Red Shoes

My friend Nancy and I showing off our Red shoes

Some of you may have noticed that I was away yesterday. I apologize, but I had good reason to not pop in here to visit. After dropping my kiddies off in the AM, I ran like mad the rest of the day. "Why?" you ask. Well, I was getting ready to strut my stuff on the runway for the Hope's Garden Celebrate Every Body Fashion Show 2010 – A Red Shoe Event.

The activities started last Friday when I went to a little boutique by the name of Elizabeth Noel to get fitted for a few dresses. I was to dress in casual wear and formal wear and when the prospective models entered the store, we were told to browse around. This is not a store I can say I have shopped in, as the prices were a mite high for me, but there was some pretty stuff. I don't tend to need a lot of formal wear in my wardrobe, so was a bit gob-smacked as to what to wear, but the ladies that worked there got us all fitted and accessorized. The photos are not great, due to lighting, but these were the outfits I got to sashay down the runway in.

Casual Wear

Formal Wear

On Wednesday, I dumped my kids at Nancy's house so that I could go to the dress rehearsal. I walked into the building and my heart started to pound. I have never done any modeling before and for some strange reason, was shocked that the runway was right in the middle of the room with all the tables surrounding it. I was going to have to walk down that narrow strip with lights blazing and all the eyes in the room trained on me. Oh LORD!!! The thought of it made me start to sweat and all the chairs were empty. We got a spiel about how the night would run, were shown the dressing rooms, then gathered into our store groupings for a practice walk down the runway. The children went first and all looked like pros (except my girlfriend from bookclub's daughter who walked zombie-like shuffling to the end). My group was next up and I scrambled up onto stage to stare down the length of the runway. It seemed to stretch forever out into the audience. Our music cued and off the girls went one by one, till I was floating down my first ever catwalk with a  frozen smile plastered to my nervous face. One more lady followed me, then we all swished down the runway once more for our phantom audience to admire. I stepped down off the runway and breathed. There was no turning back now. I could do this. The rest of the models got their turns to practice their moves on the runway and then we headed back out into the evening. We would reconvene the next day for the actual show.

The next day dawned bright and sunny in my world. I kissed my girls goodbye, reminded them that D would be picking them up that evening and made them promise to be good for the babysitter. I would not see them again that day. I snatched a quick coffee, then made my way to the hair studio to get my locks styled. This was the fun part! I arrived at the DeVoG Academy hair salon at 11AM and was shown to the back where a stylist-in-training awaited. Yes, the reason why all the female models could get their hair styled was because a school had offered to do it. All good, I thought. I viewed the rows of gleaming curling irons and hair spray and forced a smile for my friendly, but nervous stylist. I explained that I would be sporting casual wear, as well as formal wear, but more importantly that my hair was fine and thin, and would not hold a style for any length of time without some artificial support. Product was necessary. Hairspray would have to take center stage with me.  An hour later, I had more curls on my head than I had seen since the bad poodle perm way back in primary school. This time it looked cute though. My eyes sparkled as I tossed my bouncy curls this way and that in the mirror. No time to dally now though. A list of errands was on the roster before I could get to the hall for the show.

I could drag this out some more, but I will cut to the chase now. I arrived at the hall and greeted K from book club and her daughter. After consulting with 8-year-old H on which nylons went better with my casual dress, I started to slowly prep for the show. We were fed sandwiches and fruit, but K slipped me a plastic glass with ice and scotch in it to settle the nerves that threatened to fray. Bless you, my dear! It must have helped, as I soon found me dressed and forcing myself to take deep breaths in a dark hallway. I inched forward behind the other women in my group, until the stage hand said "go!" and it was my turn. Around a curtain and the lights exploded in my eyes. I posed, smiled and strutted down the catwalk to "Tonight's Gonna be a Good Night" by the Black Eyed Peas.



And you know what? It was! I strutted, smiled, posed, turned and most importantly did not fall down and hurt myself, the dress or any poor saps in the audience. The intermission saw a bottle of wine circulate in our back dressing room which I got a nip of, although I didn't necessarily need the liquid encouragement any more. Nylons were stripped off, to give full accent to the red shoes I sported against the black of my dress. The second set, I smiled in the hallway waiting for my turn. I was shocked to hear the announcer introduce me (horrible pronouncement of my name, but no matter) and comment on my red shoes. I hadn't even heard a thing first round! I smiled for the photographer and discretely waved at friends in the audience, before getting another quick tour around the runway as a group. We exited out the other side of the stage (where I almost fell down the stairs this time! Caught by all the men waiting to go on next. oops!). After everyone completed their sets, we got one more last wander down the catwalk, before calling it a night. I can now add model to my list of  accomplishments.

And the crazy thing is, I liked it...

