This past weekend marked Mary Jane’s 30th Birthday at Winter Park, and it went out with a bash. Andrew and I were joined with a host of our new buds in a tailgating party at the base of the mountain starting at 10am on Saturday. Bratwurst, salmon, steaks and burgers were just a few of the treats we had going on the grill. At 2:30pm, it was time for Andrew and I to change into our costumes. We were contestants in the Mary Jane Look-Alike Contest. He was Mary, I was Jane.
Fools, we were… doing our best to personify the lady of the night of the 1800s after whom the plot of land was named.
We did our best, strutted our stuff like only a Mummer could do, and when it was over we won 2nd Place! You can find the First Place Winner here. She definitely had the cute-factor going a bit stronger than Mr. Mary and me. The contest was judged by crowd response. You know the male persuasion went for the cute young blonde, not the weird dancing-kissing-strutting-falling-over couple in tattered can-can girl outfits. Tee hee. Still, we won $250 in cold hard cash.
And I was very cold indeed, so I didn’t stay in that outfit very long! Not long enough for anyone to take a decent frontal photo. Sorry this is all I’ve got. Rumor has it that we were on the Channel 7 Denver news that night… which I missed, because we spent the rest of the night partying around town. Awwr.
Onto More Serious Things
A couple of weeks ago I asked to join the collaborative support group embarking on a collective stab at learning The Artist’s Way, led by Kat. I have been pretty quiet about it because a) I started late and had some major crunching to do to catch up, and b) I was experiencing heavy self-doubt about the whole thing and didn’t want to announce anything if I was going to fail. That was last week. This week things are starting to kick in. Chapter 3, “Recovering a Sense of Power” socked it to me. I have all kinds of shame associated with creating art and doing things for myself. Oh yes, it is painful, frustrating, and enough to keep me far away from my drafting table (with all kinds of creative excuses) for the past 2 months. But I am starting to sift through all these messages of self-doubt I have and put names and faces on them. I am recognizing a desire to create in myself, a desire that is easily stifled by my desire to please others. I need to get past this if I am going to do anything fulfilling in my art. So I am working on it.
And this morning, after a refreshing walk, I treated myself to one of my favorite foods as a child. My Mom’s sugary French Toast.
This is French Toast that you prepare as you usually would, right up until you put it on the plate. You take the toast out of the pan and put it directly into a sandy-looking mixture of cinnamon and sugar. Coat both sides. Serve. No syrup, that spoils it. It is like eating a fresh sugar doughnut right out of the oven, but better.
What reminded me of Mom’s French Toast was the way the snow looked on the roadside during my walk. You know how it gets kind of brown and powdery after it’s been driven on for a few days? Kind of like beach sand, or brown sugar? That’s what gave me the craving. I’m grateful to myself for cooking it for me. 🙂
Ok, now I can do all the mundane tasks that I need to do today, now that I have completed some self-care. Don’t know if I’ll be back before next week–this weekend we’re driving to Utah to go skiing with some of my Pennsylvania friends. I’ve got a lot to do before we leave on Friday. I can’t wait to see my Megan. Woohoo!
