Really Depressing Blog Post #1 (Retirement or the Lack Thereof)

Hahahahaha. I'd like to think I'm pretty cool... this photo (which is simply a screen shot so sorta fuzzy) was posted by a friend. It's apparently a picture from the 1970's when someone made off with several letters from the Saint Rita's School sign. (A good friend, Sheldon Krevit taught art there for many years. I'll have to forward this to him.)
But the picture has nothing to do with this post. In fact, it's the happiest thing about this sermon, which you can feel free to skip but I feel the need to rant. (And it's my blog so I'll rant if I want to, rant if I want to!)
I read a very depressing article on Yahoo news today. It was about how 40% of people 55 and over have no money at all saved for retirement. And they had interviews with perfectly nice people (not drug addicts or (gasp!) artists or anything) who had lost jobs or taken early retirements due to buyouts etc etc and how these people were working well into their 60's- and beyond. Let's be real: I know very few people (like I can count on one stubby hand) who will ever actually retire.
Take me for example (That's St. Rita to all you nonbelievers). I wish to dissuade anyone in my audience who thinks I didn't try and save money for something as distant and unlikely as the concept of "retirement". I pretty much realized early in my career as a brilliant- if underutilized- artist, that retirement was for others. And I don't mean retirement from making art, but retirement from so-called gainful employment, which frequently turns out to be less than gainful. And unfortunately, many poor suckers and fools who bought into the system and worked every motherfucking day of their adults lives are in no better a position than myself. The American system is broken, the Middle Class is gone and everyone is now forced to live like an artist. Might as well get drunk and enjoy it! (And hell: go ahead and piss in the fireplace afterwards for good measure.)
And even more pathetic was that this article went on to give helpful advice on how it's not too late to try and save now. These tips included things like not indulging in luxuries quite so often. Heavens! I knew I should never have had all those costly spa treatments! I should have never have bought imported Egyptian cotton sheets sets or taken all those trips to exotic far flung places! Bob and I live very well, but we have always gone without things that I suppose others deem essential- like giant screen plasma tvs that need replacement every year because they're just not big or plasmic enough, or even socks without holes in them. And that's fine as I don't particularly miss most of this stuff anyway. But really? Don't tell me where to economize and where not to. Pay check to paycheck and beyond offers many people- artists and not- no room for any savings, let alone disasters. I just laugh or cringe or moan (or do all three in an ironically spasmodic fashion) when I detect this tone of surprise that our system is failing most of us.
We can surely thank the 1% for that. Tax the fuckers and don't allow little weasels like Paul Ryan to start in on "reforms" and cutting "entitlements". I don't know what year most people in America are living in, but it's 2014 and most of us are screwed.

A New Leash on Life

People don't believe me when I say that Jules and I wear out our leashes. This is the one I "retired" this morning. We go through a new, twelve foot long leash every two months or so. Reliably! I should have bought stock in this company. But what with dragging the leash every day along the paved road, and the dirt road and it gets wet and muddy and covered in snow; I'm honestly surprised we don't wear them out more frequently. By the time I notice that we need a new one, it's been knotted and re-tied in an effort to reinforce the frayed wreck that it has been reduced to. At this stage, I'm always afraid that Jules will run after a squirrel or something and simply break the leash. Tomorrow, we start on a new one.
Here's the little weasel himself:

A shot from this summer that I never used- I thought we could all use a picture of warmth and green. No, I promise, I will not mention rain, snow, fog, and weather what- have- yous.Suffice it to say, Jules is always happy no matter what the weather. Look at that smile! I don't know what he's graduating from, but I'll bet he aced all the tests. (A random balloon that blew into Maggie's pasture last summer.)
And on a rather different note, my artist's book proposal, "Better Guns and Gardens" was selected for inclusion in a show this November at Artspace in New Haven. I need to send a big "thank you" to a good friend, Joan Fitzsimmons (a wonderful photographer) for persisting in suggesting that I submit to this show. I had read the call for entries and had been dismissive, until a great idea for a quirky mash up presented itself to me- hey presto! on my morning walk with Jules. So you see, there is a circular logic to this posting. I get the best ideas on my morning walk with Jules, wearing out those leashes.

AntiSnow Dance

This is what it has come down to- me against the snow! I know in California they are praying for rain and snow to alleviate their serious drought conditions. But here? I'm dancing my hooves off in an effort to appease the SnoGods (if there are any) and make it stop already. I've heard up to 18 inches in Litchfield County! Nothing to do but bake cookies, vacuum the stairs, work in my studio, take antibiotics and watch the old bump drain. (It is diminished.) The only thing that has improved is the temperature, hovering around the balmy mid-twenties,
Bob has secured the biggest pile of wood ever, indoors.

