Today Patrick and I worked all day in the art studio. It’s something we haven’t done in a while because I’ve been chained to the computer for the past few months.
So there we were, working away at opposite ends of the room. We giggled about memories (like the time I went to sleep with resin in my hair), chatted about ideas for our business (more art shows), etc. All the while, he let me watch Bend It Like Beckham and Shrek 2, but when it came time for him to watch Shaka Zula, I bailed. Then again, my movies are 90 minutes. Shaka Zula, is a SIX disc set! Anyway, he’s so sweet to me! It’s like, I’ll be making a stack of greeting cards, or sewing a new purse and then I’ll hold them up – “Lookie! Isn’t this neat?”
He’ll cheer me on from his table while he continues to paint a canvas. He says “I’d give anything to get some of your energy and spirit!” or “You are so creative! Your work is priceless” and then he leaves to get something from the fridge, I get up and peek at what he is working on, and it is something like this:
OK, who is the talented one here? He never brags about his work or fishes for compliments like I do (middle child here). He just works away, all cheery and happy, sometimes buzzed on Amsterdam Light or Guinness. He’ll set aside all his work in the corner of the room until it’s time for a show. It’s no big deal to him. *Sigh.* I like looking at him. He has perfect eyebrows, square hands, and his heels are soft and smooth. The soles of his shoes are worn in a perfect uniform manner, unlike mine, that are worn down to the outer corner! He’ll pick up our white chihuahua and tell her in a baby talk voice, “You are as precious as a dew drop on the moon!”
Patrick is the dew drop! You know, when we first got married, we lived in this cracker box apartment on 35th Ave. & Northern. It was Truckerville and we were these Mexi-bohemians that did not fit in. We covered our windows with sheets that we had tie-dyed and when we would open the door, the scent of burning incense would billow out. One night at the apartment complex, where we lived on the upper level, I was standing outside our front door, leaning over the rod iron ledge yakking with my friend. I was wearing a flowy sun dress.
This drunk trucker-like guy that lived directly below us, yelled up to me from downstairs, laughing. He was drunk!
“HEY!… Hey, lady! down here!”
I looked at him, confused. “Yes?” I replied politely.
“If I stand right here, I can see all the way up your dress!! Don’t move, I’m liking the view! Ha ha hahahaha…”
“JERK!” I yelled back as my friend and I went into my apartment. Just then Patrick came in and asked what happened. I had barely finished my sentence, when he busted out of the apartment, rapped on the our neighbor’s door (a dear friend of ours who happened to be a big black guy with dreads named Ras One) and told him what happened. They both flew down the stairs, while my friend and I chased after them yelling, “Don’t do anything! It’s not worth it!!!! Come back!!”
All I could imagine was Patrick and our friend, Ras One, being hauled off to the big house. I had never seen this side of Patrick, I had no clue what he was going to do!
Patrick knocked on the guy’s door and this elderly lady answered. She was pretty freaked seeing Patrick and Ras One at her doorstep! This is how it went:
Patrick: “Hi Ma’am, I need to talk to HIM right there.” (Patrick pointed inside the room to the Jerk who was now sitting on the couch.)
Lady: “That’s my son. What did he do now?”
Patrick: “He looked up my wife’s dress and I want him to apologize to her. Right NOW! (Patrick signals for me to step closer, I instead back away.)
Lady: (Turns to son) “Did you do that? Get your lazy ass over here and apologize to these people NOW!”
Jerk comes to the front door, sees me, and walks over. He took off his baseball cap and put it over his heart.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry for looking up your dress. That was very disrespectful of me. Please accept my apology.”
I didn’t know what to do, so I said “Thank you for apologizing.” And then Patrick told him, “If you ever disrespect my wife again, I’ll kick your ass!”
Isn’t that so cool? But relax. It’s not all sunshine and roses 24/7. Do I ever feel like choking him until his eyeballs pop out? Of course! At least once a week! Especially when he uses my $30 scissors to cut through wood. And I assure you, he’d say the same about me! Like when I tripped and knocked over his keyboards on the tile floor. That’s normal for a couple of 15 years, right? I don’t know why I’m going off on a Patrick tangent. It was just a fun day that we spent with each other in the art room. If fact, I think I’ll go back in and watch the rest of Shaka Zula , it’s bound to be on disc four by now!
peace, respect & glitter.
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