Since I decided that I could not afford the time to go to Mexico, today was not spent driving to Falba to join my brother on his trip down. Instead, my wife and I took a short day-trip to Weatherford and then on to Mineral Wells, a couple of towns west of Fort Worth off Interstate 20, with the ultimate objective of going to the Amon Carter Museum in Fort Worth to see a photography exhibit.
It was a godawfully hot day, with the temperature registering 107 on the thermometer on my car's mirror. Fortunately, our air conditioning held up.
We stopped for a rather early lunch at a place in Weatherford called Wanda's. I think the sign proclaimed it as a place to get great home cooking. The building was old and appeared to have once housed more than one business; the two entrances did not seem to me to be intentionally designed for a restaurant. The place is an experience. The parking lot was mobbed at just after 11:00 am, though there were several empty tables. About 2/3 of the place was reserved for smokers, and there were plenty of them, including the middle-aged male cashier (more about him later).
We made our way back to a table in the non-smoking section and sat down...and waited. I began to think we would not get service but just as I was about to made a snide comment to my wife, a rather friendly waitress appeared to take our drink orders and give each of us a menu.
Before looking at the menu, I scanned the room. Almost everyone seemed to be talking to people at other tables. I'm not sure how to describe the look of the people in the room without seeming prejudiced, so I won't try. Almost everyone looked very, very 'country,' the sort of people who I equate with poor educations, ultra-conservative attitudes, rampant nationalism mistaken for patriotism, and general stupidity (there, I revealed my prejudice). All of this translates into my concept of redneck. Now, before you rake me over the coals, let me describe more specifically the 'look' of these folks so you can better understand my concept of a very, very 'country' look.
At one table near us were three guys in their thirties, two of whom had on sleeveless shirts that revealed massively tattooed upper arms. One guy wore a baseball cap, one guy wore what looked like a Greek fisherman's cap, and the other wore no cap at all. One of their shirts was an advertisement for a wrecker service; the other guys had advertisements on their shirts, too, but I don't recall for what. One of them wore a simple gold loop earring. I overheard bits & pieces of their conversation; all I could get out of it was that one of them or one of their acquaintances had been in a run-in with the police.
The booth directly in front of me and behind my wife housed two other guys. Both of them looked very, very thin. One of them was wearing a gold chain around his neck. Both of them were very darkly tanned, with leathery-looking skin. The guy with his back to me got up to look for something at a nearby table that held napkins, silverware, etc.; his bird-like legs were revealed beneath his several-sizes-too-large shorts and much too-long-belt. My immediate take on them was that they were both deeply into drugs...again, it may have been simple prejudice.
Lots of geezers sat at chairs around the place...well, they had enough age on them to be geezers. Whether they fit my definition, I can't say, but I rather doubt it.
Damn near everyone in the room looked like they spent far too much time in the sun. To hear them talk, they spent far too little time in school.
My perception of the people in the restaurant was probably shaped as much by the environment as the people themselves, though. A couple of examples: 1) A piece of art hanging on the wall directly in front of me consisted of a painting of a Confederate flag, over which there was an image of the face of Elvis Presley; and 2) the one of the items on the menu indicated it was accompanied by freedom fries. My wife pointed out, though, that French fries were listed somewhere else on the menu.
OK, maybe you get the picture.
We ordered. I got one of the luncheon specials: chicken-fried steak with 'California vegetables,' rolls, and mashed potatoes and gravy (healthy eating, I know). The vegetables were, seriously, so overcooked they fell apart as I tried to get them on the fork. Potatoes weren't too bad. Chicken-fried steak was fairly typical of unremarkable but edible chicken-fried steak. My wife ordered grilled chicken livers. They were prepared with grilled onions and fairly large bits of bacon. My wife liked them; I thought they were OK, too, but a bit strong for my taste. While I wasn't thrilled with the food or the place, overall, the waitress was nice so I left a decent tip.
