Recently in Art for Art’s Sake Category

I’ve been working.

And not in the that drowned out, head hits the desk before the vodka bottle kind of way. No. This has all been purely therapeutic — because it’s all been done FOR FREE. That’s RIGHT…. no invoicing. No management. No eons of cash spilling out of my ears — what? It isn’t 2004, PEOPLE. No. This is 2012 where most live in fear of, well… everything. And so, I’m open. Open to helping out. Open to taking on projects that, in 2004, I would have charged ungodly amounts of money for. Dammit. Damn it all. And it FEELS GOOD. Although, this isn’t to say I’m whoring myself out to just anyone. GET OVER YOURSELF. Their are reciprocal perks — I’m not that kind of girl.

It all started with the revamp of Studio 30+ — I’ve mentioned them before, and I used to stop by the old site occasionally to peruse the worlds of other bloggers. It was nice, but kind of like yelling echo into the winds of the Grand Canyon. Alone. Very, very alone. Since then, the management of such changed, things were afoot and they held a logo contest a few weeks ago for the new and improved site. (You can go there, but then come back… rudeness.) It was the announcement of said contest that made me glance around, realize that my muck boots were stuck in the succubus. WHERE WAS I?!? Grasping for the site of any shoreline, the fog began to swirl around me until there was nothing. Even my hand in front of my face was starting to grow dim. I was all about giving in and letting the high tide take me away when Steven Tyler gave credit to cocaine for Aerosmith’s ability to play every state in the country, nine times in seven years. I then sprung out of my stay-at-home-mom-day-dream to a repeat of the Ellen show, ran like a crazy person to my desk and churned this one out…

IT WON, YAY ME! And the new site is live. It’s all very exciting… BUT.

While this was going on, I was also in the midst of designing a logo for another friend… Isn’t it FUN?!

Yes, you can go to her site too. RUDE!

At any rate, this has all been unbelievably refreshing  — kind of like spring, without allergies. Or kittens, before they become cats. It’s making me all hopeful and whatnot — you know, like there’s NOTHING wrong with oblivion. Look. It works for Steven…

The internet is a weird place.

So weird, in fact, that I find myself letting it get to me…. As if someday the internet is going to come alive, realize that I’m here and then hand me a big ol’ box of validation. And I can be like, “Where have you been all my life?” and Internet will reply, “I’ve been here the whole time, and since you’ve invested so much time and patience in me, I’ve decided to reward you with this barrel of monkeys”…. To which I will gasp — throwing the monkeys back in Internet’s face — THAT’S IT? A STINKING BARREL OF SMELLY MONKEYS! After YEARS of pouring countless words, thoughts and dribble into the world wide web(ular) — There’s NOTHING in return!? And, as the big bad Internet hangs it’s head and turns to leave it whispers, “but you can’t live without me”… And then David Lynch steps out of the pantry, eating a quince while exiting stage left… And Julian Schnabel, who is suddenly standing next to me, snarfs a rhinoceros laugh and then suggests that his whole ‘Jesus in a Jar of Urine’ period was really about switching his brand of deodorant. Because if validation is knowing that a Google search for “BIRDS SPONGIFORM ENCEPHALOPATHY”, pops this blog up as numero 3 — then maybe I need to reevaluate my internet existence.

And I know. I need to stay away from the Internet when I’m in one of these ‘What does it all MEAN’ frames of mind, but really.

In other news, here’s a little promo I did for Big City Kitchen…. A food and photography blog that our friend Amanda recently launched. And I say “our” to be inclusive of the Internet, which is really quite heavy and should  consider cutting back on the number of food related blogs that it allows and, quite honestly SUCK. Therefore leaving more room for real food blogs like Big City Kitchen and Will’s Kitchen. Then, maybe we can convince our new skinny Internet to cut back on the porn and really bad content bloggers, thus allowing even more space for real internet users to spread themselves out all over the place — pintresting ourselves silly until we blow up, raining wwws all over the place.

And here we are. A new year.

Fresh. New. Untouched. Unaffected. And oddly — feeling almost exactly like it did last year.

