Power Outage

Again last night, broken record, the power went out before I could SEND, on again now, 2:21 tomorrow, I sent whatever I'd saved. Lights coming on and the sound of the fridge kicking in woke me from a fitful sleep on the sofa. Night Magic, indeed. Painting a medium blue over a strong orange will certainly require two coats, but I'm exactly, oddly, right on schedule, if my projections represent an actual schedule. The ODC show arrives at noon today, from Columbus, and that should allow enough time to get a second coat on both the signage walls. The very idea that I'm still on time, given the various disruptions, amazes me; some extraneous shit that I need to accomplish, get to the court house and pay my land taxes, pass an eye test to get a new driver's license, but I'm, remarkably, up to speed. It's a matter of habit, I think, that I can juggle as well as I do at my age. It would take a minimum of three people to replace me: a janitor, a preparator, and a mediator to calm the warring groups. I look back at the last week, and I realize I'm carrying the museum on my back, everyone else is distracted. Something isn't right, but I can't put my finger on it. I know I need to step it up a notch, later today, paint a couple of walls, take delivery of the next show, and I'm fine with that, probably the best person for the job, given the requirements, my tool-kit is almost unique, I'm good at this and nothing fazes me. I admit I look at ankles; and the way a narrowed waist flares into hips that takes my breath away. I merely manage the facilities, barely, and some questions arise. Whatever. John solved the problems with the Belhaven Lager on draught. Anthony and I were the beneficiaries, I got a glass of foam, which eventually becomes beer, and then we split the first good pour. Got the second coat on the entry wall, unloaded the ODC show, then beat it home to miss the rain. Power was out, again, when I got to the house, but came on just after I walked in the door, which was good, because I needed to run the window unit for an hour to cool the place enough for my Black Dell to be happy. More rain coming, I'd better SAVE. Seem to be in an endless cycle of squalls, the ultimate result of which will be a very large harvest of blackberries. I like to juice them, add some to The Sauce, and freeze the rest to use in marinades. Great with pork and lamb. If I have a lot, as I will this year, I just drink it, mixed with orange juice and protein powder. The ODC show is always a treat, because the artists pack their own work. It's usually safe enough, but the packing materials are always a laugh, everything from egg cartons to padded bras; old towels, pillows, blankets, always lots of foam peanuts, boxes within boxes; two years ago, when we last did this show, shredded paper was the big deal, and that shit is almost impossible to deal with. We have to repack the show, when it leaves here, so we save what we can, using a lot of garbage bags, and generally improve on their attempts, with bubble-wrap, which is God's gift to the shipper of 3D pieces of pottery and glass. I have a green footprint, generally, compost my shit, don't have running water, but God forgive me, I use a lot of bubble-wrap. More than any of you, more than you can imagine. We buy the stuff in huge rolls, 60 inches by a hundred feet, you have to compress them to get through a three-foot door. D and I once, during the halcyon years when there was a budget surplus, completely rewrapped a traveling show of painting, because they had been so badly packed for shipping. We sent a show of ours, a Clarence Carter show, to Cleveland a few years ago. Cleveland crates, when you get a painting of their's, are too much, they have rubber seals between the lid and the box and weigh hundreds of pounds. We built the crates, because these paintings had never been loaned, and duly shipped the show off. A couple of days later Sara gets a call from Cleveland, and they say that this had been the best crated show they had ever received. One of those Preparator compliments that might be hard to understand. I like being good at what I do. A habit Herbert developed, in those first years I spent in professional theater. If you're going to do it at all. Might as well learn all you can about it, and, then, do it as well as you can. If I've been eating well, and had enough sleep, I like being challenged, it keeps you awake. I went back to sleep, this morning, I think it was, and I couldn't remember where I was, when I woke in a start. Often, I don't make sense of my self. I assume a little doubt in everyone, there by, extended, whatever. I notice we often come to a hard stop, probably just because you're married. I'll get back to you later.