Just a simple Sunday visit

Written last night: 
Dear Friends,

Tonight Zing! and I are tired, and so must Wes and Jennifer be, because they've got jet lag as well  They are long-time Tallahassee friends — mother and son —  who stopped to see me on their summer California visit. I know they came to see me (well, Zing! more than me, maybe!) because today I learned once again that — much as I love it -- there is not a lot of allure to Sacramento itself. We had lunch at dog-friendly Zócalo restaurant and then wandered around the Golden 1 Arena plaza and over to Old Sac, where Jennifer somehow got us the last tickets on a riverside train ride. Yes, we could have gone to the museums, the Capitol, the Zoo … but this was enough, when what you want most is just to talk to old friends anyway. 

Tomorrow they head to more “interesting” spots. Today was great.*

(On re-reading this, I see I haven't -- maybe can't -- convey how deeply I feel about what seems to be just a simple Sunday visit. Thank you, Jennifer and Wes!) 

Love,

k

* I shouldn't disparage Sacramento too much -- they did get the general feeling that California might be a little bit ahead of Florida -- appreciating our many midtown murals, the Mexican music at Zócalo, skateboards as regular transportation, and the rolling watchdog/ computer-guard at Golden 1 Plaza. 

Across the street ... across the country

Sunday

Dear Friends,

I  am in bed. Zing is on the floor looking up at me. He’s saying, “What’s happening?" 

Our Tallahassee neighbors are visiting. They have an Airbnb, but Ana is staying the night with us — she’s in the studio-guest room, finishing up a painting before bed. 

Zing may be a little confused at the change in routine, but it’s happy confusion. 

Monday

My friends from Tallahassee are here.  I am exhausted and delighted. And lucky. Too tired to say more!

Tuesday 

Kit, Irene, Henry and Ana lived across the street from us in Tallahassee. Over 10 years we got to know each other well. This summer they are visiting friends and family all over California, and I am lucky they spent the last two days with me in Sacramento. I mean, who goes to Sacramento? My friends appreciated the place. Irene likes the way the old houses and the newer ones complement each other. And the tree-lined streets, she thought, are not only shady but welcoming. They give the place a sense of intimacy and scale. Kit, who works for the State of Florida, could feel a different political attitude in the capital  here, and he played Clark's ukulele. Ana liked my balcony. She stayed for two nights — the first person to sleep on the turquoise daybed. Last night we stood on the dark balcony and watched the colored lights and the swooping crows and the yellow bridge and Raley Field, all lit up with a baseball game. Enchanted, Ana wanted to sleep on the balcony, but I said no.

Henry, a self-aware teenager, showed me how to operate the TV remote, and he made me laugh. And Kit and Irene remember Clark well, so I may have cried a bit with them, but not much. 

Ana and I wanted to go to the California State Fair, but the others said it was too hot, They were right. Today we had lunch at a table under the trees at the Roosevelt Park farmers market, near where men were playing basketball and soccer at noon. It was cooler than yesterday, and there was a breeze. 

Seeing Sacramento with them made me feel like I belong here. And it made me realize how lucky I am to have dear friends who help me connect my past with the future.

Love, 

k

Even the night has light

Written last night:

Today I verified my address to the woman arranging shipment of a TV stand (Yay! But now I have to learn how to turn on the TV),  and when I said twelfth floor, she said, “Wow! That’s so high!” It seemed a kind of mystery to her, living above the street. I understand. When I moved from Tallahassee I wondered how I’d survive without the ground-level chirping of birds to wake me and the hummingbirds in the red vines, and the monarchs gliding around the butterfly bush. What creature will fly up to delight me, I wondered. Crows? Buzzards? Bats?

That creature, I’ve discovered, is light itself. The view from my balcony is great, looking right and looking left, but I’ve gotten even more enchanted by the way the whole space outside my windows carries colors in the air. Pinks, blues, golds — even the black night that I see now. All at once I understand people who walk on tightropes between tall buildings, and how da Vinci and then the Wright brothers got the notion people might fly. The lure of light is indescribable, and the space outside my windows is a simple, unexpected delight.. The light makes me never want to lower my shades again.

