Jameson Tasting

A Jameson rep at the pub tomorrow afternoon and the owners want me there. Hard to say no. Was going to get back to the ridge tonight but Pegi had to meet a window contractor at the Cirque building. She got a 5 thousand matching grant for sprucing up the front of the place, and boarded-up windows on the upper floor is definitely the place to start. Wintertime, if I don't leave at 4, to get a fire started before dark, I can't get the house warm. So I stay, lock up, go to the pub for a draft. Took down the altered furniture this morning, got the packing materials up from the basement; the artist, Stephen, showed up at lunch (they almost always do, so I had eaten early) and my helper, John, one of Pegi's boys from the Cirque. I like John, he's strong, and we have the cut down piano to move. Upright pianos are top-heavy, and a pain in the ass generally. The wheels are too small and there are enough good places to get a grip. Plus we had already settled a small claim on some imagined shipping damage to the piece. It actually left here in much better condition than it arrived, because our piano tuner took a real interest in improving the sound. Stephen never meant for it to be played, I think, and now it is playable, insofar as you can play anything on three white keys and two black. Because there had been a claim, I let him (forced him to) make every call on how things were packed and loaded. Of course, it all took twice as long to accomplish, but I was friendly and chatted with him about the Kohler Fellowship, the work of various people that use plastic mediums, the proper display of 3-D pieces. Finally got him loaded and out of here, then took down the small fabric art show, got it ready for Sharee to transport wherever, then she called and said she couldn't pick it up and give me the next student show that I need to install yesterday. Not a big deal, but it might eat into my Jameson tasting tomorrow. Started a list for the week, and crossed off several things, but, unfortunately, added several more. I'm reminded of doing summer professional rep theater. The Globe would have 3 or 4 plays in rotation, have them DOWN, and Hamlet might be done 3 times: imagine how you do that. Fucking Hamlet, man. Probably didn't seem much at the time, that play about a crazy Dane. To be so many walls removed from the wind is strange. The winter wind, on the ridge, is a fact of life, it blows through the very layers of veneer. You can wake, of a morning, with a little pile of ice crystals, right next to your nose; and it should be clear to you that you're dehydrated. I drink lots of liquids when I first get up, mostly juice. I have a simple formula I use, converting weight of ice to ounces of water. An algorithm that's served me well. !0 or 12 inches of snow is probably about an inch of water. Ice is variable, no one understands ice. A liquid becomes a solid. Along what lines? Just asking. Ice formation is variable. So many factors at play, wanted to make sure you knew what was at risk. You either lose the thread completely, or understand what's being said. There's not much middle ground. Pretty sure I wanted it that way. Either, or. Now that we've settled back with a drink, let's examine the battlefield. Mostly lead soldiers fulfilling a certain function, I see them clearly, they announce a point-of-view, then suddenly, the spread makes sense. What I thought you meant.