A Handmade Life

Sometimes, life just shines. For me, it always seems to happen when I feel at my lowest point. It's like the universe finds a really dramatic way of reminding me just how silly I am for ever thinking the world is a bad place.

I decided to enter a scholarship contest for a journalism conference I've been wanting to attend for years. Maybe this year will be different. After all, I got a scholarship to London so perhaps the scholarship gods are still up there, waiting to gift me with something else. The only problem is, I've been way too busy to get my materials together. So, of course, I did it at the absolute last minute. That resulted, as it always does, in tons of stress and way too much effort.

The path actually started in Germany, where my friends Sonja and Dominic helped me by rushing to the store to buy me a new color ink cartridge and waiting with me for two hours while the printer slooooooooowly coughed out each sheet. Dominic was in charge of the computer and Sonja was the organizer of each particular story. I needed five copies of each and there were two stories per entry and four entries in total. I didn't have enough of what they printed, so when I went to my friend Uschi's, she and her husband printed me out another 7 copies. Then I called T in London and asked if he could print me another 30 pages at work.

Still, it wasn't enough. So I got up early this morning and rushed to a color copy shop then on to a computer/print shop, where I found a few stories online and put them into a word document, then my friend at the print shop printed them out for me. He was apparently reading my stories and commenting on them as they came out. "I like how you described that restaurant owner," he laughed. "If you get the scholarship, you should take me to dinner as a thanks for helping you make your deadline."

He was really quite funny. He was also correcting the prices of the meals in my stories by showing me where I indicated prices in dollars rather than pounds. Perhaps I should hire him as my editor!

I was running down the street to get to the Post Office, knowing already I was late for my lunch date with my friend Erica. Still, I had to wait in the enormously long queue because the Office was closing soon. While there, I ended up talking to a darling woman about the size of a baby kangaroo (or joey, for those of you who learned the proper name in elementary school), who was from the West Indies. She'd come to London 30 years ago to work on the railway. She told me how she only made 5 pounds a week and had to use a public bath that was only available to women on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and men on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. That meant she only bathed three times a week.

She told me how she worked so hard, from 5 a.m. to 2 a.m. each day and now, people come here from all over the world and get free health care and free lodging. She didn't seem bitter, though. She traveled the world and has been to every country in the UK except Ireland. Suddenly, I didn't want the line to be shorter.

Even the guy at the Post Office who helped me mail off my package was grinning from ear to ear. He was a far cry from all the grumpy folks I normally encounter behind the glass.

My phone ran out of credit so I couldn't let Erica know I was running late. Thankfully, when I got to Notting Hill, she was munching on a croissant and smiling. We found a darling little Italian deli with an orange VW bug in the window, displaying some freshly made pizza in its window. We shared some delicious mushroom pizza and another with ham, then we walked down Portobello Road and perused all the market stalls.

When she left, I stopped in a few of the boutiques and found an incredible designer whose clothing was very Betsey Johnson-ish. I was captivated by her designs and felt like Cinderella on the night of the ball. I tried on the most beautiful things. There was a skirt made of fabric so light and delicate it was as if I was wearing skin. It was compltely see-through, but I didn't really feel all that self-conscious, standing in the open doorway as half of London walked by, looking in. I felt so lovely in it, I wanted to glue it to my body. She said she'd put in a black underskirt for me and gave me a discount. Then, I tried on a dress made entirely of scarves. It was a patchwork of color and has an open back and a halter top. She took in the chest (no big surprise) for me and will hand tailor it for me by Wednesday. She gave me a 30 pound discount on that one. I felt very exclusive.

The guitar music is still floating through the air and my dinner guests and I have been laughing, talking and remembering just how lovely the world can be, thanks to all the wonderful examples from my day. Kind of makes you excited to wake up each morning. You honestly never know what's going to happen!