Department of Stupid

 

Look what I want for my birthday!! Yay! Someone somewhere got my algorithm right! Bright red and waterproof!! I can't wait...

The above picture is simply to get your attention while I relate a truly stupid tale. A couple of weeks ago, I received an email from the State of Connecticut's Department of the Treasury. They were delighted to inform me that I was going to be reunited with property that was mine. They expressed such joy in being able to tell me this! The email was positively bubbling over with a peculiar tone of self-congratulatory pride in the State's ability to locate me. There was a website listed- as I was skeptical that this was even real- and I checked it out.

Yup! Property that was mine was on its way... they didn't say how much or what it was, but I was being urged to watch the mail for this big delivery! At this point I was convinced it would probably be something like six dollars or an equally unimpressive sum... I

Well, there it is! A check for 6 cents. My first thought was (obviously), "You have to be fucking kidding me!" Needless to say, the State should have kept it.

Think of the ridiculous amount of work that went into the "reuniting me" with my "personal property": someone had to research my records. Someone had to set up a data base website. Someone had to send me an email. Someone else had to print and cut the check. And then they had to mail it... which cost the State 53 cents. And I'm sure I'm not alone. How many people in the State were given checks for absurdly tiny bits of pocket change? Surely anything under, I dunno, maybe ten dollars? Could have been pooled into a rainy day fund or simply forfeited to the State of Connecticut. Stupidity in Action!!

Party With the Professionals

 

For those of you unfortunate enough to have missed our fabulous garden party- due to illness, weather fears, previous engagements, etc- I offer an overview, in words and images. It really was a stunning success, due to all attendees being vigorously in the mood for a good time. COVID had (obviously) put the kibosh on anything other than small gatherings... and even those were approached with trepidation!

Great shot of Bob's sculpture (*1), a true highlight of the afternoon, along with the gardens, which looked incredible, if I do say so myself. The reason for the party, apart for the wish to see many friends drifting about, enjoying the chance to get out and blow the proverbial stink off, was to celebrate our gardens. Of course, the day dawned cloudy and rainy. We had a small tent, generously lent by friends (thank you Lydia and Vincent!!) but I was vexed, anticipating crowding all attendees beneath one small tent or having to rush them inside the house... this was supposed to be a garden party, after all! The weather gods chose to cooperate and stop raining about twenty minutes before the first guest arrived.

I was delighted to see our friends taking advantage of the day to walk around and see the garden in all of its glory, while eating and drinking and smoking and enjoying each other's company. Terrific food, congenial company, decent weather: it all was a delightful afternoon. I attempted to talk to everyone- if even briefly- but I was so busy playing "hostess with the mostess" (as was Bob). It was a busy afternoon, locating plastic forks and spoons and napkins for all gathered. But fun! We had fun!

Here I am, explaining the finer points of gardening (in The Blue Garden) to anyone who will listen. I was kept on my proverbial gardening toes by the many inquiries by inquiring minds needing to know. I reeled off Latin- and common names and hope everyone went home the wiser.

This picture is after poor Robin the Good was liberated from the (air-conditioned, soft ambient music playing, food/water/toys provided) maximum security jail that is our bedroom. We had even had her sedated (didn't work!) thinking that she'd be stressed and crazy if allowed to freely roam the party. WRONG! Worst thing I ever did was try an prevent our pathetic Robin from joining in with the festivities! Never again. She was fine and well-behaved after her parole. In this picture, I am explaining some sort of wonkish garden lore to my fellow horticultural nerd friend Bob S. Thank goodness for people as crazy and plant addicted as myself!

There's Neko in the background. I think she was curious about all the people wandering around the yard. I took several groups of friends in to meet her. Neko seemed to enjoy the odd variety of visitors. Some brought treats; others just marveled at life with large barnyard animals. Something for everyone! Novelties and oddities. Roots and tubers. Vegetables and flowers. Friends and strangers. A splendid gathering! And we don't have to do this again for at least a year! (*2)

*1) All photographs were taken by Mickie Sistrand who graciously allowed me to post them. I was way too busy to think of documenting the party...

(*2) Bob and I were exhausted. After limited human contact for the last three years, it was a lot to entertain so many people. Fun, yes but tiring. And I had to go speak at an artist's talk the next day... we were quite finished by the week's end. Typically, we used to have a big party every year- either a summer garden party or a New Year's Party. Maybe the tradition returns this year...

So Much Excitement

 

I went to New York yesterday with two artist friends to enjoy a lovely afternoon of gallery hopping and dishing on various art scandals plaguing our local non-profit scene. We had a splendid time! As we were sitting on the train to go back home, I thought to text Bob to tell him I was on my way.

