Personal Chores

Extra trip to town for the usual personal chores. Thought I could do my laundry on Saturday, forgetting I needed to cover for D. Left it in the truck yesterday so, of course, the truck smelled like dirty socks. Big winds have stripped the trees, and the drifts of leaves, before they get flattened by rain and composted, are, in places, several feet thick. The Green Briar is hanging on, still green and dangerous. The thorns are like daggers. Not on the clock, I stopped at the lake. They have the overflow opened, taking down the level of water, so they can dredge sand from the swimming area. But they aren't removing it, just pumping it out to the middle of the lake. This seems like a mistake to me, postponing the inevitable. Dams fail because of silt and sand, the smallest of the fines. Whole river courses fill, and the water goes a different way. Least resistance. Losing track of time, the phone was out last night. High winds on the front- edge of this most recent weather system. Rain all night and all day today, maybe some sun tomorrow afternoon. Ron Issacs, one of the finest trompe l'oeil artists working anywhere, was in the museum, returning several pieces from a big retrospective of his work, to Sara and Clay's collection. Always fun to talk with him, he has the largest ray-gun collection I've ever seen. He still refuses to make me a trompe l'oeil bandaid. If he'd make one for the museum, I could use it to cover up holes. I get a bunch of small projects, postponed by various openings and events, completed and checked off the list. I have an increasing number of lists: board members, Pegi, Sara, Trish, D, and myself, have lists of things that need to be done, specifically things that I'm supposed to either do or oversee, and though I'm short of overwhelmed, I'm a little pissed at the way these things are graphed on the white-board in the common room. Just give me the fucking list, don't parade the goddamn thing. There's a new menu at the pub, they got a convection oven. The non-fried burgers are great but the fries leave something to be desired, still, I eat so much at lunch; the rain continues, that I decide to stay in town, and sup on a beer and pretzel. A free agent if there ever was one.