Archive for the ‘Life Is A Spell’ Category

The Experience Of Experience

Friday, September 8th, 2017

Irondequoit Bay from front porch of MacGregors on Empire Boulevard in Rochester, New York

John Ashbery grew up in Sodus NY, near where our literary friends just bought a house, and he went to school in Rochester, later living on Dartmouth Street where Peggi and I lived when we moved (back here in my case) from Indiana. I di not know much about him until died. I still don’t but I love the snippets o poetry hat have been quoted in his obits and related remembrances.

“I feel the carousel starting slowly
And going faster and faster: desk, papers, books,
Photographs of friends, the window and the trees,
Merging into one neutral band that surrounds
Me on all sides, everywhere I look.
And I cannot explain the action of leveling,
Why it should all boil down to one
Uniform substance, a magma of interiors.”

Ashbery claimed that he was trying to convey “the experience of experience.” What a noble pursuit.

Full Swing

Sunday, September 3rd, 2017

Mizin Shin woodcut prints and silkscreen prints in the Lab Space at Rochester Contemporary

First Friday in September. Gallery night out. We started with the show at R Gallery on College Avenue. Mitch Goldstein’s large scale abstract photograms made from small objects. Both were artfully displayed in the front room. The back room was surround projections from Nancy Bernardo. She creates intentional and accidental glitches by manipulating the scanner bed while digitizing and then layering the results in moving pictures.

“Under Pressure,” Rochester Contemporary‘s new show features work by four printmakers, very unusual printmakers. They push the boundaries of printmaking big time. We spent quite a bit of time talking to Michael DeLucia about his high tech process for making low tech contact camera-less prints and 3d cork sculptures. They were beautiful and the more questions you ask about the work the more engaging they became.

Mizin Shin (photo above) really wowed us in the Lab Space. That space has been transformed as never before with her B&W silkscreen and woodblock prints.

We finished our night at Roc Brewery where A.R. Stone’s early aerial photos of downtown Rochester were on display. Stone’s great great grandson was on hand to talk about the prints that were handed down from his grandmother. He told us how she accidentally broke the glass negatives so we were looking at the only surviving prints. The Brewery crafted a beer named after Stoney for the evening.

Welcome To Somewhere

Tuesday, August 29th, 2017

Welcome To Somewhere sign near Mexico, New York

Peggi spotted this sign on the road to Mexico. Mexico, New York over near Oswego at the western end of Lake Ontario. We were in the back seat of Jeff and Mary Kaye’s car traveling up to Watertown to buy organic maple syrup and I was doing something on my iPad. I’m thankful Peggi spotted it. It’s a beauty.

It seemed like a long ways to go to buy maple syrup but when Jeff asked if we wanted to ride along we said, “Sure.” They used to belong to some sort of food co-op and they liked the syrup so they called the number on their empty container. Jeff called the guy again when we were close to town and had us meet him at the Sunoco Station on Rt. 81.

He was with his girlfriend but she never got out of the car. They looked like they might be Native Americans. He dropped his receipt book when he got out of the car and he bent over in slow motion to pick it up. He told us he doesn’t get out in the woods anymore because he had a downhill skiing accident. He buys most of his syrup from others but no synthetic defoamers or formaldehyde pellets are used in the trees. I wished he hadn’t told us that. It’s the last thing I would have thought of. And added that a rabbi had just been up to his warehouse so his syrup was kosher too.

We made the deal and Jeff put the containers in the trunk. It felt like a drug deal but it all went smoothly. We came back through Sodus in time to have dinner at El Rincón.

Get Well Sparky

Sunday, August 27th, 2017

Sparky gives Little Man a haircut

We got a message from the woman who bought our old house that our former neighbor, Sparky, was in the hospital. Apparently he had a stroke. He had just stopped down here a couple of weeks ago and he looked so good we were thinking he had stumbled on the fountain of youth.

I’ve probably namedropped Sparky in these pages more than anyone else. Ours is such an unlikely association. We lived next door to each other for twenty six years and our first morning there the woman he was married to for a short time rang our bell with a pot of coffee in her hand. Her first words were, “We’re so glad you’re not niggers.”

We stayed away from them for years. They divorced, she left and we’d talk to Sparky over the fence. He collected junk and fixed things. He gave a us a mower that he found on the street and repaired. I started sneaking photos of him. Little did I know at the time that he loved it when you took his photo.