I sent my message and prepared to receive a brief text back from Bob, saying something innocuous like, "See you in a while!" or "Hope you had fun!". Instead I got a message that read- alarmingly- "Where's Neko's (the horse) halter? She's in our backyard freaking out and running around. There was a bear in her pasture. She jumped the fence." Uh... not exactly reassuring or calming as so many questions came to mind.

There was another text: "Got Neko back in her field; lured her with food". Well good for Bob for perfecting his horse wrangling skills and good for Neko for not killing herself or Bob or Robin the Good. Of course that led me to wonder nervously, where was Robin in all the excitement?

(Recycled bear pictures from last year's almost encounter as Bob was way to busy to run in the house and grab his phone or camera.) I dashed off several quick texts to Bob, asking "Is everyone okay?!??!!" There was an tense period where I'm checking my phone every three seconds, hoping for a bear disaster update and... nothing.

Until half an hour later, Bob says everyone is fine, although Bob related that Neko is still pretty disturbed, looking over her shoulder towards the woods, wondering where Mr. Bear is going to appear next. From Bob's description later on, the bear was simply ambling through the field looking pretty nonchalant. Bob's voice was hoarse from screaming at it and clapping his hands in an effort to scare it away.

When I arrived home, Bob filled in all the exciting details of his heroic defense of our homeland. He described Neko's galloping around our entire backyard, miraculously not damaging herself or our gardens (which of course, we're preparing for this Saturday's party!) She did stop to graze selectively from our lawn, probably thinking the terror of the bear was outweighed by her all-consuming love of eating. Bob had had the foresight to put Robin in the house when he spied Neko frantically running around. Ironically, Bob said that Robin was apparently so stunned by the bear she didn't even bark. (This is a dog who barks at the suggestion of anything even slightly out of the ordinary.)

Maybe it is time to have a serious discussion of how we live together with large unruly animals. Despite several friend's opinions to the contrary, I have very little desire to encounter more bears. Yes, this week, we had a few really nice wildlife sightings: two turtles canoodling by the peach tree, two foxes cavorting across the lawn, several turkeys looking for delicious horse poop, and lots of blue birds... but bears? Nope! Not interested! But what can we do: the bears are increasingly acclimated to living among us, stealing our cupcakes (on several occasions!), carrying small dogs and cats off , destroying bird feeders and breaking into houses through screen doors. Am I the only one thinking that soon enough, a small child or hiker is going to be attacked? (*1)

(*1) Yes, I keep hearing the argument that "they're more afraid of us than we are of them", but there have been a few very close calls. I would love to go trail riding but seriously do not want to be on Neko when we encounter a bear! 

The Inherent Dangers of Art Openings

First up, must be noted that illustrations have nothing to do with the content of this post... they're just snaps of various interesting details around the farm.

So I went to an art opening the other day, nothing unusual there, but Bob declined to accompany me as he just wasn't in the mood so I flew solo. It was an opening at a new gallery venue near where I used to work, and ironically it was a house we had casually considered when we were house hunting. Additionally, I knew several of the artist showing, so what could possibly go wrong?

I arrived and they had suggested that parking was an issue so I was ushered into a field, proximate to the driveway. I was then informed I could walk up the road or hike it country-style through a field where a narrow roadway strip had been mowed. Being an adventurous gal, I voted to traverse the field... despite wearing rather chunky high platform shoes. That was fine until I either missed a side trail or the path simply terminated and I had to scramble over a stone wall. Good thing I'm nimble!

I then walked up the front path to (of course) the wrong door and simply entered into what looked like someone's private living room but fortunately spied one of the artist/friends so was able to smooth my abrupt appearance. That is until the woman with whom my friend was speaking rose up to greet me and I mistook her for an acquaintance I hadn't seen in a long time so I embraced her. Awkward as it turned out she was the daughter of the woman who's gallery I was visiting whom I had never met; I'm certain she now thinks I'm very odd.

But things were lovely after that. The show looked very nice: much very abstract and painterly stuff, hung in a pleasant space. The director of the gallery (who I fortunately didn't hug impetuously) was conversational and enthusiastic about her new venue. I then did what one does at such events- I circulated and met up with artists and friends that I hadn't seen in some time, COVID having interrupted the gallery scene quite a bit.

