SSooooooo, I squeal into the shop of said class at 5:59 only to find the parking lot full, so I end up parking in the back and having to schlep sp? all my meticulously determined synchronized embellishments and ephemera around to the front, through the rain, and enter a full class of women I have never met. This is where I would insert that screechy noise that they have on horror films if I could, (as if I have ever been to a horror flick). I take the last seat in the back next to a much younger, and definitely more organized, and color coordinated, classmate. The seat is directly in front of a fan that is blowing my hair toward my face and into my Merle Norman Berry Berry lip potion. I smile big, (my kids say I could make friends if I smiled more. This I was informed of one day after church on the ride home, unsolicited I might add, "Mom" he said, I won't reveal his real identity, but his name starts with Kart, and ends with wright "maybe if you smiled more, and didn't look so mad all the time, more people would like you" can I just say right now, Thank you Lord for teenagers, no really, just when we start feeling a little confident in the whole parenting thing you make them teens, and put us right back in the humble seat where we belong.)( well, I digress again.) I smile really big, thinking of my sweet son and the inferred promise of friendship, I smile as warmly as I can muster, and introduce myself to my neighbor. "My name is Amy" I offer, "oh" she replies softly, mine too. Great, I breath a sigh of relief, perhaps I can actually remember that one.
Did I mention that our teacher that evening was Donna Downey, renowned scrapbooker of simple scrapbooks magazine, blog aficionado and world traveler??? Well, it was, in all her has lost 40 pounds glory (you look fantastic girl). Donna (yes we are on a first name basis, well I am, she doesn't even know mine)was up in front talking, laughing, smiling (really big, and warmly too), and preparing to teach if all the late pupils, namely me, would get themselves together. (And, can I just say, if you are still reading this, you are so in need of better entertainment? wow,you deserve a medal just for getting this far)
OK, picture it here, let me just set this up for you, new town, nine months, no friends, a bit frazzled, trying too hard to smile, damp, fan blown, uncoordinated and ill prepared, just a bit comical isn't it? laugh with me here.
SSSoooooooooo, Donna starts into her schpeal, and immediately points at me "YOU, she projects rather loudly "YOU, I can tell are not a type A personality" a r e a l l y l o n g pause ensues. I don't know what to say back, I am dumbfounded, perplexed, paralyzed......."me" ???, I question??? Time stands still here people, it stands still, and a week goes by in my head, I just wanted to be part of the crowd I thought, just one of the girls, not singled out, not different, not on display or with a need to meet any expectations, just another scrapbooker, no drama, no pressure........suddenly I'm back "Yes, she remarks, I can tell, because anyone who would bring that large of a canvas to this class could not be a type A personality" sheepishly I stammer a reply " well, well, actually..... well, actually, I just signed up for your class, just ummmmm like umm like two hours ago, and well, well, this is the only canvas I had".......... "Oh", she exclaims, and throws her hands in the air, "SO, You are an artist then!" all eyes are on me now, not warm and happy smiling and I can't wait to be your friend faces, faces of distrust, faces of judgement and contempt. Faces that now expect an artist to emerge from this fan blown, Berry Berry potioned, late, and bewildered stranger, that dares to infiltrate their scrapbooking cult.
why,why,why,why,why,why,why,why,..............why can't I just go to this stupid class, and blend in, and just do some stupid home decor project, maybe get to know a few people, do a little painting, a little gluing, no expectations, just me in the corner with my fan, creating, smiling, why??? The rest of the evening is sort of a blur. Very few people ventured a peak at the corner artist that was me, and even fewer dared to speak. I most likely was no longer smiling, so perhaps Kartwright was right after all, perhaps had I smiled more, and didn't look so mad all the time, more people would have liked me!
Sooooooo, can I just say, that Donna was terrific, and the reason I feel like we are on a first name basis, is because she is so very genuine, and real, not an ounce of pretension there, and I really liked that about her.
I didn't get my picture taken with her, because that whole star struck thing, where people stand in line to get a photo with someone just cause they're famous, kinda creeps me out, I mean if she knew my name, and we went to dinner or something, then maybe a picture would be in order, but otherwise .....not so much....anybody out there with me on that???
ssssooooooooo, the conclusion is this, Donna Downey, loved her. The class, kinda pushed me to think in a different way, and I liked that. Making friends,......not so much, I was pretty much that girl with the gargantuan canvas, with the goofy fake grin, that thought she was all that, but was no where near an artist. Toooo funny!!!!
soooooooo, if you read this whole boring post please make a comment just to prove it. I would love to know!