He played guitar and liked country music. He burned garbage in a barrel behind his garage. He told us he shot a sewer rat out front. He blew our minds and we became intrigued with his every backyard activity. Before we moved, I had keys to his garage and his shed.

We stopped up to see him in the hospital. He’s doing physical therapy but he is in rough shape. We made a card for him with this photo on it.

Invisible Idiot - Sparky's Shed
Invisible Idiot – Sparky’s Shed

Free Cookies

Thursday, August 24th, 2017

Funky yard sale sign at Seneca Road traffic circle in Rochester,New York

This sale was almost scheduled for today. Whether they made a mistake or changed their minds, they covered their tracks well with some blue paint. I rode my bike up on the traffic circle to take a photo of it.

The first thing that caught my eye is the closed letters, the inside of the “a”s, the zeros and the the “d’s. Clearly a spray painted sign from a hand cut stencil. But then when they did the number “8”s, they cleverly cut the stencil so the inside of the eights resist the paint. I love the small caps usage on the name of the street and the ghostly starburst announcing “Free Cookies.” The finishing touch, the thing that really drives this thing home, is the wiggly red arrow with drip running uphill. I know where I’m going to be tomorrow sometime between 8AM and 3. This sign is going on my Funky Sign site when I get back to it.

Ticket To Venice

Tuesday, August 22nd, 2017

Philip Guston book and tea on porch, Summer 2017

If I wasn’t so busy I’d be in Venice. Sure I’d take in as much as I could of the Venice Biennale but after the first good night’s sleep there I would start with the Philip Guston show at the Gallerie Dell’Accademia, “Philip Guston and the Poets.”

I travel as light as possible but when we were in New York last I spotted and picked up this book first thing at Hauser & Wirth Publishers on the first day there and had to pack it around the whole day on our gallery hop. Such a price. I have cherished every moment with this thing even if it is only a few dreamy pages before I nod off on the porch.

I superstitiously read the little slogans on the Yogi teabags even is most of them annoy me. But I’m taking this one at face value. “Love is an experience of infinity.”

Cereal Box Theater

Monday, August 21st, 2017

Covenant gathering in  Durand Eastman for eclipse

We walked up to the lake and spotted these witches gathering before today’s eclipse. Actually, they could be Presbyterians for all I know. They were dressed in white and one of them was wearing a cross around their neck.

Peggi had altered two Shredded Wheat boxes this morning and poked a pin hole in one end. We took them down to the pool where we put our backs to the sun and stared into the tiny theaters for an hour or so. I love it in there and the clouds that floated by made it all the more dramatic. I love the wide aspect ratio of the box end and the way the floor to ceiling screen appeared to be bordered on all four sides with a black frame. The perspective lines converging on the four corners of the black frame appeared to be fine white lines and it was easy to forget this wasn’t a life-sized room. We decided to save our boxes until 2024.

Big Dig

Saturday, August 19th, 2017

Dodds and friends working on the pool at Hawley Drive in Webster, New York. Photo by Leo Dodd

I went looking through a box of clippings and old letters and stuff hoping to find an article from the local paper that was written in 1990 about my father during the Can of Worms reconstruction. My dad had taken an early retirement buyout from Kodak and he would go over to the construction site everyday and sketch the proceedings. Three of the paintings he did from these drawings will be in the October RoCo show and it would be nice to find this article for the display case. I did’t have any luck but my brothers and sisters are on the hunt.

I found this photo in the box and it reminded me how much fun we had hanging around our backyard. When my family moved out of the city in the sixties Webster was still a small town surrounded by farms. Although this place was pretty close to the four corners, our subdivision, referred to as the “Schantz track” by locals, was a muddy old corn field.

My dad decided to put a pool in the backyard and the idea was to dig it ourselves. You can see in this picture how much help we were. My dad did most of the work. My brothers did a lot more work than I did but I remember swinging a pick ax to break away chunks of hard packed clay. If you click on the photo for the enlargement you can see my dad borrowed a rototiller to break up the clay.

With seven kids in the family we would sometimes all have our friends over at the same time. There could be thirty kids in the backyard. And when it all got to be too much my mom would pop the back door open and order everyone to go to their own homes.

In this photo, from left:

Norm Ladd – Norm was a couple of years behind me in school but when I was a freshman, living in the dorm at Indiana University, his mom called and said, “Norm has run away and he’s coming out to stay with you.” As I remember it Norm’s future wife, an Indiana native, came to Rochester with some other friends to visit me. She met Norm here and they settled in Bloomington.

