Sunday, September 11, 2011

09/11 Sunday

I have absolutely no point of reference for 09/11 other than it was a terrifying day and one that has brought our nation and the world to it's breaking point. I hadn't been to NY, I had pals in NY but I have no real point of reference and I certainly don't have the right to address our nations darkest moment in my stupid little blog today. It's not my place.

In complete contrast to the extreme sadness I feel today, I'd like to share three "it could only happend to me and Lucy" stories -

Story 1: About 6 years ago, I got all dressed up and headed off Cape Cod to meet a new friend in Providence. I had on a white blouse, blue Danskos, my favorite blue and white batik cotton wrap skirt on and put all my crap in my new blue cordoroy backpack. Being about 40 lbs lighter than I am now, I felt as confident as a queen. My confidence and I parked the car, marched up to the capital building, marched aroudn the capital building and, not finding my new friend, marched down towards the park. Stll unable to find said friend, I marched over to the train stationa nd then over to Providence Place, the city's upscale mall.

Being spring time, it was still a tad chilly and my skirt was a little thin so my bottom was a chill but I marched along like a little trooper looking for my friend. Along my hike I heard a number of people kinda giggling but it was a nice day, one of the first good days that season and I attributed the giggles to people being happy. It was a fantastic day to be in Providence. The buildings glowed with sunlight. Everyone was chatty and out appreciating that beautiful day in the city.

At some point in my walk, I realized I needed to adjust my backpack which had been bouncing up and down at the base of my back and needed to be adjusted because it was becoming uncomfortable. So I grabbed the base to adjust and felt a stack of cotton was at that point that I realized that, with each little bounce, my backpack had been grabbing my skirt and hiked it up till I was mooning everyone behind me.

Story 2: A couple of years ago, my first spreing day in New Bedford, I set out to explore the north end of my new city. Again, being spring, I felt like a million and got dressed up in my little brown, wrap around skirt and headed out. The skirt ties at the side and tends to flap a bit in the back which usually causes wind to flow thru so I didn't really notice when and where the tie came completely undone till the skirt flew open, whipped off and nearly hit the sidewalk in front of my new Latin American market.

And that brings me to yesterday...

The finale: Yesteday I had to head to UGLY Gallery to pickup a couple of paintings that were still wet from my live, in gallery painting the day before. I threw on a t-shirt and an old skort (men's swim trunks made into a skirt) that I'd made about 6 years ago and off I went. I walked Bugsy up to UGLY but no one was home so walked him around downtown, chatted with a couple of friends, went to the grocery store and  stopped by the UGLY neighborhood again. Fiding the door locked, I took Bugs for another walk, grabbed my truck and finally met up with Jeremiah at UGLY who had a gallery full of people.

I picked up one painting, dropped it at the house, drove back, picked up the other painting, chatted with J and some of his vistors, drove home, droppped the 2nd painting at the house. A little while later I went back to the gallery met another UGLY friend, hung out and chatted and eventually headed home to change for a volunteer gig in  Pawtucket.

Now, I made the skort about 6 years ago. And although it isn't one of my favorite skorts I do wear it. I've worn it to work, to the movies, on hikes, in the water...pretty much everywhere. But yesterday, for the first time, as I was taking my skort off, I noticed the back end was never really finished. I'd pinned it together, at some point, but never sewn it up. And when I say pin, I mean I stuck a single saftey pin thru two pieces of fabric barely holding the back together - really, it looked like an unsecured tent flap and, when I walk, it's kinda like a precarious tent flap in a wind storm. I'm not sure how many people got to see my behind (encased in pantyhose) yesterday but I'm pretty sure a few people from the mayor's office got a gander as I was confidently walking away from one of our two breezey sidewalk conversations.

Oh Lucy, we should stick to wearing pants.

1 comment:

  1. You are not alone. A long time ago when I was single and living in my apartment, I was taking a nap when my landlady came unexpectedly and knocked on my door. So I jumped out of bed and pulled on the first shirt and skirt that came to reach on the floor next to the bed. She had brought someone to fix something or look around the apartment I don't remember. I let them in and took them through the apartment. I heard them giggling behind me and couldn't figure out why. After they left I discovered that I had a 42DD tail hanging down my backside from my waistband. Apparently the hook of the bra had caught on the waistband when I pulled the skirt on.