I share his desire to not have to go out later when there is another foot of snow to bring in the evening's wood. Especially as this white disaster is going to turn to freezing rain and rain later, and then back to snow. Nothing is made better by a coating of ice, especially not my mood. So that's it for now; I'm off to perform round three of my snow cessation dance.

Bye Bye Birdie

Jules and I discovered a dead red tailed hawk on our walk yesterday morning. It was laying in the road, neck obviously broken, but unharmed other than that. I mean, what were the chances with all the speeding Audis and Volvos and BMWs racing off to the office that it wasn't utterly smooshed like most road kill? I carefully delivered the sad bird to the side of the road and returned to the scene of the crime in my car on my way to work.

It is really beautiful and remarkably light. I guess we all know that bird's bones are hollow so they can fly but I'm constantly surprised when picking up a bird just how airy a living thing (even dead) can be. But yes, I drove around all day with a dead bird in the back of my car, delicately folded into a plastic bag. Half way to work, it occurred to me that maybe the hawk was only stunned and I started casting a wary eye backwards, hoping to not see a sudden feathery eruption. These things aren't small when enclosed in a hatchback. Remember, I rescued a stunned road side hawk years ago on my way back from New Haven. A stupid suburban woman in a mini van slammed into the bird and simply drove on. (I saved it and drove it all the way to the Audubon center in Sharon CT, where it was allegedly nursed to health.)
In any event, the bird didn't awake from the dead an it was cold enough (no I am not talking weather...) so that it kept quite frozen all day. I showed the bird around at work; it was quite the conversation piece. And I can bet you that I was the only person at the Stop and Shop Plaza with a dead hawk in my car.
Here's a couple of details because how often do you get to see something like this up close:

Sort of sad! Makes me think of that poor giraffe Marius (?) that they "euthanized" in a zoo in Europe. Don't get me started; I'm seething over that whole mess. (He could have come to live with us, here at the BauHaus Chicken Coop. Maggie would have loved the company.)
Anywya, a shot of his feet:

Just a touch of blood! I feel badly as Bob and II suspected this is one of a pair of hawks that live (noisily) near our little pond. They do mate for life, but will rebond if one of the pair dies. And it's mating season!

Blue America

Here's what I'm working on- a series of collage/drawing hybrids called "Blue America". I've never done maps before and how they came about is instructive. I was asked to participate in the Artspace annual auction fundraiser and this year they have a theme, the color blue. Typically, I detest themed suggestions because it compels you to not just donate, but do a specific work that is not anything you'd ordinarily do. This means if it doesn't sell, you're stuck with some weird usually sub-par piece. (I have several choice left overs in my flat file. Should I just throw these orphans out?)
But for some reason, after a bit of grumbling, I got interested and have spent the past several days making maps of America. Keeps me out of trouble and stops me complaining about the weather...

I'm having fun! I will ultimately donate one (I have four underway) but I won't feel bad about these pieces being in my portfolio. I am enjoying the toying with ideas about "blue" and "red" America; you will notice that Texas is red in the above map. that was not entirely by design and I was going to collage it all over blue. But then I realized that it was accurate. (I have been trying to cut out the whole of America from one page of a magazine.) It's funny because many artists are inspired by maps, and I have been too, but I've never made art based on them.
I cut out a free hand drawing off the outline of America. I just eyeballed it, not traced it which is why the two above America profiles are different. (I did look at a map while drawing it.)
Health update: My bump is shrinking nicely, but I'm already sick of taking antibiotics! Only three days in...

A Small Procedure (Kinda Gross)

