The Swing

I just wanted to share one of my fundamentally favorite paintings.  It is by Jean-Honore Fragonard in the Rococo period, I believe.  It's titled "The Swing" and was requested by the Baron. 

I absolutely love the soft colors and swirls of the foliage framing the picture.  The tone alone creates a very romantic and dramatic setting. 

Now, the reason I do not own a copy of this is because of the conotations and story behind it.  I just can't get on board with the scandulous nature behind it.  So, in case you were curious, here's the scoop.

Like I mentioned earlier, this painting was commissioned by the Baron.  The young lady on the swing was to represent his mistress and the man pushing her was a bishop.  The bishop was later replaced with the woman's husband, who is unknowing of the Baron himself sneaking a peek up the woman's dress.  The shoe flying off her foot represents loosing her innocence as she permits the Baron to gaze at her womanhood. The cherub in the garden has a finger placed over his lips as to reference the secret affair taking place.  There are more hidden conotations that I will not explain for the blushing that has already overtaken my face.

Getting Remarried

Last night I dreamt that after several years of marriage, my husband, Tate, and I decided to call it quits for undisclosed reasons.  After going through this heartbreak, my bosses told me I could not work as  a Recruiter unless I was married.  They forced me to marry my coworker, Joe.  Now, I don't care much for Joe and this is close to the last person on Earth I'd ever choose to marry.

So, as you can imagine, I was not at all enthuised about marrying someone I despised.  I had a nasty look on my face throughout the entire wedding and didn't even kiss him at the end.  We left for our Jamaican honeymoon with about as much excitement as you would expect from someone getting a novacaine shot in their gums. I was sick at the thought of sharing any part of my life away from work with Joe.  I left our room and went to the lobby to cool off.  There I ran into an older woman who I shared my woe with.  She said she was sure that once we became "closer" everything would be fine.  I immediately started upchucking like nobody's business at the shear thought.  This painting, "The Scream" by Edvard Munch (pronounced "Moonk,) pretty much sums up how I felt. 

After I composed myself, I called Tate.  While we never really knew why we called off the marriage, we both agreed it was a huge mistake.  An hour later Tate showed up in the lobby of my Jamaican resort on a tractor in his blue striped polo shirt, dark Cinch jeans and peanut brown Justin boots.  He was dirty from working but had never looked so good to me.  We ran towards eachother and embraced like never before.

After our brief reunion, it was time to break the news to Joe.  This poor shmuck who has never had a chance did not take the news too well, but that was the least of my worries.  Tate and I jumped on the first plane home and spread the news to our families. 

Only weeks later, we had an intimate wedding on the lake at sunset with our immediate families and closest friends.  After the wedding, we all headed to a local diner.  While there, my friend Katie was singing in a '70s girl band.  She was wearing a red wig and used the stage name "Lauren Lou."  I also ran into my friend Sarah (with naturally red hair) who had a little blond haired boy that I was absolutely gaga over!  In addition, many of our friends were there to celebrate our commitment, again, and it was so great to catch up with all the girls that had been such a huge part of my life, and now I felt like my life was finally back to wonderful.

When I woke up from this dream, I rolled over and just clung to Tate.  I gave him a phenomenal head and back rub.  Needless to say, I was even more appreciative of having him in my life than I was when I went to sleep last night.