sitting still is for suckers

The weekend of July 31st was painterly.

Bloom had it's 2nd annual Art for Africa event. In a nutshell, Bloom supports Ah-Gah-Pay Mercy Children's Center (AMCC) in Kenya. We have a relationship with a few people that spend a regular amount of time there, being our on-the-ground presence. The rest of us help out financially. One way we do that is to hold an annual art auction.

We lasso local artists and ask for donations of original art work to be auctioned to the highest bidder. All money raised is sent to the orphanage and used to feed the kids, pay for maintaining the buildings, and recently, helping build a sustainable chicken business so that orphanage will hopefully become financially self reliant and able to rely less on outside help. We raised 3500 bucks. Not bad, and I believe this is nearly triple what we raised last year. Nice job everybody. For more info on AMCC orphanage, click here.

The auction was held at Rooster and Moon Cafe. Thanks to Boddie, the owner, for the swell hospitality and generous use of his cafe. If you're a Denverite, go enjoy a cup of coffee or tea over at Rooster + Moon, 9th + Bannock.

I think we had close to 20 artists total this year who brought a really beautiful and eclectic selection to the table. My contributions were two. One piece was a painting, or rather an illustration, of a little character I've been sketching for the last year, mostly as a way to give myself a break from my usual portraits. An example of the work is actually at the top of this page. Painting this little robot has been a fun side project and he's captured the imaginations of a few people besides myself. The illustrations are easy and simple and are a quiet contrast to the concentration that the portraits demand.

I've sold a number of the robot pieces and I've included other robot paintings in the last two auctions and they've been given a surprisingly affectionate reception each time. We'll see where he goes, probably into the future.

The other piece I donated was a portrait of one of the young girls that actually lives at the orphanage. Her name is Naom, and except that I think she's about 12, I'm afraid I don't know much more about her. The portrait turned out pretty well considering I was working on it up to within an hour from the time it was hung for the show. I rue down to the wire situations and I'm usually a boy scout when managing my time, but July was a feat of time-keeping acrobatics.

Here's a photo of Naom's portrait, and of Cody, who, along with his wife, were the high bidders for the painting. Thanks, Cody + Emily.

As well as getting ready for the auction, I was involved in preparing four of my portraits to be hung at Backstage Coffee downtown. Backstage Coffee is located directly across from the opera house, on 14th + Curtis. This is another great place to relax with a cup of something, and now if you visit, you'll be able to sit beneath four of my paintings. If I'm allowed to say so, they look great up on the walls, and the location couldn't be better. High visibility and high traffic. They'll be hanging around Backstage Coffee through the month of August. Additionally, I was asked to show more of my work during another to-be-scheduled month in 2011. So take a trip downtown, because it's always better to see original work live. Check them out now!

Sharon and I are running the Georgetown-Idaho Springs Half this Saturday. For Information's sake, a half-marathon is 13.1 miles. Start time is 8 am mountain-time. We'll leave our house for Idaho Springs at 4 am. Buses will transport everyone from Idaho Springs to the Georgetown start-line. I think it'll be a lazy run for both of us. I think no records will be broken, but certainly a sweat will be, and we'll get to flex our muscles and fill our lungs, and the scenery is better than the one from the couch. Cheer for #s 2579 + 2578.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

happy to help

I'm and independent-progressive, politically speaking. I'm also a 40 year old christian who highly supports the passage of the health care bill being voted on today.

The dread of the politically conservative, and of the four-walled christian that this would hallmark our countries doom, is a poem as old as the common cold. The fear that abortions are certain to become the new national pastime should this happen, is a delusion.

Our common good health is a prerequisite to a happy life. Another small step towards offering this to more people in our country is possible, but to worry about the financial burden of doing this is cowardly. If every person who has children waited to give birth until they could afford it, the human race would have ended a million years ago.

I'll be damned if I let fear of debt keep me from offering a hand to others.

Have a good Sunday,

Dave

100 years of pure theory

Intuition has led me to always assume that I would live to be at least 100. I've received no contradictory information to believe this isn't true.