When I went up to pay, the chain-smoking cashier--a guy in his late forties to early fifties, I'd guess--took his time in getting up from the table where he was chatting with his chain-smoking friends. He glanced down and I think he noticed I was wearing shorts and sandals...probably the only guy in the room to wear such garb...and he looked disgusted. Never a smile across his lips. He then looked at the bill and asked aloud "grilled WHAT?" I didn't respond, since the bill had the amount right and the cash register was not one that required entry of the name of the dish ordered. He calculated the total, grunted what it was, and I gave him a $20 bill to pay. He took it, gave me my change without a word, and returned to his seat with his buddies.
I highly recommend Wanda's, of course!
We then drifted west to Mineral Wells, which has an attractive courthouse and an old, architecturally stunning hotel that remains, unfortunately, shuttered. If I had enormous sums of money, I'd consider rehabbing it.
The long and short of our trip...it was an opportunity to get out of the city and on the road for a bit. Our ultimate goal, as I said, was to go to the Amon Carter Museum, which we did.
The exhibit (100 Great American Photographs) was really interesting. Included in the exhibit was a photo of Lincoln taken at Antietam, a photo of Marilyn Monroe taken shortly after she hit the big time, and some really touching photos of some of the great American Indian leaders who tried in vain to stop the masacre of their people and the rape of their land and their imprisonment in reservations.
Some very, very early daguerreotypes were especially interesting to me, as was an interesting photo from the dust belt of the 1930s. A Richard Avedon photo that I do not believe was included in the American West exhibition of his photography last year was interesting, too; the instant I saw the photo I knew it was Avedon's I knew it has been staged against a pure white backdrop to add extraordinary contrast to the subject.
The thing we did today that was actually the most interesting, though, was to listen to an interview with an author who wrote a book entitled Who Are You People?. The book is by Shari Caudron, who could not understand people who have passions...people who, to use examples from the interview, go to Barbie conventions, get wrapped up in adopting animal personas, do storm chasing...so she decided to explore what causes them to have such passions. It sounds fascinating. Both my wife and I want to read it.
OK, I've blogged today. Now I need to see what's up with the world.
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Not Very Bloggy
It's about 6:45 am and I've been up for a good hour, but I've yet to make any coffee. Yesterday, I added a Blog Mad link and banner to my blog to see what would happen to the traffic count. It jumped quickly, but upon viewing many of the blogs to which the banners linked, I decided to pull the link and banner...it seemed most were not-particularly-intelligent teens using their freedom to rant in uninspired ways. I don't need traffic; I'm satisfied to blog away for myself.
I'm uninspired this morning, so I will defer any further blogging until my inspiration returns...maybe later today.
I'm uninspired this morning, so I will defer any further blogging until my inspiration returns...maybe later today.
Saturday, August 5, 2006
Mexican Threats of Unrest
I've been in favor of a recount of the ballots in Mexico's hotly contest presidential elections, but I question the tactics used by supporters of Andrés Manuel López Obrador. Some of the things López Obrador has said, as reported on the Miami Herald's El Universal online news website, seem to be urging his supporters not to insist on getting to the facts, but getting to the results he wants. And his supporters are saying things that are troubling...things that suggest they will close down airports, shut down public services, and cause the country to erupt into chaos.
Protesters want to use the unrest to "force the population that relies on tourism to pressure the government," José Escobar, head of the Oaxaca employers´ federation, is reported to have said. So, it's appropriate to blackmail the Mexican tourism industry to achieve their political objectives? One proteser said, "the airports are next."
I'm a believer in giving poor people a hand up and structuring social institutions to provide that support, but I am adamantly opposed to using the tactics of thugs and fascists to accomplish the goal.
I'm still in favor of a recount. Whichever candidate got the most votes should be installed as the new president. But threats to national stability and the livelihood of the average Mexican have no place in the discussion. The Mexicans who would play the game of implying that they will resort to violence should know that that game is not worth the candle.