(Speaking of shades, I haven’t ordered any yet. It’s on the to-do list!)

I showed up again today at the Thursday farmers market that’s only a block away. I bought the last honeydew-cantaloupe melon, just as a well-dressed woman next to me decided she also wanted one. “I’ll be back earlier next week!” she laughed. “I’ve got to beat you to it!” It was a congenial break in the day — easy to share a conversation and a laugh. I also visited, but haven't yet bought anything, from the wine booth. “These are table wines,” said the vintner, lovingly pouring little samples from a jug — literally a jug — of white wine. “It contains almost three bottles,” she said. 

I should have bought it! Could have used it this afternoon, to lighten the tedium of more phone calls, mistakes, and a visit from Best Buy installers, who told me I need a plumber before I can have water and ice from the refrigerator. Seems the connection is too old, not up to code. Well, at least I know. 

And dinner, leisurely, with Stephanie and Patrick at the crepe place near their home. Loved being with them.

Heard from Tallahassee friends. Electricity is out all around my old home city now, and they’re concerned about falling limbs and flooding. They're hunkering down to high wind, rising water, and a dark night. 

Love,
k

Farmers market 

Monday is for laundry and luxury

Written last night:

Today was not lazy, but it was routine. I’m letting a new routine emerge. 

I did the laundry: uneventful, except that in the laundry room on the first floor (It’s got plenty of washers and dryers and looks onto the garden, so it’s only slightly inconvenient.) I did meet a woman who observed (complained) that the ceilings here are too low to properly hang her antique Japanese kimono, which she has framed like a picture. She had to put it in storage.  “Is it silk or cotton?” I asked. “Silk.” 

Of course there had to be an hour or two or three of unpacking and putting things away. This should be simple, but somehow I’ve lost my winter jackets and sweaters. I remember stashing them somewhere when I was numbly opening boxes in the dark last Friday. I hope I find them by December.

Then I treated myself to a manicure and pedicure at the Vietnamese shop around the corner from the grocery. I recently started doing this, at Clark’s insistence. He wanted to pamper me. The first couple of times, in the Tallahassee shop, near the Lake Ella Publix, I felt clumsy. It’s kind of like a dance and I didn’t know the moves: Someone greets you (rather abruptly) usually from a stool where he/she is polishing someone’s feet. “Hello,” but not just hello. There’s a gesture made, and I didn’t know what it means. But had I followed the hand I would have seen it pointing to a wall of polishes. I was to select a color immediately, or maybe two. But I don’t want polish. “No polish?” “No color?” Since that first time, I’ve gotten looks that were disapproving, or puzzled, or even relieved. Usually I get an extra finger massage for simplifying their work. 

On a roll with being good to myself, I followed with a pressure-point massage for my pained knee. (After the knee heals I’m going to continue massages anyway.)  I am breaking out of a rut — a deeply dug habit, part guilt and part righteous shunning of such luxuries. 

As I drove home, Patrick called and eventually I was able to pull over to talk. It’s hard to find a parking spot in Sacramento at rush hour. People are not just escaping to the suburbs; many are weaving around the “grid” as I was, stopping at shops and restaurants. Then, since I was two blocks from a small Thai restaurant called The Coconut  I went in and ordered Cashew Shrimp with brown rice to go. While I waited, I ordered four dining chairs from West Elm. “Oh, are you shopping online?” the waitress said, “I do all my shopping online; I never go to stores anymore,” she added. So she approved. Dinner was delicious. I will go to The Coconut a lot, I suspect. It is a plain couple of rooms decorated with original paintings by a local artist, and people of all ages enjoying straightforward deliciousness. I will feel comfortable eating there by myself. It was a perfect spot to finish my day of pampering.

Love,

K

On-purpose lazy

Written last night:

Today was a lazy Sunday. For the last couple of months, when I was doing little or nothing it was because I absolutely could not rouse myself. It was that "cloud over me" thing. But today I guess I turned a corner because I realized I was being lazy. It was a choice. 