I remember, some time in the late 80's, I began to think of this boy's life span in the context of 100 years, divided into 25 year semesters. The first 25 years, a person is a freshman. The second 25, a sophomore. The third 25, a junior. The fourth span of 25, senior.

For most of my first two semesters, I've enjoyed attending class. Thankfully, I've had excellent instructors. Early on, I knew what my purpose was (When I was eleven, I found an owner's manual and operating instructions for myself tucked into a box of sewing patterns in my Mom's closet. This was useful, as it helped me identify my life's point, specs, and features particular to my make and model.) I've lost traction only a few times and managed to keep painting. The rest of the time I've spent cooking.

Last week, Brother Matt and I spent a few hours viewing a private art collection, housed on the fifth floor of the Colorado Building, downtown.

One of the pieces was called 100, by Ramirez Jonas. It was a series of photographed portraits of people, ages zero to 99 years, consecutively. Looking at these faces, I see the beginning is the end.

And in the end, isn't it always the same question? And always the same answer? The ball is round. The game lasts 90 minutes. That's a fact. Everything else is pure theory.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

If you can identify where the italicized quote came from, I'll send you a candy bar of my choice. Sharon, I'm afraid due to your vast intellect, you're ineligible for this offer.

three rounds

Fred Morrison died at age 90.

Fred Morrison and his future wife, Lu, used to toss a tin cake pan on the beach in California. The idea grew as Morrison considered ways to make the cake pans fly better and after serving as a pilot in World War II, Morrison began manufacturing his flying discs, Frisbees, in 1948.

Excerpt from USA Today

A picture of Fred.

Happy guy, I'd bet. And ready for Gort.

I've talked before about my love of contrast. Here's a odd couple: things digital and yeast.

Digital is efficient and fast and relies on 0's and 1's, bread baking is warm and textured and results in ooohs and aaahs. Sort of like saying thank you in an email compared to sending an actual thank you card.

While the binary set and I aren't close friends, I enjoy most things digital. In 1984, my eighth-grade math teacher, Mrs. Wegerer, appointed me President of the Computer Club (which, as I was appointed, and not voted in, I suppose I was more Emperor of the Computer Club). Regardless, my first official act as President was to demonstrate how to use a mouse to operate the very first Macintosh computer. That little Mac, cost $3200 and had 512K of memory, by comparison, my tiny Apple Shuffle, cost $60 and has 4GB of memory, that's roughly 7,800 times more memory than that first computer, and 2% of the cost.

Capacity increases, size decreases, as time goes by. Right, Sam?

Digital Thank You Note: Dad + Karrie, Thank you for the Shuffles, fantastic upgrades. They've accompanied us on nearly 100 miles of runs since Christmas. (paper thank you notes forthcoming)

Baking bread, on the other hand, is a lesson in achieving the opposite.

Dissolve yeast into warm water, wait for a bit, the yeast begins to give off gas. Mix in flour and salt, knead, and place the whole mess somewhere warm. In a couple of hours, the size of your mass doubles, no binary code involved. You've got a sort of yeasty Moore's Law happening, except in reverse. Here, time passes, size increases, capacity to eat store bought bread, decreases.

I like making bread for Sharon and I each week, including the bread that's used for communion at our church.

After the service is over, any left over host usually doesn't go to waste. It can usually be seen being munched on by hungry folks as everybody hangs around afterwards. Maybe I should provide some consecrated mayonnaise and ham to go with it. Holy snacks.

If you're in Denver and looking for aisles of LPs, one of the best indie record stores in the country is Twist and Shout. There's no better music store within five hundred miles, at least. A visit to Twist and Shout is I exactly like the movie High Fidelity. All of the staff like music better than they like you. If you visit the store, ask for my brother, Matt. He's one of the managers. He looks like me, except different.

Along the same lines as home made bread, which reminds me of hot-pressed sandwiches, are the hot-pressed long play music albums of pre 1980. Here's a cool short flick on the making of musical pies.

One hundred tons, rock on.

Have a great weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

intention and reality

Current events.

My heart and prayers go out to the ten Americans, and their families stateside, being held and charged with kidnapping in Haiti. However, while I pray that the best of conclusions is reached in this difficult situation, I feel that our countryfolk being held must be some of the most ignorant, uninformed missionaries in recent memory.

