November 20, 2006
Woke up to a beautiful morning. Not cold, just right. Went for bike ride with dogs, proving for the 1,499th time (that's how many blogs I've posted as of today) that every day is Christmas to a dog.
And speaking of keeping score, J.D. and I all but finished the chicken house this weekend. Here's a couple shots of the chicken condo extravaganza. First up is J.D. working on the last corner. A big, sucker, no? And the second photo is of J.D. and I pretending to be working (Kathy came out and took it):
And a victory photo of the man who did all the work (J.D.) and the man who wrote about working but did Jack little (BBB):
While we worked I notice Buddy Boze Hatkiller wasn't anywhere around. When I went into the house for Joint Juice I spotted him. Can you find the hatkiller in this scene across the Spanish Driveway?
Well, how about if we zoom in. Now can you see him?
Big, lazy New Yorker.
Worked most of Saturday on fire images and really ruined a couple. Here they are, lest you think I waltz from victory to Impressionist Victory. Ha:
I had a long one in the Beast yesterday. Left the house at ten, met Steve W. at Mi Patio for a Mexican breakfast (he bought), then drove down to the new Phoenix Art Museum to introduce two films for the film series they do in conjunction with Steve and the Cowboy Artist Show. Checked out the cowboy art (last day of show). Some very fine stuff and much schlock and of course some of the biggest schlock sells for the most dinero. My good friend Dave Powell's stuff looked very fine as did John Moyers, who is the Cowboy to beat for my money. My ex-neighbor, Roy Anderson, resigned from the group over some petty squabbling, but I missed his art just the same.
Introduced the films "Cowgirls" and 'First People: Last Word," both documentaries, one on rodeo cowgirls from Alberta and the other on Indian tribes which was a Danish production.
From there I drove out to Scottsdale for the Dwight Tindle memorial service at the Seventh Day Adventist Church at the foot of Camelback Mountain. Enjoyed meeting many old friends and the music was spectacular. Stan Deveroux's (sp?) rendition of the Beatles' "Let It Be" was stunning, and a tear jerker to boot. Many stories, most funny, some very sad. The service lasted over two hours and the preacher got in the best line when he said, "We knew Dwight liked to talk, but now we know his friends like to talk as well."
Afterwards met Deena at a Starbucks on Scottsdale Road and caught up on her life. She's flying to Rhode Island this Wednesay to attend her boyfriend's 20th high school reunion. Got home late last night.
Got up this morning and worked on another couple fire images. Rather happy with a small, narrow strip of watercolor paper which I turned into a distant shot of a desert ridge, burning hot (see at top, below). The close-up has potential but is not quite right. Still learning. Fire is more difficult than I ever imagined (kind of like life, no?)
Went and saw Borat on Saturday night. Paid $19 for two tickets and $8.50 for a medium popcorn and a water! This was at Deer Valley 30. Loved the first fifteen minutes of the fake documentary, but hated, and I mean hated, the baiting of the rodeo people, the ettiquette people and the church people. Really distasteful to me. It's so obvious he misled them as to his real intentions, mocking them in very crude ways. The nude wrestling didn't bother me at all (it's getting all the attention). Several people are suing the star and writer, Sacha Baron Cohen, including two college kids who made total asses of themselves (I didn't feel sorry for them at all) and Cindy Streit, from Etiquette Training Services. Borat (Sacha) brings a bag of poop and a prostitute to the party (sounds funnier than it is), but takes a cheap shot and rips a minister's wife for being ugly, and I just really found that too mean-spirited for my tastes.
"Getting people to like you is only the other side of liking them."
—Norman Vincent Peale
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