Green tomatoes, pet care and more perceptions

Yesterday I did the promised interesting thing with the green tomatoes. Roasted them in a long slow oven, 325° for two hours. Not much seasoning, salt, basil, olive oil.

Aren't they beautiful? I pick the cutting board with color in mind and here the greens worked.

Tomato paste, then bits of dried seaweed, roasted tomatoes, blue cheese crumbles, grana padano, hot pepper flakes

 Two lunches, another plate like this tomorrow

And here's Butternut Boy, with a slice of canteloupe rind from the latest one 

He already took care of the seeds.

And here's today's art, some of Edith Holden's botanical watercolors in her diary, facsimile reproduction.

Very much in the English botanical watercolor tradition seen in Jill Barklem and Beatrix Potter, except that Holden is interested in exact observation rather than stories built on it.

UK blogistas, and others, will instantly recognize her subjects.

Today the weather's taking care of the dry plants. We've had a long dryish period, not exactly drought turning the grass to shredded wheat, but we can use this today

Every day that we get rain I don't have to water outside, yay.  

Yesterday was an interesting discussion in here, thank you, about perceptions and actions in art and pet care .

As you know, I've never expected to have a reliable income from my art. A life rather than a living, is the idea. In the fine arts, it's pretty much the norm.

So the balance of making a living and making a life is the thing. The pet care business was a good one, though strenuous. Nobody said it would be easy.

But it gave me chunks of time in daylight where I could be in the studio, endless physical activity which triggered a lot of art ideas, and didn't compete, as teaching art does, for my art attention. And it opened up so many new friendships, with animals and people .

I never told new clients I made art, because of the common perception among non -artists that you can't rely on an artist to show up, to be meticulous, to really be reliable.  My clients were largely business people, lawyers and researchers, liked and collected art, but didn't know any serious artists. They thought.

It was only after they'd got to know me and come to depend on my showing up and taking lovely care of their animals that they'd wonder why I did what looked to them like hard and humble work. 

More than one blurted out "But you're so reliable and knowledgeable! I'd never have hired you if I'd known you were an artist! So glad I didn't know!". 

Which led to their finding that a real artist is totally on it, doesn't cut corners, nor fail to show, and is just who you want around your animals in your absence.  And seeing animals, officially standoffish, literally climbing on me,  didn't hoit, as they say.

It's often what divides the wannabes from the serious in the arts. Once they were in the picture, pet care clients , realizing they'd been confusing poseur art "students" with real ones, were very interested. 

One saw my work and arranged for her management to offer me my first corporate solo show, big deal. This led to some nice corporate sales. Unexpected side effect.

Others were more interested in becoming self employed, seeing how happy I was. A discussion of actual conditions and income tended to diminish their interest, like hearing the hours, how nothing could be delegated in a sole proprietorship, no sick days, brief time off needing a minimum of three months' notice to clients so they could arrange alternate coverage. That bit!

There were some poignant times, like when the teenage son of a client, a boy with multiple pets, and with a lifelong heart problem, died during a pickup basketball game in the park near his home.  

His mother continued to keep his pets, ranging from a giant spider to a hamster, a ferret, Suzy, fish and lizards, in addition to the family cats and dogs.  

She also planted a little garden at the edge of the park near where he'd died, as a memorial place. No water supply, so she walked over,  carrying buckets. Would I mind adding that run to my visits, and she'd pay me? 

I agreed to add in the water carrying but refused payment. Her culture being different from mine, she didn't know about the Works of Mercy. I explained that this care was one of them, and I couldn't accept money, but I'd be honored to do it for R. 

It took her a bit to feel okay about it, but she did, and as long as I had them as clients I checked in on the garden. 

Then there were clients who handed me their key all labeled with name and address! Which I promptly tore off and replaced with a code, noting it in my client notes. Innocent people not realizing they might as well say burglars welcome! 

I also learned to check the key before leaving, since clients rarely used front door keys if they came in through the garage. 