Paul Dodd – I’m shown in dress shoes with no socks talking to Norm. Norm also lived in the Shantz track.

Billy Mahoney and David Hill – These kids lived across the street. I used to babysit for them and I just talked to David at my mom’s funeral.

Frank Palozolo – Down in the hole, Frank, moved here from another town in our junior year but he quickly became school president.

Dave Mahoney – In his own world here, Dave came out to Bloomington after he quit MCC and we lived together for a few years. He was a fantastic drummer and he moved to San Francisco with his band, MX-80 Sound. He died rather suddenly. I think that’s the Mahoney’s car, last one in our driveway, a Chevy Impala or something.

Fran Dodd – That has to be my youngest brother, Fran, behind Mark in the group where Brad is holding court. Fran does high-end masonry for Rochester’s finest home builders.

Mark Dodd – Mark is in front of Fran. We shared a bedroom in this house. When our family lived in the city all five boys were in the same bedroom. Mark and I did everything together and shared a lot of the same friends.

Brad Fox – Brad was good friends with everyone in our family. In fact he lived with our family for a while during high school when his parent’s threw him out. He came out to Indiana too and stayed until he moved to San Francisco.

Tim Dodd and John Dodd – I love Tim’s t-shirt. I’m quite sure it was one of mine, handed down. Tim is an art director at Xerox and John designs and handcrafts exquisite furniture.

Joe Barrett – Joe says he doesn’t think this is him but that is his family car in the driveway, the Corvair, the same one he, Dave and I drove to Woodstock and somehow managed to find when we left. Peggi and I are working our way through the Twilight Zones on Netflix and I think of Joe almost every episode. I saw so many of them for the first time in his basement. He needs to pull his pants up.

My two sisters were understandably missing from this manly gathering. My dad took this photo.

Harnessing Summer

Monday, August 14th, 2017

Turquoise house on Wisner in Rochester, New York

Every morning I look at the dead branches on the cherry tree out back. I don’t know why cherry are like that but branches are always losing their leaves and the next thing you know the woodpeckers are working on it. Today I got our pole saw out and took care of it. Cleaned up a bunch of other small trees as well and then went for a big one.

I cut the wedge on the downhill side of the tree so the center of my wedge cut was pointed in the direction I wanted it to fall. And I looked up one last time before I made my cut from the other side. I saw Peggi motioning but I was wearing my Home Depot noise cancelling headphones and couldn’t make out what she was saying. The tree was only about eight inches in diameter, a maple with hardly any branches until the top, but it was probably sixty feet tall. If it went the wrong way it would hit the house.

This is where we turned to Jared, our next door neighbor. He advised us to throw a rope around the tree and take the other end of the rope down the hill where someone could stand behind a big oak pulling the tree toward them while I made the cut. Jared’s friend, John, volunteered for that. We dropped it just where we wanted it. I cut the tree into 16 inch logs and came up the hill just in time to hear Rick calling me for a game of horseshoes. I won the first and third game to take the match.

We planned to go down to the pool before bed for a midnight swim.

Totally Unfair

Saturday, August 12th, 2017

Two farmers painted on silos near Torch Lake in Michigan

Our hosts on Torch Lake were kind enough to stop the car so I could take this picture on our way out of town. I had spotted it the day before and I couldn’t get the image out of my head.

We were visiting Peggi’s sister and she had recently retired so Peggi was pushing her on what she did with her days. Peggi wanted to know, “What is a typical day like?” I find that a totally unfair question. I certainly wouldn’t want to have to account for my time.

So what did we do on our first day back? We were still reading the paper on the deck when our neighbor stopped by to ask for help. He was trying to play an iPod through a small PA system and he couldn’t get the volume up anywhere near the volume of the mic channel. I told him I would stop by when I finished the paper.

He had a brand new cord, Sony stereo mini to stereo RCAs, running from the iPod to the back of the board. He played something for me and then plugged the mic in. It was loud as hell. I looked at the back of the board and saw that that the iPod was coming in the “Record Out.” An easy fix but surprising he got any volume out of it at all with that patch.

Meanwhile Peggi heard back from our nephew, an IT guy at a New Jersey bank and our one man geek squad. The neighbors on the other side of us had asked us if we could recommend a way to learn how to fly their new drone without cracking it up. They were even considering buying a really cheap drone to practice with.

