30 April 2008

Lost Without My Side Kicks...

Clients in Seattle had bought a large painting, that I had mentioned I would be happy to hang for them. On Tuesday I drove it to their home. Most often I make these trips with Precious and Mr. Man in tow. Precious and Mr. Man are much better with the clients than I am. They can schmooze and it leaves me free to just be the muscle. For this trip I was on my own. Everything went just as it should but on a long drive I missed my side kicks.

A road sign covered with restaurant logos caught my attention and awoke my appetite so I exited the highway in search of lunch. Most often I will hit the drive thru of the closest fast food joint. For some reason I felt like sitting down for something a little bit more. Sadly I chose Denny's. It was just like all of the other Denny's I had been too. Overly bright with florescent lighting and had the faint smell of old people. I stayed anyway.

The place was practically empty. Like a truck stop in the middle of no where. To the left were an older couple. They sat in silence, cupping their coffee mugs with both hands as if to warm them selves. Pausing briefly to gaze at their own reflection in the black liquid before taking a slurping sip, and pausing again before sitting the mug back on the table.

I decided their names were Stanley and Gertrude. He called her Gert for short.

At the counter was a large man in a Hawaiian shirt and plastic lei's. He was starring at spread sheets. Groaning and rubbing his head about every five pages. A few seats away was another large man. His tight curly hair sticking out in every direction from under his cap. He too had only coffee. He spouted his opinion about Bush and that state of the country when ever someone was with in ear shot.

Linda B was the host and my server. Her rehearsed speech trying to sell me a caramel latte with free refills was barely coherent. She didn't wait for a response before dropping the menu on the table and wandering off.

My booth over looked the parking lot of the Motel 8. It looked empty as well. I ordered lunch and a drink. I sat eves dropping on the conversation at the counter. The bus boy had stopped to offer more coffee and was now locked in a heated debate about the middle east.

As my food came an other couple was sat in the booth next to mine. It made me wonder, why with an empty restaurant they would seat everyone next to one another instead of spreading them out for a little privacy. What ever. It gave me someone else to listen too. And listen and listen.

I could hear the woman talking when they came in. She never stopped. On and on and on. She talked about how she hated her job. The buss boys she worked with were always trying to steal her tips. The management was stupid. She hated working with women because they always talked about their problems. I giggled at that. I'm guessing they said the same about her. She wanted a bloody mary but they only had beer. She hated that too.

Her friend got up to go to the restroom, and she never stopped talking. As if he were still there. When he came back he sat down and continued nodding his head and agreeing with her. She never missed a beat.

SON OF A BIATCH! Even at 41 years old I am incapable of eating without spilling something on my shirt. Grease too. That's going to stain. I love this shirt.

Precious always laughs at me when I spill. I'm worse than Mr. Man. I'm a magnet for food spills.

I thought about them. I missed having them with me, even for the afternoon. I started to think about the summer. What am I going to do without them for five months when an afternoon makes me melancholy? Trying to clean my shirt, to no avail, I gathered my things and hit the road.

A few hours later when I walked through the door of our house, I heard the screaming sound of "DADDY!" Mr. Man ran down the hall and threw himself into my arms. "I missed you Daddy. Do you want to go for sushi?"

It was all I could do not to cry. So I just hugged him. "I missed you to bug, sushi sounds great."

27 April 2008

Over Heard In The Gallery...

It has always been said that there are no stupid questions. Well kids, I beg to differ. We have heard some remarkable things over the years, but I have a winner. This one will be hard to top.

A lady was talking with my neighbor and asked him: "How old do the deer have to be before they turn into elk?"

I don't even know where to begin...and yes, I spelled "herd" that way on purpose.

21 April 2008

Oh That's Me...

Your Slogan Should Be

Between Love and Madness Lies William

Snowing And 38...

Funny, I always thought Hell would be warmer. Alright, it's not exactly Hell. It's just been too much. We returned from So Cal to cold, rain and snow. The last two winters here have been harsh, and this winter just wont give in and go away.

A job for Precious has been secured in La Jolla. Now we need to find a place to call home. Trying to find a place from long distance is difficult. I really dislike the idea of renting something without seeing it in person. We may have no choice though.

I have been trying to find space for a gallery also. There were only a few available in La Jolla. They go for about $7 to $48 per square foot. None of them were quite what I wanted. $48 per foot is outrageous! We need about 1000 square feet. For a space that size we would have to do about $100,000 a month just to cover the costs.

The stress of all of this is getting to me. Nothing has come out of the studio in about a month. Nothing. I can't focus. I have started this post about a dozen times now. I can't stop pacing. My anxiety wont let me sit still. Even now I have been up several times to wander around the house.

Maybe we should build a snowman.

17 April 2008

Sunny And 78...

We managed to visit almost all of the galleries in La Jolla and Laguna yesterday. Talked with people we haven't seen for two years. Both towns are beautiful. We're leaning towards going back to La Jolla. I have not taken more than a few photos so far. To busy soaking it all up I guess. I may try to open a gallery in La Jolla if I can negotiate a good lease, rents are very high their. For the right space it would be well worth it.

