December 12, 2008
Read this morning that the notorious fifties pinup model Bettie Page died at age 85. I don't know why, but I couldn't help comparing her life to my mother's, who died a year ago at 84. I couldn't help but think of their shared time frame and divergent paths in terms of life choices. While my mother was making me peanut butter sandwiches in Swea City, Iowa, Bettie was posing for S&M photos with her trademark "dark bangs." In the end, though, all of our lives are so similar: Bettie had three husbands, my mother two, they both lived through the depression and suffered from depression.

One thing's for certain, my mother would absolutely hate the comparison even being made, so I'll stop.

Working on more studies for the big painting I'm working on. Here's a small cloud study I finished Monday:



A deputy constable showed up at my house yesterday to serve me a summons regarding Peaches and Buddy Boze Hatkiller and their run-in with a neighbor dog. It's basically a leash law violation and my initial trial date got moved because my neighbor across the street works for the Cave Creek judge and they are so backed up, the new court is finally getting around to my case. I asked if I could plead out and he told me what number to call. I thanked him and asked him if he was into the Old West (so I could give him an issue of True West) and he said, "Yes, and I know exactly who you are."

This is one of those mortifying moments where you realize how awful it would be if, say, he was serving me a summons for soliciting a prostitute.

And yes, my mother would hate this line of comparison as well.

Which makes me realize part of my perceived outrageousness came from my mother trying to stifle my coarseness and my father smiling and silently encouraging me to do more. Hmmmmm.

Gee. I wonder what ol' Ben has to say about this?

"Search others for their virtues, thyself for thy vices."
—Benjamin Franklin