Training Run

The city fire department, doing rescue training, ran lines between two bank roofs today, over the esplanade, and commenced ferrying other firemen across. Quite the lunchtime audience. It was cool. TR started preparing the physical Condition Book for the folk show, we'll start doing the actual reports tomorrow. The Art Guy came to the furniture store next door, drives a van loaded with cheap paintings and prints, must drive a fairly large circuit of furniture stores because I only see him once every few months. Tom Covert (Covert's Furniture) buys a few pieces, he knows it's crap, but it's crap he can sell at a 100% markup. Selling bad art to the aesthetically impaired. TR's mom works at our accounting firm, the other side of Covert's, and I'd seen her at lunch. I hadn't been able to get a copy of the State Guidelines for figuring my taxes. They must have a high-speed printer over there, because she went online and printed me a copy and had it to me before I could remember I'd asked her. I'll have to stay late at work one evening, and file from there. Sultry out, 90 degrees today, high humidity, a sun shower on the way home, and a great rainbow leading, roughly, to my house. Mackletree was lovely, the verges greening, the honeysuckle; the popcorn buds of sassafras starting to open, the red maple, the poplars in the bottoms. The Iris, in town, are budding. I actually have an Iris map, coded to date and color, they're so beautiful. I love the dark purple ones. Examine one closely, with a magnifying glass, and you'll be amazed. I took a group of Todd Reynolds'  painting students through the two main shows, and had fun with them, because I could, and because Todd introduced them to me as if I was a person who knew something. Which I do, I make it a point to know something about everything, or at least the things we actually install at the museum. One thing leads to another. Side-bars that only exist because I was curious. The way things are constellated: you know which direction you'll probably go, but that doesn't mean you aren't curious about what's behind those other doors. I know what it's like to be human. My older daughter reminded me last night. Maybe the night before, I lose track of time. I may well have been in a tree-tip pit, toasting the turn into spring. All we have is a blurry photograph, I wouldn't make too much of it, but he does look like me.