 

All this chatting and yakking and embracing and schmoosing had made me vaguely hungry and curious about the food offerings as many openings have nicely catered edibles. I surveyed the table and selected the tidbit that I thought had the least danger of sticking between my teeth, skipping what looked like delicious pastry-wrapped spinach puff in favor of what I took to be a meat ball. Looked chicken by the color and seeing as how I have developed an affinity for meatballs recently, I popped it into my mouth.

As I chewed and swallowed it dawned on me that I might have made a very bad mistake. Uh... just what was in that small, beige lump I had just ingested? My official food-taster (Bob) wasn't there to warn me off suspicious- and dangerous!- items that I shouldn't eat as I will remind you, I am allergic to shellfish (*1)

So I hunted down the gallery owner, who was deep in conversation with two potential clients and I hated to do it but I interrupted their art talk and said, "Excuse me... what exactly was in that meatball thing I just ate?" She started explaining what was in the OTHER innocent pastry lump (the one I should have eaten) and I said, "Not that one... the little beige balls". Of curse she replied, "Oh that's a crab cake". Not the words I wanted to hear! I started panicking, thinking, "Oh great! I'm going to have a severe reaction at an art opening and possibly die!" Fortunately, someone overheard this and said, "Give her Benadryl". So despite struggling to remove the tablets from the child-proof foil packaging (all the while getting more and more stressed), I was able to down the tablets and hie it out the door to the nearest pharmacy. (*2)

I opted for the road route back to my car all the while contemplating my imminent demise at the side of a country lane, my heart pounding and my blood no doubt circulating all that lovely crab-based poison throughout my system. I knew where the CVS was and got there quickly.

Fortunately, there was a really nice young pharmacist on duty who took excellent care of me. She had an Epi-pen at the ready and observed me for a half hour. My lips were feeling funny and I advised the pharmacist that my throat felt sort of tight, but my reaction was mild and she assured me that the Benadryl most definitely helped and I had done the right thing. I was still alive after 30 minutes so I was free to go, although now I was a bit dopey from the two Benadryl... but I was still among the living!! 

I texted my artist friend to say I was okay and I related to Bob my above adventure. All I can say is: please label dishes at openings and parties... or better yet, avoid things that trigger common food allergies. A significant portion of the population suffers from some form of allergy. But better yet, my comment to me is: Don't put anything in your mouth that you're not sure of!! (*3)

(*1) The specific family of crustaceans, that is lobster/crab/shrimp. I can do clams and oysters and mussels as they are in a different family but don't really see the charm as they all strike me as being kinda jumpy and slippery.

(*2) I went to the pharmacy as they would be able to administer an Epi-pen which prevents anaphylaxis which can kill you... and rather quickly. I am allergic enough that Bob once ate a shrimp appetizer of some sort at a reception and when he kissed me, my lips swelled up and I felt itchy. Another time, a friend brought a plate of some sort of shrimp platter and later that night I washed the dishes. My throat felt tight and "funny" and it dawned on me that just touching the shrimpy residue dish was enough to trigger a reaction through my hands.

(*3) And what do I always say to Robin the Good, as she skulks about the yard, devouring squirrel poop and the assorted bird droppings? "What have you got in your mouth? Don't eat that!"  Or the horse! Neko had hives a couple of weeks back and I had to give her a huge dose of Benadryl. Do they ever listen? Do I ever learn?!?!?

What Next?

Poor Robin the Good was found to be positive for anaplasmosis, one of the many lovely tick-borne diseases plaguing our outdoor adventures. Both Bob and I had noticed that our usually chipper Robin was a bit depressed and seemed under the weather; the blood test confirmed our suspicions. Robin was perscribed a two week course of antibioics (twice a day), which she willingly accepted for about a day and a half.

My first line of administration was tuck it into a blob of peanut butter (*1). Another day of two doses sucessfully taken... until Robin caught on and decided peanut butter was now to be avoided at all costs. I then purchased some extra smelly meat-like dog treats which proved effective for another day or so and then those treats were also found out to contain the dreaded pills. I wrapped the pills in a chunk of chicken skin... but ditto, as this too was found out and Robin then decided that I was trying to poison her. She began refusing food and even her beloved Kong (*2). I confess to resorting to cornering poor Robin and wedging the pills into her mouth (between all those lovely, pointy, sharp canine teeth). I then had to hold her mouth shut and message her throat until she swallowed. No one was happier than I when Robin finished her course of antibiotics; two weeks felt like two bloody years!

Imediately after completing her course of medication, Robin seemed her normal bumptious self. The first time I saw her skipping blithely across the lawn I was over joyed. She had recovered and all of my careful doctoring was rewarded. No one wants to see their beloved beast sick! But Robin then began presenting a weird new behavior...

