Things to be Thankful For

I don't know about you, but I'm plenty thankful for lovely mushrooms like the ones above that are growing on a stump in our back yard. They look like constellations. Here's the whole group of them:

I think they're as nice as anything I could have planted.
So here's a bulleted list of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving season:

• For Bob! He's a great guy and a good cook. Plus, he and our good friend Joe finished my studio ceiling the other day. Yaaayyy!!!
• Jule the Dog; the perfect dog who's only psychotic like .09% of the time.
• Maggie the Mexican Pony who may have soundness issues of late, but is a very nice horse.
• My studio- with new ceiling or not, one of my absolute favorite places to spend my time.
• Good friends and family members. They don't vote republican and they're not total weasels.
• A car that got me home yesterday. Although it threatened to leave me screaming at the side of the road, it came through and made it into the yard.
• For Stop and Shop being open today, although it is Thanksgiving. Bob and I sort of didn't really plan ahead as our family wasn't celebrating until later in the week. So we didn't consider that maybe other people (like the ones that work at stores) should be with their families. We were able to purchase ingredients to make Quesadillas and pumpkin pie for tonight. (Frozen, on sale pumpkin but pie none the less!)

So there! That's my 2015 list. Happy Thanksgiving!

At Last... Insulation!

Insulation at last! Bob and Joe and I are in process, installing insulation and sheet rock the better to regulate the climate in my studio. You will remember that we had finished the majority of the hard work last fall, but still needed to get to the ceiling. Work began Friday...
I sort of like the tutti frutti two color confectionery fiberglass; looks like Easter colors. Of course, sheet rock is going up over it. And I should mention that a very generous and gracious client of Bob's gave us the insulation as she was having work done at her house in the attic. This prompted us to bring it home and use it!

But first here's a shot of the scaffolding that's making this all so much easier! (Not that it's not hard work. The fiberglass is nasty scratchy stuff. I cut it outside on a nifty jig that Bob made... so much faster! And the sheet rock- yes, called "ultra light" but believe me, it weighs plenty!)

Here's Bob and Joe. I'm sure they're delighted that I'm documenting their heroic efforts to finish my studio!

And hey presto! Sheet rock goes up, the insulation vanishes and I'm feeling snugger already. Tomorrow, when I return from "the salt mines" (as I affectionately call my place of work) the ceiling should look like... a ceiling!
(And I will mention: I wanted to make a blog posting earlier, but felt somehow not up to my usual silliness after the Paris terror attacks. Being concerned about the self indulgent or petty preoccupations of one's daily existence can seem so minor when confronting the bizarre realities of the world in which we live. I was so saddened and sickened by recent events that I couldn't even blog.)

Can It Get Any Weirder?

