(no subject)
If one is judging by the empty platters of munchies, then Thursday's opening for "Variation in White" was reasonably successful. If nothing else, I was able to make it to school on time without soaking the display sign as cloudbursts en route threatened. The fact that we had anyone come out to see the show at all, given that it is between semesters, was very gratifying. Perhaps it's anticlimactic, but it's more a huge sense of relief than anything else that the show is up. All I have to do is play with the details for next month's reception and get the artist her honorarium.
Friday I found myself in Birmingham with an old friend. I'd expected it to be sweltering, given the past week's temperatures in Atlanta, but it was more perfect than you could imagine. An emphatic blue of a sky which, if you ignored the decorative clouds, was a dead ringer for the ones in Silicon Valley that deliver perfection day after day ad nauseum until you're desperate for something - anything - that smacks of actual Weather. On this coast, the rarity of such days make them all the more valuable.
I was determined to eschew contemporary work while at the museum, and instead got the run of Europe, ogling my way from the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries before stopping for a very confusing tour of America which began with Bierstadt (affording a hilarious overheard conversation about what his name meant) and meandered through improbable breasts, pendulous with metaphor (so said the wall text), before finally sailing through Dutch still lives more Leiden with metaphor (inescapable pun overdrive; apologies) than any breast could hope for. All in all, a lovely break.
I was afraid I wouldn't get back in time to see the children before they were whisked off to their dad's house, so getting home before they left was a real treat. After a sweet dinner with the family, (which involved neither cooking nor cleaning on my part), the kids were carted off and I got to take advantage of some Actual Grownup Time that did not involve work. J and I haven't been on a date in weeks, and since we'd already had dinner, he suggested we go out for dessert. Once a decision was made, I found myself with not one, not two, but three books I'd been wanting to read, a very affectionate man, staff I hadn't seen in ages whom I hadn't realized I'd missed, and enough glorious wine to make me fuzzily appreciative of, well, everything. The chocolate raspberry mousse cake was what really pushed things over the top.
This was my fourth day off this year. If they keep going in this direction, I can easily narrow things down to once a year and be fine, because I really am a fan of quality over quantity. Besides, there is no point in pushing things when the next wine tasting is going to be all about "Unexpected Regions," in which wine will be offered that is NOT from California, Oregon, nor Washington. They didn't say it would be coming from Your Mom either, but I think I can spend that tasting time working and not feel an ounce of regret for what I've missed.
Now it's full-flush back into the rush of work. There's planning for our gala that is happening in six... no, five (be still my asthmatic lungs!) weeks. I was away from the galleries for two days, which means double-digit voicemails and emails squealing in their cribs for attention. This is not even mentioning technical crises that must wait VERY INCONVENIENTLY until Monday.
Then there's the rest of it. I am reminded that there's another show whose coffee shop management I need to pressure, because she hasn't been getting back to me. I'd wanted to have the show up by the beginning of the semester, but I suspect that's sort of optimistic at this point. There are also artists who are certain they need my attention right now. School is starting for the children on Monday; for myself in, what? Ten days? It's a life full of so much juggling, that if I didn't know better, I'd be considering joining the circus right now.
There will be breaks. I've got a whole weekend planned with my sweetest, just after Labor Day. The crowds will be absent, the ocean will still be warm. Everything is perfect when we're away from all this nonsense; we become fifteen again and full of wonder. I need this. We need this. And then it's submerging into full-tilt calendar crunch until the middle of December.
Despite the back-to-back relentlessness of the past couple weeks (months? year?), I am looking forward to... all of it. Everything. As exhausting as it is, I can't help but want everything. If I can keep stealing these slivers of sunshine, I can do this maybe even forever. I've come precipitously close to overextension on many an occasion. I know this. But through all of it, I am happy to say that my capacity to enjoy - though perhaps a bit frayed around the edges, and certainly underutilized - is strong as it ever was.
All I have to do is get through the next year or two. I can live on the promise of more of what I love - with the occasional respite to remind me that I'm doing this because I love it - for at least that long.
Friday I found myself in Birmingham with an old friend. I'd expected it to be sweltering, given the past week's temperatures in Atlanta, but it was more perfect than you could imagine. An emphatic blue of a sky which, if you ignored the decorative clouds, was a dead ringer for the ones in Silicon Valley that deliver perfection day after day ad nauseum until you're desperate for something - anything - that smacks of actual Weather. On this coast, the rarity of such days make them all the more valuable.
I was determined to eschew contemporary work while at the museum, and instead got the run of Europe, ogling my way from the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries before stopping for a very confusing tour of America which began with Bierstadt (affording a hilarious overheard conversation about what his name meant) and meandered through improbable breasts, pendulous with metaphor (so said the wall text), before finally sailing through Dutch still lives more Leiden with metaphor (inescapable pun overdrive; apologies) than any breast could hope for. All in all, a lovely break.
I was afraid I wouldn't get back in time to see the children before they were whisked off to their dad's house, so getting home before they left was a real treat. After a sweet dinner with the family, (which involved neither cooking nor cleaning on my part), the kids were carted off and I got to take advantage of some Actual Grownup Time that did not involve work. J and I haven't been on a date in weeks, and since we'd already had dinner, he suggested we go out for dessert. Once a decision was made, I found myself with not one, not two, but three books I'd been wanting to read, a very affectionate man, staff I hadn't seen in ages whom I hadn't realized I'd missed, and enough glorious wine to make me fuzzily appreciative of, well, everything. The chocolate raspberry mousse cake was what really pushed things over the top.
This was my fourth day off this year. If they keep going in this direction, I can easily narrow things down to once a year and be fine, because I really am a fan of quality over quantity. Besides, there is no point in pushing things when the next wine tasting is going to be all about "Unexpected Regions," in which wine will be offered that is NOT from California, Oregon, nor Washington. They didn't say it would be coming from Your Mom either, but I think I can spend that tasting time working and not feel an ounce of regret for what I've missed.
Now it's full-flush back into the rush of work. There's planning for our gala that is happening in six... no, five (be still my asthmatic lungs!) weeks. I was away from the galleries for two days, which means double-digit voicemails and emails squealing in their cribs for attention. This is not even mentioning technical crises that must wait VERY INCONVENIENTLY until Monday.
Then there's the rest of it. I am reminded that there's another show whose coffee shop management I need to pressure, because she hasn't been getting back to me. I'd wanted to have the show up by the beginning of the semester, but I suspect that's sort of optimistic at this point. There are also artists who are certain they need my attention right now. School is starting for the children on Monday; for myself in, what? Ten days? It's a life full of so much juggling, that if I didn't know better, I'd be considering joining the circus right now.
There will be breaks. I've got a whole weekend planned with my sweetest, just after Labor Day. The crowds will be absent, the ocean will still be warm. Everything is perfect when we're away from all this nonsense; we become fifteen again and full of wonder. I need this. We need this. And then it's submerging into full-tilt calendar crunch until the middle of December.
Despite the back-to-back relentlessness of the past couple weeks (months? year?), I am looking forward to... all of it. Everything. As exhausting as it is, I can't help but want everything. If I can keep stealing these slivers of sunshine, I can do this maybe even forever. I've come precipitously close to overextension on many an occasion. I know this. But through all of it, I am happy to say that my capacity to enjoy - though perhaps a bit frayed around the edges, and certainly underutilized - is strong as it ever was.
All I have to do is get through the next year or two. I can live on the promise of more of what I love - with the occasional respite to remind me that I'm doing this because I love it - for at least that long.