I've considered how I, myself, might have behaved had I been down in Haiti, working to help orphans. I concluded that I would not have even remotely considered removing any number of children from their home-country at all, and if the decision to remove them from their country was deemed important and necessary, I would make every attempt to go through the proper channels. I know, I wasn't in their shoes. How can I judge?

I've taken into consideration circumstances that we may not be aware of. Were the children in immediate mortal danger? Were they being sexually, mentally, or physically abused? If those were real dangers that the thirty-three children were facing, then I would not consider it any problem to break national or international law to protect them.

But, if these children were not facing these specific dangers, then this group of missionaries, is either, at best, extremely uneducated and careless, and at worst, guilty of believing that the Will of God promotes sweeping orphans out of their Haiti Hell into the luxuries of the American Way. If these people and the church that supports them are truly convicted about helping Haitian orphans, they need to commit to a lifetime of support, in Haiti.

I don't believe these Americans were trying to steal these children in order to put them on the black-market. I believe they were honestly trying to act compassionately and justly. But, whether due to Baptist ideology or a collective gap in common sense, these folks behaved recklessly and foolishly.

To help these children, and the thousands of others, along with the millions of adults in Haiti, what Christians, Agnostics, and Atheists must do to help Haiti, or any other desperate state, is to aid in building the basic infrastructures that offer the basic necessities of life. Clean water, clean food, clean shelter, basic medical, and basic education. Evangelical opportunities will be best served by contributing to the physical and mental salvation of desperate people. You can't save the soul of a hungry person.

We need to teach people how to fish, not catch the fish for them.

Now, switching channels.

If you're not a tech person, or aren't aware of, or don't care about the high theater of the Apple Empire, the iPad was released on the 27th of January. If you're not aware, the iPad is a touchscreen computer tablet. It's coming had been gushed about for months in the press and Apple fans everywhere watched the calendar in anticipation of it's release.

Even the Fuhrer could not escape the fervor. Below is a profanity lace reaction to the newly released iPad by Mr. Hitler.

Caution:

This video is extremely funny to my sense of humor, however, it is rife with foul words, not to mention the fact that any performance, satirical or not involving Hitler, makes me squirm.

But, it's still funny.

Yes, technology can disappoint, especially the first generation.

Speaking of which, I've taken up an utterly unimportant cause. A personally specific disappointment I have in technology, is the business model used by the companies who control television media.

Cable companies sell a product so poorly constructed and conceived, that, of all the great wool-pulling schemes in consumer history, cable TV offers the worst product value for the money. i.e. You pay X-amount of dollars to receive 100 channels, of which, you watch 6. Why can't we pay only for the channels we want?

In coming weeks, as our house moves closer to completion, I will be building our wireless network to handle all of our internet and television watching needs, without the waste of a cable subscription. This will be done legally of course, and I'll share the results.

Side note:

I'm suspicious that parts of my posts in the past two weeks have had a slightly stormy air. I'll work to remedy that. Next week, nothing but gentle sarcasm and irony.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

naked clocks

Time management is never far from my mind.

I know following a calendar keeps everything rolling from week to week, but allowing The Great Timeline to jerk the chain and push it's own agenda, is stupid.

The struggle to have enough time to do the things we want or need to do, is a self administered ailment. Instead of believing that there isn't enough time to get it all done, I believe that it's not important to get it all done.

As the first month of the year closes, here's a New Year's resolution for you. Resolve to do less. I encourage you to strip. Take off all the extra needless obligation you're wearing and stroll around light and bare. I suggest that you make a list of all of your known obligations for the next month, and then throw half of them out the window. Pick a small number of things to become really good at. Otherwise, risk being mediocre at a lot of things.

To you parents, I know you all love your kids, but leave them alone from time to time. Let them just chill out without your input. Let them have a week without dance class or stamp club or play dates. Let'em hang with themselves.

And when you make plans for your future, plan big things, but move forward steadily and gracefully. Don't feel a frantic rush to achieve them. Take careful time to cultivate something that's worth maintaining. And understand that no one gives a crap about who got there quickest.