I'll tease with the above picture but start my dialog by saying, "You know how Bob and I have been having really bad luck with cars and trucks for the past few months?" Well, it only gets weirder so read on.
Our good friends Caltha and Jerry gave us their used Subaru Impreza. Gave it, as in "free"... very generous indeed! Gotta love friends like that! Thank you!!! By last Sunday, it was registered, legal and ours and in our yard, awaiting a muffler replacement, to be done by a friend of a friend (also named Bob). There were a few part-not-ordered mishaps (thanks to the AutoZone in the next town- don't get me going) but the parts were assembled and Car Bob installed the system. It only took an hour, we fired it up and it ran like a charm. I did some errands, exclaiming how wonderful it was to be a two-vehicle household again.
Monday morning I say to Bob, "Just think; I'll drive the car to work and the truck is here, ready to take you to the store or deliver a job you've finished... whatever you need to do!" Of course, nothing is that simple. The car exploded to life but proceeded to get louder and louder and wouldn't run without my foot on the gas. So I sat there thinking, "This is too much". Bob heard the car's commotion from all the way down in his studio and when I turned the car off (as there was no way I could drive it) it kept making this over-heated pinging noise and generally acted like it was going to explode. Needless to say, I took the truck.
So at lunch, I decided to drive up to the garage that had disposed of my Honda and get the $50 that scrapping the car had gotten (Pathetic). I got in the truck, looked ahead of me, saw a co-worker  standing in front of me, standing in front of his truck and I thought, "Oh, I'll never fit between him and the next car over. I'll just back up." The result is the damaged car, above.
You see, the truck is very high. When I looked out my back window, I didn't even see the Volkswagon Passat directly behind me. It gets worse.
I go into the building to find my victim, who turns out to be an elderly (and now irate) customer of the auction house who was there to consign merchandise. I sheepishly confess what I have done- really, I felt terrible (and stupid!) but hey! I wasn't trying to hit her (deep breath) brand new (as in she hasn't even had it a week) car. I mean, brand spanking new...
I will not go into the pitch of her fury or that she insisted I call the State Police, who told me that as I readily admitted that I'd hit her car and it was on private property and no one was hurt, they didn't really need to send a trooper. But she insisted; I think she was hoping the feds would haul me off in leg irons. The police officer who arrived was very nice, and I am sorry to say, entertained by how out for vengeance (or at least a pound of flesh) my victim was. He actually smiled benevolently at me and her and said, "Look: it was an accident. She (me) admits she hit your car. All you need to do is exchange information." My victim kept insisting that the police officer write up a report, treating it as a crime scene. He replied that they don't investigate or file reports on cases like this, as there was no case. She kept insisting that I be publicly stoned or taken to a labor camp or at least chained to a rock where Ford F 150's would back up into me all day long. Something, anything... she wanted justice.

(Insult to injury, absolutely nothing happened to our truck. I think that bulge in front of the license plate directly impacted her hood. Sorry!) The upshot was that she decided she didn't feel safe driving her car and would wait for a tow truck to drag her poor car all the way to Greenwich (although the police officer and a few of my sympathetic* co-workers assured her that absolutely nothing had happened to her engine, just her hood was smashed in and looked dramatically awful but it started and ran just fine.) Did I say I felt really bad? I did, several thousand times but she did her best to berate me, so much so that it got funny and even the police officer was laughing. (Discretely, but he was amused.) She actually waited for that tow truck all afternoon. Like until 4:00. We all took turns, looking out the window expressing disbelief that she was still there. Even the cop, who had kept a vigil with her finally left. (I bet she gets a bigger car next time she's in the market for a new ride.) I drove all the way home at twenty miles an hour and will only go forward from now on.
And the car? Car Bob came back out to check out what on earth had caused the Subaru to threaten to explode... but of course when Bob and Bob started it up and took it out for a test drive, it performed perfectly. Am I nuts? Did we need this? Bob and I can't believe our bad "kar-ma".

*Sympathetic to me as she really was a bitch. I mean, yes, I wrecked her brand new car and probably ruined the rest of her life but give me a break! I was very contrite! My co-workers all watched as she continued to harangue me.

Wildlife Tragedies and Mysteries

Last Sunday morning was truly awful. I fed Maggie and was on my way into the house to eat toast with Bob, when I spied Jules standing stock still over by the fence, staring intently at something. I say "something" as I wander around outside quite often with no contact lens in my good eye and I miss things. I had to get very close to Jules and I'm thinking he sees a squirrel or the neighbor's dog.. But then I realize, with my nose almost on the fence, that he's looking a grey think IN the fence. I think it's a leaf or a mushroom (I am half asleep) and I'm on top of the fence and Jules before it dawns on me that it's the hind end of a bunny, stuck at a really weird angle. I realized this poor bunny is stuck in the fence, and probably hurt. Poor Jules was very good and realized that I was upset as he followed me without a protest straight into the house.
I retrieved Bob, safety glasses, two pairs of heavy leather gloves and a pair of tin snips. Bob and I set to work, trying to free the obviously badly injured rabbit from the fence. When he was finally free, he slide in a pathetic little heap of bunny fur on the other side of the fence and Bob and I agreed that there was only one humane thing to do.
Bob went and got a sharp shovel and I carried the badly hurt rabbit to a clear spot on the other side of the fence and finished him off. At this point, I'm crying (it was very sad!) and it's raining and it couldn't have gotten more gloomy or tragic if we'd scripted it. I buried the bunny and put a small bouquet of late chrysanthemums and yellow amsonia leaves on his grave. So much for Sunday morning.