But that’s not reason to worry. Feeling the same as it did less than a week ago isn’t a bad thing, right? We aren’t supposed to run around changing EVERYTHING immediately, right? I mean… I suppose there are freaks people out there that say “I’M CHANGING, DAMMIT” and then, BOOM, everything is different. There’s nothing seemingly wrong with taking our time. Deciding that we want to do something, think about it… patiently… toil over the details while moving in slow motion. Quietly making the necessary adjustments before we LEAP FORWARD into new things. And I know you were picturing a graceful gazelle just now as I said ‘LEAP FORWARD’… because we are talking about the visions in my mind — and you need to see things as I’m seeing them if we are going to embark on anything together — and in no way am I referencing a leap “year”. Because I don’t think I could handle losing one entire day in 2012. No. No empty, invisible, take-away days — because this is going to be the YEAR OF ME. And you’re coming too.

I’m thinking about making some changes, and since these are life long — they do NOT fall into the evil and ever-failing RESOLUTIONS category. And — I’m not just talking about the small stuff, like this is the last Coca Cola I will EVER drink. No. I’m talking about things that would normally fall on a “Life List”, which is something that I have mentioned in “They’re safe easy to clean and do not cause unpleasant buffeting”, (those were the days)… I’m talking about speeding up the process and, for almost the first time ever, TAKING MYSELF SERIOUSLY. Like — No more soda really means NO MORE HIGH FRUCTOSE ANYTHING…. And, while we’re at it, LEARN TO WINDSURF. But there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to any of this. AND I’m going big, at least for me. Way beyond the Ten Its. My attempts to formulate a list of things that I want to accomplish in the next 40-50 years (if I’m lucky) ranges from the absurd — Sleep through the night… to the mundane — Put Christmas away… to the balls out impossible — DO SOMETHING BIGger than before (I’m open for suggestions). So, I’m speeding it up and giving myself 365 days — although I’ve already lost 4 in the planning stage. So, starting NOW. Okay. After I finish this coke.

And I know. YEAR OF ME, sounds kind of selfish and completely unoriginal. And I totally agree. I completely ripped the idea off from The Summer of George on a Seinfeld rerun the other night. Only — as we all know, the Summer of George was a failed endeavor which saw Mr. Costanza in rehabilitation to regain his ability to walk. I know. NOT FUNNY. But it totally was. Even after watching it for the 40,000th time. His only mistake was that he attempted to do it all alone. Of which, I would never do. Because, yes. I love you too.

And so… as I need to get going on a few things. I am starting the list right now. Please note that this list will change — grow and hopefully shrink with cross-outs as I SUCCEED AT EVERYTHING I TRY. Also, please note that from the boring to the laugh your ass off NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN items all fall in no particular order. Because, that, my friends is life.

• Read all the books in my house before buying new ones
• Quit High Fructose Everything
• Breathe while eating and enjoy every bite
• Walks
• Share a picture everyday
• Teach Will to read
• Teach Jo to walk AND talk
• Not so much spending
• Learn to Windsurf
• Redesign this Blog
• Travel with the Kids
• Relearn CPR
• More NYC
• Go fishing
• Will’s Kitchen, the book
• Bronx Zoo
• Write a Screenplay
• Find the right babysitter (and hire her/him)
• Find my Medium
• Garden. For real.
• Go to the Openings
• Turn conversational Spanish into fluent
• Make edible egg free pasta
• Meet Martha
• Get Jo to sleep in her own bed
• Take more pictures
• Find the right, regular, paying gig

I’m alone currently. No really — Mr. Sal is in the city and both of my children are apparently sleeping. I say apparently because, really — who knows. And when my husband complained about having to spend the evening among adults at some fabulous dinner for business, I imagined myself inhaling a self-rolled ciggy, exhaling while speaking in a British accent “I cannot imagine anything more exhilarating (emphasis on the ‘EXXXHHHHIL‘) than a trip to the city”…. which is a scene that I totally ripped from the Virginia Wolf thriller of a movie, The Hours…. Starring Nicole Kidman…. Regarding several decades of women that seem to be going through unbelievable bouts of self-exploration… which is a nicer way of saying ‘depression’. And, although I am not depressed, or anywhere near the idea of going through a ’bout’ of anything — I do have to say that it’s getting harder and harder for me to remember what it was like to not have kids. To be able to just go. Just decide to do something and then do it….ALONE. ALOOOONE… And, considering this is the second time I’ve been alone in 2011, and most likely the last — what better time to run wild with abandon and go — GO — on 2011. On the other hand, it may have been a mistake to leave me alone, and this glass of wine is delicious…. I’ll wait until morning before I publish this.

Because 2011,
CHANGED MY LIFE.
AGAIN.
(sorry, that was loud. and this post is rather long.)

