Confessions of a One-Track Mind

I was just noodling around on my f'list, where someone on steamfashion was saying that if they were a millionaire, they'd furnish their house with faux antiques, like touchtone reproduction phones and gramophones with CD players and the like. Which put me in mind of one of my old I-won-the-lottery fantasies.

There was a local oil change place that had a life-size animatronic gorilla out front to wave at passing cars. I wanted on like it, and I wanted someone to work a Teddy Ruxpin number on it. I was going to dress the top half of it in a dinner jacket, so it would look like a butler, put a tray in his hand and stand him by my library door (in the terrific house I was going to build with my winnings). There'd be one of those pressure pads under the nearby Persian rug, so that as you walked past, he'd greet you with, "How are we today? May I take your coat? Dinner will be served at 7 PM." and the like. These days, I'd probably pay extra and see if I could get a celebrity to record the voice for me for a donation or something.

I wonder what Jeff's going rate is....


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Here (http://growwings.blogspot.com/2008/09/remote-writing-cabin.html) is a marvelous post about the mythical Remote Writing Cabin. Which is apparently in some snowy winter wilderness---charming, if you like that sort of thing.

I, however, am not into freezing my noogies off. I'm more inclined to a Remote Tropical Cottage in a hurricane-free zone where cool, gentle breezes always blow. The little bungalow has porches all around and is encrusted with gingerbread---like Victorian barnacles. All of its windows offer some scenic view, be it cloud-scattered sky or wave-spangled ocean, shell-strewn beach or bright green jungle. Inside, the rooms are accented with happy colors---think Fiestaware---peaceful, but never boring.

How can it possibly be boring, when the low tide may reveal a ship's figurehead, canting out of a dune that was mere sand the day before, or a sunset walk may bring a cryptic message in a pale lavendar bottle: Raimund, if I don't return, you must take my sword to St George. Only if my son can pass their test should it fall to him. My eternal love to Jessabelle. My last thoughts will be of her. P."? When macaws flap out of the foliage and perch on the porch railings and squawk: "Thank you, Your Highness!" when you toss them a cracker? Adventure---and plot elements---are everywhere, from the ball-gown that appears in, of all places, the library, to the Chinese junk that appears on the horizon.

When the Muse is irresistable, pull the window shutters closed against distraction and scribble breathlessly until another glowing tale has been told....

The other evening at canasta, S was wearing a gauzy dress in bright tropical colors...she said she liked it because it's pretty and flowing and she felt like she ought to be running through a field of flowers in a tampon commercial. (They haven't made tampon commercials like that in about fifteen years, so if you don't catch the reference, chalk it up to the generation gap, 'k?) To which sbjbreplied that if that was the case, the dress would have to be white, to prove the product worked. 

Later, after everyone else was gone, S and I were hanging out, and we got onto the topic of clothes again. I mentioned that the dress she had on reminded me of a dress she'd given me about ten years before---long and gauzy, although this one had a black background and was printed with a pattern of little violets. I told her that every time I wore that dress, I felt like an internationally reknowned cellist mingling at an orchestra fundraiser. 

She thought I was nuts.

Okay, maybe I've spent too much time reading J Peterman catalogues, but there are certain pieces in my wardrobe that trigger a sense of another life I'm having in an AU wearing that item...my black faux fur hat transforms me into a glamourous Russian spy on her way to rendezvous with her contact, I'm a naughty schoolgirl in my red and black plaid skirt, a Fifties B-movie sex kitten in leopard print, a rough-and-tumble cowgirl in denim and a red bandana.

There's an old Oingo-Boingo song that asks "Who do you want to be today?" (and someday, I'm going to take some of the pix from my "Couture" file and turn them into a montage icon that asks that question), and it's a valid question. For the most part, I'm happy with my life, but the added dimension of another persona gives a little sparkle to the days when mundane routine is all-too-boring.

Time to go dress for work. Who am I going to be today?