I'm working on the saw. Now that I've actually started the work, it's going pretty quickly, and I'm please with it. This is a progression over the course of several hours.

Here I am gesso-ing a panel in my studio. Note the rustic workbench I use. And another view of my workspace. Do you think I get lonely here? No. I have ten billion spiders to keep me company. There are also wasps and barn swallows. That's why I keep that yellow-handled axe close by.

The hollyhocks came back just swell this year. The spent blooms looks pretty ugly, but one must take the good with the bad, I suppose, cuz' there's just no bustin' skulls in gardening. I have, however, cracked a fair number of carapaces. That was a Japanese beetle reference.
And here's the kohlrabi. Want some? I have no idea why one is green and the other is purple. They'll actually kind of cool looking. I should paint their portraits.

Oh, this is for Ed. DJ-G’s max-rappity comment on my previous post reminded me.

Last night Erin was watching a Sesame Street video (“Potty Time with Elmo” or something like that) and there was a musical sequence showing plumbing parts being made in a factory. I was in the kitchen cleaning, and had to run in watch—the music was M. C. Frontalot! Or at least I’m pretty sure it was.

I just Googled him. It was him. MC Frontalot falls into the “nerdcore” subgenre, which I just learned of. I mean, I just learned the name. Thanks to people like Ed and mekimeki, I’ve been feeling the nerdcore vibrations before I ever heard any actual nerdcore.

Ed put one of his songs, “I’m Gonna Be Your Man,” on a CD for me a few years ago, and it rocks sportingly.

Interpret This Dream

I was training in martial arts. My young instructor, Ming Li, felt I had done fairly well. She thought it was time for me to face her instructor, Mama-Ji*.

In our outdoor classroom, on the grass, I was set to face her. Mama-Ji arrived. She was a silent elderly Asian lady, with long gray hair. I was to spar with her.

It was also dinner time, and Mama-Ji ordered pasta for delivery. It arrived, just as we were preparing to face one another. She was delighted to receive her plate of couscous.

She held her plate of food in her right hand, up and behind her, as we faced one another. I got the sense that she saw me as far beneath her, and that no one saw me as worthy to face her. It was expected that I would be no match for her.

She held her plate of food as she used her left hand to strike at me and to block my blows; we struck at one another a few times. I used both arms, and she, her face impassive, just used her left, keeping her food level with her right.

I was very annoyed by this. She was toying with me, showing how she could fight me even without any great effort. I decided that she needed to cut the cr*p and leave off the arrogant display; I was going to push her, so that I could either show her I didn’t want to mess around, or provoke her to really put me in my place so that I’d know exactly where I stood.

I quickly reached out and knocked the plate of pasta from her other hand. This really angered her, but she just glared at me for a moment, then turned and left. I realized that it was offensive for me to have even touched her food. What little welcome I might have had was gone.

I picked up my sword and followed Mama-Ji to beg forgiveness, but she ignored me and went inside. I waited in the stairwell for her to come back out. After a long time, she did (it was night, and raining.) I called out that I was sorry, that I realized too late that I my behavior was offensive. But she paid no attention to me at all, and walked away.

Oh, well, I thought. And I went home.

When I woke up I was a little annoyed that I went back to beg forgiveness. I should have picked up the plate of pasta and hit her with it.

* Mama-Ji is another name for Kali ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kali ), who was featured in the novel American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I just finished reading it last week.

The River Cities Concert Band, of which Kim is a clarinet-tooting member, played at St. Matthew's Episcopal a couple of weeks ago. http://www.stmatt-ky.org/band_concert_and_ice_cream_2007.htm My two girls can be seen in the photos that are fifth and eleventh from the bottom. There is a picture of all three of us walking across the drive, with the band in the background, near the top. The photos were taken by Dr. Varley Wiedeman, who taught my Biology of Populations class at U of L, about...oh, 16 or 17 years ago.

My family planned to attend a zydeco concert in Willow Park a couple of days ago, but it was rained out. We stayed the afternoon at my parents' house, hoping for a break in the weather, despite the fact that every little bit of rain we received was greatly needed.

I went on a field trip with my dad, while Jill napped. Dad has a couple of tomato plants in his back yard, but the moment a tomato even thinks about ripening, a squirrel takes it. There are lots of squirrels, and competition is fierce, especially if you are the tomato-grower.

So my dad traps them in cages. I watched him pick up one of the cages with a nervous, skittery squirrel, spray its hind end with some red spraypaint ("So I can see if he comes back. I should be able to tell from that.") and put the cage in the back of the car. We drove a few miles away and let him go at the Baptist Seminary.

Everyone needs hobbies, I guess.

I told Dad that if it came down to tomatoes or squirrels in my garden, I might not be as gentle as he. In this Age of Information, squirrel recipes are just a click away.