Protesters want to use the unrest to "force the population that relies on tourism to pressure the government," José Escobar, head of the Oaxaca employers´ federation, is reported to have said. So, it's appropriate to blackmail the Mexican tourism industry to achieve their political objectives? One proteser said, "the airports are next."
I'm a believer in giving poor people a hand up and structuring social institutions to provide that support, but I am adamantly opposed to using the tactics of thugs and fascists to accomplish the goal.
I'm still in favor of a recount. Whichever candidate got the most votes should be installed as the new president. But threats to national stability and the livelihood of the average Mexican have no place in the discussion. The Mexicans who would play the game of implying that they will resort to violence should know that that game is not worth the candle.
Coffee and Such
I'm growing impatient with my attempts to make a good cup of coffee. It was not always so. I used to truly enjoy my coffee, but now it does not compare favorably with the stuff I buy at Starbucks or Dunn Bros.
I buy what I believe to be good coffee beans. My coffee maker is a decent Braun drip style. This morning, I used filtered water, thinking the taste of Dallas water after many, many days of 100+ temperatures might be the culprit. To be sure, filtered water improved the flavor, but my coffee does not stand up to the competition. I suppose you could say I am disgruntled with my coffee-making capabilities these days. You'd never say I am gruntled without my coffee-making capabilities though, would you?
If it weren't so damn hot (it was 82 degrees before 7:00 am), I'd walk to Starbucks to get a replacement for this morning's fix. But it's not that important and my knees would curse me for the trip. Speaking of my 'fix,' I find it odd that I have stopped requiring a cup of coffee every morning. To be sure, I enjoy it when I do, but it's no longer absolutely necessary. There are many, many days (frequently, consecutive days) that I do not drink coffee. A year ago, that would have been unimaginable. I do not know why, either. Maybe I just got lazy and discovered I could survive without my morning cup?
It's time to explore the day and what it holds. I may write more later today; I shall not write less.
I buy what I believe to be good coffee beans. My coffee maker is a decent Braun drip style. This morning, I used filtered water, thinking the taste of Dallas water after many, many days of 100+ temperatures might be the culprit. To be sure, filtered water improved the flavor, but my coffee does not stand up to the competition. I suppose you could say I am disgruntled with my coffee-making capabilities these days. You'd never say I am gruntled without my coffee-making capabilities though, would you?
If it weren't so damn hot (it was 82 degrees before 7:00 am), I'd walk to Starbucks to get a replacement for this morning's fix. But it's not that important and my knees would curse me for the trip. Speaking of my 'fix,' I find it odd that I have stopped requiring a cup of coffee every morning. To be sure, I enjoy it when I do, but it's no longer absolutely necessary. There are many, many days (frequently, consecutive days) that I do not drink coffee. A year ago, that would have been unimaginable. I do not know why, either. Maybe I just got lazy and discovered I could survive without my morning cup?
It's time to explore the day and what it holds. I may write more later today; I shall not write less.
Friday, August 4, 2006
Streams of Consciousness...or Something
The idea of driving deep into Mexico continues to enchant me, but I wish the time were better (though I can't say when THAT would be). There's so much going on right now with clients that I have to work every day just to keep up. Unfortunately, the busyness has no relationship to revenue...we charge flat fees that we the have to renegotiate if we find the time we spend is considerably greater than the fees contemplated. Bad business model, but hellish to change. But it hinges, now, on whether all the boxes, etc. that my brother is expecting to reach his mailbox get there tomorrow. If so, I'll probably drive down to his place on Sunday morning (with my wife, who will drive home after she drops me off). I may yet decide I just cannot get away...but I want to go, so I may just do it. If the "stuff" doesn't arrive tomorrow, though, it will reduce the likelihood that I go...I really need to be back in the office late in the week, so the later we start, the more difficult it becomes. We'll see.