In 2011, we had a 2nd baby. We had a 2nd baby just when the first baby, now 4 years old, seemed well on his way to independence. And when I think about the dramatic and early entrance that Josephine made into our lives, paired with her current ability to get pretty much anything she wants — at 7.5 months old, it’s hard not to predict that we are in it for a lifetime. And again, NOT TO WORRY, when I say ‘in it’, I am of course referring to the bliss and unbridled happiness that comes with being Josephine’s Mom. The smiles. The heart-melting coos and squeals that make up for the refusal to sleep in her own bed. Or how she spits the baby food back out at you and then laughs at your reaction. But that’s okay, as you wipe the spring vegetable surprise from your face, just LOOK at how cute she is covered in puree…. and whatever, you can just forget about your hair — you aren’t going anywhere anyway.

But I know, having just done this for the past 4 years. This time is fleeting. It really is hard to believe that she’s 7.5 months old and that Will just completed his first semester of preschool. I mean… remember back when he was two and he quit napping and I thought my life was over? I mean… it really was over, but the realization was astounding… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I don’t have time to myself anymore? That I had to put my design ‘career’ (I know, don’t laugh) on hold, sit on the floor and PLAY? I mean REALLY. I’M EDUCATED — and LOOK, now I’m playing TRUCKS? But then it stopped. He did what most do and started playing BY HIMSELF. And then I was sad, alone… sitting on the floor with my trucks (not really). And now Jo — as demanding and irresistible a baby as there ever was…. tomorrow she’ll be kicking me out of her room and demanding to pierce something.

And, I know. I’m going to get to all of the other things that happened in 2011 — I’m just taking my time because I’m still alone. That, and I just can’t get over how pleased I am with everything in my life these days. The fun little boy I have. The food allergies that he seems to be growing out of (!) paired with his need to wear a fire helmet to the grocery store. The sweetest little girl I could have ever imagined — it’s even cute when she’s slapping my face and ripping my earrings out. I’ve even been working on a few design projects that seem to be moving along nicely, and I’m happy to report that things are calm both on the friend and family fronts.

All in all, while tooting my own horn from atop the highest pedestal, 2011 was a really good year all-around.

January… My sister Annie was married to her longtime love, Rob… Which led to a reunion of sorts in seeing friends and family that I haven’t seen in years, some of which read this bloggedy blog and therefore knew way more than I did about myself…. Later, I started reading an absurd amount of anything I could get my hands on, books – magazines, newspapers, a MANUSCRIPT written by a brilliantly talented individual that also had a baby in 2011… January was also the month when I started having Braxton Hicks otherwise known as false and not funny contractions even though I wasn’t due until the end of May. Good Times.

February found Mr. Sal and I returning to Portsmouth, NH where I took this picture whist Braxton Hicking all over New England:

I may never understand why I love this picture so much other than the fact that I was a giant pregnant lady salivating over the whole idea behind this window.

Nothing happened in March.
NOTHING.
Oh come on. It’s not like I was sitting on my hands or anything, although I was waiting for something to happen. Really, nothing happened and honestly, your bravado is rather rude.
FINE. Go see for YOURSELF.

April was one of the scariest months of my ENTIRE LIFE, although it started and ended with a blessing. I kicked the month off by opening the front section of the New York Times to see a 1937 picture of my long-passed Grandaddy on page A12 (with the crooked hat). This was a HUGE surprise and one that I will never forget… It made me feel individual and incognito all at the same time…. Here was this image of a man that all but a hand-full of us recognized thus giving the paper that day an entire different meaning than anyone in the world expected it to. And while there are pictures of people in newspapers everyday, this was a once in a hundred million lives, lifetime treat.

April was going to be a great month.

It was, however, only a few weeks into the month that Josephine decided to start her attempts of escaping from my belly — one of which found me in the hospital under the guise of false appendicitis. Her Alcatraz-like plan was foiled however, mostly due in part by the numerous prayers that were heard by the powers that be. But she didn’t hesitate to try again and five weeks before her due date, Josephine Dwyer was born. After a quick incubation, she arrived home healthy and happy — that is just as long as you are doing exactly what she wants you to. April was also the month when I read a book by Sammy Hagar (hangs head in shame) in approximately 2.5 hours — an amount of time that I will always regret losing…

The rest of the year has been a bit of a sleepless/timeless/listless haze filled with the closeness of growing and playtimes. There have been moments when I stop, clear my head and listen to the news or something, but for the most part I have been in an 8 month hibernation as a full time Mom. Two kids, as I am discovering, is intense. Beyond the trip that I thought I was signing up for, but also filled with an extraordinary balance and calm. Trying to make time for myself has proved to be near impossible, but when I feel the pull and struggle to do more, I come back around. This time is precious and I’d rather be here, experiencing the lives of my kids…. A pedicure would be nice though.

