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And paint Frippery did. And draw. And paint, and draw, paint and draw and paint until the goose in her stew began to unravel itself.
"Rupture and repair," she tried her Nonesuch's adopted mantra. Well one of them....she had a few of her own -- some were not fit for print at all....All the while she knew that Nonesuch was off in his studio working. Working for them. Boy, she just wanted to run away from that word.
Work. Work. That four letter word. It was a mantra in and of itself.
Sometimes Frippery thought that when she worked she had a mantra-guide that worked through her. Her brush or hands. It could see behind walls, through people and the masks they wore....always she dared herself to paint dangerously. After all it was just paint and paper, much of it she stuffed under her mattress. Then again, there were at least two sides to each side of paper. She admitted sometimes she saw just what she wanted to see and sometimes, what she wanted to see hidden. But, out it would come.
She was hard pressed to admit that maybe life was more about the process along the way. Maybe she thought too much. She would think about that too. But how do you not think? That was unthinkable.
The ark had opened too wide to close it now. Boy! Life could get wirey, yes wirey to her way of thinking. Especially when she turned her art on herself....one man's art is another man's woodpile she wondered a loud to herself, guess that was why it took so many people to make a planet. Now where was that wire?
Oh, Tidy, thy beauty is so fine.
"Me, me, me!," Nonesuch ruminated to himself. Is the cup (or, in his case, the hat) half full, or half empty? He was never quite so sure and his seemed to have a hole in it in any case. He tried to maintain his composure and take an in breath. Problem was, sooner or later, he had to breath out....dancing as fast as he could, but the steps kept changing...sometimes, he felt there was a veritable fire in the house...he just had to say "no," and not squash people as sometimes happened. How to be okay with upset and not always try to manage it. Well, back to work. Nonesuch went to his garden studio and picked up his pen...
Frippery stewed and stewed. She then picked up a paintbrush and started mixing paint. Soon she found an old linen canvas brought back from a trip to France years ago that had a half painted painting on it. The painting was now the start for her next work. Thinking and painting, painting and thinking. The process calmed her and put her in her world. It seemed from her vantage point, going or not going on a trip was beside the point and it was all a tempest in a tea cup and she was sorry to have caused so much commotion.
Truth be told, reality was not her favorite cup of tea. And, yes, Nonesuch was right. It was a crummy time to launch that dream. Drats! At least when she painted, she was free, floating and, yes -- happy. For a while, she allowed herself to finally breathe deeply and indulge her painting. Life serves you up itself, like it or not. She fished in her pocket for her last chocolate and popped it in her mouth. Yum...
"Frip, what's this?" queried 
Nonesuch.
"Well, take a look," she said.
"Okay, okay, I will, but...what could it be?" It looks like a note...," he wondered aloud.
Jumping in Frippery said, "Or,...maybe a pair of cruise tickets," excitedly motioning to the trick bottle she felted yesterday and stuffed with papery notes."
"Uh, oh, is someone...going somewhere?" eased Nonesuch.
"Yes dear, WE are, it is my biggest birthday ever and, well...simply put I have decided we're going on a grand tour," she stated.
"But, you know...this is a bad time in the economy and all. I thought we decided to put off super sized indulgences." offered the now becoming flustered Nonesuch.
"Nonesuch, this is nothing of the sort," tried and indignant Frippery, "If anything, I would call it eminently practical, not only that, but an educational mandate, a call to ponder, and refine -- a sabbatical for the soul," she said.
"Why my dear strive so hard in life, filling one's head with endless thoughts, facts and figures -- honing one's talents all day out of books and all manner of dithering with the computer and what not if not to step away from it all and test oneself for relevancy in the world.
"In fact, why create curiosities in one's head if not to occasionally try it all out in the actual stuff of the real world? What IS the point after all Nonesuch,?" stated Frippery at length starting to stand.
"Calm yourself Frippery, I did not say anything, I am just mulling," Nonesuch offered.
"Nonesuch dear, I have actually heard it said in polite circles and beyond, that civilization can be so uh, uh, uh..civilizing..." Frippery finally announced.
"Responsibilities or not -- let's enjoy life from another deck chair," she continued. "Quite possibly the change of view would challenge us about what our priorities actually are these days. The daily slog will survive quite well without us," as she harrumphed away.
Well, this was a pickle of sorts, and not one to be "dillied" with for very long. Nonesuch was astounded by what he actually regarded as a wild idea and deeply perplexed about the quandary of it's timing.
However, this relevancy thing Frippery talked of was what was most stuck in his craw. Was HE in fact relevant? Was it important to be relevant? What to do, what to do, if anything. Couldn't one be relevant without a trip abroad or following the latest trends and fashions? Must one always be striving and moving? Wasn't that just another distraction?
Sometimes a flower could be the whole world he thought to himself.
Of a sudden it seemed in fact Nonesuch's world was spinning faster and faster and tilting out of control. His beloved measured life was manifesting all manner of hard questions. It seemed as if a serpent had sprung from his quiet garden and he was being called to adapt and act fast.
Nonesuch did not much like adaptation, unless it was on his own terms. And, frankly adaptation by surprise ambush, as it seemed this morning, was his least favorite variety.
He rathered his surprises more if they were served up alongside his Sunday pancakes like a pair of crisp bacon slices done on the slightly crisp side. Insead it looked to him as if he was going to start his day with what he called a "mean breakfast" as his first course. In other words, the bacon was burnt and tasted like dust.
Off in to the garden he went to gather his thoughts.
"I don't know about you Nonesuch, but I think it is a fine day for a picnic," Frippery stated. "As a matter of fact, I have it right here," she continued.
With that she pulled from her basket: an instant grassy meadow, a gingham cloth, a pair of blue sky napkins, pork chop on plate, deli ham and Swiss sandwich in a brown (cashmere) bag, rotisserie chicken and as well a fine vintage. Too, the requisite insects were also included, pre-jarred of course as this made them less bothersome.
Let it be known that the sup was figure saving and in fun -- as it was of the felted, fabric and wooly sort.
It was a lovely picnic indeed -- if one was prepared. (
You see, Frippery was in the habit of making things all folly, whether a "vegan" lunch as in today's picnic or other faux "objet d'art" items. All the while her guests sat here and about she would be popping all TOO real, and very "outside the food pyramid" chocolates from her seamed pockets into her mouth). The unfortunately unprepared fed themselves on their wry amusement or occasional, if suppressed, disappointment.
As such and knowing this gag Nonesuch settled himself and picked up the bottle marked "Der Wine," uncorking it, he noticed a flash of white, what was this device?...could it be there was a note in the bottle?
He unfurled it, and with it, his suspicions...Frippery held her breath...