I read the NYTimes slowly, then talked to Mary as she walked in the woods by her house. These talks would always amaze Clark. (“What do you find to talk about?”) He admitted he envied such casual rapport. On the other hand, Clark and I always seemed to be in the midst of our own continuing conversation. We can’t talk anymore, but our communication continues nonetheless. 

This morning brought another great talk — my dear Tallahassee friends Irene and Ana from across the street texted me. In response I did waver, as texting is often complete in itself, but I needed to hear their voices today. Should I call? I did, and am so glad because I found out about new kittens and Ana with the blue hair and other vital details that might have otherwise passed without me knowing.  Besides, the voice of a friend is a gift itself, whatever the news. 

Zing and I unpacked more boxes. We have a room full of empty boxes again (the second bathroom). To forget about  boxes, I drove around midtown for fun, finding the boat dock on the river and food trucks circled like a wagon train in a park on Broadway. By mistake I found my way home, crossing a bridge that led to the Crocker Art Museum, which is three blocks from where I live. 

I ended up eating Steph’s delicious pasta for dinner with her and Patrick. 

And to show just how to end a lazy Sunday, Zing is already asleep on the leather footstool.

Love,
K

Sleeping through the emergency

Written last night:

These past few weeks my brain has curdled. It is smoothing out now, but … I am changed forever. 

Some things stay the same, thankfully: I’m still a sound sleeper. Oblivious, you might say. On the elevator this morning everyone was buzzing about the fire alarm that jolted them from sleep and sent them hustling down to the lobby around 5 a.m. “Two fire trucks!” they marveled, and they looked at me. “Huh?” I said. Turns out I missed the excitement, slept through the emergency. Someone smoking in a hallway set off the fire alarm; no one was hurt, and I slept right through it. 

Soon after, I was having coffee (and a chocolate croissant!) at Ambrosia Cafe, looking out the window and across K Street at what is called Cathedral Square. I’d never been quite this early before, and so today I saw the homeless wake up. Many — maybe 20 people — were cupped in their private spaces in the small plaza at the foot of the tall steps going up to the monumental church — one on the bottom, two on the side, another in a corner across the way, and so on. The ground today was cold (I shivered on my way here.), but somehow they found hard rest on blankets and behind shopping carts, scattered in that space at the foot of the church. Following some internal clock, they roused, folded their blankets, and formed a straggly line. They shuffled toward a man in a blue shirt, who seemed to be handing out brown paper sacks. I say seemed because I’m not sure what I saw. But soon there were men, and a few women, walking away in different directions, fondling whatever was in that sack, and the day began.

On my way back to the hotel I forced myself to deposit two checks in the Wells Fargo ATM that was along my way. For some reason I expected the machine to swallow my checks, chew them up, and leave me penniless. It is a machine, and before machines I am vulnerable and stupid. But now I love the machine! It’s better than Tallahassee’s ATM; I didn’t need an envelope. The screen showed a picture of what I’d just inserted. It asked me to approve with a click, and I did. Nice machine!

There followed lots of phone calls and tinkering on the computer as I arranged (with Stephanie’s help) for the POD to be delivered and unloaded at my new place. Thursday! Thursday! Thursday!

Then Rosa and I wandered in and out the midtown streets, without purpose, just getting the feel of our new home. I stopped to buy a cooler at Ace Hardware, which is an echo of the Ace near the Y on North Monroe in Tallahassee. Except, as I got back into Rosa and started to back out, I glanced up and saw that this Ace Hardware has solar panels on its roof. I only noticed as I was leaving; I’m getting used to these California details!

And back at the hotel an employee was rustling suitcases onto the elevator. “Study Tour” was lettered on each one. “Students?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. "Fifteen busloads of students from Japan will be with us this week.” (There are more than 500 hotel rooms here.)

Very interesting, but I am ready to leave.

Ready to go!

My last day in Tallahassee… I read the news and finished a book (The Nest/ a New York family drama), didn’t leave the hotel, hoping stillness would keep my knee from stiffening up.  I did hop across Gaines Street for coffee this morning (so much better than the hotel’s!) and in the evening for a salad to go from Gaines Street Pies.

