Category: Lopsided Observations

These little Mayflowers are are popping up all through the woods near our house. They seem to like the protection there because you don’t see them much outside of the woods. I know how they feel. My father identified them for us when we took a walk in these same woods. Shelley has different name for them but we go with my father’s. They are in full bloom now. This is all there is to them, one leaf pointed toward the sun, no colorful flower or anything. In a month or so they will gone. Hence the moniker.

We have been so busy at work that our daily woods excursions have taken on a real intensity and it dovetails perfectly with Spring’s explosion.

The lilacs in our yard are blooming. Their appearance is considerably ahead of most other years. Nothing would make me happier than seeing the lilacs come and go before the announced start of Rochester’s Lilac Festival. I’m old school that way. Let nature decide when the lilacs will be in bloom. Don’t go booking all these bands in the Bowl and sad arts & crafts shows and fried dough vendors that stink up the park to coincide with such a beautiful display of these fragrant purple flowers.

Bob Martin threw his back out so he won’t be at tonight’s Margaret Explosion gig. We called Jack to see if he wanted to sit in again but he and his son are going to see Neil Innes from Monty Python. It’s his son’s idea. Last week Jack took his guitar out his case and realized his son had borrowed his guitar strap so he played sitting down. I think this guy, James, will be sitting in on piano tonight so it should be fun.

I suspect Pete and Shelley usually go to bed shortly after sunset and then they are probably up with the dawn. That would only be natural if you lived up in the woods off the grid. But when they come to Rochester all that goes out the window. We were up til two on Wednesday and Thursday and then well past three on Friday.

Most of that time was spent around the table talking although we did duck out for smoked trout at Rick and Monica’s and to see/hear Watkins & the Rapiers at the Little. Guitarist, Steve Piper, was wearing a Margaret Explosion t-shirt. With seven guys in the band it was hard to hear the lyrics and that is where the charm is. I brought the iPad with us to play music in the car and I didn’t want to leave it in the car so I brought in with us. Because we don’t have a case or anything it was spotted immediately and then passed around two tables. I’m pretty sure Apple has a hit on its hands with his thing.

We slept like babies last night and spent most of the day repairing the fence in Leo’s garden so we can keep the deer and rabbits away from our plants. The mint and chives and rhubarb are all up over there. With a little digging we found potatoes and parsnips from last year and had the potatoes for dinner. Rick caught a trout in Irondequoit Bay and gave us a fillet for tomorrow’s dinner. We are a little uncertain about eating big old parsnips and Bay trout but we will probably go for it.

Did anybody else think Sandra Bullock’s lipstick was too red last night? Nothing stopping Ms. Bigalow though. And that “This Is Your Life” section, actors told other actors what they liked about them in front of the whole world, was really creepy. I liked Jeff Bridges in the Fabulous Baker Boys but I wasn’t buying his his country thing. Of course I haven’t seen the movie so I’m only basing that assessment on his appearance at the Oscars. I miss the streakers. That guy holding up the “Text Dolphin to 44144” sign was as close as we got to spontaneity. We haven’t seen any of the movies that were up except for Food Inc. We did put a few on our Netflix list today.

It was near fifty today and the snow will be gone soon so we’ll be able to clean up the mess in our street’s pool. We had a couple of trees come down with that heavy wet snow. Peggi and I are still the pool presidents for another few months so went down there today to take a closer look.

Ruth Kligman, the woman in Jackson Pollack’s 1950 Rocket 88 when he crashed, has joined Pollack in the great beyond. She was a painter too but she was more famous as an art groupie as she also had affairs with DeKooning and Kline. Franz Kline kind of steals her NYT obituary with this quote.

‘Art is my life,’ is my motto, ” Ms. Kligman wrote, and in an interview she once said that she knew better than many how hard such a life was. She recalled running into Kline at the Cedar bar and telling him that she had just finished what she thought was her best painting. He bought her a drink and told her, of the world: “They think it’s easy. They don’t know it’s like jumping off a 12-story building every day.”

My sister stopped by with her daughter. First time we’ve seen our niece since she got pregnant. She is still on probation and can’t drive and there is no father in the picture so the situation has caused some consternation in the family. It has all come to a head and in a very natural way and life will go on in a different fashion. I was long overdue for a haircut and I know my niece does that but she insisted she only does women’s hair. I would think men’s hair would be a hell of a lot easier. I usually just pull it upward in clumps and with my fingers and run the scissors under my fingers until I get most of the hair about the same size. I might have learned this technique from Bruce Anderson or possibly Steve Hoy. I struggle with the back though and usually ask Peggi for help but she was off picking up a big project for 4D. My sister volunteered and the whole job was finished in minutes. I don’t care if its all the same length because I never comb it. I’m a pretty easy customer.

When we came back in the computer room my niece was filing her taxes with TurboTax. She used our email address because she doesn’t have a computer. My sister sat down at my computer and did some banking with HSCB. She doesn’t have a computer either but they both have cell phones so they are a step ahead of us. I suggested we all go down to Vic & Irv’s for dinner and pay our respects to Vic Anuszkiewicz. It was snowing when we pulled up and the neon on the word “Vic” was out. Could this be deliberate. It was so perfect. “Perfect”. That reminds me of the song that has been stuck inside of head since the Olympics began. I asked our server (she calls me “Dear”) if the “lights out” thing was a tribute to the 95 year old Vic who died a few days ago. She laughed and said “Irv” was out on the other side.