I'm tired. Good tired. David spent the weekend on the mountain and though he's 28 years old, a Cornell graduate with a degree in History, English, or Political Science, or something, has his Masters in Education, taught three years for Teach for America, has his law degree, is studying for the Tennessee Bar, and will be a commissioned officer in the Army JAG Corps in January... I'm still his mommy and I still need to wave as he drives away from my home as I clasp all the memories he's left for me to nudge around my heart until he returns and we can add some more. (I can hear his eyes rolling with my goopy sentiments.) I can't help myself. I enjoy my children. I was up at 6 am. I had 5 hours sleep. I'm tired, but it was worth it - every single wave.

After he drove off, I gulped several cups of Dunkin' Donuts' finest and then whished and whisked powders and wands of makeup. I rarely do this. But today was a special day.

Emily set up her easel in my living room and we began a project I've yearned to do and now seems like the time to do it.

Emily is a very fine person and very fine artist. During the past year I've researched portraiture artists in the region - taking into consideration technique and price.
Several months ago I was at Morton Memorial, the local Methodist Church where I like to worship and fellowship. (Oh, I know I'm so naughty to make nouns into verbs.) A lovely woman happened to sit in the pew in front of me. Though I can be shy (Hey! Stop laughing!), I made a point of introducing myself. Most denominations have incorporated into their service *The Peace*. It's a time when people can swivel and greet their pew neighbors with a peaceful salutation or blessing. Morton does The Peace on steroids. It's a ruckus hullabaloo of joy. It's a theological version of musical chairs, but it's musical pews with people sashaying, darting, hurdling, and scurrying around the sanctuary to spread love and fellowship. Woodstock was nothing in comparison to this. Pfft, Bonnaroo is a siesta in comparison. Trust me. It's an eye-popper. And after my initiation, I'd have it no other way. It's one of the many, many reasons I adore Morton Memorial.

It was during The Peace that I met Emily. While everyone was running around loving each other, I had about an hour (of course I exaggerate a mite) to chat with Emily - make her feel welcome midst the marvelous chaos. During that time I got down most her biography which includes portraiture painting. *bing*

I was about 6 years old when my mother started sitting for her portrait. It's a stunning capture of her. I have it here on the mountain and consider it one of my finest treasures. About a year ago I decided to act upon an impulse to have my own portrait done, and that's what was started today.

I've chosen to sit in an elegant wingback chair in my living room. It's purportedly from the Teddy Roosevelt estate - at least that's what my mother always told us. One must factor in that she moved to Monteagle after she claimed Maria Shriver was a member of the Irish Mafia and had instructed her doctors to kill her. But why quibble here? Most my mother's life, and consequently mine, was built on her delusions, but I happen to think the Roosevelt chair is really the Roosevelt chair. There's an aura of truth about it, and it is most dignified and suited to the esteem I give it.

I should've had Emily take a pic of me. The chair is upholstered in a soft emerald gem tone - very elegant. I'm posing in a silk shirt that's a soft lavender gem tone. I'm not one for much jewelry but I'm wearing an exquisite string of pearls given to me by the father of my children. I'm also wearing an exquisite pair of topaz earrings given to me by Brian. I have no sentimental feelings for either of these men. My choices were palette driven, but perhaps with subliminal intent?

I sat for quite a while today in 15-20 minute increments. Emily was impressed with my patience. But hey - I have nothing but time, or so I'd like to think.

Have any of you sat for a portrait? It's really very interesting and I will reflect more at another time. As I mentioned, I'm weary. But I must sneak in that while sitting, I realized I was studying my artist as much as she was studing me. It's really an uncanny exchange.

As always, thanks for stopping in.


Emily setting up



Taking photos of each other


Emily sketching


My mother's portrait