Remembering October

Ok, I am totally jamming out tonight. Alan Cross is on the radio with a listen to the history of ska. For those that are not familiar with ska, it is akin to reggae and rocksteady, but boppier. It is also an older musical form. There is a very distinct off beat and there is almost always a heavy influence in the brass department (trombones and trumpets) as well we saxophone, guitar, bass guitar and drums. Big artists were Desmond Dekker, English Beat, The Specials, Prince Buster, Toots and the Maytals, the Skatalites, Madness, The Clash continuing on up to more recently The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones and No Doubt. There has been several different waves of ska, from the original styles that came out of Jamaica in the 1950s and 60s, to the British Two-Tone Invasion in the 70s with other waves in the 80s and the 90s finally making some headway into the US. I want to share something, but am struggling as to what might work best. I love older ska, which has a certain heavy hand in swing, but grew up with The Specials and English Beat. "Mirror in the Bathroom" was a frequent request at high school dances. I think that I will go back to some of the origins though with a taste of Desmond Dekker, arguably one of the kings of ska that had a wide influence on the music of the day and musicians that fall under other umbrellas from reggae, to punk  with many things in between. Enjoy!

~~~~~
PS. You were right Patti. I went to bed and had another poem running round my head. I will share this one with you and the good folks at OneShot.

October Goodbyes


Her words whipped away
in the October air;
Unseasonably warm for
   this day.

Water fell to Earth
piled high in preparation,
but not quite ready for
   this moment.

A pop and a fizz
slowly saluted you while
tears, words, flowers and lager offered
   this goodbye.

Strength carried her
on unseen wings
into tomorrow's world
   with sorrow.

Gleefully released little ones

scooped clodfuls of dirt up

under parent's watchful eye

   with sweet sadness.

Children's laughter and scrabbling fingers
remembered, responded and rejoiced
filling memory's hole
   with joy.

The wind kissed her limp hair
with soft hands that waved goodbye
to a wife's sagging shoulders
   for eternity.


*Blessed be the children for they go where we fear to tread with innocence and love. Their purity and innocence lighten any moments from birth to death...


  

Naked as We Came

I wrote a poem that I am not sure I like.

I am too tired to fly to Africa tonight.

I cannot seem to get into my photo album to regale you with a new picture of something uber-wonderful to share with you and perhaps be inspired to write about.

I did go visiting some wonderful blogs this evening though (Just about Wednesday and OneShot is up and running already). I came across this post over at my friend C's blog and nodded my head all the way through it (something about everything to say/nothing to say and nowhere to start, so lost). Is the changing of the seasons sucking the life out of our feeble brains? I think not with seeing all the rest of the posts out there.

I shall turn into a pumpkin in approximately 2 minutes though, so regret I have not enough to share.

perhaps I will just share a song with you today. Iron and Wine is a staple for me when I need a musical comforting hug. Enjoy.

We Need to Talk About Kevin

We Need to Talk About Kevin;
By Lionel Shriver
(© 2003 Harper Collins)

It's that time of year again. Yes, I am speaking about my book club. We took a break for the summer, but our first meeting back is this evening. The wine will be chilling and appetizers always appetizing. So as I finished the book about a week ago, I thought I would get back into the swing of things and write a book review today.

***

Our first book of the year is "We Need to Talk About Kevin", by Lionel Shriver. I mentioned the book the other day in a post, but now that the book is finished, I can give you a broader picture of it. As I noted before, the book was a little dark in genre. The story opens with Eva Khatchadourian writing a letter to her estranged husband. She beseeches upon him to somehow forgive or understand her side of the story in the gruesome massacre of  seven students, a teacher and a cafeteria worker by their 15-year old son. She has not only had to deal with the ghastliness of this incident, but also the following trials that served to destroy her dignity, force her to sell her beloved travel guide company that she started from the ground up, and of course ultimately leads to the imprisonment of her son. Guilt at her flaws as a Mother is laced throughout this letter, and all the ones that follow.

"We Need to Talk About Kevin" is a work of fiction, but takes a very real look at potentially what makes a young mass murderer. Through letters to her husband, Eva paints the often difficult path she struggled with in raising a child that seemed disturbed from birth. From their son Kevin's birth, she laments on her lack of bonding, his incessant screaming and his seemingly critical eye on her. While she struggles to maintain that it is not all her fault, she illustrates over and over again her failings as a Mother. Eva recounts her life with her husband prior to them having children and constantly bemoans the losses she has had to suffer starting from the moment they conceived.

While portrayed as self-centered, I believe that Eva is too hard on herself and her overly critical eye. There are certainly incidents which seem regrettable in her child-raising abilities (to say the least), but as parents I believe that we are all often overly critical of our own ability to raise another human being at times. No one is perfect, but Eva seems to think that without perfection she is an abysmal failure. Perhaps given the final outcome of her son's life, she could have done more, but in her circumstances, parenting was a two-person job. It is apparent that despite the twisted mind that Kevin develops, he does have a certain measure of respect for his mother and very little for the father whom he patronizes with false platitudes from a very early age.

Can one person truly be to blame for another's faults? I have to wonder at the nature vs nurture balance, when the nurturing of Kevin does nothing to give him a base to enter society.

When Eva connives to have a second child to test whether it is truly her fault that Kevin is so twisted, I lose sympathy for her. I understand that she yearned for someone to love and to love her back, but she does not gauge the effect that this will have on the rest of her family. Her experiment to see if it is her maternal instincts that failed or if Kevin is truly just a bad kid, without even a thought to what might happen to the new child is selfish (and plausible? not so sure). Her beloved husband is not even consulted in this step and I wonder really at how beloved he really is with this flagrant lack of respect for him. He doesn't ever seem to forgive her for this and I wonder again, why they stayed together at all (except in part for story's sake).

While the story is well written, I have to say it was not a favourite of mine. I found Eva too critical and cannot cite lack of warm fuzzies from her own childhood as a great excuse. If we are to wonder at her upbringing as a possible cause to the calamities that befall Eva, I think perhaps this avenue should have been revealed more. I also wonder why Kevin's Grandparents are brought into the story at all, as they do not serve to advance the story or ignite other reasons as to why Kevin is so disturbed.

Regardless of my feelings, I understand that the story has been well received and is touted as an excellent take on the delicate topic of Columbine-style shootings in school. As my children were on the cusp of starting school, it didn't really make me want to let them go though. There was the barest hint of a positive note at the end of the story though, for which I am grateful in all of my silver-lined world.

Hope you are enjoying what you are reading... 

The Sleep Over

Bath

free, fun

scrubbing, splashing, singing

wash off day's memories

Clean

Bed

close, secretive

reading, tickling, sharing

whisper in the dark

Sleep

Girls

exasperating, cute

playing, wiggling, giggling

never going to sleep

Friends