This posting is not for the faint of heart and contains graphic descriptions of blood and pus and gore. The human body- mine!- is more than capable of producing some pretty disgusting things. To whit, about a week ago, I noticed that I had a reddened slightly irritated area at the very top of my right thigh. (Due to the sensitive nature of where this "visitor" is/was, I have edited out the general view of my body. See photo.This picture isn't even from my friend the bump at it's most dramatic) I figured it was an ingrown hair or something and that it would disappear as quietly as it had appeared in the first place. But I was wrong.
Every day, my MiniMe (as Bob dubbed it) grew bigger and redder and well, angrier. On Wednesday, during the snow storm, I confessed to Bob that I was worried as I was starting to walk just a little funny and getting dressed was an ordeal as certain articles of clothing had trouble clearing my now mountainous bump. Bob helpfully suggested that it looked as if I were growing testicles. (It has been remarked that I do have "balls"...) I decided that if it ever stopped snowing and Bob got the snow blower going, I should probably make a visit to a doctor.
So today, (the earliest they could see me) I went to the doctor, naively thinking they'd probably give me a prescription for antibiotics and tell me to keep an eye on it. Instead, I was informed that I needed a procedure and that I really shouldn't go to work afterwards as I would probably be pretty uncomfortable. This is early on Friday and I don't think I was prepared for the idea of a procedure let alone for the size of the needle that was presented for lancing; at least, I escaped something called "packing" where they stuff some sort of material (insulation? cement?) into the hole created to keep it open. The initial probing was uncomfortable, but the needle inserted to administer the local numbing agent was a killer. "Ow", I volunteered. "Real ow", "Even more OOOW". And then the nice doctor (I did like her) began to knead and squeeze. This didn't hurt as I was numbed, but boy I could see her shoulder muscles working. And it seemed like it took ages. There was quite a quantity of nastiness residing in my thigh; when I dismounted the table, the sheet was all wet and red around the edge. Yuck.
So I was bandaged and given a prescription for ten days of major antibiotics and a pain pill (which is why I'm typing carefully: I'm not supposed to operate machinery and I'm actually letting spell check check my spelling.) And I got to stay home from work! They gave me a dismissal slip- just like being in elementary school. Once again, thank heavens for Obamacare. My copay for medications was only $24, which relieved some of my anxiety about going to the doctor.
So much for today's medical adventure. I am certain I will offer updates on my recovery... maybe I'll even take a photograph of the "after" site. I'm sure it will look gross for several days. Thank goodness I have the weekend to limp around, listing portside. And thank goodness I had something to blog about besides the weather. Hahahaha.

In Denial

So forget it! No matter how you beg and plead, I am not discussing my hatred of this weather. Nope, no harangues about snow and freezing rain and shoveling and wet gloves and messy, dangerous road conditions. Just not going to happen.
You just cannot get me to mention white, chilly, useless, was-fluffy-this-morning-and-now-has-crust stuff. Not going to happen on this blog.
Let's ponder the upcoming Olympics... but then again, those are WINTER sports and require that precipitation that dare not mention its name.
So how about food? How about an obscene appraisal of all the many things I've been consuming because of the cold and dark season? I suspect I have company in the vain attempt to drown my winter doldrums in the consumption of random calories... oh! splendiferous rolls of abdominal fat! Lipids and jiggly bits!

That does look kind of cool, though. Bob made theses arrangements back in the fall and they've held up remarkably well. That cone shape is perfect. See? I am capable of cheering up for three minutes. Maybe someone could stage an intervention. Please come to the Bauhaus Chicken Coop and whisk me away to a warm, sunny climate... just for a week or two. I'm not even fussy; I have no specific destination in mind. The only requirement is no cold white stuff. No ice crystals. Just warmth, maybe some colorful birds chirping and perhaps a palm tree or gigantic tropical flower or two. But maybe first send me to fat farm...

Groundhog to be Deported...

An unnecessary- nay! a gratuitous photo!- of that entirely unnecessary white stuff currently falling.
What was I saying? I was tired of winter? Oh, you have no idea... So as a punishment, we're getting more snow on Wednesday and even more snow on Saturday!
In any event, I vote to deport the groundhog (along with Justin Bieber). The Canadians seem to enjoy winter so they can have it. That winding trail in the above photo is Bob's handiwork with the famous snow blower. And if you squint really carefully, you can just see Maggie in the distance to the left. We're all hunkering down. I even missed work today because of the snow. (Well, that always is a good thing in a backasswards way; more time in the studio.)
I had spent the morning of February 2nd singing to Jules and myself about how the groundhog could not possibly see his/her shadow as it was completely overcast.But it turns out that the particular groundhog selected/elected to report on the state of all things winter, saw said shadow and fled back underground. I want spring, dammit!
However, we have signed on to do a mid-summer garden tour and I'm excited. (Something to live for!) Bob and I had volunteered our property for inclusion on the Mad Gardeners tour the first year we moved in, thinking it would be educational, instructive and cheeky to present a garden that didn't exist, sort of a "tabula rasa" that we could re-show several years later to contrast what can be done by dedicated and tireless gardeners. But I suspect the committee was utterly horrified at that notion and they declined our gracious invitation. But this year, our fourth gardening here at the BauHaus Chicken Coop, will (hopefully) be a fecund and delightful year. It will be a good excuse to buy lots of lovely and exotic plants and seeds and stuff the beds and borders!
At least the promise of some distant spring event horizon gives me hope that warmer, sunnier days will prevail. The tour is scheduled for July 12th, so mark your calendars.
In the meantime, contact the consulate and deport the bums!