In Town

So much on my plate, supposed to rain after midnight, straight through, turning to snow by Thursday, figured I'd stay in town. Dealt with trash and the bathrooms this morning, then pulled hardware, patched and repaired the two upstairs galleries. I'll do the main gallery tomorrow, then paint the rest of the week. I need a bunch of roller covers and trays. After work TR goes over for a beer with me, and it's weird because Astra is leaving for the day and Lindsey is our barkeep and it's usually the other way around. Lindsey has become a bank person and we'll probably only see her one evening a week. So we're sitting there, in an Irish pub, drinking our pints, he's having a pretzel with hot cheese dip, I'm eating a bowl of chips to galvanize my salt intake into an electric field. Wild-ass theories are my stock in trade. And we're talking about totem poles, what asses who needs to kiss. We try to look like two guys talking about sports, but TR's hat and his jackets, with patches at the elbow, are a dead give-away. Then the owner comes over to talk with us, and we're no longer invisible. I like having a beer to unwind, and that cold first swish of a draft is magic. And I also enjoy conversation. A perfect evening. I thought about going back out, meeting with TR and a few of his friends, but I bailed, and read a year of Mary's letters, 1945, to see if there was mention of that painting that is called "La Salle Blades" in the watercolor, but "Tidewater" in the oil; no mention, you have to start reading between the lines. Just saying.