Got It

Wedding party in and setting up, I haul trash from the kitchen. Then a staff meeting that lasts until lunch. After lunch Sara, D and I hang around in the vault and talk about the appraisals on Monday. Logistics, who does what. The white gloves fall to me. It should be very interesting and instructive. My idea of a good time. A day of museum business, mostly I just like handling art, but I'll do a certain amount of business to make that possible. Quid pro. Late in the workday I take the 10 foot ladder back to the basement (the decorating committee had hung a bunch of those bamboo stiffened paper covered balloon-like things), and drop power to a perplexed trio who couldn't find an outlet. This wedding is purple and white. White balls against white walls is a subtle touch. The bride roared off with the music guys, after the sound-check, and I thought that was a hopeful sign. Sara saw the glitter, spread on the tablecloths as decoration. turned to me and asked if I hadn't mandated that glitter was banned from the building, which I had, but this was not glitter. It was the next generation of glitter, a crushed, and tumbled so there are no really sharp edges, though I'd hate to walk on this shit in my bare feet, product. That I don't even understand the need for its existence, product. Craft items we can do without. I'm still finding fake feathers from the last wedding. I'm not a romantic when it comes to weddings, mostly marriages fail, if we're honest, almost no one is with who they were originally with, though my parents have been together 67 years and it slants my view. Turkeys everywhere on the way home, more than I've ever seen in a single day, maybe a hundred, they're impossible to count. When you see a large flock of them, as I did today (one of several), over thirty at least, harvesting shattered grain from a bean-field, they move so fast and so erratically within a given grid, that you really can't count them. This largest flock, today, was in a back field, beyond a hump, almost a terrace, and there was a place to pull off the road. I'd seen them there before and scoped out the terrain. I watched them, for a while, from the side of the road; there's dip, from the side of the roadbed to the bottom of the terrace, so I ate the half-sandwich I'd saved from lunch and watched from a distance. Then moved the truck into the dip and scurried up along the tree-line with my optics. I've gotten very good at not being noticed, got within 200 feet and settled in the duff. Turkeys communicate constantly, proto I-phone, and there are sentries, young males, that guard the boundaries. I watch them for nearly an hour. Not sure I learned anything, but the colors in the crest seemed to change. Purple was the issue, was it more red or more blue? I don't remember.