Our nephew had taken birds eye drone movies of our neighborhood when he was up here and we had shared them with the neighbors. We passed their question on to him and he advised them to download an app for their phone and put it in “Beginners” mode. He said that was easier than trying to fly a cheap drone. Peggi went down to the neighbors house to to download the app and she plans to return when they are ready to launch.

With those issues under control we rode our bikes up to Wegman’s. Came out with two quarts of homegrown peaches, some wild caught scallops and a bin of plastic mixed greens. We needed an “LR44″ battery for our grilling thermometer but couldn’t find one at Wegman’s so we went up to Walgreens. The clerk there told me LR44 is the same as Energizer 357/303 so I bought one of those. You would think the brands would want to sell to their competitors and put that information on the package. Our last stop was Aman’s Market where we picked up half a dozen ears of corn and some homegrown Escarole.

By he time we got home it was almost time for dinner.

God’s Permission

Thursday, August 10th, 2017

Helicopter on Torch Lake

There is a lot of money in Traverse City. I couldn’t even have told you what state Traverse City was in before this trip. It sounds like a dusty old town in a cowboy movie. Torch Lake, somewhere near the size of the largest Finger Lake, is lined with big “cottages.” Half a million dollar places, the average cost, that are mostly used only in summer. The lake frontage average cost is $5000 a foot. I can’t help but think of this chart as I watch the boats go by.

I’m not complaining. The setting, though, does heighten the surreal nature of the news, epitomized for me in this statement from the president’s evangelical advisor. (As if those last three words weren’t surreal enough.)

“When it comes to how we should deal with evildoers, the Bible, in the book of Romans, is very clear: God has endowed rulers full power to use whatever means necessary — including war — to stop evil. In the case of North Korea, God has given Trump authority to take out Kim Jong Un.”

Gentleman Jack

Tuesday, August 8th, 2017

Full moon over Torch Lake

I should have bought that Tigers hat at the airport. I was swimming off the end of the dock when Jack suggested we ride down to the Dockside and get a little something to eat. So there I was in the back of his party boat in the blazing sun. All the docks were full there so we cruised down the Clam River a ways and Jack filled up the gas tank at a place called the Clam Shack. I looked at some Bell’s Two Hearted IPA in the cooler but I didn’t have my wallet so I let it go.

It’s beautiful here at Torch Lake in northern Michigan. Not Upper Michigan but at the top of the mitt. Eminem has a place here and Michael Moore had a place before his divorce.

There was a slip open when we came back up the river and Jack told me to grab the starboard side rope and hop out. I swung one of the rope around a post on the dock so the front end was under control but the wind took the back end out into the channel. Another boat was right behind us and the guy behind the wheel started hollering at us. If I had acted quickly enough I could have secured the front end and then pulled the back end in but that is only hindsight. Peggi and her sister were on the boat but could only watch as we sideswiped another boat. Jack handled it all like a gentleman but I felt responsible.


Thursday, July 27th, 2017

Lions at entrance to subdivision Williamstown, Massachusetts

I recently advised my friend, John, to call Apple for advice on migrating from his old eMac to a new iMac. That recommendation was mostly for time-saving, selfish reasons but John has spent hours with his new friends at Apple and recently thanked us for the recommendation. He stopped by the other night to borrow an old operating system so he can reformat his old machine before putting it out to pasture and he wanted to bring a few things to our attention, things he had learned from hours spent in his “library.”

He had book-marked pages in the recent “Genius” issue of National Geographic and he read those passages aloud to us. “The aha moment, the flash of clarity that arises at unexpected times—in a dream, in the shower, on a walk—often emerges after a period of contemplation.” His experience in stewing over a problem has found this to be true. And, although I didn’t say anything, I have found the same. I’d spend hours knocking out logo designs under a deadline and then hop in the shower to have the winning entry reveal itself. So, us common folk can at least recognize the concept. There’s also an “Age and Achievement” graph in the issue that charts peak output of a dozen geniuses and makes it pretty clear that in most cases that point is around thirty or forty. But what about Philip Guston?

Next passage, read aloud, voice of John: “This may help explain the astounding performances of jazz pianist Keith Jarrett. Jarrett, who improvises concerts that last for as long as two hours. When he sits down in front of audiences, he purposefully pushes notes out of his mind, moving his hands to keys he had no intention of playing. ‘I’m bypassing the brain completely,’ he tells me. ‘I am being pulled by a force that I can only be thankful for.’ Jarrett specifically remembers one concert in Munich, where he felt as if he had disappeared into the high notes of the keyboard. His creative artistry, nurtured by decades of listening, learning, and practicing melodies, emerges when he is least in control. ‘It’s a vast space in which I trust there will be music,’ he says.”

