Wingin' into Winter
Work has been spotty as of late. It seems I just can't get locked into a steady routine anymore. I get a little done here and there, but stuff comes up. Now, I don't have a clue what "stuff" is, exactly. I don't have to be too many places other than here but days slip out from under me, and nothing much gets accomplished, not even the "stuff" that keeps me from getting the stone work done. So here is where the spiral stone stands:
I'm shaping the drop in the center right now, slowly working it into a globe. I'm leaving a lot of the natural shape of the stone intact on this one. I'm liking the contrasts in the transition from the folded teardrop base, to the irregular outer ring, and into the more exact coil in the center.
Thanksgiving came and went. We had a good gathering with eleven people at the table. It's a big expense, and an awful lot of work to throw that feast together. Everyone had a very nice time, but I left the kitchen only long enough to eat. I don't mind. Our whole circle of friends is old, and nobody has children. If Mary and I hadn't stepped up, everyone would have spent the day alone.
The week before, we had both my brothers here in town which is rare. Ross and his friend Pacho came in from New York. Don had the 24 hour flight from Thailand. Lani came in from Colorado, and Ian came up from San Diego. We had the whole very small clan over here for a BBQ. It was good. I guess that accounts for some of the recent "stuff" that got between me and getting my stone work done.
To the good, I have my work on display at a really for real Art Gallery. Here's the link.
Mary and I are driving up there to drop the three stones off tomorrow. There will be an Art walk/show up there this Saturday.
The other stuff was the Lost Era film. We held the first showing at Whittier Museum this last Saturday. There was an afternoon, and an early evening show, 2:00, and 5:30. The early show had a couple dozen people come out to see, including my good friend Penny, from the bike gang. I hadn't seen Penny, or any of the gang since back in May. We had a burger at Mimo's, and she seemed to enjoy the film. (HT Penny for the pic) The later show had fewer in attendance. That was fine, actually. Julie C and her family came a long way out here to see the film. I've been trading notes on line with Julie for a very long time. Her husband and family were absolutely great. We all went out to dinner after the show. Seldom have I had such a fine evening of company and conversation. This was another great highlight for the season.
The program was very well received.
Lost Era is a strange piece of work. The forty minute film features about two hundred twenty four still pictures, slides of Pete Hampton's paintings, with narration, background music, and sound effects. It tells a story in seven vignettes of Pete's childhood life up in the hills above La Habra back in the early 1940's.
One of the difficulties is context, and background. I need to preface the film with a fairly detailed introduction, telling about Pete, his life, his mission to save the hills, and his purpose in creating the slideshow. That means getting up before the audience for about a ten or fifteen minute talk before the film, and a Q&A session after it's over. Normally I don't have a problem speaking up in front of a group, but I was nervous enough to print out a few pages of notes before going in to this presentation. I didn't get the stage fright, but the notes served me well, nonetheless.
I can convey the idea that Pete was quite an eccentric character, and that I made an extraordinary effort to put this piece together. Past that, the show has to stand on its own. Does it? I believe it does, but it's hard to know how others are going to respond to it.
And where is this thing going to go? What is the goal? What would success look like in this endeavor?
I am not sure. But I'll find out, eventually.
And since I'm just kind of rambling here, I guess I could mention the rat. Every once in a long while we get one. A little over a week ago I got up, and when I went to feed the cats, I saw Skinnies charge over to the refigerator and start looking behind it where he couldn't fit in. I got a flashlight, and looked. A rat had jumped up, and was crouching on the electric cord about four feet off the floor. I grabbed a yardstick, and tried to smack him out onto the floor so Skinnies could get him, but he escaped.
Thus began the war of the rat. I have three rat traps, two of the classic Victor traps, and a plastic claw type thing, sort of like a miniature bear trap. I never caught anything in the claw trap, and mostly use it for a clamp on the cat food bag.
I baited the Victor trap with a pice of muffin, and some peanut butter, and set it behind the refrigerator. Rat ate the bait, and didn't snap the trap. So I tried again, this time baiting both Victor traps with a piece of apple, and peanut butter.
Rat ate the bait again. So I tried baiting with an almond. Rat ate the bait. I tried peanut butter and cracker. Same result. So I bought a couple of sticky traps. Rat ate the bait, and left a paw print and some fur on the trap.
I was getting pissed.
I detest rats. The last several (and I mean several) who got in the house died under the heel of my shoe. There is nothing to recommend that task. This one was sly. He was not going to give me the opportunity to stomp his rat ass. I had hoped the sticky trap would get him, if, for no other reason, it would give me the pleasure of killing the damned thing myself. I wanted that thing to suffer.
But every morning, the traps were empty, and unsprung (even the claw trap).
I decided to click it up a notch, and blew seventy five bucks on an electronic rat zap trap. I put it behind the stove.
To add insult to all this I was finding rat shit on the stove, and in the kitchen sink, and on the counter. And I found a hole in a bag of apples I bought, and one apple gnawed away.
New strategy. I left a sticky trap, that zap trap, and a Victor trap, and, for good measure, even the claw trap that never worked- left them all set and baited on the kitchen counter. But I baited them with pieces of the apple that already had rat teeth marks all over it. I figured the rat would smell himself, and get a little careless.
Usually I'm the first one up in the morning, and it falls to me to feed the cats, check the traps, and make the coffee. I slept in, and Mary came in to wake me. "You got the rat."
Did I ever.
There it was on the floor with its head in the jaws of the claw trap that never worked. Until now. There was blood all over everything. The claw damn near decapitated the rat, and both rat and trap were in a big puddle of dried blood right near the corner of the stove. There must have been a hell of a struggle for that rat to thrash around enough to drop off the edge of the counter.
Well, I was angry enough to want the rat to suffer, and it looked like he did. He suffered big, if not for long.
No, I didn't feel bad about it.
And now I have a brand new, unused, electronic rat zapper. Just what I need.
It would be cheating to return it to the store.