Puzzling

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

PUZZLING…

Do you have any idea how long it has been since I sat down and worked on a puzzle? I don’t either. It’s been that long.

The photo above is a puzzle I started last night. It’s an Andy Warhol painting of a Campbell’s soup can. He did a whole series soup cans. The actual paintings are quite large. I saw them a few years ago at MoMA. I went to the museum with a girl who grew up in mainland China. The soup cans were displayed on a big wall. As we stood before the paintings, she was puzzled and asked, “Why would someone paint soup cans?” I didn’t know what to say? “Because… you know… He’s Andy Warhol… It’s modern art… This is America… and we like soup?” (HERE is an article about the possibilities of the origin of the soup cans.)

As we continue to arrange our new home, we are going to make a retro cafe/lounge in part of the dining room. We have been tossing around ideas of lava lamps and shag carpeting. T thinks the puzzle would look good framed and mounted on the wall in the cafe. I agree.

Now below is a photo of a puzzle that my mom gave me for Christmas. “The World’s Most Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle” Over 500 pieces. Double-sided. Smiley faces??? I have a sneaky suspicion that I won’t smile much while attempting to put this puzzle together. This may be the puzzle that ruins it all for me, as it ironically smiles at me and taunts me.

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LAST NIGHT, WE HUNG PICASSO

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THE NEW PLACE is starting to shape up and take on the characteristics of a home finally. The washer and dryer are in, curtains are up, and a few decorations are on the walls. It is slowly but surely becoming “our” place.

My good friend Laura, a displaced Jersey girl living in Virginia, generously gave us the washer and dryer, as well as a sofa bed and love seat, along with several other things. She was even kind enough to drive T and me from New Jersey to Virginia this past Saturday after visiting her family. It is rather humorous to see this girl, with her New Jersey accent and attitude, mingling among the Southerners in Virginia. That dang Yankee! So generous that I bet she’d give up a kidney or two for a friend in need.

T and I rented a small U-haul truck to bring our newly acquired laundry equipment and living room furniture back to New Jersey. It was a beast of a vehicle! The doors did not seal very well when closed. The faster I drove, the louder the sound of the wind coming through the edges of the door. It nearly drove us nuts. Plus, part of the storage area of the truck extended over the top of the cab. We both hit out heads several times getting in and out of the truck. The first indication that the truck was a jalopy was the strong oil fumes that came through the heat ducts when we turned the heat on. The second was the old oatmeal cream cookie T found in the glove compartment. Ewwww. I was so tired and still not over a nasty cold that I pretty much went straight to bed when we got back home at 9:30 on Saturday night. We unloaded the truck on Sunday afternoon after one of T’s friends came over.

I hooked up the washer and discovered that the valves on the water lines for the washer hook ups leak. Hooking up the gas line for the dryer required a run to Home Depot for new channel locks since mine are who knows where. It sure was nice to do laundry in my own home again. I didn’t do laundry for seven years! Not in my own home at least.

After dropping the truck off on Sunday, we picked up J. He came over and cleared out most of the things that were piled in the living room, putting most of it in the attic. What a tremendous difference that made! I then made a last minute trip to Wal-Mart before they closed and bought curtains for that room and the dining room. When T saw it he said, “Wow! It actually looks like a ‘living room’ now instead of a storage unit!”

We placed our table in one of the corners of the dining room near the windows. The chairs have a light green color on the cushions. I bought curtains to match. This corner is bright and colorful. It has some culture to it. It is in that corner that we hung Matisse and Picasso prints, along with a black and white photo of Picasso. In addition, on the oversized windowsill we placed two large art books. One is on Matisse and Picasso from the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The other is a book on M. C. Escher. I was happy to see T and his friends flipping through these books.

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There is a good atmosphere of creativity in our home. In addition to some of the artwork now on the walls, there is a lot of musical activity going on. T and his friends have been learning to play guitar, making up songs and learning some of their favorite songs from other bands. One of his friends brought an eight track digital recorder over. One day while I was practicing, they tried to sneak into my room to record me. I stopped and said, “Uh… why are you crawling into my room and what are you holding out in front of you?” It was a microphone. We then hung the mic from the ceiling light. I proceeded to play while the boys experimented with the effects on the recorder until they got it sounding pretty good. A few people have stopped by to see the house for the first time lately. As they stare at the long black cord wrapped around the light with a puzzled look, I have to explain that we are currently living in a recording studio. Last night, the boys set up a more permanent arrangement for the recording equipment in T’s room. From there we can run mic cables down the hallway to the other bedrooms for recording purposes.

