Work in Progress

As promised, this posting will be about art. First, I must commend myself that I am now on blog posting #502! Congratulations to me! I am pretty amazed at my capacity to keep blogging away (although my suspicion is that it has something to do with not being able to shut up...). Anyway, when I started out with BobnRita's House Party, I didn't really worry/wonder about where it would go. And hell: there's no end in sight!
So the hideousness of the current administration continues to offer plenty of raw material for me to embellish into works of art.The above offering is a case in point. I was channeling The First Daughter as she answered the inquiries of a newscaster who had asked whether she was "complicit" with her father. Not understanding the meaning of the word, she had concurred that she was indeed "complicit". (She thought it simply implied her being in accord with The Orange Menace's activities and not being a criminal accomplice.) Anyway, I was inspired to create a piece, ripe with epaulets and plenty of gold and fringe (a friend suggested that it smacked of The Dallas Cheerleaders, and all the rethuglican tackiness that recommends!) Another friend said that the white twinkly stars made her think of advertising for laundry soap or toothpaste. That's on target because I wanted to allude to the overly white teeth of the First family. The stars and letters are made of very thick, very white vinyl.
This piece has been kicking my butt as I attempted to render a slightly 3D padding of the letters (I tried several methods before hitting on thin foam as is used for cushions) and the edges had to be sewed three times to hem the front, attach front to back and finally secure the fringe (which felt like a mile and a half!). It finally is all coming together.
Also, you can see that I Photoshopped in a semblance of the elaborate (gold painted, of course) metal hanger that I am employing Bob to construct for me. I want it to suggest the gold plated toilet paper holders that reside at Trump Towers; you know, a Versailles meets Las Vegas vibe. I hope I'm succeeding hansomely!

Gardening as a Contact Sport Etc

This is what I look like after an afternoon of heavy gardening... filthy and in need of a through cleaning. I had no idea I was so dirty as I shed my shorts, but the mud that ran off of my into the shower was impressive. I probably could have planted seeds on my knees!
Additionally, I looked like I had been cutting myself as the sharp embrace that the Miscanthus I was weeding around scored my tender fore arms:

Ouch! I'm not kidding about it being a contact sport. I will also remind you that I suffered several rounds of poison ivy as well as stings inflicted by angry hornets. Pain ans suffering to deliver that beautiful garden. But the reception by participants in the garden tour was great: everyone loved our gardens and were very impressed with all our hard work. It was so entirely worth it, on so many levels. First, our place looks terrific and we get to live with that. Check out what Bob did with the door frame behind that terrace area:

Look! No broken board. No wine corks stuck on nail heads. (Not kidding.) No baby birds living in the wall. It's sealed up and weather proof and looks clean and wonderful. Being on a garden tour is great motivation for getting all those big (and small) details completed.
Bob and I are both pleasantly exhausted and glad that we committed to the garden tour, but we're also glad that it's behind us.
And I promise my next posting will be about art- remember that?

What We Do For Fun

I occurred to me that a stipulation for us being on this year's garden tour was that we get the deck redone as a lovely terrace. Let's face it: you can garden until the cows come home, but if the back of the house looks like Shanty Town, then none of it is worth the effort. I knew we had no time to replace the deck entirely and I was even debating dragging one of the carpets out of the house to disguise the rotting deck and aspiring plant life housed there in, when the most excellent solution presented itself. Why not simply tear up the disintegrating boards and replace them with gravel?
I can't believe that Bob actually agreed- and agreed that it was a good idea- because the gravel is really a step in the final master plan of a cement and stone terrace. So we're just replacing the deck in stages. Tuesday was set aside as Terrace Construction Day. As you can see, Robin helped with Stage One: the tearing up of the boards.
This part was relatively easy and sort of fun. We crowbarred and maddox'ed the old boards out and soon had an empty site.

Here, Robin and I admire the (mostly) removed deck on our way into lunch. The next stage (Stage 2)was to dig out a layer of dirt so that the level of the gravel was below the sliding door. This part nearly killed me! It was incredibly humid and the dirt was very compacted (a full of small stones) and needed to be wheel-barrowed down to Bob's studio. It was heavy and dirty and we were sweating like pigs. But we got it done and with an eye on the clock (as we had a dinner engagement) we proceeded to Stage 3. This is where I realized that Bob and I would do just fine on a chain gang, as we shoveled a half ton of gravel off the truck and onto the deck area.

Oooooohhh! It was heavy and our shoulders and backs and bodies were killing us, but all that work paid off and it looks great! Nice and neat and clean and beige and no weeds or weird gaps...
it made the terrace area look like a terrace. And done just in time to shower and go to dinner!

