Green Acres

Test run in the woods. It's the weekend of the 4th, actually it's not yet the weekend, but I've decided to start it greedily early. I got the hell out of town yesterday and settled into my hideaway of glass. It's in plain view of chipmunks( I particularly like chasing them) , the occasional box turtle that traverses the garden and lawns headed out towards the woods and secluded pond. The birds, a mesmerising mocking bird , a family of red -tailed hawks and the flock of ravens who come and go morning and late afternoon are my sole company. As you may imagine these companions are a far cry from strollers, pregnant women( this is the new look for this summer, maternity wear in all it's clinging , abbreviated horror)sirens and construction sites. Let's not forget the indiscernible sound of toppling designers in the primeval forest of Fashionland. My hearing is so acute I can hear these high frequency sounds when dogs and editors alike mistake it for the high squeal of devil may care celebutants, and associate celebuterns in training. It's a sound that carries more intensely at night when the birds sleep and everybody else is re booting for the next days festivities.
So I'm out here, essentially in a Green Acres state of mind. Preparing to put my furs in storage...this Puss Cat relies on furs in the colder months . As you can see I don't have a strand of hair on my head or body. Not even the nether regions which most are blessed to have at least a strand or 2. Nope , not a weave, extensions, or a toupee. They itch and are so 90's. So my furs will go to storage, the studio with it's gleaming machinery, fabrics of the most sumptuous quality and the collections present and past will be archived, stored and ultimately put aside. Simplicity is my new mistress. Deadlines for collections, market week, editors who come only with threats of death, all those amusements are being traded for a less complicated existence; one at a level decidedly human in scale.
Separation anxiety gripped me last night but I'm feeling a bit better today. My nakedness feels so natural here. I don't have that feeling of conspicuousness or difference that was a fact everyday in town. Here I feel comfortable in my skin, which is such a blessing when one considers that that's really all there is to me. Copious amounts of skin, which in the past was too easily for some to get under. I feel it toughening. Toughening in a good way. It's akin to growing up. The decision to take a hiatus from Candyland was a grown up decision and not one of fear and flight. More of a self preservation move. The value of my soul and self esteem went up as the economy tanked. There is a frisson of excitement for the future. Changing tracks at this congested station in life is so daunting, but I'm feeling my way instead of looking. My sense of feel is more reliable than looking and thinking. The instinctual move is for me now the right move. So the track is being laid as I inch along.
I intend to share with you some bits and images of what I'm leaving behind. Some of you must be curious as to what I'm about and I was /am about plenty. So after I go for a swim (yeah, this cat likes the pool, especially when it's cranked to 86 degrees) work on my tan, I tan brilliantly!I'll give you something of mine to think about besides my long winded diatribes. I wish you could all come and hang out. I have to tell the truth: it's a little lonely here. Impossibly beautiful but I'm lonesome. That too will pass as I adjust. I'm not finished yet, just testing this new world which will be my new oyster in August.
Happy Fourth of July to you all and enjoy every moment. They pass so quickly.....in a Madoff minute they're gone.