Skip to main content

Last Holiday, Sans Peanut (Day 5)

Illustration in ink on paper for an upcoming story (bh1476).

Day 5

Up around 6 -- this way I can do some art before the day's full craziness sets in. C lurches out of bed around 7 ... which is incredibly early for her, but she's instructed Little Graeme (who C used to babysit a lifetime ago, who now insists on being a grown-up, living in his own house, driving a truck, having a dog and just generally being ridiculous) to drop by on his way to work. This is so she can have him investigate (and solve) the source of some "bad smell" coming from beneath the cottage. Despite C diagnosing it as everything from septic back-up to malicious ghosts, Little Graeme calmly informs us that it's just some pipe which needs a cap. While she has his trusting/helpful nature within her grasp, C immediately hits him up for her entire future works program. MLK might have had a dream, but it was nothing without sliding glass doors.

In the afternoon I drive C into Sackville where we spend several hours running errands for ourselves (laundry, permit for the electrical work, getting caulk and weather stripping, etc), for Catherine (guitar strings {?}, fruit for the girls, fucking gourmet cat food) and having lunch.

The rest of the day unfolds in something approaching nearly-normal summer, with a little sun, a little cloud, and I only get rooked into one ridiculous task, when Graeme and I move a washer/spinner (I know, it's the summer of machines) into our already crowded kitchen so C can indulge her hobby (seriously) of doing laundry.

Comments

  1. Ugh. Remind me to never wear that outfit again. You let me go into town dressed like that?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

some paintings to keep you company

  at the stations of seeing ; mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24 x 30 inches.   $350 local.     At the Stations of Seeing I expected something on the level of poetry moving the machinery within but instead it was wreckage and difficult instructions Recursive Procedures for Life Structures and that sort of thing. IF—THEN—ELSE where the option is optional CASE, which is multi-situational DO—WHILE the function is zero BREAK and LOOP again and again until failure. please CALL, if you can, or while you are still missed. . . . I went away for awhile, for various reasons, and now I am starting to come back. Where I finally end up is anyone's guess, but one of the stations on the path of that return is a willingness to sell my art again; this post is about just one of the larger paintings I currently have for sale for clients and customers in the Kingston area. A good place to start. The prices for these works are lower because the transaction is personal, easier — come by my stud