And, to just sum up the rest of the year, because OMG – I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL READING THIS!
June – …the must in the air was a really choice herb…
July – …SOYLENT GREEN, SOYLENT GREEN…
August – …They don’t hate you…
September – …EVACUATION...
October – …Allergy kids and Lepers having so much in common…
November – …let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad…
And, December, Well. We’re here, aren’t we?

So, while not everything that happened in 2011 contributed to the life-changing handle that I’ve given it, the few things that did happen were quite large. [abundant, ample, barn door, blimp, booming, broad, bulky, capacious, colossal, comprehensive, considerable, copious, enormous, excessive, exorbitant, extensive, extravagant, full, generous, giant, gigantic, goodly, grand, grandiose, great, gross, hefty, huge, humongous, immeasurable, immense, jumbo, liberal, massive, monumental, mountainous, plentiful, populous, roomy, sizable, spacious, stupendous, substantial, super, sweeping, thumping, tidy, vast, voluminous, whopping, wide]. It’s amazing how two tiny people can pack such a punch.

And in ending, Merry Christmas my Friends — Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Bodhi Day, Boxing Day, Hogmanay, Koleda, and Festivus, etc. Happy New Year. I will see you when things are fresh and new, 2012!

I am from salt air, coca cola, weeping willows and background music with bare feet.
I am from a Sears & Roebuck house with eclectic reading options and good dogs.
I am from the vintage collection.

From wooden floors, antique rugs and decorative chickens.

I am from the laughing seagull, the wisteria vines and hydrangea blooms.
I am from The Sunday New York Times and art class, from penny candy, low tide and laughing too hard.
I am from Lawrence Welk, Monty Python, The Muppets and The Beatles.

From wondering what time they will get here.

I am from using it up, turn tables and Nana’s costume jewelry.
I am from Christmas Cookies and Holiday Hearts, poker faces and Hudson River whitecaps.

From simplicity is best and rising above.

I am from ‘Somewhere in some far off place, I will recognize your face’ and ‘Smile, it makes the world brighter’.
I’m from ideas and discussions, iced tea and grilled cheese sandwiches.

From the signature cat illustration my Grandma drew, Chicken Little, flowered wallpaper and cool calming voices.

I am from enjoying it all.

___________________________

This is an exercise that I first read about here which led to here. Then I read and loved it here, here and here… which, of course, led me right back here. Because after much thought, why not? Go ahead. And maybe you will.

She turns 19 tomorrow. The birth child of Grunge.

(image via stylecaster)

And NO. Whatever. I’m not some obsessed lunatic or frantic Nirvana fan trying to hold onto something… ANYTHING. No. I’m not. I’M NOT. I actually prefer Foo Fighters. (GASP!)

In fact — I haven’t thought about Frances Bean or her parents, Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, in a very very long time. It was the New York Times Style Section that so gracefully reminded me… As I gulped my coffee down in an effort to suppress the memories of the day that Kurt took his own life. NOT a laughing matter, but one that makes me cry from giggling too hard—Thinking about my then-on but usually off boyfriend, driving around with his headlights on in some sort of funeralistic recognition, before the days when car manufacturers suggested leaving them on all the time…. Like if he hadn’t been driving he would have been standing somewhere, silent and holding up one of his many lighters in some twisted early 20s grunge angst… while passers by would have been all  — “Dude, this isn’t The Breakfast Club”… Instead everyone was all “Why are your headlights on, the sun is shining”. And I explained, in all seriousness, CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S IN MOURNING, as we hugged and cried together… Friends that weren’t fans looked at us like we were alien…which we TOTALLY WERE. WHY KURT, WHY?! Our CD collections became shrines to what could have been and no one else existed. It was all very Say Anything. The New York Times, by the way, owes me some serious bank on the number of times I’ve linked to their website… But isn’t it fun that I can find humor in even the darkest of caves!

