Monday, August 18, 2014

What Your Fridge Magnets Say

A year ago we renovated the kitchen and everything stuck to the old fridge got thrown in a box for nine weeks.  Just as I had agonized over the paint colors and the backsplash, what got pinned back up on the new stainless number had to be carefully thought through. It gave me a chance to get rid of the twenty outdated coupons I'd saved for a rainy day that never arrived. While waiting on some asparagus to grill for lunch over the weekend, I took a considered look at my haphazard curation. 

First, a Texas Christian University magnet I was gifted for giving a lecture to an undergraduate marketing class there on my work on that front in the legal field. This was at least ten years ago, before I had any business telling anyone how to emulate what I do for a living. It holds up a sticker I picked up about four years ago at Avoca Coffee  on Magnolia. It reads: Make Fort Worth Weird. I may still have had an Austin crush back then, but have since dismissed it and now know I live in the superior city.  As my friend L once said, the original t-shirt should read, Keep Austin Pretentious. Fort Worth is plenty weird, but instead of it walking down the street, one must be admitted to the dining rooms on the West Side to get the full picture. Working on that still.

Andy Warhol covers his face on another magnet. I got this after the kids and I saw an exhibit of his work at the Modern--where else can one look at world-class art and be home in fifteen minutes? It secures an image from Tuscany's Hotel Monteverdi, as well as a New Yorker cartoon with a man crying at a bar and saying to his companion, "I suffer from accurate self-esteem."



I plan to live here at some point. Until then, I'll just gaze at it and dream.

Behind a pirate magnet is a picture of my daughter at three, grinning in a sundress and diaper, holding a cob of corn. Another with a soccer motif--my mom gave both to my kids when they were in elementary school, though it appears I've mixed up the child who matches which--holds one Chinese Yuan, Chairman Mao front and center. My trip to China almost three years back was such an experience and let me meet T

Life is what happens when we are making other plans, beneath which is photo of my beautiful children with in me my little black dress at our friends' wedding, a melding of lives of two strong and loving people with five teenagers between them. My son in black and white at three years of age is in profile beneath that shot.

A thank you from the North Texas Food Bank secures a postcard from Wendy Davis thanking me for a donation to her campaign. Proud of both.

In the midst of my divorce, I bought a magnet that reads, It's All About Me.  It seemed then that it wasn't about me at all, but I'd heard enough details of my selfishness that it seemed like a good way to flip off the Universe. Behind this lie cards from memorable San Francisco restaurants: State Bird Provisions (don't bother); Wayfare Tavern (if you are a Tyler Florence fan, you'll love it); and Chaya, the sushi bar on the Embarcadero where it all began. 



Finally I have a postcard with Rothko's Light Cloud, Dark Cloud. It is tethered by yet another cheesy note which reads, Leap, and the net will appear.

Once I was told that bookcases are a form of intellectual vanity. The person who said it avoids social media, no surprise and maybe he's found the easier path on that front. Still, my bookshelves and my fridge remain are things to which I pay occasional attention, though few people see them these days. Who knows why we choose what we do?  Send me your fridge gallery and tell me all about it.   

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