As a father/musician, what more could I ask for? I know where my son is. His friends know that they are welcome in our house. They have even shown their appreciation by making dinner one night. Last night they baked cookies. They helped us move and arrange things in the house. They have let us borrow tools. They have given us rides. I have provided dinners and a decent place to “hang out.” I have listened to some of their musical endeavors, pointed out what I thought was very good and offered some suggestions to stretch their creativity. This is all good. This is home as I want it to be.

A Room of Smiling Friends

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

I have been finding so many things that have been “out of sight, out of mind” while they were sitting in storage for over a year (mostly books read a long time ago). This is a find that brought back a good feeling as when one remembers an old trusted friend. It is a book called “Streams in the Desert” by Mrs. Charles Cowman, a book of daily readings. This is the third time that I “discovered” this book. The first two times were while in the midst of divorces. I found an old copy of “Streams” on a bookshelf in a little church while going through my first divorce. I fell in love with its encouraging words. Years later, while struggling through my second divorce, I remembered the book and purchased the copy that you see in the photo. This time I have found it under better, happier circumstances. Opening its cover and reading the words for January 21 was like entering a room of smiling friends and being welcomed into their conversation. I am eager to bring my day to a close tonight, sit in the silence of my new bedroom, and “listen” to this book again.

The View

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

The view from my new bedroom window…

Speaking of windows… we finally bought a few curtains for my room and T’s room. Doing so was an exercise in frustration! T found something he liked fairly quickly. I had problems. Drapery issues. You see, I have a double window on the side of the room facing the street and a single window that looks out on the view above. Among the curtains at the store, I found either a color/design that I liked that would fit the double window and couldn’t find a matching set for the single window, or the other way around. After many mumbled curses on my part and a chorus of moans and growns from my sons which grew steadily and began to sound like a death chant, I came across sheer burgundy drapes sold in single panel packages. Problem solved. One panel for the single window, two for the double. And the burgundy goes well with the drum set! What else matters? (They also match the spiffy outfits in my Partridge Family photo. I’ll explain the photo some other time.)

“I AM AN ARTISTE” (Interview Responses – Part 4)

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

RECENTLY I completed an interview for an online forum that I participate in. I decided to post my responses to four out of the five interview questions on my site as well. This is the fourth of four journal entries based on these questions.

QUESTION 4. You do a lot of photography and reading and have recently gotten back into playing the drums. Are there any other hobbies you’ve pursued in the past and abandoned or any you’re considering adding to your roster of activities? What do you like best about these pursuits?

My personality leans heavily towards the creative side. My mom always encouraged this and is very creative herself. By the age of 3 or 4, I was banging on her pots and pans and making music. Reading was always encouraged at home as well. As soon as I could read, my mom was supplying books. I’ve dabbled in various crafts over the years: drawing, painting, wood burning, scrimshaw, calligraphy, crotchet, model rocketry. Some of them I suck at. Some of them I’m good at. I just don’t have time for all of them.

As you said, I recently got back into playing the drums. Formerly, I played from the age of 10 or 11 until I was into my 20s. I set it aside for a while in order to devote myself to my kids mainly. Selling my old drum set just killed me. I missed it. Once, I went to a music store, bought a new pair of sticks and said, “One day I will play again.” Last May, 18 years after I stopped playing, I bought a new set and started to polish my skills again. There were a lot of years to make up for! After several months of practice, I auditioned for a few bands and started playing with one in November 2003. We recently spent some time in a studio to record a demo cd. So, after 18 years, I went at it with a vengeance. I’m having a blast with it.

During those years of not playing drums, I taught myself to play guitar to some extent (I play guitar like a drummer. It’s all rhythm!). I spent some time writing songs and singing/playing on my own. This kind of fell to the side after my second divorce. After joining the band, I’ve had a renewed desire to pick up my guitar again and write songs. A good friend and I have been talking about writing some songs together that would be performed in an acoustic folk sort of way. It will be the opposite of the ear-splitting, in-your-face rock-n-roll that I am playing with the band. This is one activity that I am eager to add to the roster.

What I like best about these pursuits is that they somehow make me feel more complete as a person. They feel like an extension of who I am. When I sat down at the drum set for the first time after all those years, I was ME again. Something came to life again. It’s the same thing with writing. It is who I am. I don’t know how not to write. I’ve been told that I write well. But I feel like I don’t care all that much. I have to write. If I didn’t write I wouldn’t be me and my head would explode from having no outlet for all these crazy ideas. Same for photography. It’s an extension of who I am and how I look at things around me. It all feels quite natural. There is enjoyment in sharing these things with others. There is some enjoyment in being recognized in some of these things. It feels good to have one’s ego stroked now and then. But ultimately the thing I enjoy the most is that feeling that I am more myself when I do these things and to neglect them is to diminish myself as a person. I could play my drums for hours and hours all by myself for the sheer pleasure of playing. But do applaud if you happen to be standing outside listening!

THE END