Take it all off, baby, slowly, and show us what you've got.

Have a great weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

deal of the decade

I once bought six pair of dress pants for ten buck each. The original price on the pants were eighty dollars each. That was a great deal.

Nearly fifteen years ago, Sharon didn't want anything to do with being a teacher. It was, in her mind, typical women's work. And despite her now apparent natural gifts as an educator, I'm glad she didn't become a teacher back in the early days, when less-creative minds wondered about her future, asking: "What will you do now? You've no boyfriend to eventually become your husband and take care of you, you've an education, but what for? The world is dry and the bills are due. You want inspiration? Good luck."

Thankfully, Sharon's resolve to live inspirationally, was stronger than hollow tradition and banal advice. For ten years, she traveled to nearly a dozen countries, read, wrote, and took in what was around her. No dust fell on her.

Fast-forward to the year two-thousand. She meets me. We court, we marry, we continue together, observing. Watching our family and friends. We take notes and debate each other. Our alliance becomes solid and our lines in the sand become more defined. We consciously (or unconsciously) separate ourselves from others, from time to time, not wanting to be drawn in to their culture. We realize we've been creating our own culture, one to our liking and in line with our own schedule. We avoid buying a home, we avoid having children, we avoid make-up and fast food. We buy running shoes instead of stock.

After going through several pairs of shoes, Sharon's shoes take her to the doors of her first classroom. Teaching English to seventh graders appears a divinely obvious circle come full.

As her career in education begins, the economy tanks, the real estate market hits a brick wall, and those who can, pull their heads out of Bank of America's guillotine and realize it's time to rewrite their budgets.

The houses in the neighborhood where we lived at the time ran between three-hundred-thousand and seven-hundred-thousand dollars. Understand, the neighborhood we were living in was no exclusive community. It was an old neighborhood that had turned the corner. An area of Denver that constituted the oldest neighborhood in the city. It was established by Italian workers and their families. Organized crime under the Smalldone family called this neighborhood home. In the last twenty years, chicano workers and their families have given the area a delicious latino flavor.

In the last decade, the neighborhood began drawing a new taste of resident. This area became the place to live for progressive, world-minded yuppies and dinks. Sharon and I can probably avoid the label of yuppie, but we are certainly fully vested members of dink convention.

Dink (noun) acronym - Dual Income No Kids

Enter developers. Hundred year old buildings and small square brick cottages were laid low and used to fertilize the ground for the seeds of luxury condos and town homes. Some of these new buildings brought an elevated aesthetic to the hood, others simply sucked.

As condos rose, so did the price of already inflated single family houses. The prices were out of our budget from the beginning. We listened to the growing number of stories of people beginning to reap the whirlwind of living beyond their means. Foreclosure became the buzz word of the day, and, in fact, of the next two years.

At the end of her second year of teaching, Sharon became aware of a housing program called: The Good Neighbor Next Door Program. It is a program established within Housing and Urban Development (HUD) by President Clinton. The purpose of this program, is to assist a vital group of professionals in purchasing a home within the communities that they serve. Certainly, there are many vital professions within society, but these four were chosen to participate in this program: Police officers, Firefighters, EMT personnel, and Teachers. Candidates for this program must also be first time home buyers.

Once a commitment to this program has been made, an arduous marathon of house viewings takes place. The houses that are available through this program are not of the most distinguished breed. All of the houses are foreclosed homes that are now owned by HUD. Many of these houses have not been lived in for many months, or even longer than a year. Most have not been maintained and are in great need of lots of love, or a wrecking ball. We saw everything from dripping mold to cracked foundations.

Each Tuesday, a new group of houses is released by HUD and made available for viewing. These homes are not available to the general public. Xenia, our hummingbird of a realtor, would call us and let us know if any houses had become available, if so, we would set a time to meet her at the house. Once there, we would walk through the property in order to get a taste of the place. Our time at each house was frustratingly short, as Xenia's fiber-optic schedule pressed us to move quickly. After seeing a property, we had about twelve hours in which to decide if we wanted to "bid" on the house. This "bid" is not a monetary bid. It is simply, deciding whether or not to include our names on a list that includes other people bidding on the same property. From this list, a computer randomly selects a winner. It's a lot like a lottery with much better odds.