Solstice

Happy Midsummer's Day!http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a1_170b.html
C'mon over tonight. We'll find some upright megaliths to dance around. I have a little rum.

Last Friday I finally started painting on the saw. It’s coming along pretty well. I’ll post photos if I can remember to take my camera next time I go over there.

Still thinking about linoleum block prints. I found my single tube of black water-based Speedball printing ink.

The little robins left their nest a few days ago. I was looking out the front window with Erin and we saw a fledgling hoping around the front yard. The other two were still in the nest, I discovered when I went out to check. By that evening, all three were gone.

It amazes me how fast they learn to fly. A few years ago we watched some young cardinals in Kim’s dad’s back yard. In just a few hours they went from helpless-looking, flightless fluffballs to birds that could fly from ground to branch to fence-top.

I ate some kohlrabi from my garden. I peeled it and sliced it raw. Eh. Perhaps I can add it to some soup or stew. You’d think that a vegetable that’s described as a cross between a radish and a turnip would be a lot more enjoyable. That was sarcasm.

For Father’s Day, my super-sweet wife and daughters gave me a membership to the J. B. Speed Art Museum. http://www.speedmuseum.org/

Bird Prints

Here is a discussion about some stunning bird prints...sometimes, artwork just seems to fly right up and create itself:
http://www.wetcanvas.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=401932

In other avian news, we have a robin's nest over our driveway. Erin and I watched the three chicks poke their heads out, crying to be fed. I really hope we get a chance to watch them learning to fly.

For some reason, this morning I keep thinking that I want to do some linoleum block prints (or use a similar medium).

"Daddy, know what rhymes with freejerator? Heejerator!" --Erin

The other day on lunch break I was having a discussion with my pal Possumbooger—that’s not his real name, we just call him that—and he looks at me and “Alonzo,” he says, "Alonzo, what the hell’s new with you?”

So I think for a moment and I tell him, “Well, Poss, I finally found me a 1988-P half dollar last night. Now I have a complete set of JFK half dollar business strikes.” Then he whistles and nods appreciatively.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s taken a long time. Now all I have to do is keep on refining it, by which I mean, I’m going to look for nicer versions of the ones I already got.”

“That kind of thing worth much?”

“Well,” I tell him, “determining the value is sort of complex. You have to count the number of coins and multiply it by fifty percent. That gives you the approximate value in U.S. dollars.” *

“Huh,” he says, and offers me a Swisher Sweet. I give him a Shasta soda, and we sit and watched the fog roll by the breakroom window.

* Not exactly true. You can also add the bullion price of silver for the coins minted 1964-1969, plus the value of the year 1987 coins, which you don’t usually find in circulation because they were only made for mint sets. All those things together add a few dollars. However, to paraphrase the mobster appraiser on “The Simpsons,” they might not be worth much, but their sentimental value is through the roof. Now, if I could find me a 1974 double-die obverse…


See some of Possumbooger’s antics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sK3AqFYAWQ

Jillian in the back yard a couple of weeks ago. I love this picture and can't stop looking at it.



Yesterday, when I got home from work, Kim told me to go look in the living room. There I found Erin asleep on the floor. Kim said that she just fell asleep among her toys.

Two more for category A

Here are the finished versions of my two most recent paintings, previously posted in unfinished form. The first is about 18x24”, the second is about 8x9”. Both are oil on panel. I invite comments.

I painted on Saturday, and finished both of the paintings that I posted photos of last week. Now I need to let them dry a little while and frame them.

I worked in my studio for a little while, on the saw—I sketched on it, and decided on a composition. I’ve actually hardly done any work in my studio. And I also discovered that it’s a supremely spidery place. I cleaned it a couple months ago, and now it has lots of cobwebs again, and there are spiders all over. My dad suggested spraying, which I might do, especially if end up spending more time there.

After I worked in my studio a bit, I went over to Aaron’s house and painted on his porch. That’s where I finished the two paintings previously begun. As I painted, I got to chat with Aaron and David, and had a beer. Very pleasant.

David, Brooke, Kim, and I played Puerto Rico on Thursday night. It was only the third or fourth time that we’ve played it. I really enjoy it, but it’s pretty time consuming (Thursday’s game lasted, oh, I dunno, three hours).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puerto_Rico_(board_game)

David won.

Dairy manipulation

I've been wondering. How come you get butter when you agitate cream, but get whipped cream when you whip it? Why isn't whipped cream butter?

This is obviously a question from someone who hasn't actually tried to make either, or bothered to look it up.

Works in progress

The blue in this one shows up brighter in the picture than it is in real life. This painting is pretty small, and it's almost done.

This is the one that I started painting while it was snowing, back in early April. It needs a little more work than the small one, but it will be done soon, too. There is also too much glare in this picture, but it's the only one I have right now.

On the pig/in the hats/in the car

They like my hats.
The nice neighbors across the street gave them a car that their daughter has outgrown.