But now Frances is here… and gorgeous. Talented, apparently already an accomplished artist under another name, and I happily suspect — beyond cool in her own right. She looks like Kurt, but has the same kick ass beat as her lovely mother, Courtney. I’d throw her a giant Facebook “HB!”, but really? She’s never even glanced at Facebook and I fear any response would include a giant “FY!”. We can only hope that a life of twisted fame combined with admirable secrecy will see her through to a future filled with smiles and love… We can only hope.

Because, clearly, I have no idea.

It all started last week when M emailed me about a job opening at his web company. And no, this isn’t going to be some story about how I was offered something fabulous that sent me off into a personal struggle over life and overall existence which left me pale and useless–Languishing under the dining room table… clutching a bottle of chardonnay, thinking that if only there were an appropriate way to use the word “ass-hat” in a sentence. And in no way is there anything wrong with that.

Because, what I didn’t know — and what I thought no one else knew is that “Doing It Yourself” is a trend that has evolved into something way beyond anything anyone could have imagined… AND it’s not in a galaxy far far away — it’s right here in front of us… Mostly on M’s website where he employs (for real dollars) creative thinkers to blog about their DIY projects — all very interestingly COOL and retro — Like unannoying hipsters that somehow make it possible to exist without a carbon footprint, still give the appearance of having a lot of money while never running out of time to accomplish EVERYTHING in 24 hours. Remember — these are the unannoying ones that you really want to hate but can’t. Not the smelly ones that are trying to smell. Regardless, if you know where I’m going with this, and I think you do, M’s website is out there — blaringly awesome and completely lacking in all things ass-hat. And I would provide a link to M’s website, but after reading this — he may want to be saved the emotional state of having offered the position to me. Which is where my quagmire finds me entering a picture that I have no business even looking at.

Because I don’t know how to DIY. I mean, yes. There are the graphic design projects, thousands of them… but without going into too much technical detail about doing something because you DO IT vs. LOVE IT — those don’t count. Then there was the manic phase a few months ago where I swallowed a pile of colored felt and coughed up a mini-pile of homemade brooches. That was fun except once I did it, it was done and I was over it. DONE — and staring at myself in the mirror all ARE YOU KIDDING ME? While the world danced around me giggling – -  it was a phase, a phase! (sung in a high pitched whisper)

But there were a few seconds of insanity where I saw myself running around reusing absolutely everything — from old glass bottles to burlap sacks (because you just KNOW I have tons of those laying around). I thought  – BRILLIANT. While I’m busy dying my own homemade paper, that I intend to eventually repurpose as mulch to grow my heirloom seeded lavendar plants for eventual use in, not only perfumes, sashes and recipes — but also for medicinal purposes… I can balance my baby on my head and let the almost 4 year old scour the floor for scraps to be put into our next green reusable project (photographed and photoshopped for online publication). THEN, when I’m finished antiquing for door pulls, wooden knockers and tiny little minted push-pins — I will find the time to sit down and write about all of it — sharing it with the world while I sew clothing for my children. Because that is what the job entails.

And while I am flattered and floored by the idea of working around such amazing people and MY HEAVENLY DAY — some pretty awesome stuff, I realized that by not knowing how to DIY — I might not fit in the picture just yet. YET, people, being the challenge and the, AHEM, operative word. And so I’m starting small… trying desperately hard to not look like an ass-hat. How would you use it in a sentence?

I wish I could take credit for all of the lovely blooms and gardens that I seem to find myself bragging about… I mean, they are in my yard… And I admire them everyday — sometimes even talking to them, waiting for a response.. waiting, waiting, waiting…

But I really can’t take credit for the gardens. Aside from my admiration and the occasional watering, I have a family of gardeners and landscape gurus to thank. As I attempt to photograph, share — clip for bouquets and then in some cases — eat, the results of transplanting and growing from seed — the numerous and different plants. Most of the time, I don’t really know what the name of the plants are — or if they require shade to sun or the reverse. But as I watch, with growing interest, I am trying to learn so that someday I can say that I grew these gardens myself.