One gentleman was a bit incensed about this, and insisted we lock him outside and he'd prove it was the right key.  Wife and I indoors listened to scrabbling at the lock, then muttering and finally a roar of annoyance. Wrong key. 

Frantic searching in kitchen drawers until the right one was located and handed over. Whereupon Mr Client said "Good thing I thought of checking!" Wife and I exchanged a knowing look.

And the nice man, a friend, who confidently handed over his spare key from his wallet, usual test. Bafflement. Then remembered he'd exchanged keys with his boyfriend. Ah. We did end up with a working key, and met the friend in the process. Whose first name was the same. A bit confusing. 

I had set up side by side businesses with Handsome Partner, who was very experienced with animals, hopeless at business, so that we could share liability and bonding coverage. But we ran the enterprises totally separately, didn't know each other's clients, once he'd got launched.

It was all word of mouth after we got under way, once people realized we never ever talked about them, even to each other,  their security codes and family lives were safely respected, so they could go away and not worry.  

I also dealt now and then with events like sudden plumbing floods, whoa, quick action needed there, more than once. This is why you need grown-ups doing this kind of work in your absence!  People who understand that in the flurry of leaving you might have left the iron, coffee maker and other items plugged in and hot.

All in all, more than playing with animals all day. Lovely though.

I particularly liked Christmas, though our home celebrations had to be moved every year. Because what could be better on Christmas morning than to go from house to house, starting before dawn, to hugs and excited greetings at every stop? How many people other than Santa, can claim that?

Couldn't round up that energy now, though.

Happy day everyone, enjoy whatever's on your schedule today. I'm loafing about, personally, quite tired remembering my youthful  fiftyish self 

Spring, Edward Tulane, Everything pizza

 Spring's nearly here. First crocuses

I give them one day before robins tear them up to get at the delicious pollen 

And I finished the Ann Patchett essays, just wonderful reading. About people who seem a bit different to outsiders, particularly to relatives, I speak as one, she points out "It's not who we're trying to be, it's who we are." So true in many contexts. One of those comments that stay with you.

I particularly like a writer who refers to other experiences  I can explore -- Donna Leon and food and opera references,  Barbara Pym's Protestant church protocol, and anthropology, here Patchett's references to writers. 

I read the wonderful poet Lucy Nealy as a result of Patchett's writing about her, and today I listened to The miraculous journey of Edward Tulane, by Kate di Camillo because Patchett pays attention to her (a Newbery winner, Steve!).

It's a so-called children's book, but good writing is for everyone, and I listened and knitted and cried and knitted and smiled and knitted and was glad I'd met rabbit Edward, alias various other names,  on his adventures. 

It reminded me too, that in our own lives some episodes read as adventures later, but seem to be anything but at the time. Our lives don't have a fictional arc, or any discernible shape usually, so the story arc of fiction is such a satisfying gift.

I have another diCamillo to read on my Kindle, too. 

Meanwhile, food is always needed. Today it's pizza with everything. A Misfits dough, tomato paste, the rest of the garlic spread, meatballs, spinach, mozzarella, mushrooms, Parm cheese on top. 

Everything but the tomato paste was Misfits, come to think of it. And I saved the oil and butter mixture from cooking the mushrooms, full of flavor, for future use.

A comment in passing on the current effort to seat a new woman, a WOC at that, on the Supreme Court

So familiar to any woman who has worked in a male dominated environment.

But hope springs eternal

Slava Ukraini! 

Textiles and Tea, pizza

Tuesday's Textiles and Tea featured wonderful tapestry maker Susan Maffei. 

I had only known of her before as the longtime partner and collaborator with the renowned Archie Brennan, who really brought tapestry into the present as a mainstream art. 

After his death in very old age a couple of years ago, she has been regrouping and continuing her solo artwork.

She's very much tuned into the earth and the interlocking of life and human interference with natural rhythms. 

She abandoned the use of cartoons, images of the project attached to the back of the warp as a guide to the weaver,  some years ago and began to weave designs from memory of the scenes. This is virtuoso work. Very few people have the total visual recall necessary for this work.

She also switched from her earlier traditional  training of working from the back of the loom, as in those famous tapestries we see in museums. There the workers had a mirror set up to follow their progress. Brennan always worked from the front, and she found she preferred that.

She also likes the concept of hiddenness, boxes and books opening to reveal the work, but not entirely.

She likes to work in series, as in this history of women group

Still a very active worker though Covid restrictions have affected her a lot since she's not very interested in the use of Zoom for teaching, and would much rather be in person. 

That's how she's always worked, with groups such as the Wednesday Group she and Archie founded in New York many years ago.

I'm very glad she agreed to this event despite her misgivings, because she's a strong artist in her own right. 

Not that Archie ever overshadowed her, since he was a great champion of her work. Unlike many male artists towards their female artist partners, names omitted so as not to give them yet more attention!

She has a website, too, go there for more.

I had a lovely email this week from the executive director of HGA all excited about these blogposts amping up the signal for their series. As handsome Son would say: np!

In other news I thought you'd like to know I had what's known as a rush of brains to the head yesterday. 

I had an epiphany about home made pizza, namely that you don't have to make a whole one! You can cut the dough in half and save one half for another day, then do rhe toppings on the remaining mezzaluna! How long it's taken for me to realize this.

So I acted on it

Mushroom, sausage, mozzarella, Parmesan. Enough for a large lunch, and no leftovers to reheat, never as good on day two.

And after the heights of  Jhumpa Lahiri to the easy reading of Me before You

When everyone was reading this a few years ago I noticed, more than once, friends starting to recommend it, then suddenly changing the subject.

I now understand why. They probably  thought it was tactless to recommend a novel about an untrained woman suddenly responsible for the care of a quadriplegic incontinent man and the terror of learning about how to do it safely, to someone who was doing exactly that! 

Except I did all of it 24/7, no attendant nurse, no leaving at night. This blog was most of my communication with the world outside the house and the visiting doctors and physio. I will never forget the support and friendship that came to me here. Just about saved me.

At this point, nearly eleven years on, I can read this. It's an engaging book, marketed as a romance novel, but a lot more than that. Evidently the first of a trilogy, and we'll see if I feel like going on to the other parts.

I'm reading this on Kindle, as a change from the last one which I had as an audiobook.

Happy day, everyone!

The morning after, but doing better

So yesterday was the Mohs surgery on my face, right near my eye, causing complications. Among other things, doctor and staff alarmed at my extremely high bp, way beyond dangerous, way out of my normal rather high range.

She concluded it was the extreme anxiety of the procedure. We went ahead, took four+hours, and I'm operating out of one eye today, other one swollen shut. Very dramatic.

Back next week to remove the very complex stitches needed, location being key.

And today I'm icing, monitoring bp, which is falling gradually, and following this morning's doctor's orders to take it easy. That had been my plan, but Handsome Son was on standby in case I needed an Rx run. I can't drive until I can see out of both eyes.

So this that was exciting, very good doctor, specialist in this surgery, which is why my derma referred me. I have hopes that scarring won't be a thing.

Meanwhile one of the displacement activities of the day before was to make a pizza.

Hot sausage and mushroom, extra tomatoes, thin crust. I had some, and left some for handsome Son to reheat for lunch yesterday, just as well, he was on hold for me till nearly 3pm. He very much approved of it. 

I didn't didn't make the crust for once, from Misfits market, and really good. 

Today primary doctor's instructions on hearing bp adventures are to take it easy today, exactly what I planned. And thank you, friends who have been so supportive and helpful through the weeks of this soul-trying gig.

Meanwhile if you're knitting at warp speed for Christmas, Maggie Rudy's got your number.

Cheers folks!