Monday, March 22, 2010

Lessons in Senses

Brought to you by my very tired but perfectly pedicured feet and toes.  I included the toes being that they are attached to my feet.

If you didn't know already by the endless amount of pictures I posted and the endless amount of emotion I expressed, I had a rather big event this past Saturday.  It's over.  My shoulders are returning to their normal relaxed position.  My sleep was not interrupted at five in the morning with thoughts and fears of platforms that needed adjusting and lighting cues and DJs and such.  Once the event ends there is about a week breather and then, well, it's on to the next one. 

There's always a next one and for that, I'm terribly grateful.

The event was new for me.  Sure, it had a big center bar.  My guests require that from me at gunpoint.  And it had sexy music.  This time though, we turned the lawn into a bit of a museum and a bit of performance art and all around the sensory experience was unlimited if you wanted it to be.

So was mine.  Those senses tend to get the best of me.

Lessons in Taste: It takes time to taste food.
The food was amazing and the chef cooking on site went out of his way to make sure I tried the first of everything.  And at the end of the night one of the catering staff set aside a plate for me.  My absolute favorite thing to do once an event ends is to wait for the last person to leave, walk past the wait staff having their cigarettes, take something small to eat and a diet coke and go sit in the middle of the event space and just breathe it all in.

The food tastes so much better when you have time to taste it. Even today, exhausted and barely able to get up to oversee the tent teardown this morning, I came back home to rest and went out for a very late dinner.  Asked for a table in the back and ordered pork chops and mashed potatoes and steamed spinach and took time to not answer calls, to not answer email, to not tweet but to enjoy a very good meal. 

It takes time to taste food.  And doing so in the middle of a gorgeous lit tent sitting on my white museum bench was simply lovely.  And sitting in the back of a restaurant looking back quietly on a great event is even lovelier.

Lessons in Smell: Stay in your moments.
I was going to wear my perfume but I wore his cologne.  Which might end up being mine if I decide to buy it but for now I have this small sample I got so I could smell him when I'm not with him. Groan, such a girl, I know.  And all evening I kept forgetting to reach down to my wrist to breathe him in.  I wanted to have all the important people a part of me that evening. I wore my grandfather's WWII necklace with my mother's name imprinted, my father's worn belt and that damn cologne. 

There are moments to be in rather than waiting for moments.  I should have stopped to smell his cologne.  I would have liked to have remembered that, that night.

Lessons in Hearing: Be honest about what you like to hear.

We were almost finished with set up and ready to start the event when someone went up to one of the artists and said, "You are so talented!  Do you ever get tired of people telling you that?"  She turned around, smiled and said, "No.  I was deprived of admiration as a child so I'll take all I can get."  And then she picked up her brush and kept painting. 

How honest to say 'I like when you compliment me' or 'I like admiration'.  We are so fearful of being honest about our needs for fear of judgement and to witness someone do so with such abandon was attractive.  No wonder she looks 20 years younger than she is.  Hmmmm...

Lessons in Sight: See what you see not what they see.
When MOCA opened years ago, I was very young and my mother stood me in front of Blue and asked me, "What do you see?"  I wanted to move on to the light installation because it had multiple colors and neon lighting and there were all these walls you could run through.  She asked again, "What to you see?"  At the time, I don't think I saw much more than the ocean or the sky but now, oh, now, there are so many stories I see in that same Blue.  I could stand there for hours and tell you layers and layers of what I see and I'm so glad she taught me to see what I see and not to see what she told me to see. 

While we were setting up for yesterday's event, three little girls walked by and wanted to watch the florists designing our art inspired masterpiece.  I asked them, "What do you see?"  And, then, right then it was as if I was my mom standing in MOCA next to these little girls and waiting to see what their new, young, creative, emotional, excited feminine brains would experience and any answer would be right. 

Lessons in Touch: People want to belong and to be loved.
I walked the event over and over last night and saw lots of little groups, not really cliques.  This community is very community-ish and embraces new neighbors rather well.  Still, there are the few that have that hard time moving away from clinging to the cocktail table, getting outside their comfort zone and finding new friends. 

And isn't that what we all want?  Friends.  A place to belong.  Someone to give a damn when we have a cold.  And then hopefully someone to give even more of a damn when things are really bad, like swine flu or a breakup or a breakout? 

It's frequently the case that everyone goes on to the next party and I go home alone.  It's the nature of my role.  I'm coming to accept that.  I don't accept it for the lonely guy standing in the crowd that just needs a handshake or a pat on the back or a touch on the shoulder or someone to say, "you matter."

Well, you matter.  You do. 

At the end of the night, on that museum bench, eating my end of the night plate of appetizers and looking up at my end of the night beautiful lighting that was now lit just for me and staring at those flowers and taking it all in with all of my senses, well, you know.  I cried like a damn baby.

Two of my security guys walked up and asked what was wrong since my head was hung low trying to hide a sensory overload of tears.  I wiped my face with both hands and said, "three months of planning rolling down my face and....I'm a girl."

With abandon, I say it.  Feeling free to experience my feelings I say it and enjoying the touch of the tears on my face I feel it.

Much artistic love to you this fine early Monday.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Beautiful Blogger Award.....!