I've been reading the postings of a couple (as in married) of bloggers in Seattle (Phil and his wife, Isabelita. They seem to have an interesting life and interesting friends and family...I feel I am being a bit of a voyeur reading about them. But I guess that's the way blogs are. Read their blogs; you'll find them amusing and intriguing.
I wrote yesterday about my experience with the recorded voice of Pete Sessions, a virulent strain of Republican bacteria. It occurred to me after I answered the questions that he and his henchmen probably know exactly who answered the questions...and they probably plan to use the information in deciding which voter records to purge, where to send out jack-booted thugs to 'cleanse' the neighborhood, etc. If you hear of my inexplicable death, ask Pete and his people if they know anything...but be careful! Oh, one day I will feel more than a little schadenfreude when Sessions is mercilessly pummeled in his try for reelection!
Tonight is Friday, but my wife and I are home, being the homebodies we are. I grilled some nice New York strip steaks, upon which I put...just a few minutes before taking them off the grill...a pad of chipotle & cilantro butter my wife had prepared. That, along with some grilled zuccini, grilled onion, and wedges of raw tomatoes made our dinner a special one...paired nicely with a Spanish wine, Sangre de Toro. We had intended on making tonight our 'date night' with a DVD movie, but we got home from the office late and I took my sweet time making dinner and I decided to put off the movie for fear of falling asleep in the middle of it. It's still early...but that was the best excuse I could muster. Just not in movie mood tonight.
My 'classic starter set' of acrylic paint still stares listlessly at me from the corner of my desk. I have a sense that, tomorrow, I may try my hand at it again. This time, though, I will rely not on my admittedly poor recollection of how things 'really' look but, instead, on a photo. It is probable that will have no impact on the quality of my work, but it is virtually assured that it will not do any harm.
Ponder this:
There are three ways to spell to.
There are three ways to spell two.
There are three ways to spell too.
It would take a cunning linguist to express 'that thought' in a single written sentence, wouldn't it? Slap my wrist!
I've been reading the postings of a couple (as in married) of bloggers in Seattle (Phil and his wife, Isabelita. They seem to have an interesting life and interesting friends and family...I feel I am being a bit of a voyeur reading about them. But I guess that's the way blogs are. Read their blogs; you'll find them amusing and intriguing.
I wrote yesterday about my experience with the recorded voice of Pete Sessions, a virulent strain of Republican bacteria. It occurred to me after I answered the questions that he and his henchmen probably know exactly who answered the questions...and they probably plan to use the information in deciding which voter records to purge, where to send out jack-booted thugs to 'cleanse' the neighborhood, etc. If you hear of my inexplicable death, ask Pete and his people if they know anything...but be careful! Oh, one day I will feel more than a little schadenfreude when Sessions is mercilessly pummeled in his try for reelection!
Tonight is Friday, but my wife and I are home, being the homebodies we are. I grilled some nice New York strip steaks, upon which I put...just a few minutes before taking them off the grill...a pad of chipotle & cilantro butter my wife had prepared. That, along with some grilled zuccini, grilled onion, and wedges of raw tomatoes made our dinner a special one...paired nicely with a Spanish wine, Sangre de Toro. We had intended on making tonight our 'date night' with a DVD movie, but we got home from the office late and I took my sweet time making dinner and I decided to put off the movie for fear of falling asleep in the middle of it. It's still early...but that was the best excuse I could muster. Just not in movie mood tonight.
My 'classic starter set' of acrylic paint still stares listlessly at me from the corner of my desk. I have a sense that, tomorrow, I may try my hand at it again. This time, though, I will rely not on my admittedly poor recollection of how things 'really' look but, instead, on a photo. It is probable that will have no impact on the quality of my work, but it is virtually assured that it will not do any harm.
Ponder this:
There are three ways to spell to.
There are three ways to spell two.
There are three ways to spell too.
