Do not adjust your screen

This is my new magnetic chalk board. For a good approximation of the creation process, stare at your computer screen for three hours.

Photo: Magnetic chalk board, 05/28/07 10:15 pm

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I am at two with Nature. - Woody Allen

I went to buy flowers for Kevin for his birthday and what should I find but a two-headed daisy - perfect for a Gemini.

This was intended to be yesterday’s Rib Eye photo, but I underestimated how long a little painting project would take. (Ain’t that always the way?)

I decided I wanted to have a magnetic chalk board painted on the wall over my art table in the stampatarium (a Kevinism for what normal people call an office). I hate bulletin boards but want some where to tack up aesthetic inspirations and scribble my brilliant notions.

The area of wall is only 5′ by 3′, but to make it smooth enough to write on we had to sand it, which meant we had to remove all electronics from the room. (We learned this the hard way when we left a printer uncovered on a closet shelf when the wood floors got refinished… anyone handy with refurbishing electronics?)

Then we had to sand…and sand…and sand. Sanding has to be in the top five most boring activities on the planet, right after watching paint dry. Not that I actually did any of the sanding; the respirator only fits Kevin. But its not like I got away with anything - while he sanded, I got to clean the bathroom which is still in the top ten.

Anyway. After sanding, then we got to paint…and watch it dry…and paint…and watch it dry…and paint. The chalk board paint didn’t go on until this morning and I really hope one coat is all it needs because any more painting and I’ll be in a coma.

We finally got all the electronics set up again around 11:00 am. I was only without the internet for about 24 hours, but I was as nervous as a junkie left on a deserted island.

I’ll post today’s photo later- right now I have to go check on Kevin. The stomping and swearing has stopped, which means he’s either finished assembling the bedstead or is building a large bonfire in our bedroom.

Photo: Mutant Gerbera happy birthday daisy, 05/27/07 11:30 am

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Age is a very high price to pay for maturity. - Tom Stoppard

This is Herby my garden gnome. He’s hiding from Kevin, as usual, because, well, you know what happened to Herby the last time Kevin was in a bad mood.

You see, yesterday was Himself’s 40th birthday. I have no pictures from the auspicious anniversary because Mr. Crankypants wouldn’t let me take any. He didn’t want a party, no presents, nada. The night before, he’d mourned, “I’ll never be a millionaire before I’m forty.” To which I replied, “Keep trying. You have an hour and a half.”

Despite Kevin’s protests, I did manage to rally some of our friends whose assisted living communities have later curfews. We ate dinner at a Mexican restaurante muy bueno by the water, siphoned off some of the excess carbs playing frisbee in the park, then drank them back again at a martini bar. We were finally at home and in bed by midnight, which is, like, the first time since college graduation.

Then today we got up and went for a run, during which was made the sobering discovery that old people should not drink and expect to be functional for the next 24 hours. This did very little to cheer up Himself, who spent the rest of the day holed up in the garage, consoling himself with his power tool. (What?)

I, much more sensibly, chose retail therapy. I went out and bought cheese, pie, magnetic paint, a pair of shorts, some stupid-expensive hair goo, a few vegetable starts, and a potted two-headed daisy. Then came home and puttered in the garden which is where I saw Herby, who’d come out to supervise.

All in all, a decent, if somewhat bleary, start to a long Memorial Day weekend at home.

By the way, thanks to everyone for the emails and Happy Birthday songs left on the voice mail. And thanks to Kevin’s parents for the five cards - we’re glad his birthday coincided with the postage increase so you could use up your old stamps. Hugs!

Photo: Herby in the lavendar and thyme, 05/26/07 3:30 pm

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Nothing gold can stay.

I have no idea what tree this is, but I eagerly await its bloom every year. It’s plentiful yellow blossoms are gorgeous yet fleeting; they whither in just a few weeks.

Photo: Yellow-blossoming tree in my backyard, 05/25/07 8:30 am

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It’s not too late to do the right thing.

Photo: A Neighbor’s Wishful Thinking, 05/24/07 7:30 am, WA

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“Woman! Woman! Your cat!”

This morning Kevin summoned me to the window to prove once and for all that Baxter is indeed still alive and kicking. Actually, he was snooping around in my violas for some mysterious reason.

When I went to give him some sugar he ran away (or rather, hobbled hastily away), which kinda hurt my feelings. But I guess it has been several months, and he is 92 years old, so he probably has no idea who I am. And I guess maybe he mistook my ecstatic enthusiasm for something more threatening as I charged at him brandishing my digital camera.

Some things don’t change, I’m happy to say; I was able to lure Baxter back to the edge of our yard with a handful of food. He still wouldn’t let me pet him; he either has arthritis that makes petting painful or it will take some time for him to trust the Crazy Lady again.

This portrait of favorite curmudgeon is also the inaugural post in a new category: Rib Eye.

Starting today, I’ll be taking and posting one photo a day for a year. Never fear, lords and ladies of letters; I won’t abandon you. I’ll still be writing my usual pithy posts, just augmenting them with visuals. Rib Eye is a year in snapshots, Uppity close and personal.

Photo: Baxter, 05/23/07 7:30 am, Uppityville WA

Technorati Tags: geriatric cats, photoblog

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Happy Mother’s Day

The Venus de Milo was originally sculpted holding an apple. The apple rested in her left hand, the left being associated to the feminine.

The core of an apple, if you cut it in half, has the shape of a pentagram, or five-pointed star. To the ancients, the five points symbolized the elements of all things: water, earth, idea, heat, air.

The pentagram is a symbol of the underworld - the Core of Inner Being, the place to which all must journey if they are to find wisdom.

The Venus de Milo now resides in the Louvre. She calls to us from her pedastal to remember the ancient wisdom of our Mothers. She waits patiently, smiling on her children, shining in the light.

Photo: Venus de Milo, the Louvre, Paris, France, by Uppity 09/06

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Easter Greetings