With words and images, I am telling my story. Through art, through sculpture, I am remembering HERstory...

Wednesday, September 1


It was a lazy Sunday morning. Tumbling out of bed, I made my way to the grocery store in search of tulips and mangos. The sun was gloriously hot – summer was near.

While contemplating what color of tulips to get, red, pink, white, maybe striped...I suddenly sensed something and looked up. Clad in vintage aviator Ray-Bans, a mane of luscious locks swept back – it was him – HIM...

Ducking behind the roses, my heart and mind began a marathon. Why could I not take 5 minutes to shower...2 minutes to comb my hair...had I even brushed my teeth...PANIC. Could HE see me? Why had I not followed my parents’ cardinal rule – be ready to see anyone and be seen at all times?

He looked freshly showered, impeccable as always, but still maintaining the signature rugged manly appeal for which he was famous. I was dressed in yoga gear – black cotton lycra – UGH. Lip gloss was the extent of my beauty morning routine.

Snatching a bunch of tulips, I took advantage of the fact that he was selecting organic tomatoes. I seized my mangos and sprinted to the check-out...

originally published in 2007 and yes I had brushed my teeth