Esperanza Spalding, a professor at Harvard University, where she teaches composition and performance, plans to record her next album in a 72 hour live stream. She tells students that in order to speak honestly in your own voice, you have to control the urge to plan everything out. “Only play in response to what you just played — and if you lose your focus, then only play in response to that. This helps them focus on a conversational flow, maintaining contact with the energy of the moment rather than wandering through some calculated narrative. They get in touch with what they already have going on. Which is a lot.”

“I foresee that creating before a live audience will add excitement and extra inspiration energy. Knowing someone is watching and listening to what you’re making seems to conjure up a sort of ‘can’t fail’ energy. The necessity to keep going because it’s live draws up another depth of creative facility that can’t be reached when you know you can try again tomorrow. Having such limited time to write and record 10 songs will also force us to rely on improvisation and first instinct. Not allowing us time to judge, second guess, question, or alter the initial hits of inspiration that drive the creation of each song.”

Moby Dick

Sunday, July 16th, 2017

Figurines on counter at Captain Jim's in Rochester, New York

I’m happy to report our old neighborhood is really coming up. Not that there is anywhere to go. Beechwood is mostly single family, four-square homes built in the early part of the last century. When we moved there in ’78 it even had its own post office on Culver near Main. We identified the triangle between Main, Merchants and Winton as affordable and stable and looked at only a handful of houses there before making an offer on Hall Street. Our realtor, my uncle, suggested we go in at $20,000, two thousand below the asking price, and they accepted it.

We stopped in Captain Jim’s on Friday and picked up a fish fry to go. That place is exactly the same. Jim’s mom still lurks in the dining room. I took this photo there. This Moby Dick-like drama was playing out on the counter while we waited for our order. Coincidentally, our neighbor on Hall Street looks just like one of these guys.

It only took forty years or so but there’s now many more restaurants, bars, a barbecue joint and a micro brewery. Of course, there were plenty of places to get a fish fry back then. This has always been Rochester. Club Soda, at the corner of Hall Street and Main, was called My Brother’s Place back then and they had a pretty good one. Carroll’s Irish bar had one. Fleckenstein’s Meat Market turned into a Greek fish store and people lined up for their fish fry and that was when Captain Jim’s opened.

He put the others right out of business. He runs a tight ship. His coleslaw is top notch and the secret with the fish is – you gotta eat it when it’s hot and after the first few bites you’re best off picking the fish out of the breading.

Bob Spelled Backward

Wednesday, July 12th, 2017

Orange flowers with yellow centers at Bob and Liz's mid-century modern place in Rochester, New York

I have been to Chicago a few times. Our soccer team at IU played Northwestern and one of the other forwards, a little guy, a foreign student like most of the team, took us all to a Turkish restaurant in the city. His name was Attila. We had a tiny cup of Turkish coffee.

And then Dave Mahoney and I hitchhiked up there from Bloomington. Can’t remember why we went up there but I remember staying at the Y downtown and getting chased by some guy after we got out of the shower. And I went up there with Steve Hoy in ’69 to hear the Stones. Peggi was at that show too but we weren’t together. Terry Reid and Chuck Berry opened.

Peggi and I went there together in 2001 to see the Van Gogh/Gaugin show at the Art Institute. It was weeks after 9/11 and there were rumors that the Sears Tower was next. We took the train and walked everywhere once we got there. It seemed very friendly.

Bob Martin left town today behind the wheel of a big U-Haul. He’s headed for Chicago where he bought a house. There is a magnet out there. His grandson. We stopped over to return a hard drive and say goodbye again. We will miss him in so many ways.

We played music together for thirty-five years. That’s how we met. That conversation will end. Bob is an expert on all things technical. Software, hardware, recording. We turned to him all the time for advice. He is a good friend. It is all kinda sad but I guess that is why they invented Facebook. Except I’m not gonna join in those political rants even if I agree with Bob. But I will miss Liz Valentine’s eloquent letters to the editor in our local paper.


Friday, June 9th, 2017

Carmen Herrera Series at Deborah Ronnen's

We came out of the lecture at R1 Studio on Wednesday night and I couldn’t get the car started. The key wouldn’t turn. I had parked in a funny position. It really wasn’t a parking space at all and my wheels were turned almost as much as they would go. Had I kicked in Honda’s Anti-Theft system? We were planning on heading downtown to catch the Occasional Saints at the Little.