The winner is announced on Friday afternoon, sometime after two o'clock. We endured this lottery for four months. Some of the houses we looked at weren't much better than crack houses. Some, had great potential. Regardless, when you participate in the program, you have no choice as to where the house is located. Your only power is choosing to bid or not to bid, that is the question.

One of the most difficult parts of this process, was preserving our expectations without being snobby. We have specific ideas of what sort of life we want to live, and the location of our future home would have a great affect on either helping or hampering our lifestyle. If you'll pardon the drama, here's an excerpt from an email that I sent to Xenia after viewing a home located in the cultural desert of the eastern suburbs:

To Xenia:

[...Unfortunately, living so far
east (of the city) would simply be a detriment to my own career as an artist, which
is greatly influenced by my proximity and access to Denver's community
of artists and galleries. A culturally challenging environment is
vital to my career, and living so far east would severely compromise
this and defeat the pleasure of owning a home altogether.

...we are established enough
in our careers that it is necessary to maintain certain requirements
to where we live so that the years of work we have invested are not
reversed. We have the patience and will to wait for a property that
will afford us our first home, without sacrificing career goals that
are very important to us...]

After that letter, we had an understanding, no houses outside Denver's city limits.

As we began to grow weary of the show, we were shown the property at 2190 Jewell Ave. The house was starkly different from all of the other houses we had seen. Primarily, because the house was only six years old. The majority of our viewings consisted of homes built between 30 and 50 years ago.

The house was not the most architecturally inspiring form, but it had a comfortable, solid look. We made our routine room-to-room dash with Xenia, noticing the light. I really liked it, Sharon did too, but at this stage, she had come to the point of, "Who cares? We won't get it." Still, the house felt really nice to both of us. We left the property and went home. Friday's drawing came and went. We didn't get it. The clouds darkened and grew.

Two weeks later, I'm at work. My phone rings, it's about nine o'clock in the morning. It was Sharon.

"Hey!" said I "What are you doing?"

"I'm in between classes!" said she. "Xenia just called me at the school, we won the house!"

"What?!" says I.

"We won the house! Whoever won the house two weeks ago apparently backed out, and our name was the runner up! We won the house!!"

"Holy shit." said I.

Once the shock passed, I spent the rest of the day in the Millennium Falcon, warp-speeding all over the city, working frantically to renegotiate a nine-month apartment lease, down to a six-month agreement, which we had signed no less than twelve hours previously. This was absolutely necessary because, as part of our agreement with HUD, we would be required to move into our new house within six months of closing. I made arrangements to provide to our realtor, a cashier's check for our ernest money, a mere 1 percent of the purchase price.

Now, here's the tasty part of this program. The purchase price of the house is half of current market value. For instance, if the house is appraised at $150,000, the price paid by the teacher drops to $75,000. At closing, two loans are taken on. One for $75,000 (the cost of the house) and a second, silent loan for $75,000 (insurance). Any repairs or renovation that are done on the house are financed into the mortgage loan. The buyer agrees to live in the home for three years. Once this obligation has been fulfilled, the second, silent loan disappears, leaving only the half priced loan remaining. At this point, the home owner can continue to live in the home, or sell it for current market value, without having to pay taxes on the obvious profit. As a result, substantial equity in the home is gained in a very short time.

This is how we bought our home. This deal surpasses my dress-pants purchase.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

the return

8 months away sounds like a decent amount of time. Really though, it flies. Here we go again.

The summer was very good, the fall was excellent, and winter, so far, has been full of snow, and it's only the first week of January. I'm certain there'll be more to come, which is good. I really like snow.

Four days before Christmas, I finished painting the portrait of a young boy, the son of one of our friends, it was commissioned as a Christmas gift. It turned out very well, I think. Our friend was very happy. I'd like to hear how her husband liked it. Finishing this painting sorta came down to the wire. There was no procrastination involved in this project, simply the job being done in tandem with buying our first home.

