Rehanging Carter

Knew this was coming. We're loaning a couple of Carter paintings to hang in the Ohio Supreme Court building and that means one very big hole a section that Sara had based on paintings that featured the river, and the largest (a lovely thing, "Around The Bend", a riverboat scene, viewed from inside the wheelhouse). It's a complex geometry, but knowing Sara, realizing the largest and 'anchor' painting for this grouping was going away, I knew the section would need re-hanging. Also gives me a chance to paint some walls. The timing is good, because I have the time to do this now, and I was driving myself crazy cleaning corners. Some walls to paint, some paintings to hang, sounds good. There's a mistake in the hanging of one watercolor, in another section, that I can correct when I have my job-box up there. I worked at little things all day and still ended up with more things on the list than when I'd started. I was mopping in the main gallery and an old geezer came in, stood there, watching me mop for a few minutes. He said, you're using the Modified Chevron, and I said yes sir; he said, how old are you son? and I said 64 recently. He said that stroke takes too much wrist, in a couple of years, you'll be using the Straight Clapboard. Janitors are a breed, I love them, us, we have a demeanor, a way of being, a zen thing, I think, that allows us to be invisible. I like to docent with a mop in my hands. When I go to other museums, I seek out the janitors, we exchange greetings and the secret hand-shake, retire to the basement for a cold beer. They always have great calendars. Where do they find those girls?The '"Snap-On-Tools" calendar is a piece of work. The acorns are dropping at such a rate, it is a mast year, and I need to investigate that. Why this year? The wood-shed is killing me, a young war. Fucking acorns on a hot tin roof .But when they are yellow, the sugars have partially converted, two changes of water and I have a mess: a bumper crop. In the evening breeze they fall like an infantry barrage, several per minute. I'm afraid they'll rot. I have them drying on every flat surface. I'm awash in acorns. It's illegal to fight chickens, but it's not illegal to raise fighting chickens. This fact was driven home on my drive up the creek this afternoon; there's a guy, I don't know his name, two miles up the creek from the Ohio, who raises these torrid small game-cocks: they attack my truck. Mean birds with an attitude. I can't even imagine living amongst them. Malaysian death birds, Indian Blue Cocks that attack full-grown goats. We're talking bad birds here. Scarification. It's ok to raise the birds, but not to fight them. I have a particular bird, a demon, and she rakes the field, what do I do with her? I've raised too many issues. I need to go to bed.