There were frustrations: trying to access the bank online, which I did without problem yesterday, yet today I was blocked. Grrrr! Same with Social Security. Stab, Stab! Try, try! Reject, reject! Obviously, I should stop, and eventually I did. At least I know my questions.  I’ll ask them tomorrow.

The woman who cleans my hotel room told me about her 17-year-old daughter, who is mentally ill, who set fire to their house, who loves to draw, who cannot look her in the eye, who sucks all the attention away from her 9-year-old brother.  My problems shrivel before hers. 

And tomorrow: Sacramento, my new home! Trouble has beset me, yes, but I smile in anticipation. Yay!

 Empty house

Hello, normal ones!

Hello, normal ones!

Today was nothing but numbers. My brain is fried, but after many hours (yes, number nerds, it takes me a long time!) I’m beginning to grasp the pensions and the mortgage, the usernames and the passwords, a little better. I have to look at the stuff over and over before I get friendly with these crucial numbers.

I also enjoyed a  lovely goodbye coffee and a lunch with friends. Just now another friend called to say goodbye. “Let’s not think of it as goodbye, but that our worlds are getting bigger!”

I’m going to bed like a baby — early, after a bath, and with crackers and cocoa (well, wine!).

What I feel is not loneliness

Last night I couldn’t sleep (I know — hardly ever happens!), so I took a bath at 4 a.m. It worked.

Zing touched down in Sacramento late last night and is in good hands. Just got notice from Steph that the vet there finds Zing healthy. Thanks, Patrick and Steph!

I hate the word grief. 

The bright zinnias are still alive on my hotel table. 

I had to be gruff to the 2 men cleaning out the garage and shed. They wanted to dump everything by the edge of the drive for garbage pickup. I said No, in the same tone I use with Zing. No, plus treats (tips) worked. All is cleaned out. I never saw the house without furniture before today. It’s got character. I don’t know if I’ll go back.

I ate lunch at Hopkins Eatery, studying literature that came with my new Wells Fargo checking account. But the banker forgot our appointment. I ate dinner waiting for a city of Tallahassee phone to answer so I could cancel utilities. Never happened. In between, I returned all the black boxes to Comcast. Met with realtor. Laughed with Gretchen.

I decided to take it slow, realize things take time, not leave details unfinished here, head to Sacramento Monday. I’d have to stay in a hotel there anyway. And I keep limping a bit. I don’t like it. Going slower here will heal the knee.  

What I feel is not loneliness.

Sunday''s subject: Composition

Sunday's subject at LeMoyne Center for the Visual Arts  was Composition: the Rule of Thirds, the Golden Ratio, and the 1:1.6 ratio. The last two are related.

Here's a succinct video that explains the first two terms.  

Amanda Wilke, our teacher, showed us how the Golden Ratio applies to Leonardo Da Vinci's Mona Lisa. Here's an explanation of that and lots of other mathematics Leonardo knew and used. If you read The Da Vinci Code it might ring a bell.
Next week we’re talking about line and pattern. The following week is color and the final week is a wrap-up of all and any questions/special interests we bring up. 

At the end of the class we applied what we’d learned, using pages from magazines. That's mine, above. I did the division into threes, all right, but when I got home I saw the demon that haunts me: I'll work and work and think a piece is finished, only to discover I've inadvertently placed a bullseye in the center, like that black splotch in this piece. Never noticed it as I was working, but it sticks out taunting me now.

City Hall Watercolor Show

I like messy art (the good kind of messy), and that includes watercolor. 

Here are some of my favorites from the juried show of 37 artists in Florida and Georgia now at City Hall.
Now you know my bias, but you'll find work in many styles. Enjoy it all 8-5:30 Mon.-Fri. on the second floor of City Hall, 300 S. Adams St. The show runs through Nov. 3.

