after the move

And for those fans who care, I am home in New York now.
Here's a link to the latest Wear Your Music Press.


edible landscaping

It was actually more like guerilla gardening. A plot of land outside the new windows had delicious topsoil dumped down but no landscaping has yet materialized. OK, so we know it's really too late to plant tomatos, but we did anyway. Also peppers, herbs and flowers. It's too soon to know what will take, but the birds welcome the addition. One came to perch on the slats of the high tech blinds in the window.


raising ikea

The DIY guide to moving large pieces of furniture.


moving days

Soon to be a minor motion picture. . .


setting up house

As fast as we make our nests, a new set of householders arrives to remake them. Then they leave and we start all over again.


what it's about

When it all comes down to it, this pic by Wolfen, "Keys and a Thunderstorm," pretty much says it all. You've got your weather issues, and then you've got your transportation and housing issues. Is it just me or does everyone seem to have problems in those areas?


summer digs

Kate regards one of her outrageous New York City watercolors that Mike has uploaded. A few show up on her blog (link at right), but not this one of Central Park from the Plaza. Odd to be working on city paintings in Block island, but she has framed the Block Island pictures already, awaiting her show in August. I have been staying with her and Mike since my houses are rented, and will be headed back there tomorrow.


louis, the love

They'd been around the block together more than a few times, Louis L'Amour and Ruby Zee Montana. During Ruby's darkest days, he was there for her. It used to worry me sometimes, seeing one living being so dependent on another with a dramatically shorter lifespan.
In the event, Monsieur L'Amour lived a very long life for a Chihuahua—some 21 years. That's 147 in dog years. Piquancy was added to his golden age by the acquisition of a harem, Lola and Dusty, who join Ruby and all of her many friends and relations in grief. See obit.


goodbye, gallery gal

Came home to find—no Gallery Gal. She had packed up and split for the coast. The art trailer, now with wheels on it, will wait for her return to the studio in the fall.


words to live by

. . . if a bit ambiguous.
Leaving the island today, New York bound.


and i give you fire

. . . but not much else. Will be busy for a couple days and no time to blog. Dontcha worry bout me.



don't have to be a weatherman

In the olden days, like maybe about 20 years ago, when we wanted to get to Block Island by plane or boat, we used the item above. It's a low tech thing: You depress the bar and get a broadcast from the closest NOAA weather station. You can find out how high the waves are, the winds and cloud cover—and all those other atmospheric delights that make a trip to BI so, er, iffy. These days, we access the same info on the web.
There are those, however, who insist that an even lower tech weather station is all you need: The Weather Rock. Put the rock outside, says Chris G, and if it's wet, that means it's raining. If it's white, it's snowing. If it's hot, it's—but you get the picture. Don't tell you about the waves, though.



It's a Cinderella story. Max and Cinderella came all the way from Georgia with a pit stop in New York City en route to become Fairfield Kounty Kitties. Their meows have taken on an archer sound already, and their tastes are likewise getting chichi to the max.


honeymoon block island

The ad we made for the Block Island Wedding edition of the local paper hasn't run yet, so I place it here in hopes that Googlers will find the most heavenly honeymoon hideaway on Block Island.


the first dog

In the beginning there was Cuba, and he was the first dog. (And my former roommate.) Then came Oscar, the second dog, and then Molly, the third dog. There's a regular fleet of Havanese out there on the West Coast thanks to Cuba, the first dog. Well, actually I believe Oscar to be summering in France, but he calls California home. The boys are pretty cute, too.


real estate blues

Anyway, a lot of the uncle's house got cleared out. I took two truckloads of scrap metal to the dump (mostly filing cabinets, as the previous resident was a paper hoarder) and got lost in the suburban wilds of New Jersey to a degree I would not have believed possible. But the prospective owner was pleased, so hopefully that sale can proceed and that will be one albatross the fewer around the larynx of Our Ed.


almost documented

We picked them up in Chinatown and took them to New Jersey as day laborers, to help fill a dumpster or two at a deceased relative's house. Then one of them offered to buy the place. Cash. Ain't America great?


just say yes

About a year ago, Deb told me that she was not going to turn down any more invitations to weddings, graduations, whatever. She said that she feared such happy occasions would be fewer as the years passed and she didn't want to miss out on them, whatever the cost.
This had an effect on me, and I have been making an effort to accept invitations and even take people up on casual suggestions that require me to leave the house. Thus Tuesdays at the sidewalk cafe (above), and yesterday three meals out, one way the fuck down in Soho that included two venues. Next thing you know, it will be casual sex.
I am feeling so virtuous.


a photographed evening

A portrait of Fenella as recorded by Chien-Chi Chang—and Mama Donna Ferrato and me. There was ice cream, too.


new york's new waterfalls

You can see two of them in this picture, but actually, from where we stood, down by the East River in Chinatown, under the Manhattan Bridge, you can see all four: The two in Brooklyn, the one by South Street seaport and the one at Governor's Island. Monumental and awesome, they are the $15 million public art project by Danish-Icelandic Olafur Eliasson, he of the giant sun in the Tate. Nice that people can think big and create on such a scale. For more, see this review


introducing gallery gal

The latest addition to the menage at 98. . .


paranormal paradigm

So Dr. Robert went to a paranormal conference in Colorado last weekend.
I asked him if he was becoming a believer.
He said, "Not yet. But if there's a huge earthquake in L.A. I might become one."
Apparently, the Farsight Institute (one of the presenting organizations) has predicted a devastating earthquake sometime between now and December 1 of this year, most likely this summer. You can check out what they have to say here.
Anybody changing their travel plans?


the evening of amazements

Lobsters, rainbows, thunder and lightening and sunsets oh my.