I googled “key won’t turn 2003 Honda Element” and learned Hondas were the most stolen car about fifteen years ago so they came up with the “Immobilizer” if the car sensed something suspicious. Someone suggested turning the wheel while trying the key. I did that and the steering wheel locked with a clunk. I couldn’t budge it. Someone else suggested waiting an hour and then trying. We sat in the car with our devices and tried again. I called my sister. She was already in her pajamas but rescued us.

We towed it to Honda in the morning and they put a new ignition. Some 700 dollars later we have one key to get in the car and another for the ignition.

Thoroughly Therapudic

Friday, May 19th, 2017

Garage door lit near Deborah Ronnen's R1 Studios in Rochester, New York

Margaret Explosion had a gig the day my dad died. I had been up most of that night and barely had the strength to play two sets but I remember it being good night, musically. And I remember being almost overcome with emotion during one particularly melancholy song. My mom died on Wednesday and we had a gig that night as well. It was thoroughly theropedic.

There was someone at table near the band who appeared to be studying us. He was wearing a Dan Eaton Band t-shirt and I guessed he was Adam Wilcox, the six string bass player and food reviewer. I said hi to him during the break and he said “It’s so cool that you guys don’t give a fuck.” I said, “Actually we do.” We work pretty hard at making an improvisation sound like a song. I understand it doesn’t always come off that way. He continued, “You know what I mean. You don’t pander to people.” If you make a choice to pander to others you first have to pander to yourself. And why would someone want to do that?


Sunday, May 14th, 2017

Old Edgemere Drive homes high water, Rochester New York

We’ve been looking for a day without rain to ride bikes along the lake. It’s at a record high and we were thinking about our friends on Edgemere Drive. We stopped in The Char Broil and had a cup of soup and cup of coffee. I had the Pasta Fagipoli and it was outstanding. We sat at the counter and I looked at the waitress’s rear end. The tv was on, tuned to Spectrum News with the sound off. It was kind of surreal watching footage of partly submerged Edgemere Drive homes while sitting in a restaurant on Edgemere Drive.

We had a nice visit with my mom tonight. I never wished her Happy Mother’s Day. She had a lot of other things on her mind. Although she was up and out in the main room when we saw her on Friday I think she may now be in bed for the duration. I asked her, “Are you ready to get out of this place?” and she said “yes,” without missing a beat.

Margaret Explosion - Mother's Day Glow

Margaret Explosion – Mother’s Day Glow

Susan B’s Bun

Wednesday, May 10th, 2017

Susan B. Anthony crochet wall hanging on East Main Street in Rochester, New York

We tuned into 91.5 on the way home from our Little Theatre gig. They were rebroadcasting the “Live at Hochstein” performance. Mona Seghatoleslami (her name is so much to pronounce) was introducing the Arvo Part composition, “Fratres,” Peggi’s favorite piece from today’s noon-time concert. Peggi was in the house and thought could hear herself applauding at the end of the work. It was a beautiful ride home.

After the noon concert Peggi stopped by Sew Green on West Main Street to see the wall hanging that she helped create. She took the photo above. Volunteers were given pink, white and black yarn and a crochet pattern for a 2 foot by 2 foot section of this mural. Peggi’s square had the lower back end of Susan B’s bun.

Artist Olek’s mural is one in a series of 50 planned installations across America celebrating important women throughout U.S. history

Maybe The Router Died

Saturday, May 6th, 2017

Flowers behind Jared and Sue's place

The day sort of slipped away. You can really get bogged down updating a website, or we can anyway. So many issues to deal with as time passes. Compatibility and basic functionality as well as updates.

And we tried helping our neighbors with their Buffalo router. It keeps quitting on them. They reboot all devices coming and going and the problem is solved but that routine is getting old. I kept thinking of the Pete LaBonne song, the one with the title (above) in the first verse .

By the time we squeezed a walk we were out of time for dinner. We grabbed something at Vic’s Place on the way downtown. We had arranged to meet Pete and Gloria at Warren’s Hungerford Gallery, our first stop on First Friday. Warren will be making frames for an upcoming Leo Dodd show of watercolors and I was officially placing my order. We were telling Gloriahow we ran out of time for dinner and she gave us her go-to quick meal. She sautés peppers with little olive oil and puts them on bread with with raisons and sliced almonds. “Pete loves it.”

Pete LaBonne - My Clock Stops

Pete LaBonne – My Clock Stops