Recently, I came across a blog by a writer named Clementine Ford, who I immediately thought was my crush Clementine Ford, the daughter of actress Cybill Shepherd. But, as it turns out, there is more than one Clementine Ford in this universe. And, she is equally crush worthy. Anyway, on January 17, 2012, my new favorite blogger posted an essay on what it means to be a girl in this world, Betraying our girlhood. And how not to forget, or better yet, deny, the experience. Boy, did she strike a chord with me. And the fact that I used "boy" to describe my enthusiasm is not lost on me, either. No, really, it is. I'm not the type who reads something into everything. Especially when I'm already afflicted with an ADD personality, undiagnosed. To take that on would just clutter an already overcrowded mind. But, back to the case in point, so much of what she said really resonated with me. This, coupled with the fact that my mom is visiting, brought back certain memories of a period in my life I like to refer to now as "The Khaki Experiment."

When I first came out, I was told all the time I was too girly to be gay. I couldn't possibly swim in the lady pond because I was too much of a lady myself. Okaaaay, to a young person already confused and conflicted about her identity, I literally didn't know how to respond. Except to try and stop being such a girl. I was kind of ashamed of it. And so began my love affair with khakis. Looking back, it's clear to me now what I was really doing was emulating what I was attracted to. I saw certain girls with a certain aesthetic, a certain swagger that attracted me, and because I was not receiving the attention I wanted, I set out to copy it. It wasn't pretty. 

I stopped wearing makeup. Purchased a bunch of hats worthy of a curly ponytail in the back. And tried out some khakis. Khaki shorts, khaki pants. Flat front, pleated front. Levi's Dockers, you name it. Complete with a collection of button down Oxfords. And graphic tees. 

I realized my new look was taking shape when my mother complained incessantly that she could no longer shop for me. Only to give in and buy me a sweet Nike Sweat Jacket with lettering down the sleeve. A jacket I have to this day, and cherish for what it means, in that I know how hard it was for her to embrace the new me. But, God love her,  embrace it she did. 

Eventually, I realized I was being ridiculous. The new look didn't work. And, as luck would have it, circumstances changed so that my girly side was not only appreciated but welcomed, wholeheartedly. I had come full circle. The "Khaki Experiment" was over. But not before failing, miserably.

Fast forward many years. In walks a second Clementine into my life, reminding me how insecure I once was. Before realizing how much I loved me. A girly girl who likes other girls. Who occassionally wear khakis but doesn't look good in them herself. She reminded me how important my experience was. And still is. After all, my barbies had sex. And still do.

Not really. But that's a good line, isn't it ? 

Here's to Clementine, my Mother, and all things Girly. And to Barbies getting it on. Barbie and her Friend, Barbie and Ken, Ken and his Friend. It's all good. With or without their Khakis on.

Check out Ms. Ford's essay here. I highly recommend it: 

It occurred to me when I crowned it the reigning letter of 2011 I short-changed it. I covered the Big 3: Cancer, Corporate Relo, and Confirmation. But left something out:  

Cement (or Concrete, whichever floats your boat. I'm diplomatic.)

As in Cement/Concrete Contractor. Inexperience blows. Although, good service is a thing of the past. Chances are we would have been screwed with or without it. The company was legit with a reference from Davidson College. Davidson College??!? I just needed a parking pad!

Back to the story. Our house sits on a hill. Always looking to improve resale, we identified the need for flat parking. Sounds simple, right? No.  

I interviewed several companies. Decided on one that remains nameless. Spelled out what I wanted. Even drew a picture. Perfect! Not.

Crew shows up. We go over it again. I go inside. I come back out. WTF?

Is business so good you don't need me to vouch for you? Apparently not. Then again, I'm not Davidson College.

Someone changed it, built a different form, and poured the concrete before I could drink a cup of coffee. As a result, I have a different driveway. 

Which, is fine were it not for the gutters. Remember, I'm on a hill. We added a drain to handle runoff. From all except one. We'll leave that one out and let it run down on top of the new driveway. Instead of underneath it in the drain we just installed. Because why do a good job? You don't need my referral, do you?

I didn't think so.

There you have it. Another reason, 2, really, why C wins the crown: Cement/Concrete Contractor. Actually, that's 3. But who's paying attention? Not the Foreman, that's for sure.

Join us for a wonderful evening of Food, Wine and Art hosted by The Fresh Market in Cornelius, NC.

Once again,  The Community Arts Project is benefitting from an annual evening of charity. Join us as they close their doors to the public and welcome us in for a private event showcasing not only their beautiful store but all the Artists and Vendors coming together to make this night possible.

A Silent Auction, thanks to generous donations by local Artists and Businesses, completes the evening. 

Space is limited. To purchase tickets, contact me or call 704-896-8823.

The Community Arts Project is a nonprofit supported in part by The Arts and Science Council. Currently, we are the sole provider of Arts programming for the Town of Cornelius, with offices located inside the Cornelius Arts Center and outreach programs beyond. 

Don't miss our Premier Fundraising Event Thursday, March 22, 2012. Hope to see you there!

Yes, I've eaten with Picasso. You didn't know? Well, now you do. And boy do I feel privileged. I mean, come on. Not many can say that. Ok, so it was a Picasso and not the man. But, still, you're jealous, right?  

I digress. The dinner party was like this. Everyone standing around. Exchanging glances. Conversation is minimal. You get the vibe. We're ushered into the dining room and seated according to a chart. Food arrives full of presentation. Complete with a price tag hanging from the cloth in the bread basket. New and expensive, nice. 

Before we dig in we are directed to the wall to the left (my right. But, anyway.) There it is. In all its glory. "A real live Picasso."

I've never felt more awkward. I think he would have, too. Picasso, I mean. When I recall that night several quotes come to mind. 

Like "Art is a finger up the bourgeoisie ass."

And "People who try to explain pictures are usually barking up the wrong tree." 

Or this gem "If everybody is looking for it, then nobody is finding it. If we were cultured, we would not be conscious of lacking culture. We would regard it as something natural and would not make so much fuss about it. And if we knew the real value of this word we would be cultured enough not to give it so much importance."

And his famous last words "Drink to me, drink to my health..." which, I often imagine had this been his last dinner party on earth, would have been appended somewhat with the likes of "... and tell this guy to stop being such a pretentious asshole." End of quote.       

I'm late to the party. A day late and a dollar short. Or in my case 10 days late and a lot of dollars short. 

But I can't talk about the new year without recapping the old. Inspired by the keys on the keyboard I've stared at for several weeks now in this office (note to self -- another reason not to take this insurance gig up full time: cold ass office! Am I the only one freezing here?) My time is drawing to a close and I couldn't be happier to move on. Before I do, here's a look back at the year that was. And the letter that dominated it.

Hands down without a doubt it was C:

For Cancer, Corporate Relo, and Confirmation

Let me explain. Last year my partner was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and proceeded to kick its ass. Then there was the all of a sudden we're moving back to North Carolina as if we didn't have enough on our plate. Which, we weren't upset about. Poor timing, but good. And definitely good, our decision to be confirmed in the Episcopal Church.

So, as you can see, C was pretty signficant.

Honorable mentions:

F for Family, Friends, and Folly Beach (all good) 
D for Death (ex died unexpectedly untimely and shocking RIP)
R for Real Estate and Renovations (the good bad and ugly but mostly good)

What does the New Year have in store? Definitely not this keyboard, I can tell you that. Although I'm eager to type out a new beginning. In North Carolina. In our newly renovated house. With a studio. A spotted dog. And a partner who is Cancer FREE.