Each year my friend Bonnie does something special for my birthday. It usually involves some sort of excursion somewhere and good food. This year I’ve decided to pay back in kind and take her to the Dan Eldon traveling exhibit, which is being hosted at the Pete and Susan Barrett Art Gallery in Santa Monica and closes this Saturday. Looks like we’ll be getting there just in the nick of time. Now that I’ve got the excursion part figured out, I have to figure out where a good lunch spot would be. Any suggestions?
I finally mailed out my RED (Mar. 1st) and Turquoise-Brown (Apr. 1st) postcards today. I didn’t take any photos of the postcards after my completed pieces were cut up into sections, so all of the postcards in the gallery (when you click the photo above) will be of others’ work that I received in this exchange since January. The next color (my theme, “colors of India”) is due out on May 1st. I’ll get started on them this weekend and see how much I can get done. I’m aiming for mailing out next Saturday, the fifth of May.
I have always loved the glow of tungsten light. Magritte, one of my favorite artists as a teenager, apart from his fanciful subject matter drew me by his treatment of light (featuring tungsten light in may of his paintings). It gives me a warm fuzzy inside… not sure if this is something peculiar to me, or whether others feel this too?
Gabriel and I had dinner at Britta’s Cafe again last night. We got there just in time to nab one of the two little barstool tables for two. The place was completely booked and the wait was well over an hour for a table… and I was starving. In fact, I’d decided that I’d wanted to go there for dinner quite a bit earlier during the day, since I hadn’t eaten a whole lot and was craving another one of their little 3oz filets. Like butter! Gabriel is feeling rather poorly again. He’s come down with another cold and is congested and snorfling.
(Click to see enlarged view in separate window)
We got back last night and watched some TV. I don’t PMS like most… rather than turning into a raving bitch, I simply become weepy, and even the most innocuous things (like the animated Stitch film) will have me reaching for the hanky. I just wiped all the spots off of the inside of my glasses created by my exploding tear ducts. Fortunately the melancholy is of short duration, and doesn’t linger on, so I feel just fine.
Now that I’ve gotten this post off of my chest, perhaps I can fall back asleep once again.