While my Beloved is in Vegas this weekend with his dad, brother, and other close friends who gathered there to golf, bowl, and play pool (the "lazy man's triathlon"), I was completing my spiritual homage to my bachelorette pad. Our intrepid real estate agent indicated that all signs lead to "yes" for closing on my lily pad, so I decided to use this weekend to pack her up and say goodbye (or "good buy"). Not only did I do the manual labor of getting rid of the broken bike pump and old ironing board-- for which I have a sore back to prove it-- I decided to have a little spiritual ceremony for the space that was so good to me for the brief time I was there.
I lit candles-- the same candles I bought after reading a feng shui book that said you have to have symbols of love in the southwest corner of your bedroom if you want to find love. (I did so I guess it works!) I went to each room to thank it for being my cradle for the almost three years I lived there. I did this clapping ritual I read about (the feng shui phase was sort of long and it's finally paying off) where I cleared out the energy from the corners of the rooms. I looked at old pictures of parties and events that took place within it's walls. I listened to old mix tapes I made as far back as college-- and let me tell you, it's frightening to suddenly hear David Allen Coe cursing at you when you are trying to clap out bad energy-- and I cried when the Golden Smog song about "home" came on.
I feel so grateful that this "home" is passing on to other hands before my wedding. And, it's not really about the money, though not paying two mortgages is a thing of beauty. I am mostly grateful because it is time to move on and to have all my stakes in the ground that Jeff and I are tilling together.
The unofficial mascot of the Bachelorette Lily Pad was Blue Baby. She was a doll I adored more than anything in the world when I was a little girl. She's been with me through a great deal, and we were reunited when my mom dug her out of the attic and brought her to New Orleans in 2005 when we were all there for my nephews graduation. I named her Blue Baby because she came with a darling little gingham blue dress. I could write a book about Blue Baby, and Blue Baby says a great deal about me and my younger days.
Me and Blue Baby in the newlywed period standing in front what I imagine is the largest fern that ever grew in a Texan suburb. It appears that I know how to hold a baby doll in order to prolong her baby doll life. It also appears that I might trip on my little hippie dippie sundress, but my grip on Blue Baby looks pretty secure so she's probably be ok if I took a tumble on that carpet. However, under my care, Blue Baby was going to experience some suffering.....
Somehow, between birth and today, I managed to pull out Blue Baby's hair. I remember my parents tried to find someone to replace her hair for me, but the only solution was to get a wig, and for obvious reasons, that didn't seen like a viable solution. Once Blue Baby's hair "fell" out, she was not exactly the darling little baby doll that mothers and grandmothers hope their little female offspring will carry around. My dad's mother hated how hideous Blue Baby looked and offered several times a day for years to get me a new baby doll. I refused. I loved her and didn't care of she was missing a few strands of hair. One morning, my (paternal) grandmother threw Blue Baby in the burning can-- the place where people who live in the country put their trash-- and I had to drag a stool out into the pasture to retrieve her from the charred ashes of the previous day's food. That explains the rather charcoal-ish tinges she has her back. I am told that is one of the few times that my dad got mad at his mother. It makes me smile and feel sad at the same time to think of him taking my side over that of his mother.
I can't quite reconcile the little kid who knew how to feed and hold her doll-- and how to put a pretty plastic clip in her hair-- with the same kid who pulled her hair out. Makes me think that some of the posts on the yet-to-come sequel blog, Bundled with Joy, will be full of surprises. I can hardly wait!
Miss Blue Baby today in all her dignity and character. I am telling you right now, I want to be buried with Blue Baby, and I hope for her sake the burial doesn't involve fire!
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