note: I am extending the story challenge. Forget getting the egg for Easter. I will award it Friday and send it Monday. You have till Friday. Melissa, this means you. And Wabi – and several others of you who are either big chickens or just too fancy for a wee challenge like this.
Or:
What We Did with Our Weekend.
Once there was a Montana princess who got herself cursed. She’d been minding her own business, tripping merrily along beside the river, herding silly children in the waning light of a pleasant summer day, when the curse got her. We hate that curse.
But this princess had magic, and when magic comes to a head, it’s gonna blow – curse or no curse. The key to her magic was, and always will be—sappy as it may sound—love. Love calls. Magic leaps. Prices paid later. Which is why there sometimes have to be elves.
Prom. First son. Big deal. Other sons go to restaurants. This son’s mother brings the restaurant to him. She cannot be talked out of it. No Disneyland nearby? Ah – magic, blooming. she will build it right there in her very own house.
And so it begins: Thursday – shopping:
color.
We are serious minded about decor.
Careful. Careful enough to get one of every color.
light. floating lights. romantic lights.
more color. dishes. poofs. Look, the napkins match the shopping cart!
Spring. All colors. Pretty dang satisfying.
food. American grocery store. Wow.
I was just minding my own biz, shooting in florescent dang light, going for business-as-usual shopping images. I didn’t mean to catch this moment, but now I really need to ask Chaz what the heck she had going on in her head.
Saturday: Big Day. Big Preparations. The potatoes come, bearing gifts. Being gifts. I am pretending to be just showing up spontaneously with potatoes. Naked ones. Shorn by Chaz and self. G was going to help but we snuck behind his back and did them – POWER through those things – while he was wearing tight pants and a helmet, biking the mountain.
Yea. I had fertilized the pasture by hand, vacuumed the downstairs, messed with a bunch of other things. Finally got a shower. Wet head and potatoes – here I am!!
Mr. B. The man for which all of this prep and pomp were perpetrated. (Like it, Wabi?)
He gave us ten seconds to take pictures.
Gotta go. Girls involved.
Zesty prep.
A peek into the mighty Rachel’s stronghold.
color. made edible. not edible by me, sadly. but chaz ate some. lots, actually. you did, too, Chaz.
light and color. no instructions. (what are these white things for? Chaz figured it out.)
at the sink. i like typing without caps.
fresh.
figuring out the little lanterns. (Shudder – will they work????)
mayyybe –
fun. a spring banner unfurled.
railings hung with tissue paper greenery.
backlit. tissue paper windows.
the hanging of the lanterns. lots of shots of it. chaz directing traffic. young mr. m doing the high work in very strange shoes. our friend, russell – you know, the kid from UP? that’s him, watching.
delightful harvest. better than cherries because birds won’t eat ’em.
bee-utiful widdo face
who needs a welcome mat?
this girl keeps a welcome chair.
the table comes together. wreathes around bowls of floating candles. plastic flutes for fruited water. spring colored sparkly chargers. these will undoubtedly harmonize with girls in spring prom dresses.
oh, yum. i couldn’t taste one bite. i wanted twenty bites. much sorrow.
washing up.
lighting the lamps.
all coming together.
taking a dog break
lighting the table.
i would have dreamed of a prom dinner like this one, if i’d known they existed.
ahhhh. lovely, huh? a mother’s love for her kid. extended to his friends. an evening built from scratch. all those lights? lamps a mama lights along the path of her son’s life. the slight blur? that’s the curse, sneaking back in. it will cost her.
she won’t care.
the end.
I wasn’t there when the kids came, so we will have to get the end of the story from Rachel herself, assuming that her computer, also evidently cursed, gets well.
ummm – also this note: it’s harder than you might think, typing without caps.
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