And today, the next Sunday (and a time change one at that: I'm confused, as usual about what time it REALLY is) I go outside with Jules to feed Maggie and there's another wildlife mystery. There's a large pile of some kind of poo in the yard, right by the long border. I almost stepped in it- isn't that what piles of shit are all about? Anyway, that's it in the picture. Obviously some wild thing as it looks nothing like neatly formed dog poops. This is someone messy who eats seeds and god knows what else... maybe a bear? I got a shovel and disposed of it (heavy!) and then realized that Maggie's fence is bent right by her water basin, like something heavy had climbed over it. Later I discovered another section of bent fencing. I have to deduce that some sizable beast scaled the fence, no doubt terrifying our horse in the mean time, and took a heroic dump on the yard. I hope they had fun!

An Empty Driveway! (sort of)

You will recall we had not one, but two dead vehicles in the driveway. (Don't get me going on the also deceased Honda Civic, sitting at a garage in Litchfield; still can't find the title and am seeking a replacement...) Bob made arrangements and early this morning:

This giant truck showed up. A brief exchange of titles and checks ensued, and the process began. Needless to say, the tow guy showed up when we had just sat down to warm banana nut muffins. But look at the excitement! Worth a cold muffin any day!

Up goes Mommy's dead Subaru!

I love processes like this! And Bob and I are wondering, "Just HOW is he going to take the truck too??!" I guess this is why they don't send us to pick up cars... I would have driven all the way back and- never mind.

And then:

He backs up and of course! He's going to tow the truck!

There they go!

Goodbye F 150! Goodbye Subaru! And we now have a(relatively) empty driveway. Temporarily, just the newer F 150 until the new(er) Subaru arrives, thanks to very generous friends and the trade of an artist's book. (More on that tale in another blog post).And tomorrow, the Department of Motor Vehicles, all over again. Didn't we just go through this??!!??

I am Sick, Therefore I Ramble

This is a piece that I'm working on but I'm further along with it than when I shot this picture (it's pinned, not sewn in the picture.) I like the potential and the potential open endedness of "As If". I also admire the hint of a threat in"...as if". But you can read it however you like. (At present, I think I'm inclined to act as if I'm not sick.)This and the crazy book project about collectors has been keeping my fingers busy.
But something is going on cosmically. Like I developed a cold (and am therefore not really smart right now), and I don't get colds too often. I successfully fought it off all week, but had been feeling run down and tired but was unable to sleep well. And then there's stress... did someone say stress?
But in addition to my cold (which is a minor inconvenience, like we were supposed to be hosting dinner guests), let's face it: Bob and I are down to one car again, my horses feet have something going on (as she's been abscess prone), Mommy went back into Hospice care, fall is here and the weather is getting colder and the days shorter. Yech.

On the other hand, the fall color can be spectacular- or at least peculiar. Check out the pinkish cast to the fall color of the oak leaf hydrangeas. Although I didn't think this year's color was especially great because of the summer drought. And the sudden cold snap made for a quick shedding of foliage...
See? Told you I was rambling... But is this better than the fact that I was contemplating ranting? Ranting about those pesky republicans? Oooooooooooooh. They're so weird.
Most recently, I want to address how they pilloried Hillary Clinton and grilled her for 11 hours of fruitless Benghazi testimony- and this from the party that's always railing about "wasting tax payers money"? Really? Isn't this the biggest waste possible? Especially after one of these clowns was asked if they'd learned anything new. He responded as how Hillary Clinton's statements and answers were consistent with the last time they'd questioned her. I wonder why... Maybe because she is telling the truth and her story IS consistent. At least Hillary Clinton sounded utterly stable, calm and reasonable- and presidential!- in the face of so much political triviality. That fool Kevin McCarthy (who pursued the Speaker's position) let loose a big wet one when he claimed how Benghazi had hurt Hillary Clinton's presidential bid. Boy, did that back fire! Where is he now?
Of course that leads back to republicans and that weasel Paul Ryan as Speaker of the House?!! I'm sick! I can't breath! Get me to bed!

