The show was wonderful, the gallery really did a wonderful job hanging everything-I was thrilled! Spoke to a lot of wonderful folks, including some art friends and sold some things-I've learned to never really look to the opening as a huge sales night, but red dots are desired and appreciated!
I did have about an hour of complete mishap, anxiety, trauma and angst. But since it turned out fine, it is now a very memorable funny story to tell you all. As many of you know, I rarely get to leave the farm for a night, so it was with great excitement we left for a night in water side hotel, to relax before the show and to be able to spend the night and have a good meal with friends and not have to rush home to the farm [thanks to our lovely farm sitters]. We arrived in Astoria and had a bite to eat of fresh fish on the piers. I was anticipating a nap before the show, something I rarely get to do. I was simply enjoying the entire day and anticipation of the show, and had bought a new outfit that I felt good in [which is difficult right now in my Emerging Crone body]. We got to the hotel and before taking my nap, I went to lay out my clothes.
I opened my suitcase and there was no outfit.
All I had to wear was the holey, raggedy tie dye tshirt I had on, and either a pair of mud ridden, sloppy jeans, or a pair of dumpy veterinarian pants that I wear a lot.
I was absolutely...crushed.
The show was one hour and fifteen minutes away.
It was one of those moments where I knew there was nothing I could do to change the situation-but I could not accept it. Even if I could find a dress, I had no proper soldier underwear to go with it-you know, ladies, the kind of undergarment required to hold in those extra bulges. And , I'll be honest, I had a bra on, but no underpants. Yep, I go camo a lot, what can I say.
I cried. Martyn felt horrible. In true Dirt Farmer fashion, he did the only thing he could do to help,
"You can wear my belt..."
I ranted at myself, and even threw myself flat on the bed.I had managed to make all the right lists for the farm sitter, and get all the animals squared away with feed and sch, but had neglected to put my clothes in the suitcase. At least I had toiletries.
So I called the gallery they calmly led me to a couple stores right by the gallery. So we got in the car, and off we went to find me some underwear and clothes. I ended up rushing in and out of about three stores and there was nothing. We ended up going into JC Penny's-at least I could get some leggings and soldier underwear. JC Penny in Astoria felt like I stepped into the 1950's. I kept taking deep breaths and managed to find leggings, camisole and a top which was mediocre and would make me look like a flower girl, but whatever. While in the postage stamp sized dressing room, I got stuck in the soldier under wear-I mean, those camisoles these days are made to hold in lots of skin! I was beginning to panic but finally got my arm free on one side and got out of it. We made our way to the gallery, and there happened to be a lovely small shop next door. They had expensive beautiful kimonos, but a rack of mini dresses perfect for me and my cheesy JC Penny leggings. I was in and out of there in five minutes. I made it to the gallery and since everyone knew my situation we all had a good laugh about it.
So, I got a new outfit out of it, something I rarely treat myself too. And some new soldier top underwear.