It would take a cunning linguist to express 'that thought' in a single written sentence, wouldn't it? Slap my wrist!
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Margaritas and so forth
It's sometime surprising to find sources of good information come from unexpected places. So it was with my discovery of the 'perfect' recipe for Margaritas.
My nephew's wife is from Slovakia. Bratislava to be precise. He met her during a relatively brief period of college study in Germany. I gather it was love at first sight. They were married and are now busy making their lives in the U.S.A. Her sometimes deeply Eurocentric loathing of American sausage sometimes offends me to the bone, but I consider her, generally, to be a wonderful, intelligent, energetic, enthusiastic young woman. Actually, her frequent assertions that sausage from her home country is far superior to American sausage is probably factual.
Anyway, it wasn't long ago that my wife and I were visiting my nephew's father (along with my nephew, my niece (his sister), and their spouses, along with one of my sisters, when the young Slovak woman made Margaritas. She combined about 1-1/2 ounces of premium tequila, 1-1/2 ounces of freshly squeezed Mexican (small, like key limes) lime juice, and 1-1/2 ounces of triple sec, then shook it vigorously with ice. It was, at the time, the best Margarita I had ever had.
My wife and I have modified the recipe a bit to perfect it for our tastes. Our recipe:
1-1/2 ounces of Tequila Sauza Commemorativa Añejo (good, but not 'sipping' good)
1-1/2 ounces of freshly squeezed lime juice (regular, large limes)
1 ounce of Leroux triple sec
Shake vigorously with ice in a metal shaker, then strain into a large salt-rimmed Margarita glass (or use a large martini glass, as we do) [To rim the glass with salt, take a wedge of lime, put the 'sharp' face down along the rim of the glass, then coat the rim all around...then, turn it upside down onto a saucer covered with coarse kosher salt, tilting the glass and turning it to get ample salt coverage...tap the glass to remove excess salt].
While I do think this is a fine drink, it has tranformed our household in ways that may be unhealthy. I have turned into my wife's Margarita Slave. My job when we arrive home from work, or to have waiting when she arrives home from work if I leave early, is to prepare a Margarita for her. She deserves it, though.
Back to the source. I have no idea where Monika got the recipe...but wherever she got it, it was a fortuitous find.
Speaking of family, my niece and her husband were scheduled to have returned from Paraguay (her husband's home) yesterday [she met him while she was in the Peace Corps in Paraguay]. I assume they got back, inasmuch as my brother who was to pick her up at the airport called today to inquire about whether I have decided whether I can accompany him on his drive to Lake Chapala in Mexico. (KathyR wondered why I wanted to go to Mexico...it's not hot enough in Texas? Kathy, the temps on Lake Chapala this time of year range from the low 60s to the mid 70s, normally!)
I've yet to make a firm decision, but it still looks doubtful. Damn it! I want to go down there!
But back to the Margarita...you must try it (unless you have an alcohol dependency, in which case ignore this post entirely, please)! One of those wonders can change your mood, I assure you. It's not much alcohol, but the flavor in combination with the little bit of alcohol work wonders to relieve stress, bring your thoughts around to good things, and make you appreciate the little things this world offers.
Finally, tonight, in keeping with my periodic promise to myself to try to make a difference in the political landscape, I want to mention an automated telephone survey to which I just responded. Pete Sessions, a Republican idiot who somehow managed to get elected to Congress, called (his electronic alter ego called) with a survey. He asked questions that any first year sociology student would tell you were biased in the way they were phrased...sort of like "Do you agree that the U.S. should stay in Iraq until the Iraqis are able to handle their own security to guarantee their fragile democracy can survive?" (Not exactly that question, but you get my drift.) He asked lots of questions...and I gave answers that painted me as the bleeding heart liberal I am. An interesting question something like..."do you agree that only the union between a man and a woman should be considered to be a marriage?" I responded 'no' and his next question was, "Are you a male?" (I told the truth...I am) followed by, "Are you over 50 years of age?" Again, I acknowledged that I am. He then thanked me and hung up.