The ultimate finished stone and cement terrace will expand to the whole width of the house, but as a quick (relatively) fix, it was a good solution. I'll post pictures tomorrow of the chairs and pots of flowers back in place on the terrace; it looks terrific! Also, pay attention to the left hand section of the sliding door frame. Bob did a super fix of that today...

Needles and Pins

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Have I said how much I like acupuncture? Wow. The session I had today was very deep. I felt so totally at rest and blissful that I could have remained in that state of suspension for the rest of my life. And if one factors in all the insanity currently fomenting outside in the "real world", please! Give me the healing atmosphere of acupuncture!
It was interesting: just as I wondered if I were the only person receiving acupuncture from this particular venue (as I was always the only client occupying one of the six or seven available chairs and tables), today there were two other clients. That reassured me that other people invest in "alternative" treatments. Alternative? Hasn't acupuncture been practiced for thousands years in Asian cultures? Yet, when I mentioned seeking help for my chronic neck pain from acupuncture, a woman I work with (who suffers from chronic lower back pain) said, "Oh! All that hocus pocus crazy needle stuff" (delivered in what I think was supposed to be a Chinese accent) and I was left wondering why we have had so much trouble accepting a different medical practice...
Especially one that has no side effects and works with your body's own energy. When Bob and I were recently in Vermont on a mini-vacation, we indulged in our vacation vice: we watch TV. We never watch TV so this is a real treat/ bizarre pass time for us. And (you probably all know this and I'm not telling you any thing new) all the ads were for drugs and medications; endlessly so. And even more astonishing were the crazy-long lists of side effects relating to each of the meds being pushed. The more I know of "traditional" Western medicine, the more cynical and suspicious I become. (I relayed the story of my most recent GP trying to give me prescription addictive pain pills to me but withholding antibiotics in a previous post.) So I am left to wonder exactly what our priorities are, in a country where we endlessly argue about the cost of health care and whether it's a right etc etc and something as basic- and effective!- as acupuncture isn't even covered by most insurance companies!
So I pay out of pocket to obtain relief from pain, and again, it works well. It's fascinating to work with the acupuncturist as she asks what I want targeted and she'll try pressing on several closely adjoining areas and ask which one is more sensitive and then insert a needle. Today, the side of my hand and the sides of my feet were like porcupines- I had a slew of needles projecting from me. I drew the above picture as a note to Bob in case he arrived home before I did, but I was amazingly accurate as to where the needles were inserted this time. I guess I'm learning the meridians and all the areas that work for my particular case.
I guess I really believe that if it works, don't wonder about the how or why. The medical "they" still admit that they don't really understand how many drugs work. And then factor in the placebo effect: you can even know that you're receiving a sugar pill and it still works! So go right ahead: give me a sugar pill or two and stick those needles in! Felling better already...

Sleepless and Pensive in Suburbia

Does not being able to sleep have its merits? I guess I'm trying to find a few... Like I am finally getting around to posting this blog. But it is 2:00 am and I'd really rather be sleeping. (Thanks to our friend Louise! She shared that she had been unable to sleep last night; although tonight is the full moon (obscured by clouds and rain).
Suddenly I find us hurtling towards the end of summer... no!!! Let's face it: it's the second week of August, my "vacation" starts next week and our garden tour is only a short two weeks off. I put vacation in quotes as we're not going anywhere and we will no doubt be consumed with last minute details in preparing our vast estate for touring by the adoring public. With every passing day, I admire the passing of yet another flower and wonder- yet again!- what will be in bloom for that tour. It's a good thing that we're surrounded by flowering weeds and large outdoor sculpture. These will provide a distraction from the rapidly imploding garden borders. It's the time of year when sheer horticultural entropy ensues and ample rain assists in making all available plants cascade and tumble into one another. It's a riotous jungle and a big mess and I secretly like this chaos. There's nothing you can do about it!
This summer I have found throwing myself full tilt into gardening has certainly helped me deal with Mommy's passing. Digging in the dirt is such a healthy occupation for me, despite contracting Lyme Disease and poison ivy seemingly every time I set foot out the door. It's a cliche, but working with Nature puts the whole cycle of life thing into perspective. Things live and then die and there's not much that you can do about that, either, except do all you can to help sustain and nurture them. Gardening is also really good for taking your mind off one thing and forcing you to concentrate on all the bloody rocks that keep burping up from underground...
I have been in plant acquisition mode this year. Not only did I order up and plant a slew of asters, but I discovered lilacs (!) and ferns (!) and we need more trees... I think this is how gardening escalates. There is always another kind of plant and another type of garden to plan. If it wasn't 2:30 am I'd probably be outside, digging.

