It seems in my friendships that the question of "What should we do?" has always been left up to me. "Do you want to dress up?" has always been the answer.

My best friend Emily had a pack rat mother, which was to our advantage. So many options! But I always came back to the idea that she and I were homeless children. She was my homeless sister, and we were always looking for our grandmother's house, who would look after us since our parents were both dead.

Homeless is great, because you can pile on the junk. Just pile it on. Mis-matched moon boots, too short dresses, trucker caps, red tights, a stuffed kitten in a basket. It was all game. so the afternoons would be consumed with orchestrating our ensembles, and then we'd walk to the gas station to buy candy and sodas. Emily's mother had a huge bottle full of change that we would shove in our pockets for these occasions. To pay with our sweets in pocketful's of pennies seemed very right. I thought that it was always funny to wrap graham crackers in tin foil and eat them on our way, so that we looked like urchins nibbling away at the portions that had just been doled out to us at the shelter, or something. And then i'd have her sing miserable songs with me as we rambled down the road, all of this a show for the cars that drove by, about how wonderful life would be once we found grandmother's house. Honestly nearly every weekend we did this. Oh my lord. I should suggest that Emily and have a homeless reunion. she'd probably be game. Oh, Oh! I'm remembering this one time where we were at my house, and I had a brilliant idea. We should dress up like crazy women's, and knock on my front door and freak my family out! We really thought they wouldn't recognize us in our mish-mosh of old halloween costumes, but of course my mother did. She invited us in for dinner, much to my little brother's horror, (he did not recognize us as Rachael and emily, but rather as crazy women's). We supped in our costumes, keeping our conversation to a minumum to avoid Noah recognizing our voices. What a HOOT. Emily grew up, I didn't really have much in common with her anymore, as I still just wanted to dress up in costumes and talk to people on the streets.

So, Stephanie was a great friend for this. She was a reed in the wind, and thought all my ideas were good ones. Also, Stephanie was a ballerina, which meant lots of costume options. Costumes at this time were still sloppy, but there was a hint of glamour. tutu's were present, but also cowboy boots, boy underwear, parasols, spandex and lots of it. Stephanie had rich parents, and lived in a very hoity subdivision. High Profile parents, image-concerned and all. So, I thought it was really hilarious to spend an afternoon piling on the layers of fun, and then we would make fliers to shove in the doors of her neighhbors, or to their faces if they happened to be in their yards. Construction paper, various food stuffs taped to, holiday wishes for holidays that weren't in season, misspelled to heighten what at the time I thought was pure hilarity, things like: "HE is Rizzen!" with a poorly drawn lit-up cross for Easter in June. I think we did this every weekend for about a month until neighbors complained to her parents. So, it was at this time that we would just dress up, and walk her dog around the neighborhood. High School was not kind to our friend ship. Her mother thought I was a 'slut'. Ouch. Stephanie was a good friend, though.

My costume life continued solo for a while. Until I met Rachel. We worked together at a coffee shop, and I was delighted when after I drew a handle bar moustache on my face during our shift, that she wanted one too! Friend? Costume Friend! By this time my costumery was more fine tuned, and I had a specific objective with each ensemble. For Halloween, we dressed up and ate Mexican food, I a golfer of the craziest kind, and she a pirate of the cutest kind. And our friendship was solidified. so many adventures! So many moustaches! One of the notable: Rachel whose father is a preacher and into that whole scene was involved with this outdoor music festival. Rachel invited me to come along, and I told her that I would come if only we could dress up as biblical characters. And so I was moses with a huge long beard, a knarled stick and robe, and hollywood sunglasses. Rachel was a Roman guard. She looked so scary! And the summer of 2003 involved so much face painting for the two of us! Our faces would be plastered with acrylic paints, and we'd go on soda runs or dance around the fire. While she is still in my life, that aspect is gone. I think that it no longer entertains her.

And once again I fly solo with my 'circuit dressing' as I have coined these days. This involves rolling out of bed, and piling on whatever article of clothings I happen upon. It's great fun, and gives me a base to work with. My parents see me in my home life, now. I think that they think i'm a crazy woman. They'll come home and I will be wearing angel wings and an acid wash denim jumpsuit. Oh, my life. I swear. I am happiest when I am sporting many layers and none of them match. Unless I'm trying to look cute, and then I want to look cute. You know. Really cute.

I believe that dressing up is a phase i'll never outgrow.