Hidden Water
Nina Allen Freeman

detail
Painting on the Old Fishing Boat
Lee Albion

The Enchantment
Lynne Kroll

Photo show at Capitol Building

Looking down Apalachee Parkway from the 22nd floor of the Florida Capitol Building

I've been meaning to see the view from the top of the Florida Capitol building, and when our digital photography teacher, Charles Badland (what a great name!) mentioned he's participating in a photo exhibit there, it was the perfect time. Go to the 22nd floor -- and you get a beautiful view. The exhibit of work by FSU MFA in photography graduates closes Oct. 31.

Barber, Deland, FL
M. Laine Wyatt
Archival digital inkjet print
(The blue sky is a reflection, not part of the photo -- but I love what it does! It is hard to avoid reflections because the gallery has generous windows to view the city. So the beautiful day is from over my shoulder and out the window, reflected on the protective glass of the photo.)

Dancing in the street

Watch out, neighborhood! I'm carrying my Canon everywhere... and losing my shyness.

Graceful moves
Work on electric line slowed traffic along Meridian Road this morning.

Leaves along the way

Icon or eyesore?
Making way for sidewalk on Bradford Road

I've got my own age lines, not as beautiful as these.

Radiology Associates Spring Art Show

Fall flowers trio will be in Radiology Associates show

I'm excited to be one of five artists chosen for the Radiology Associates spring art exhibit.

The opening is 7-9 p.m. Thursday

1600 Phillips Road

Music by the Apalachee Trio

The best part so far has been connecting with Perdita Ross, the curator, who said she loved my work as soon as she saw it. She probably doesn't know how I treasure that offhand compliment!

I'm nervous too -- so come by on Thursday to hold me upright. 

Creative Tallahassee

Forever Spring
Connie Betterley
fiber

I counted four fiber pieces and more than 20 photographs among the 40+ works in the Creative Tallahassee 2013 exhibit at City Hall Gallery through April 29. Yes, there are lots of exciting digital photo techniques  -- but fiber and paint and sculpture and ceramic and wood also offer unending possibilities. OK, OK -- I'm being petulant. City Hall Gallery is bright and welcoming, and maybe there'd be more fiber art if more fiber artists (myself included) entered the competition. Here's a little of what I saw the other day. Some of the photos are tilted, but I decided to include them anyway. For a level look, go see for yourself!

Blooming Brown FieldAva Prebysfiber

River Triptych

Mary Jane Lord

fiber

Flagler Beach Pier

Roger Raepple

digital photography

Red, Black, and Gold #1

David Maki

Acrylic

Thornton Dial in Tallahassee

I went to FSU College of Medicine and saw these paintings by Thornton Dial. They are in a first floor hallway.

Woman with bird and nest
watercolor on paper

Woman with fish
paint on wood

Figure with two faces

Woman with yellow bird
watercolor on paper
18" x 24"

Fall flowers

Mexican Sunflowers
8" x 10"

Mexican sunflowers are tall, orange knockouts with graceful leaves. They're annuals and that's about all I know. Except that I love them. Through late fall, they flourished at Gate B of Phipps Park, where I run. Some wagged on stems above my head. They're saturated color for sure. Recently I've been inspired by Penelope Gottleib's bright -- even harsh -- acrylic and ink paintings of flowers in pure color. Never mind that she sometimes includes bomber planes and other surprises among her blooms.  Following Gottleib's lead, I sat before the flowers in our yard and out at Phipps and made three flower pieces, using saturated colors. They're 8" x 10", mounted on canvas-wrapped board. 

Mexican Sunflowers at Phipps Park

Cardinal Guard

Fall flowers

Early voting or ...

I voted today at the Leon County Courthouse, and it was NOT early voting.  As you may be able to see from this sign that I photographed on the glass wall near the door to the Board of Elections, early voting ended here on Saturday. What we did today was vote by absentee ballot. They gave me an absentee ballot when I walked in and I went to a voting station, filled in the little circles, put it in an envelope, signed that I was the person indicated and I was only voting once. Following a lawsuit, Leon County was one of seven Florida counties open today for in-person absentee voting. Late this afternoon there was a line all along the front of the Courthouse and out to Monroe Street -- about a 45 minute wait.  There were lots of students. I am glad.