Here we are with one of the pigs outside Mark's Feed Store.

Lost

I will now show myself to be a “Lost” geek.

What a season finale! Whoa! And two hours of it! Jack revealed himself to be just as useless in flash forwards (sneaky “Lost” writers, darn them) as in flashbacks, although he had some fine moments in the present. I’m glad he didn’t cave in during his one-on-one with Ben.

Best part: Unexpectedly, Charlie. As sad and awful as his death was, he did a great job, exhibiting quick thinking and courage. The whole build-up to his final (? <-- obligatory question mark) scene had some good twists and just played out well.

Worst part: Locke killed Naomi. Every bit as egregious and near-inexplicable as when Michael shot Ana Lucia and Libby. Sure, he must have been inspired by a sense of I-must-stop-this-at-any-cost desperation, but obviously it wasn’t enough to motivate him to kill Jack. Or maybe the revolver wasn’t working. Fifteen years sitting in a tropical corpse pit might make it sort of inoperable.

For a show that primarily involves castaways on a tropical island, there sure are a lot of people killed or mangled by motor vehicles. Three more in last night’s finale, not including Jack nearly being run over as he crossed the street to the funeral parlor. And who was at the parlor? Kim suggested to me that it was Ben, and I think that’s probable, although Michael comes to mind as well.

Another annoyance, although it’s really a blessing: The ending really didn’t give us much more to speculate on over the summer regarding the nature of the island. Obviously, it has some sort of effect on the timeline, including events of the past. Not much more than that can be nailed down. Unless Jack’s references to his father in the present-tense was a product of his drug and alcohol abuse.

Who was Naomi working for? Why was Penelope transmitting to The Looking Glass station? In what way does rescue from the island end in regret or doom?

It looks like the whole dynamic of the show has now shifted. Next season seems likely to start with most or all of the surviving characters rescued, or put in a whole new form of peril.

I note that no core mysteries in the show’s mythology were solved. I hope that, when more is explained, I won’t regret ever getting hooked.

At the Louisville Coin Club meeting on Sunday, a gentleman who was sitting in front of me struck up a conversation. He asked me what I was interested in—that’s the general ice-breaker question among coin collectors. What do you collect? What do you focus on? It’s a question that’s a little awkward for me to answer, because I have little money to spend on collecting, and my interests are so varied. I’m not much on being a completist, like many numismatists. Key dates—those coins that are rarest in a series—are usually well outside my price range. I don’t have a key date of anything. But this is actually a digression.

My answer to that question now is that I’m most interested in the detective work. My favorite thing about coins is when I get something that sort of stumps me, and I have to look it up to identify it. I find it a lot of fun to find a coin and have little or no idea what it is, and then have to hunt around for information on it. This always ends in some new little window opening for me on some other culture or bit of history. Ancient Roman coins bore plenty of political propaganda. That Indonesian coin I have depicts a congklak game board, which is a version of mancala. The four small pictures on Icelandic coins are depictions of Iceland’s four guardian spirits—dragon, bull, vulture, and giant.

In regards to being a completist, I have almost finished a complete set of business-strike Kennedy half dollars. I’ve been pulling them from circulation, so that means that they each cost me fifty cents. The only one I still need is a 1988-P, which is ridiculous, because it’s not a rarity at all. It had a huge mintage, but for some reason none of the hundreds of coins I’ve searched in the past year has been that one. The only coins of the series that I had to spend money on were the 1987-P and 1987-D, which were available only in mint sets and not released into circulation. I bought those a couple of years ago. Besides finding that one coin I’m lacking, I need to keep searching for better examples of the ones I have that are pretty beat-up.

At the coin club meetings there is always an auction at the end. Last weekend I noticed an old Whitman folder of Lincoln cents, 1909-1940, missing only key date coins. All the coins were worn; I doubt any would grade higher than Fine. But there were many coins there that I needed for my collection. I decided that I’d gladly buy that if I could get it for less than $8.00. Unfortunately for me, one of the club members brings his young son (or maybe grandson, I don’t know.) Nobody really wants to get in a bidding war with a five-year-old. He got the Lincoln cents for $6.50. A little sad for me, sure, but also very cute.

If you’ve read all of this post, you are either crazy or interested in coins. Not that the two are in any way mutually exclusive. Why don’t you just go read the sports scores or the blog of someone totally hot? Obviously, I just write this for myself. And that one guy someplace who Googles the terms “congklak” and “guardian spirits.”

I spent a short while last night planting watermelon seeds. I turned over some soil, and then piled on some dark wormy compost from the compost cage. I was eager to do it before last night's thunderstorms arrived. Now, with a little luck, we'll have a half-dozen watermelon vines shortly. I also put down a few newspapers as mulch, weighted by bricks, flower pots, and sticks. I didn't have time to finish that, though.

There are buds on the hollyhocks. There are flowers on the blackberries.