is another realm of existence that we refuse to see. It existed long before we were grown and could be seen perfectly through our childhood eyes. The spirit danced around us and we refused to give up on the magic. Take a moment and float in that bubble of all things fantastical and possible. Let yourself believe in a world that sparkles and a light that dances in your presence.
(A magical sunset over the ocean)
Do you remember those days as a child when the realm of the fantastical was part of your every day and anything was possible? Make me a promise to never lose sight of your fairy tales and dreams. Don’t forget that you matter and are special. Don’t let life drag you down and take away your dreams, your magic, your life. Let go of the things and people who drag you down. Cherish the life you’ve created for yourself.
Great things can happen when you truly let go and allow your whimsical, fantastical self create. Yesterday I did just that and what transpired took my breath away. My vision of a world of peace and colorful happiness developed into this beautiful necklace.
( My new creation modeled by the Garden Hare)
The secret to this recipe is that it is absolutely free. Magic is all around us. Be adventurous and take a big bite, let it roll around on your tongue, taste the essence of freedom and savour the flavor of success. Let your intuition be your guide into the world of possibilities. So burn your to do list and bury your stress this is your day….Enjoy!
Here is a little fun in photos for a peaceful Wednesday. I thought I would start you out with a spiritual image I shot in early morning and then move right into the haunted hotel.
I live across town from an old campground where I occasionally go to walk and snap a few pictures. One of the dilapidated buildings on the property leaves me with some very peculiar photographs that I can’t explain. Take a peek and tell me what you think.
This is an untouched photo from just outside the window of an old hotel taken in the early evening. What ever caused this phenomenon made it an interesting shot.
This is a shot a few feet away from the window. It’s a creepy old building and wasn’t in use at the time. Walking through this campground is like taking a step back in time. It’s full of old cottages/shacks and there’s lots of breathing room. It’s a great place to walk and absorb a little quiet solitude.
Just an old cottage along the path. Tell me what you think about my mid week muse. Have a peaceful Wednesday.
Slums of Mumbia India
What is it about human nature that forces us to look at the suffering of our fellow human beings? We have an intense need to gawk at the scene of an accident, a bubbling curiosity to drive through the worst neighborhoods to view the belongings of evicted tenants strewn on the lawn, and a deep lust to read about the struggles of our blogging friends. Is this simply human nature or something else. Have we been conditioned by the continual onslaught of violence that the media crams down our throat? Maybe we’ve been desensitized by the evening news and the constant reminder of how tragic the world has become. Do we tune in our ears and affix our eyes without even realizing ,or do we make a choice?
I can only speak for myself when I say that I have a wander lust to travel to remote countries and witness the human condition. The power of witnessing people at their rawest form gives off some sort of romantic notion. Real people raising their families and surviving against all odds is inspiring and somehow magic.
How did I get this way? I never stopped to think about that ,nor did I even realize I felt this way, until I viewed the recent phenomenon called “SlumDog Millionaire.” It is an extraordinary film of brilliant, up in your face, cinematography and a Bollywood soundtrack too good to miss. This modern day Cinderella tale takes you inside a world too painful to imagine and yet so breathtakingly beautiful in color and culture. I found myself falling in the love with this film very early into the picture and yet I still wondered if it was innate human nature or learned behavior that made me and so many others feel this way. I’m not sure that I can explain why I was so taken with this film. It was intense at times and in other moments slipped by like a ripple in the water but each and every second was just as captivating as the last. The characters lent you their emotions without you even realizes the exchange had taken place. It was seamless and when the movie ended you felt good. A modern day fairy tale told with a twist. I loved it!
Some have accused writer Simon Beaufoy of exploiting the people in the slums of Mumbia and criticized the name Slumdog. They claim the word dog is demeaning to the people of India but he claims it is only a shortened version of Underdog. Has he exploited the people of India? Have we voyerized their existence? I have to admit that upon my return home from the movie I wondered how true to culture he’d been. I quickly googled the Mumbia slums and found that the images were true. The sights and sounds of this movie are the real thing, no mistake. Does that make it okay?
I loved the movie but I can’t answer the question of whether this film trivalizes the struggles of the people of Mumbia nor if this kind of fairy tale makes us forget what tragic conditions many people around the world or just outside our front door are forced to endure. Is it right to be curious? Is it okay to look? Is this what makes us human?
I have no doubt that most of us have been voyerized because of our religion, a scar on our face, a limp in our walk, or the old beater we are forced to drive. We have also been on the other end of the spectrum as the voyee.
Ghetto/slum of Detroit, Michigan
Although I am a voyeur who enjoys this type of look into the human condition, I’m afraid to let myself get too close and feel their pain. It’s easy to look from a distance without getting close enough to smell the garbage rotting on the street but my view may have to change. I was recently asked to get closer to the streets by monitoring at risk children and becoming their court advocate. I want to step forward and lend a hand, but I don’t know if I can take it. I am afraid to feel too much; it might hurt a little and make me think a lot. This would mean that I couldn’t turn my head when it got really ugly or walk away when the smell got too strong. I would have to become more than just a voyeur; I will have to be involved. Do I have what it takes? Can I use my moxy and curious nature to help children who can’t help themselves? I’m ecstatic and terrified at the same time. I haven’t made a decision yet but stay tuned to find out.
Dance scene jai Ho