I wish I could have asked him a few questions: "Do you agree that you are am idiot who cannot go to the toilet without getting permission from George Bush?" Do you agree that you should be imprisoned for the remainder of your life for the political crimes you have committed against the American people?" "Do you agree that you and your Republican and Democratic colleagues who supported the invasion of Iraq on the basis of manufactured 'intelligence' should be stripped of your citizenship, set afire, and thrown from the top of a tall building?"
OK, I've done my insane political rant...now I'm OK and can get back to thinking about things that I can control...like the weather.
My nephew's wife is from Slovakia. Bratislava to be precise. He met her during a relatively brief period of college study in Germany. I gather it was love at first sight. They were married and are now busy making their lives in the U.S.A. Her sometimes deeply Eurocentric loathing of American sausage sometimes offends me to the bone, but I consider her, generally, to be a wonderful, intelligent, energetic, enthusiastic young woman. Actually, her frequent assertions that sausage from her home country is far superior to American sausage is probably factual.
Anyway, it wasn't long ago that my wife and I were visiting my nephew's father (along with my nephew, my niece (his sister), and their spouses, along with one of my sisters, when the young Slovak woman made Margaritas. She combined about 1-1/2 ounces of premium tequila, 1-1/2 ounces of freshly squeezed Mexican (small, like key limes) lime juice, and 1-1/2 ounces of triple sec, then shook it vigorously with ice. It was, at the time, the best Margarita I had ever had.
My wife and I have modified the recipe a bit to perfect it for our tastes. Our recipe:
1-1/2 ounces of Tequila Sauza Commemorativa Añejo (good, but not 'sipping' good)
1-1/2 ounces of freshly squeezed lime juice (regular, large limes)
1 ounce of Leroux triple sec
Shake vigorously with ice in a metal shaker, then strain into a large salt-rimmed Margarita glass (or use a large martini glass, as we do) [To rim the glass with salt, take a wedge of lime, put the 'sharp' face down along the rim of the glass, then coat the rim all around...then, turn it upside down onto a saucer covered with coarse kosher salt, tilting the glass and turning it to get ample salt coverage...tap the glass to remove excess salt].
While I do think this is a fine drink, it has tranformed our household in ways that may be unhealthy. I have turned into my wife's Margarita Slave. My job when we arrive home from work, or to have waiting when she arrives home from work if I leave early, is to prepare a Margarita for her. She deserves it, though.
Back to the source. I have no idea where Monika got the recipe...but wherever she got it, it was a fortuitous find.
Speaking of family, my niece and her husband were scheduled to have returned from Paraguay (her husband's home) yesterday [she met him while she was in the Peace Corps in Paraguay]. I assume they got back, inasmuch as my brother who was to pick her up at the airport called today to inquire about whether I have decided whether I can accompany him on his drive to Lake Chapala in Mexico. (KathyR wondered why I wanted to go to Mexico...it's not hot enough in Texas? Kathy, the temps on Lake Chapala this time of year range from the low 60s to the mid 70s, normally!)
I've yet to make a firm decision, but it still looks doubtful. Damn it! I want to go down there!
But back to the Margarita...you must try it (unless you have an alcohol dependency, in which case ignore this post entirely, please)! One of those wonders can change your mood, I assure you. It's not much alcohol, but the flavor in combination with the little bit of alcohol work wonders to relieve stress, bring your thoughts around to good things, and make you appreciate the little things this world offers.