I'm a bit in Mumbai Love with Dazed Diva.  International love, that is.  Event planner love, too.  We event planners stick together.  You attenders?  Stand in line.  She gave this sweet little shout

Cole over at Pre Middle Age … she’s outrageously funny; her life lessons are great; and she’s got sass ! and she’s an event planner like me :)

The rules of this award are:
Thank the person who nominated you for this award
Copy the award and place it in your blog
Link the person who nominated you for this award
Tell us 7 interesting things about you
Nominate bloggers and link to their blogs

7 Cole Facts.
1. I think naps are air.

2. I'm as difficult as I am charming.

3. Having no power steering is giving me some kick ass triceps.  You may feel for $1.00.  (All proceeds go towards the "should I get power steering fixed or another purse fund")

4. My ass will stop a car.  It's fabulous.

5. I'm terrified of success.  Oh, and terrified of failure.  And slithery snakes on animal type nature channels late at night.  I'm willing to work on the first two some more.  Not the last one at all.

6. These are the prints I'm "viewing" in my living room this month. One with attitude.  One exposed.  And one exhausted from a party.  My life summed up in print.

7. He stood in front of me the other day after lunch, opened his suit jacket, and I reached in wrapping my arms around him.  I don't know when I let go but it was the best moment of March.

Cole.  Cole.  Cole.  Enough, huh?  Here are some other bits of amazingness for you to check out when you have a moment or two or maybe even seven moments.  Seven moments would be perfect. 

Katie Markus at Behind The Brand … Such a pleasure to wind through her design blog.

Zoe Blue at Wink Wink Wink  ....Want to lose yourself in all the lovely madness that is dating?  You MUST meet Miss Zoe!  Make sure to see her "first date flowers".

Andrea Memenas at Hip Moms Who Work  ...Funny.  Sarcastic as hell.  Just brutal enough.  And based in the land of all things Orange?  My.  Kind.  Of.  Woman.

The Urban Dater  ...Ever wonder what it would be like to date a gentleman that dates well but still has some grrrr to him?  Here's your man.  If you can't date him, learn from him. 

Ryel at Ryel J Photography  ....She simply tells the prettiest, sweetest, most complete stories in her pictures and you won't want to have anyone else shoot you.  Well, shoot you.  You know what I mean.  Shoot you. 

Much love globally and locally.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Lessons Learned at The Range

This blog brought to you by the National Rifle Association. Grrr.

I was still in the office even though I’m famous for saying I’m leaving in ten minutes. Translation (I have two more meetings I forgot about or didn’t accept on my calendar and there is one more person sitting at my desk spilling their life story even though I’ve clearly done the ‘I’m standing up to leave move’ three times.) That translation. It means, I’m stuck even though the one place I want to be is with you.

Yes, you. Well, with the two of you. Meaning with Kristy and Amit. They are my engineering friends and if you didn’t know EVERYONE should have engineering friends. They are logical in ways you are not, you crazy almost psychotic artist types and the balance of having an engineer in your life will keep you out of jail.

I need to be kept out of jail. I’m running low on bail money these days.

And my engineer, ya engineer, THE engineer, Will, that is. Well, he’s engaged and that means that I need new engineers in my life. So, Amit and Kristy are not substitutes. They are the real thing. Good people. Funny. Sarcastic. Dry as hell humor which is a prerequisite for an engineer and this, a rarity, they are cool.

A cool engineer. Two cool engineers. I might as well have won the lottery. Hell, this is better than winning the lottery cause nowadays if you win the lottery your best friend kills you and buries you in cement and being buried in cement really sucks.


So, it’s raining dogs and cats like Will says and I finish my meetings and it’s Friday night and Amit wants to go to the shooting range. The range? Shooting? I’m not sure what you call it but he wants to use a gun and point it a pretend people. Paper people. People without lower limbs. Just thinking about it I’m wondering if this is such a good idea.

Lessons Learned at The Range.

1. Funny to you isn’t funny to them.
The guy behind the counter doesn’t like terrorist jokes when you are holding a gun. He also doesn’t like those jokes when you are buying bullets. Just stay away from terrorist humor all together if you are near firearms and keep telling everyone you’re from Afghanistan, Amit from India.

2. Rules are for a reason.
I’m not big on following directions. I don’t like people telling me what to do. You know that by now. Point the gun towards the target, not towards the bench. Put the safety on; don’t point it at Amit’s ass. Blah, blah, blah.

3. Aim for the heart, not just the head.
I learned this late in the evening and really, learned it late in life. With shooting, it’s two shots to the chest (heart) and one to the head. Not so much with me. I put up my target and went straight for the poor guy’s brain and made mush out of it. I’m a damn good shot. Oh, I do that all the time. And I’m so good with the heart. And know how to make that all mush, too but I see that brain and immediately start taking shots at it. I can’t help it. The brain turns me on. And the heart, well, it scares me a little bit. No, a lotta bit. I’m a better shot at the brain and it takes more time for me to aim at the heart, I mean the chest. I’m learning though. It’s that whole following the rules thing and everything.

4. We can be strong and sensual.
We were mid shooting and my Droid rang. I have a Droid. (insert pause for jealousy and angry banter with Ipod owners over who has the best apps) So, I can’t hear a thing because of my “don’t blow out your eardrum” headphones that are not terribly cute in pictures. I take a moment in the car to listen to the message and it’s Him. You know, Him. The guy I’m dating. The one that is not an engineer but still would keep me out of jail. And he says, “Just checking on my pistol packin’ princess. Hope you’re being careful.” It was his best protective voice. He has a great protective voice. Darling women, it’s okay to shoot and to be sensual. To fight and to fear. To be both a pistol, I mean to have one, and to be a princess.

5. Are you an Uzi or a revolver in love?
Are you closing your eyes and blindly shooting to see what you hit? Little too premiddleage for that, aren’t we? Hold your revolver, take a breath, plant your feet, steady your vision and aim.

A little of the head. A lot of the heart.

Much love and ammunition,

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