We will never know if Robin's next manifestation of doggy quirk was somehow brought on by the illness or the pills or if it was simply a bizarre coincidence, but Robin began expressing what is called a "pseudo-pregnancy". (*3) She would pick up one of her stuffed toys- interstingly, only the two green vaguely "dog-ropromorfic" ones- and carry it around while squeaking and whinning in the most heart-breaking manner possible. She's retreat to the cave under our computer table and just look miserable. I began thinking, "Great! Now she's lost her marbles!"

(One of two of Robin's "puppies".) Fortunately, this stage has only lasted four days or so and Robin seems as normal as she ever does (*4). She has been eating, I seem to have been forgiven for attempting to poison her and she's walked past her two green puppies without a thought. It's good to have her back!

(*1) It does mystify me as to why dogs love peanut butter as much as they (rather universally) do. It resembles nothing else they eat and requires preparation in the form of grinding and putting it in a jar and labeling it. Weird.

(*2) A Kong, for those of you who are (unfortunatley) dog-less, is this molded rubber object (looks like some sort of sex toy) who's cavity is filled with dog treats, usually bound togther in a mortar of peanut butter; keeps them busy for a few minutes. Robin adores hers and will not start the day without one!

(*3) Believe it or not, this is a fairly common behavior in female dogs and cats- whether spayed or not. When we were growing up, we had a cat (I think it was Mazille) that took to meowing pitifully while carrying a mitten around in her mouth. I still remember her going up the cellar stairs with her mitten kitten, apparently looking for a safe spot.

(*4) Normal being relative. Robin the Good is a truly superior dog with a mind to match but she is a bit odd. She doesn't like car rides, she doesn't like walks, and she doesn't particularly care for other dogs. 

Lots to Do!!

 

Well this is a partial explanantion as to why I haven't had a minute to post a new blog. The siren song of gardening is calling with all its attendant demands on my time. You have to go to nurseries and garden centers (and local plant sales) to buy the plants with which to fill borders and containers. Then you have to keep them happy until you plant them. And you have to shuffle them from outdoors to indoors when there's danger of  freeze. Which there was! In May! And not early May! Lots of things I would have considered hardy got zapped: young leaves on a Tiger's Eye Sumac, many of the young shoots on the garpe vines, Casa Blanca lily stalks... pretty depressing! So every day, I lugged all those tender plants pictured above in and out of my studio... 

And as if that weren't enough to keep an actively gardening artist busy I also had two shows to prepare for. One show, "The NO Show" I actually helped plan/organize and "curate" against all my best instincts. I've always vowed to never avail myself to the other side of the artistic process as producing art shows can be a thankless and punishing process. But NO!! It's been great! Artist chosen were well-behaved and actually got their work to us and set up of the show went swimmingly. A pleasant surprise!! Thank you Jim (*1) and Megan!

Oh no! There's plants everywhere!! Even hiding under my studio table! Aaaaaauuughhh!!! Anyway, I was also asked to show at another space at the end of June so I had to clean up the studio to accomodate the curator- move over plant life!

(*1) The concept for The NO Show came about because our friend Jim was frequently bemoaning his inability to say NO to people who came to his shop with requests for repairs and the like. I kiddingly gave him the assignment to create a large NO out of metal and put it on the lawn in front of his studio. A few years passed with me periodically reminding him to make the damned NO. One day while visiting him, we started riffing on how saying NO was a good thing and how many of us artists say "YES" to donations and things we really didn't want to do... which led to The NO Show. It's a good way to liberate yourself from always saying yes.

 

April Showers Bring...

 

Weird alien life formers growing on a manure pile. Look at this charmer! Translucent with odd vein like things running over the surface... like an alien skull! The almost constant moisture we've experienced has erupted into myriad colorful and exotic mushrooms.

How about these frilly positively Baroque specimens? They look like the Flying Nuns head gear! They sprang up over night and this is on rather fresh manure... not even composted.

Look at this one! Appears to almost have testicles off to the right. This beauty is really lubricious; looks nasty and shiny.

Look at the sheer variety of forms. Not sure what any of these individuals are but my guess is the're pretty poisonous. And who wants to eat something off the manure pile!?!! (But after the natto, maybe eating this would be preferable...) (*1)

And then there's Bob's lunch! No, not plucked from the compost/manure pile but from spores installed in his mushroom logs. They love the damp weather!

(*1) That last mushroom seems maybe to be a "Shaggy Ink Cap" or Coprinus comatus. We looked in a book...