Our Little Oddball

Leave it to us to have a slightly weird dog. Robin is just great: beautiful, funny, smart, talented and very fast... and probably a slew of other things I am forgetting to mention. But she's also a bit, well, unusual.
For example, she's left handed. (Or make that left pawed.) I discovered this fun fact while we were enrolled in that doggie obedience class last summer. During one particular exercise, the instructor pointed out Robin always went for the treat in my left hand first and was therefore demonstrating her dominant side. I then observed that she often gallops across the yard with (mostly) her left paw extended first- like a horse being on its left lead. A little canine leftie! (Must take after Bob...)
And last week, I had Robin rolled over on her back and was scratching her belly. She loves this; possibly most dogs do. But then I was sort of being silly (not too hard to achieve) and was running my fingers down opposite sides of her body, matching up her nipples. I kept coming up one nipple short of her lower abdomen, kind of across from where her navel is. Sure enough, a through investigation through her fur revealed... she's short one nipple! She has an uneven number of nipples; in this case, nine. Weird! I started worrying that possibly she had an "undescended teat" or some other medical paradox.
I resorted to the Internet and discovered that while it's uncommon, this does happen and there's nothing wrong with having an uneven number of nipples. Leave it to our dog. Here's our little odd ball in action:

Well... I was attempting to prove that I'm an "old dog" capable of performing new tricks but my nifty video of Lil' Robin the Good doesn't seem to be coming up. Not sure why.

Anyway, here's a lovely still photo of Robin out surveying her empire:

The end of the day light was so nice and just touched the tops of everything. Robin thought I was wasting my time with the camera instead of kicking that nice ball for her to chase.

And I haven't been able to post a blog recently as our trusty camera decided to up an die. Not sure what happened, but it seems to have had some sort of permanent lens error. I took these pictures with my old work camera, which I borrowed for the weekend. I am antsy to figure out what to do as I am approaching my 500th blog posting and am not ready to give up yet! Another 500 posts are probably in the works!

Happy Birthday to Me! (Warning: Contains graphic images)

Yeah, that kinda gross! My birthday week has been filled with stupid little accidents, mini-medical predicaments and lots of nice presents... and cake! The first thing that happened was Bob looked across the breakfast table at me and informed me that my eye was all red (an understatement). A broken blood vessel is to blame; I have been prone to these in the eye that I damaged. But this one was a bloody gusher and was awful enough that I called the Yale Eye Center. But they were less than impressed at my description and dismissed my concerns with a blase, "We really don't see people for those. It will go away on its own". And it is fading- finally- but I look like The Bride of Frankenstein and it's still enough to scare small children.

And then, as if to compliment the red theme of the week, I developed an heroic case of poison ivy (or oak) and broke out in itchy festering pustules. It really is nice when Nature conspires to make a physical wreck out of you for your birthday: it reinforces that underlying theme of mortality and the inevitable downward spiral to death and decay. Fun!
But despite these less than flattering additions to my 61 year old body, I really had a nice birthday week- and it's still continuing because friends are coming over on Tuesday to help celebrate. Family members gathered on Wednesday to shower me with delightful foods and wines and offer gifts in the form of clothing (to drape over the poison ivy) and smoky eye make up (to disguise that red eye) and fabulous plant material, in the form of two wonderful lilacs to add to my rapidly expanding shrub border and a variegated Physostegia virginiana to fill in one of the holes that has developed in the garden. (And contrary to the opinions of certain family members, I do NOT have too many plants and no where left to place them! I can easily think of at least ten specimens that I'd love to squeeze into my horticultural madhouse...) But where was I? Celebrating my birthday!
It's been a good birthday, despite the above afflictions and the intense heat. Bob and I had a nice, quiet birthday celebration, with more gifts and cake and sushi...
, which turned out to be a good thing as I needed all the rest I could get. When I returned to work on Friday, all hell was breaking loose because of the excitement provided by an estate sale as well as an auction. People were predictably rude and demanding- that's nothing new. But on Saturday, an elderly gentleman who is a regular (pain in the ass) showed up to do himself one better in the annoyance department. He became insulting and abusive after the prices on some books that he wanted to buy were higher than he liked. My supervisor advised me to call the police (fortunately located directly across the street) if he wouldn't leave. Believe it or not, he returned three times (!!!!) to harass and lambast us. He also stood in the parking lot and harangued my boss. I am happy to reoport that he didn't go home and get a gun and shoot us all, but it was a stressful day. Thank goodness that blasted sale is over!!