A Trip-ney to the (Nu) Whitney

This is a screen shot of new Whitney Museum of American Art. You may well remember that I do not take my camera anywhere on trips; why bother? So many other people take better photos! I'd rather enjoy my day...
Anyway, Bob and I and our good friend (and artist and art dealer) Ellen piled into her Prius and hit the streets of Chelsea (after surviving traffic jams coming and going), secured parking and walked on the High Line for a few blocks- always a treat! until we ran smack into the new Whitney Museum. Somehow, it had looked more impressive (from the outside) while under construction, but the above shot- with the aid of sexy evening lighting- looks pretty smart. We were able to skip the line which snaked around the block, as Ellen is a member, but to our chagrin, no guests were allowed on her pass, so we ponied up $44 for Bob and me. Kinda steep and I was already feeling a bit peeved...
But we proceeded into the cavernous main hall to take an elevator up to look at art. In my humble estimation, the main lobby looked like an airport terminal and there was not a painting or sculpture to be seen. And the elevators either weren't working or were being used for some other purpose, as there were throngs of people sort of standing around, staring at the closed doors. We opted for the stairs.
These particular stairs led us up three flights and then sort of landed us in another lobby. There were uncomfortable looking people holding some sort of meeting in a glass partitioned office space and it's a good thing they were on view, as there was still no art to be seen. And this is three stories up. Or options here were stand in front of the still seemingly implacable elevator doors (more throngs) or climb more stairs. Deciding that the cardiovascular benefits of climbing further stairs was a fine idea, we set out trying to find the stairs. It became apparent that the design of this new museum left a lot to be desired. The floor plan is not at all intuitive, and they seemed to like to hide the stairways. There were many cul-de-sac office hallways and a few dead ends before we located the stairs. And climb we did, on stairs that hardly seemed intended for use by paying customers, as they were sketchily painted and sort of service-entrance underwhelming. (I get the fact that the entire architectural message here screamed "Industrial!")
When we finally ascended to floor seven or eight, we realized that our timing was poor as the major opening show was closed and the next block buster was being installed. We had paid full entrance to see mostly permanent collection; which is fine as they have a swell collection, but we couldn't help but feel a tad gypped. (Yes, I think that's now a politically incorrect term... sorry!) There was a good show of an African American painter, Archibald Motley, (great name) who painted jazz age crowded pictures. We enjoyed the decks that cantilever out from the building and the views of lower and mid-town Manhattan were truly stunning (and on a picture perfect nary a cloud blue sky sort of day) but Ellen pointed out that she had wanted to walk further around the building on the outside, and the decks sort of dead-ended. The entire floor plan seemed to give art a back seat to office space and hallways and "staff only" signs. The circular revolving doors were damned heavy, too! A helpful security guard set one spinning for us...
I think I'm trying to reinforce that the impression of the actual building wasn't optimal. The three of us were a bit disappointed; you do want to be wowed for the initial visit to a major museum and so many people had raved. I felt cheated at having shelled out $44 and not been warned that several major gallery sections were closed for install. We did enjoy an interesting meal at the cafe on the top floor: a tripod of fish croquettes in a bean salad and really nice sauce. Best part of the trip! And lots of art world chatter and fine company! But I hate to say that we won't be paying a repeat visit any time soon.