Finally, tonight, in keeping with my periodic promise to myself to try to make a difference in the political landscape, I want to mention an automated telephone survey to which I just responded. Pete Sessions, a Republican idiot who somehow managed to get elected to Congress, called (his electronic alter ego called) with a survey. He asked questions that any first year sociology student would tell you were biased in the way they were phrased...sort of like "Do you agree that the U.S. should stay in Iraq until the Iraqis are able to handle their own security to guarantee their fragile democracy can survive?" (Not exactly that question, but you get my drift.) He asked lots of questions...and I gave answers that painted me as the bleeding heart liberal I am. An interesting question something like..."do you agree that only the union between a man and a woman should be considered to be a marriage?" I responded 'no' and his next question was, "Are you a male?" (I told the truth...I am) followed by, "Are you over 50 years of age?" Again, I acknowledged that I am. He then thanked me and hung up.
I wish I could have asked him a few questions: "Do you agree that you are am idiot who cannot go to the toilet without getting permission from George Bush?" Do you agree that you should be imprisoned for the remainder of your life for the political crimes you have committed against the American people?" "Do you agree that you and your Republican and Democratic colleagues who supported the invasion of Iraq on the basis of manufactured 'intelligence' should be stripped of your citizenship, set afire, and thrown from the top of a tall building?"
OK, I've done my insane political rant...now I'm OK and can get back to thinking about things that I can control...like the weather.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Talent
My paint, canvass, and brushes have remained dormant ever since I spent part of a Saturday trying to release my pent-up talent. Apparently, that pent-up talent had escaped earlier without my knowledge or consent. The results of my labor of love were, shall we say, less than the expressions of an artistic genius.
But my paint, cavass, and brushes still stare at me inquisitively from the corner of my desk, wondering when I will come back to release them from their little cardboard prison. I am keeping the box they came in on my desk to serve as a constant admonition that I should stop thinking about it...ACT! I will. But not now.
I would like to paint some wildly colorful lizards, resembly only slightly the real thing found in nature. I admire the real thing's beauty, but there's something alluring about the brilliantly colored beasts that one finds in Mexican import stores. I'd like to translate the look of the fired-clay folkcraft into brilliantly interpreted semi-abstract paintings.
It's too bad that I cannot readily transfer the images in my head to canvass...or, for that matter, to paper, clay, steel, wax, marble, or any other material suitable for art. Perhaps I should stick to what I sometimes think is my talent, writing. But that talent, which could have blossomed had I exercized it and regularly taken it out from its dark drawer, is rather wizened these days for lack of use. I occasionally try to take it out for a burst of exercize with this blog, but like the discipline that fails to materialize when I attempt to lose weight or change bad habits, my discipline is short-lived.
My sister-in-law from Boston just called, but my wife is busy doing something important like watching a talent show on television, so she asked that her sister call back at 9:00 pm...10:00 pm Boston time.
I'm fresh out of talent and ideas and energy, so I will cease this for a while.
But my paint, cavass, and brushes still stare at me inquisitively from the corner of my desk, wondering when I will come back to release them from their little cardboard prison. I am keeping the box they came in on my desk to serve as a constant admonition that I should stop thinking about it...ACT! I will. But not now.
I would like to paint some wildly colorful lizards, resembly only slightly the real thing found in nature. I admire the real thing's beauty, but there's something alluring about the brilliantly colored beasts that one finds in Mexican import stores. I'd like to translate the look of the fired-clay folkcraft into brilliantly interpreted semi-abstract paintings.
It's too bad that I cannot readily transfer the images in my head to canvass...or, for that matter, to paper, clay, steel, wax, marble, or any other material suitable for art. Perhaps I should stick to what I sometimes think is my talent, writing. But that talent, which could have blossomed had I exercized it and regularly taken it out from its dark drawer, is rather wizened these days for lack of use. I occasionally try to take it out for a burst of exercize with this blog, but like the discipline that fails to materialize when I attempt to lose weight or change bad habits, my discipline is short-lived.
My sister-in-law from Boston just called, but my wife is busy doing something important like watching a talent show on television, so she asked that her sister call back at 9:00 pm...10:00 pm Boston time.
I'm fresh out of talent and ideas and energy, so I will cease this for a while.