Changeover

Fierce battle at the compost heap. Sounds like two dogs and ether a coon or a possum. I throw rocks into the darkness. A war against the unknown. Great scene when I drove up the driveway this afternoon. There was just a little water in the mud puddles at the top. Most of the animals move off the ridgetop in the summer because there is no water; but everyone drinks at my watering holes, another reason to fill the damned things. They're between where I park and the house. A flock of turkeys. They're awkward and nervous. I stopped as soon as I saw them because they're such a hoot to watch. TR and I were at the museum most of day, the electricians prepping for the new elevator, but there was left-over quiche from the music event yesterday, and I do love quiche. Patched and repaired the upstairs galleries. Tuesday, all three of us on this and it's quickly apparent we'll be fine for opening the show on Friday. TR and I set up three tables downstairs, took the bonnets off the 3 D pieces, and put the pieces on blankets on the tables, so the owners can reclaim them. We need the pedestals upstairs. D was unwrapping the next show. We brought the pedestals up, took the art work downstairs. Artists drifting through all day, some of them, you talk to; some of them, you don't. TR and D started putting pieces on pedestals and moving them around. I painted the walls, listening, not saying much.The ceramic work is larger and heavier than expected. It's wonderful. Leans in two directions: a kind of architectonic, industrial thing; and the other is a kind of sensual drift into rounded fossils. It's beautiful work, strange and intriguing. I love handling these things. Fact remains, though, that I'm in a funk, my body is failing me, I can't do the things I used to do. I hold on to the railings now. B and I were talking the other night about getting our papers in order. "The Janitor's Papers". TR and I at lunch, ESPN on the big screen, no sound, Celtic music in the background, and there's a commercial that offers 250 business cards for 10 bucks. TR says, just as I was thinking it, that I should get 250 cards and we were trying to figure out exactly what the card would say. "Janitor" for sure, some provenance for that, an email address, and at the bottom, "Mopping". This is a work in progress. It would actually be nice to have a card, because I get tired of explaining myself. One of our volunteers was touring a couple through the museum today, they were from Telluride and I said I'd built a couple of houses there, and they were dumbfounded. No telling what you might find in a backwater. I don't think they believed me. Getting my papers together is a tall order.