We did purchase our first home in December, and if that's not exciting enough, we got it half-off. I'll explain how that happened later, but needless to say, we're very grateful. The house was a foreclosed property (sad), and we have about two months worth of renovation to be done before we move in. Our contractor will begin his work on January 10th. We should be completely moved in by April 1st. No foolin'.

There is no kitchen in the house, so, as the family cook, I find myself in the unusually nice position of being able to choose my own kitchen. We're having the upstairs floors changed from carpet to wood (except in our bedroom), new lighting will be installed and all walls including the garage (one car) will be painted. We've already chosen the color and type of wood for the floors (maple flooring, dark-ish brown with nice dings and imperfections). The walls will be the same color throughout, Greenbriar Beige, with Navajo White trim. The names of these colors smack of suburban domestic crap-tacularness, but connotations aside, this is a good warm color combo, elegant. We had fun with different colored walls back when we lived in the Firehouse, but we've found our interest in interior decor has turned more to what we hang on the walls, rather that the walls themselves. Gallery like, perhaps.

Another nice turn, is that both Sharon and I will have our own office/studios. Mine's upstairs, Sharon's is down. We can stay out of each other's way with this set-up, and then regroup in the kitchen around 4 o'clock for mutual inspiration and a drink.

There will be grading and landscape work to be done, sprinkler installation, some electrical wiring as well as wiring for a future sound system downstairs...

(sidebar)

I'm sitting in the Tattered Cover Bookstore downtown: Two young blondes just walked by me, speaking quickly to each other. One says to the other:

"...and I told him, you're absolutely going to hate wearing glasses! I told him he really needs to consider getting contacts, you know?" As they walked out of my ear shot, I peered saltily at them over the rims of my glasses.

(return)

...There is a full basement with nice tall ceilings that is not finished; we will be adding a third bedroom and a second bathroom down there. It's always a luxury to be able to choose between the toilet upstairs or down, no?

The house is only six years old, and according to all who have inspected it, is a very well built home and in excellent condition. The back yard is perfectly positioned (outdoors) and I've already claimed the west fence line and at least half of the south fence line as sites for future garden beds.

I've taken extensive photos of the house as it is now, and I'll document the entire transformation. You'll all be privy.

Of course when one moves into a larger home, the inclination to want to fill it with the new, is compelling. Sharon began with this:

It's comfy.

My first expenditure was the purchase of a new snow shovel.

Equally comfy.

We do already have two fine snow shovels, but they're in storage. Denver gives home owners 24 hours after a snow storm ends to clear the sidewalk in front of their house, or else. I've made three shoveling trips to the house since Thanksgiving and the sidewalk is clean as a whistle. I believe I'm setting a new sidewalk shoveling standard for this new neighborhood of ours. I like the sidewalk to be completely cleared of snow, not merely a shovel's width worth. Hopefully, among my new neighbors, this won't cause me to become known as that "smart-ass overachieving snow shoveler".

As glad and grateful as we'll be to be in a home of our own, owning a home was never high on either of our lists of things to get done in life. Honestly, we're gonna miss our tidy little segue apartment when the time comes to vacate. Our current apartment is just on the extreme east end of Congress Park, an excellent old neighborhood here in Denver. It's been a bit like resting in a vacation home, easy to clean and the plumbing is some other blokes problem. But of course, we know there will be a truly warm and satisfying feeling about owning the hook and the wall where you hang your hat. We look forward to that.

I mentioned that we received our new home at a cost of half-off. True. If you are an educator, police officer, fire fighter, or EMT personnel, or if you know anyone of this sort, pay close attention. I'll explain our story in detail next week.

So, how will we pronounce this year? I'll be saying: Twenty Ten, as opposed to, Two Thousand Ten, personal preference.

Whatever your rendition, happy 2010. Enjoy the new decade, it is the future after all.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

click

Brother Ben called yesterday to tell me about his new website. Ben is a photographer in Oklahoma City. He's been working and creating for several years now, and besides excellent photo work, he produces some stunning mixed media work, from which three pieces were selected to be a part of the 2009 Momentum Art Show in Oklahoma city this last March.

Sweet website, bro. Very nice debut.

For the record, Ben, I'd like to purchase Planet of One. If you would set that aside for me, I'll contact you about payment.