I am sun burned and tired. We drug ourselves home last night, this morning at 3:30 am. Ate great food with good friends. Drank expensive wine that someone else paid for. Sat around a fire pit by the beach until we shivered uncontrollably. It gets a little cold at night when the fire dies. So far it's been much fun.

Clear, blue, not a cloud in site, warm, beautiful sky.

People watching at the Pacific Beach Board Walk.

Sunset over the Ocean Beach Pier.

New shoes.

15 April 2008


Five days in sunny, warm, seldom rainy, slightly over crowded, land of beautiful people wearing very little.

San Diego is very much the way I remember it being. We have only been gone for two years. How much could it have changed? Well quite a bit actually. Nothing major that we've noticed so far.

Mr. Man went to spend three days with his grand parents in AZ today. That's three days of adult time. I miss the little bugger already.

For those of you that know me, you know I have a signature shoe. They're my favorites. I had been buying them for years. People would come to the galleries and (if they couldn't remember my name) ask for the guy with the cool shoes. That's me.

Today, one of my first stops was the store that used to sell me those shoes. For years I had been under the assumption that the company, Conti of Italy, had stopped making that style. Today, the cool shoe gods were with my friends. I found not one but two pair of them in my size. I bought them both. Plus another really cool pair of black and white wing tips. Yes there will be photos. It's gotta be the shoes.

I love it here.

We're staying with friends that have dogs. Last time we were here one of the dogs managed to grab a steak off of the counter before we started to grill. We were giggling about it just minuets ago. He did it again. I swear that dog has the power of invisibility. He is so smooth and slick. And now, once again. very well fed. A whole new york strip with the bone. Gulp. Gone.

On Wednesday the fun begins. Find jobs. Find a house. Find a school for Mr. Man. We have three days after all. How hard could it be? (Precious hates it when I say that)

Now I have to go buy more steak.

10 April 2008

Dear Mr. Man,

This week you turned four years old. You awoke on your birthday and the first thing you said was,"Am I four yet? I don't feel four. Are my legs tall enough to be four?"

We assured you that indeed your legs were tall enough and asked,"If you're not four, who are we going to give these Hot Wheels to?" You decided very quickly that you must be four.

I can't begin to tell how you have changed my life. It seems only recently, I never dreamed of having a child. Now I can't imagine my life without you. From the moment you opened your eyes and we looked at one another, I became a completely different person. Someone with a new direction, new hopes and dreams, new goals.

Your mother and I have been very lucky with you so far. Our jobs have allowed us to spend much more time with you than most parents get. One of us was always with you, until this last year when you started pre-school. I was lost at home without you. I found myself wandering around waiting to go pick you up.

Time was something I never thought about. Now it's as if I can see myself aging. You grow and change so fast. The rate at which you learn new things is amazing. Now that you have reached the question phase, you can't take it all in fast enough. You can ask questions faster that we can answer them.

We were watching a little TV this week. This is how it went.

Is this Planet of the Apes? Are they in a ship? What's he doing? What does that say? Why do they have his name on there? Who's that? Are they flying? Where are they going? Who are those guys? Are they dead? Where are the apes? Are they going to crash? Where are they going to crash? Are the apes going to get 'em? Where are the apes? What happened to that one? Is that one an ape? Why is that one dead? Why did they crash? Why did they crash in the water? Can they drink that water? Can they swim in that water? Why did those people steal their clothes? Are they naked? Why are they naked? Are they chasing those people? Where are they going? Where are the apes? What are those people doing? Are they eating those plants? What's that sound? Is that the apes? Why are the apes after those people? Are the apes going to kill those people? Do the apes eat people? Why are they running? How come the apes are mean? What happened to him? Is he bleeding? Is he dead? What are the apes doing with them?

Woof...It went on like this, non stop. I had no time to try and even form an answer before you fire off the next one. It was really quite funny. It's not just that movie. You are like this with almost everything now. You are giving us a chance to see the world through your eyes. We get to see things that have long been forgotten. You are truly a blessing.

Each day I'm eager to see what you find, what you will learn, what new things I will hear you say or see you do. Four is going to be a big year for you, with many changes. I'm sorry that I will miss a big part of it and I hope I will never have to miss any more. I will think of you every second.

Remember that love only works when it's given away, and that you are loved more than you will ever know.

02 April 2008


How much is too much?

Is blogging a detriment to ones career? Ok, not just any blog, but this one? Do I write about things that a potential employer would object to? Is the thought of a potential employee that blogs, objectionable?

It is very easy to find this blog by googling my real name. If you go to my art website, I have this blog listed at the end of my biography. My art and this blog have become linked. As has my real life and my blog life. Should I keep them separated?

I mentioned to someone, how easy it was to find my blog and how easy it would be to figure out who I really am. They expressed concern if not a slight horror at the idea and asked if that was smart . Until that point, I had not really given it much thought. I have never considered my writing to be offensive or objectionable. Then again, I don't look at my blog the way an outsider, or future employer would either.

I started this blog to write about art. Specifically my art. I have looked at it like part of my biography. It's who I am and what I go through. Everything I do and experience is expressed in, or influences my work. Be it the painting or writing. Is it foolish to think that the two go together?

The people that know me, realize that I embellish and or exaggerate for affect. The people that only read this blog may think that this is a completely accurate account.

Which brings me back to my question.

How much, is too much? Where should I draw line?