Anyone can call themselves anything, but it doesn’t make it so…

To begin with, I’m a Designer — a title that I’d like to think that I earned while climbing the somewhat thankless rungs of a career that requires a certain amount of skill that, on occasion, borrows from bursts of talent. To say this talent is consistent is a brilliant lie — no one is perfect and being “right” about how things should appear is one of those “grey areas” that we can all role our eyes at while pretending that we don’t really love Rob Lowe and {TOTALLY} can’t wait to read his auto-pilot book about being a man-slut. Regardless, along this path I’ve had the occasion to design a laundry list of things — for a laundry list of people and companies that have either led to pride beaming successes or unfortunate and mismanaged disasters, but each experience has led birth to something concrete that I can walk away with. AND, while I typically win in the end, I’ve worked hard  — sometimes designs are easy and others impossible, but they all deserve the same respect — anything less would be unheard of. Many times I’ve felt that falling into this career was by way of not being very good at other things. Starving, for instance, wouldn’t ever work for me, so being a traditional Art for Art’s Sake Artist was a little out of the question… I really didn’t have any hope when it came to a money management role (obviously — let them eat cake!) and, by way of a complete lack of interest, all things politics, law, religion and science were totally out of the question… that’s not to say, however, that they aren’t {TOTALLY INSIDE}. Because, when it comes to knowing right and wrong — what works and what doesn’t… what SELLS and what DISTURBS, it only makes COMMON SENSE that when putting IT OUT THERE, some things, you just shouldn’t do.

{IN OTHER WORDS, YOU SUCK.}
{THIS DESIGN IS BAD. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS WRONG. YOU MAKE ME SICK. GO AWAY. DO IT OVER. OPEN APPLE Q. GET A LIFE. STOP. DON’T EVER DO THIS AGAIN. POWERPOINT. WRONG. ANTI. AMATEUR. THROWING UP. GET OUT. JUST LOOK AWAY}

BUT, aside from my vast expertise as a full-time resident of the Hamptons and self-proclaimed design guru, who am I to critique the work of another, right? Where is my license to point out the obvious — Another new free Hamptons publication, The Daily Dan… Published and produced entirely somewhere else by another “local-yet-not” publication, Dan’s Papers — Aimed at making life between Westhampton and Montauk look ridiculous. Obscene. Absurd. Retarded. And, they employ an Art Director – Photography Director, Designers and probably a whole swarm of freelancers — all of which I’m sure have EYES. Because, yes… When I step out of a fake pool with an airbrushed body and horribly photoshopped jewels, overlaying typography that drips and oozes with amateur monkey brains… I {TOTALLY} know that you need to see what’s INSIDE. AND — I will tell you how to buy a husband, live on a mere $1.3M — WHO TO CALL WHEN YOU’RE DRUNK. Because I need you to know all of these things… while my legs and hand get chopped off at the water line and my head might not even be my own… I’m not questioning your intelligence AT ALL… Or blaming you for picking up the magazine — while the gooey airbrained contents barely stick to the pages of Über-gloss and canned editorial, leaving slime and stain on your hands as if a crime was committed. Because this is {TOTALLY} what you need to understand life in the Hamptons.

And while the opportunity to share the real Hamptons with, albeit, the people that already LIVE HERE, has officially been snuffed out like an obnoxiously cheap cigar, I can only react from the sidelines — turning my nose up and looking away from the waste and disaster as the contents start to leak out all over the summer’s beginning…  Because someone obviously doesn’t care about looking good — especially the powers that be at The Daily Dan.

Despite the rash of recent art thefts in Southampton, and apparently elsewhere on the East End, the season for art openings is HERE! [insert a ridiculous amount of applause] Kicking it all off (for me at least) are my good friends Dan Gonzalez and Raun Norquist, along with painter Joe Barnes.

If you are in the area, I highly encourage that you to stop in — if not for the serious creativity, then simply to make yourself more well-rounded. And by that I mean mentally.. not physically, like me. I do hope to attend the event (this Saturday, March 19th @ 6pm) but given my current spherical pregnant state, that may not be possible…. that is unless rolling as a form of STRUT is suddenly in fashion. I have also considered sending someone in LIEU of myself, but the last time I did that the result was this…

via guestofaguest.com

Perhaps sending a regret is more appropriate…. Regardless, I will be popping in to see the show even if I miss the opening…

As for the STEALING, one can only hope that the thefts remain purely residential, and that the taste of the robbers has improved. Otherwise, stealing bad art is just a big-0l’ waste of time…. Not to mention that the local authorities are ON THEIR GAME, “This office is assisting the ongoing police investigation,” Bob Clifford, a spokesman for District Attorney Thomas A. Spota, said in an e-mail this week, declining further comment….” via 27east.com –WE’RE WAITING.