Proper Loading

More and more we see this, artists working in larger forms without a sense of how the weight is carried down to the base. I visualize this in three space, with an imaginary plumb-bob. If I golfed I might use a putter. For decades I've used natural crooked tree-trunks as posts and it's important to know that the load is carried correctly, I've developed methods for cutting parallel tops and bottoms that are arcane but empirical and accurate. Some potters and glass blowers seem to think it's enough to have a flat bottom, without any consideration of load. The pieces don't stand or wobble, and that doesn't work for me. Balance is a consideration. Rains, maybe a thunder cell in the offing, I might have to close down. I need a lap-top and a couple of batteries, then I could write by candle-light. Sara warned me that two patrons were coming by and that the fate of a wood sculpture we had stored for years had been settled, she hadn't warned me that the sculptress, the daughter of one of the patrons, was beautiful and very bright. We talked about loading and made a date to go to the quarry next time she's in town. I'd love to fix her dinner, which sounds like something hot and steamy, but isn't, I'd like to talk with her. A day filled with women: I spent my entire day without any male contact, and I only mention it because it is the story of my life, working/interacting with strong women. I consider it a matter of course, I love listening to women talk, the concerns are different, much more interesting than talking about football. I cautioned a friend to fuck often but with great care. That would cover some bases. A board member came in today and wondered what web-site her sister could read me on. I know why I think someone should read me, but I don't know why they actually do. Proper loading, hell-fire, what we think is said. I can deflect anything you can throw. It might not be a hit, exactly, but would at least be a foul ball. I, at least, as they say, got my bat on it, maybe a day late and a dollar short, but I saw it was a change-up; some tell in the delivery, managed to knock it aside. I read too much into things, I know, but confronted with a crow, squawking, I'm putty in her hands. We either over or under estimate things. Going up to that spirit in the sky. Who's to say what doesn't work. Love your toe-nails. Nice sandals..