Sunday, October 29, 2006

the darker side of tea tins




i woke at 6:50 a.m. today. i dreamt i was skipping along a wall with my pet topiary tiger. on one side were rolling, vibrant green hills, the other a bit of dirt & sand then a cliff that dropped to an ocean i couldn't see, only hear. by all accounts it was a good dream, we were enjoying ourselves - me & my little pet topiary- i think he was a boxwood. perfectly groomed, glossy little green leaves & the occasional tiny white bud. now that i think about it, i don't believe boxwood's have little white buds- but i don't know for sure & it's irrelevant. we were having fun & neither of us plummeted to our death over the cliff. sometimes when i would stop to look at the hills or to listen to the water he would jump into my arms & the wind would whip my hair about my face getting tangled in his branches but we didn't care & just stood there in a peaceful reverie i know very little of in waking life.

and then i woke up & sophie, my real flesh, blood & fur cat was sitting by my side staring at me intently. (yes she is back from her excursion into jack's bedroom the other night.) i stared at my walls & ceiling & counted the different shades of blue cast by shadows & reflections: 33 very distinct & 9 somewhat more subtle that only half count because i wasn't wearing my contacts & couldn't really tell if they existed or my eyes were just out of focus. things are a bit fuzzy in my bedroom at 6:50 in the morning.

i decided to call the parentals & tell daddy-o garlou happy 59th birthday. receiving a phone call from their middle child so early in the morning nearly killed both of them & the first 10 minutes of the conversation i light-heartedly reassured them that i wasn't calling from jail, i wasn't in the hospital & NO, i wasn't just getting in. i told my dad i had set my alarm just so i could freak him out on his birthday. oddly enough, that made perfect sense to them & we moved on to bigger & better topics which included but are not exclusive to: the house my brother & his wife just put a bid on, the weather (tshirts here- snow there), my 18 month old nephew austin & his 16 very sharp teeth, my boxwood topiary tiger, jack, work & a 'girl named sue' who always segues into the subject of professional ice skating this time of year... it doesn't matter if i AM calling from jail or a hospital bed. that 'girl named sue' of course, is my mother & the woman LOVES men on ice (however she hates it when i call her 'girl named sue'... along with 'suzette ye old croquette' & "SUUUUEEEEEEY, here pig, pig, pig!"... just so you know).

umm, where was i going with this? i don't think i had a plan, i'm just bored & rambling. anyway, i finally dragged my butt out of bed & unsure of what to do with myself so early on a sunday i wandered around the house for a little while thinking about colors. i am currently obsessed with laduree green. i want to paint my kitchen the color of their tea tins, the green just along the shadowed side where the tin curves & it's a bit darker- a slightly more subdued shade of pistachio macaroon green... it's heavenly- not quite mint, not quite sage, not too bright, not too muddy. just perfect. finding it pre-mixed has not been easy & my house is littered with hundreds of paint swatches tacked to the walls. sometimes i just sit in the middle of the room & stare. but none of them touch me quite the same way as the dark side of that pretty little tin of tea. i've considered moving to paris just to be closer to my beloved laduree green.

i finally settled in my dressing room, sitting cross legged on my chaise i made faces in the vanity mirror for a good 15 minutes & watched my neck tendons move. when itunes switched from french chanteuse to ballet music i decided to make the best of it & did my barre & floor stretches- still clad in a pair of boxer shorts & the super secret shirt no woman in the world is supposed to own much less let touch her skin. it made for a nice juxtaposition: a downed messerschmitt on my chest & pointe shoes on my toes together for the first time ever doing a pas de deux for one.

by the time smetana's 'the moldeau' came on i was over being physically active & retired to a long hot bath in the dark where i thought about new york. smetana always makes me think of new york at christmas. you can be the biggest hardcore cynic in the world, but unless you are dead & soulless - you can't walk through that park in the early evening after a light snowfall without knowing you are in one of the most beautiful places in the world. with the street lamps burning & the trees lit with 1000's of little lights it's exactly as i always pictured the ice palace built for empress anna ioannovna. when i was a little girl i was had wildly romantic notions of tsarist russia & i never quite got over them. the moldeau brings those memories to the surface unlike any other classical piece. thank god my parents had a vast & fervent love of music because i would be at a loss in this life without my extensive personal soundtrack. i met a kid the other day who had never heard of ray charles... RAY-FUCKING-CHARLES. i just shook my head & thought 'what a shame'. i don't even see how that is possible, but just think what else he must be missing. i bet he lives in a world where any shade of green will do. that is not a world i want to know.