Well, maybe not a total no-brainer. Park Place is a mall, and I abhor malls. Park Place is also across the urban sprawl that is Tucson from where I live. I do love to drive, but on Sunday at the peak of Snowbird-where-am-I-going-oh-I'll-just-turn-left-from-the-right-turn-lane season? The dust bunnies under my computer desk snickered viciously, so I bounded into the garage and into my son's car because that's another story.
So I drive across the city fairly unencumbered and unperturbed. I should not have thought, "Wow, that was easier than I expected," for no sooner do I pull into an aisle of the dreaded parking lot of Park Place than an urban assault vehicle ahead of me decides to stop and wait for someone else to back out of a space. Not usually a big deal, but evidently those particular people had just arrived at their vehicle and were talking to Great Aunt Bitsy in Indiana. So we sit. And sit. And now there are vehicles behind mine. I have no where to go. Could the urban assault vehicle pull ahead and to the side to allow others to move on? That would entail thinking of other people so...no. Could the people behind me back up and let me out? Uh, same reason, no. Ten minutes go by. I put down the window and wave--politely, using all my fingers--to move up or go around. The urban assault vehicle remains unmoving, right turn signal blinking, taunting. In the side mirror of the humungous SUV, I see the petite, upwardly mobile, Baby Boomer white-haired demon-driver blankly smiling while the car for which she is waiting remains parked, unmoving. My playlist of fourteen three-minute songs on my iPod finishes. I My blood pressure now resembles the Dow Jones Index on a record breaking day, I'm hot-flashing, and there is no way in hell the air conditioner in this damned ancient car can possibly keep up. I'm hanging out of the window yelling now, "MOVE IT, GEEZER!" Finally, at long last the vehicle behind mine reverses and I do the same--just as White Hair's behemoth inches forward.
It takes me all of forty-five seconds to find a space and park my car. Why the hell White Hair couldn't was beyond me. But, okay, I'm here, I'll go and find Ms. Linda. Of course, just as I get to the front of the Macy's entrance of the mall, who steps right in front of me rather rudely? White Hair! GAH! However, I don't look good in orange and I hate jumpsuits has become my new mantra. I let her pass, hoping that someday she gets stuck in an elevator for many hours with a vegan suffering from uncontrollable flatulence.
|Linda Harrizon-Parsons at work|
I'm so glad I went and met her. But next time, I do hope the exhibition is nowhere near a mall. Support the Arts!
Details of her piece included a peacock and a Bearded Barbet
|The nearly finished piece! Isn't it amazing?|