Another friend of mine is also a photographer, residing in Norman, Oklahoma. Tim Higdon has launched a new and improved website of his own work. If I'm not mistaken, Tim built the site himself. Tim's portrait photography is excellent. 

In addition to his portrait work, Tim also creates original work that is displayed on the same site. From a creative point of view, Tim's original work is much stronger and much more interesting. In fact, these works should have there own website. I describe these works to be images of heightened sur-reality. They are darkly conceived, somewhat unsettling, even absurd and light. Tim's sense of humor has always been subversive and is on obvious display in his precisely rendered photos. My only disappointment here is that I wanted to see more of this style and concept. In the future, I hope to see a greater portion of Tim's work built from these strange, vexing works. 

Seeing bros and buds kick-it art style, is girding and charging. Perhaps a three man show in the future, eh?

My mother in-law, Marie, is receiving her Masters of Divinity, with an emphasis on biblical women, from Regis University on Saturday. Congratulations, Marie. Time to raise a glass and drink from the well.

I like spaceships.

Next to perfectly prepared meals, spaceships are my favorite example of the combination of art and science.

A fellow named Steve Eves likes spaceships too. On Saturday, April, 25th, he launched his 1/10 scale Apollo Saturn V model rocket. Turn up your volume and enjoy the video.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

shirley

My estimable friend Q, emailed me a link to a photo journalist's expose on the Boston Tea Party Tax protests that took place around the country this last Wednesday.

My thought that I sent back to Q, was:

"Looks like there's a healthy number of people who don't really know what Socialism is, eh?"

He suggested back to me: "No Dave, but maybe, if the spending isn't reeled in they soon will.

So, I'll continue my thoughts. Don't fret them, and take them with salt.

I've never felt I was getting screwed by our government. I've never felt that pessimistic, even when I disagreed with the policies and priorities of Congress, Senate, or President. Call me simple, call me aloof, call me Shirley.   

My landlord spends very little money to maintain the property that we rent from him. As a result, the heater doesn't work, the roof leaks, there are squirrels living in the roof, and the plumbing is at least 75 years old and occasionally backs up into our basement. In the 2 1/2 years we've lived there, he has never come in to inspect the condition of things or perform any needed repairs, large or small. He'd rather not spend the money.

As a result, his property is shabby and continues to deteriorate. This reveals him to be a very poor caretaker of property that he received from his father and is a disrespectful way to honor the memory and sacrifice his Dad made to obtain and build up that property. 

Surely there is waste in how our taxes are both collected and spent. Every administration is sniped at for the sin of wasting tax dollars. Nothing's new under the sun.

Economic responsibility is very important and none of us want our money spent on things we don't regard as important. Some, however, don't want any of our money spent at all. But closing the national checkbook because we don't agree with all lines of the budget, is simply trading one undesirable circumstance for another, leaving us with exactly what we'd invested, zip. 10, 20, 30 years from now, we would all be quoting the immortal words of Socrates, who said, "I drank what?"

There are many things that our country needs to pay for and are worth paying for. Our national system of highways and bridges, our electrical and communication grids, the system of plumbing and water ways is crumbling. These are just basic mantenace issues that need to be taken care of, and they will cost trillions to fix. But we have to maintain these systems. This isn't popular propaganda, it's just a fact of life. Things that exist, deteriorate. If they aren't maintained, they will fade away.

I don't understand all the ingredients that lead our country into today economic mud pie, but I also don't believe in following paranoia and small vision simply to save a few bucks. 

I'm willing to pay to maintain, or preferably, upgrade our country's infrastructure. I'm willing to invest my hard earned tax dollar to preserve the quality and strength our country has enjoyed. I won't agree with how all of my taxes are spent, but I don't have time to determine how it should be spent either. I cede that responsibility to the suits. It would be nice if we had hind site of the future, that would make decisions concerning the future easier to make. But since that ain't possible, we do our best with the information we have today and adjust course when necessary. I don't allow myself to become despondent and cynical when the wind blows, or when my check book balance dwindles. When it proves time to chip in a buy a new light bulb for the community front porch, I'm glad for the light.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave