Diary of a Residency; days 39 and 40, March 27

I am totally wiped. The Studio is half ready for visitors. I made a mistake with labeling, after we had hung and adjusted lights, and  when we left the Barn at 5:45 this evening, things were still in disarray. The Open Studio is scheduled for 10 AM tomorrow; I’ll be there, in what array, I don’t know.

Our flying friends couldn’t leave town yesterday because of blowing dust; we did a five hour tour of Titus Canyon — which someday we’ll be grateful for — in a truck where I was squashed into the King Cab back; and then we came home to with our flying friends, have dinner with them, and be a tiny bit sociable. All the while I was working on a label system that wasn’t well thought out. Today we did laundry, a bit of cleaning, saw our friends off at the airport, distributed flyers for the Open Studio (which was supposed to be done yesterday) and then went out to the barn to finish up the process. Jer left, thinking things were under control (the paintings were hung and the lighting adjusted), but alas, I fouled up and created a time-consuming, unsightly system, which was only partly in place when he returned. In other words, SNAFU — situation normal, all fouled up.

No photo this evening. We took a couple at Titus Canyon which I haven’t downloaded yet and which I suspect won’t be any good. I took photos of the paintings at the Barn to be certain I had decent ones. but haven’t offloaded them, either. Tomorrow we’ll pick up the goodies from KC’s and ice from the Rebel and go out early and hang the two that fell down and put up new labels for the ones I mucked up, and tidy the remaining messes of tables and painting equipment. I seem to be missing a box I kept my oils in, which could be a messy problem. However, it can be hidden and dealt with on Sunday if necessary. And so forth.

So now, I’m going to take my Kindle and crawl into bed. By morning, the world will have re-righted itself and all will go on.

At the end of the poem “Listen”, by Mark Strand (reprinted on writer’s Almanac on 3/24/’09,) the last line is: “Not to despair; if the end is come, it too will pass.” As me dear old Ma uster say, “Christmas will come whether we’re ready or not.” And so too will the Open Studio and the end of the Residency. David said he would bring the beer and Suzanne is bringing dinner and some good wine. Glory be.

Tomorrow should be fun. Bed tonight will be good.

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