Paper dolls

Been working on lots of little art projects, including these birthday cards so I can finally, finally mail off belated birthday presents. I usually start shopping for presents long prior to the birthday, but somehow they never get off on time . . .

Bargain hunting . . . better than truffle hunting even . .

Today, after rising at a lesiurely hour, my husband having dropped the kids at vacation camp, it was off to nearby Maynard, to collect on some "freecycle" goods I had located. A company was moving from Clocktower Place in Maynard to Cambridge, MA and was getting rid of some desks, chairs and other office goods. Because we run our nonprofit on a shoestring (and I'm in charge of those shoestrings) I'm always looking for free stuff for our office. I had been past Clocktower Place a few times, known to me as the home of Monster.com, formerly home of DEC and formerly, I presumed, a mill, but had never been in before. It's not surprisingly, very nice. A little history here on Clocktower Place:

Clock Tower Place is the most recent rebirth of the historic mill property that was the setting of important developments in the industrial and information ages. In 1847 Amory Maynard purchased water rights to a stretch of the Assabet River and deeds to adjacent land, in partnership with William Knight. The two set about building a woolen mill and began manufacturing carpets and carpet yarn.

By 1957, the Mill and the town of Maynard became the focus of yet another revolution in technology. Digital Equipment Company, one of the largest minicomputer manufacturers of the twentieth century, built its empire from within the walls of the Mill. Maintaining character and charm and flexibility of space in the Mill, as well as the high-tech infrastructure, Digital began to move into the rejuvenated space.


After a little trial and error, I found Company W. and entered. Wow...... deja vu. Cubicle land! Big windows overlooking a view! Wall-to-wall carpeting! Matching furniture! Despite the fact that I have been in the slightly gritty start-up nonprofit world for five years now, it was immediately so comfortable and familiar. I have to admit, I felt a little pang of loss . . . .
I found G., the guy in charge of the office furniture giveaway. Because I am a (not unwilling) magnet for people's life stories, so before long before I'd heard about his epilepsy, his temporal lobe removal surgery, his recent driver's license acquisition and the list of medications he'd taken over the years (recited with a shy but proud smile--Dilantin, Phenobarbitol, Mysolene, Clonazapam, Topamax. . .). Weirdly, I had just read a book about neurosurgeon and she had said that surgery for correcting epilepsy is one of the most gratifying operations a neurosurgeon gets to perform because of what can be such spectacular results. (They don't risk that surgery unless the epilepsy cannot be controlled withe medication) So I was of course curious about his experience from the patient's point of view. But, eventually, back to what I had come for . . .


There were stickies with my name all over items--two huge wooden and completely unsuitable desks (floral fabric backsplashes!), a 5 foot high architectural plotter/printer I had considered, a combined light table/drafting table, and office chairs! I had to regretfully decline everything but the office chairs, and even they would need a good scrubbing. But G. invited me to look around, and behind the ugly wooden desks, not one but two small lightboxes. Eureka! What do I need one for? Well, who knows yet, but I know it's going to come in handy. It's so cool!


And in another pile, what I thought might be an office floor mat, turned out to be a huge 3x4 foot self-healing cutting mat. A scrap-maker's or quilter's dream. Not that I am either of those. But I do paint on paper and matboard quite a bit and having a good backing to cut against that won't dull my box cutters or exacto knives is fantastique. I can compare this find without shame to a fabulous antique uncovered in the flea markets of Montmartre, non?

After that satisfying coup, I went looking for my favorite thrift/antique store in Maynard, Teresinas, but it was gone. There are in fact, a number of empty storefronts in dowtown Maynard, which makes me sad. Maynard always seems on the edge of pulling itself up by its bootstraps, and then the economy sours again. It has its own little fine arts movie theatre which is more than Concord can boast, and a bunch of funky shops, and a cool 1950's downtown vibe, but currently it's looking a little deserted.

I also tried to get a gelato, and was going to photograph the concotion as P has been doing in France, but sadly, the shop I went into was not serving gelato till May, despite the 70 degree weather today. I would've settled for a coffee had I not spent far too much time last night awake after an ill-advised late Starbucks kona coffee at 4 p.m. Tonight I need my zzz's.

My last activity of the night was to sit down with my watercolors and DO SOME ART. To misquote that famous saying, I'm sure will never look back at my life and say, Gee, wish I had done less art!

Well, I've done some printmaking and acrylics this year but I have not done watercolor in a long, long while, I realized. It did not take me long to reach the limits of my powers -- a muddy and imprecise background and what was the plan behind the color scheme? Oh, no plan? But, I have cropped the worst out, and I like the fiugre of M. in the foreground. And I know from experience, the first painting is always the least accomplished. As you get going, you get back in the groove. So tomorrow, perhaps another try on better paper and with a little more patience . . . .

I stopped and took pictures of some cows and bulls today--perhaps they'll be featured tomorrow.

So what to do instead?

There were three of us in our Party of Five stranded on this side of the Atlantic, due to the Icelandic eruption, and two who arrived hours before the ash hit the skies and grounded transatlantic flgihts for the week. P & L, from California, have headed up to Tahoe for some spring skiing; the two who made it, H&N, soldiered on, taking Eurostar train, and cranky, barely functional Ford Fiesta from London to the tiny village in France that was our final destination. It has been great to see their adventures via N's blog--which is, in fact my inspiration for my blog here.

Me, well, there was plenty absorb me over the first few days--first in trying to rebook my travel, and then as hope waned--sucked back into the Mom vortex of managing playdates, sports, and homework. It has not been un-fun. There was some excellent tag in the dark last night. There has been hours of indulgent fiction reading. I got to lead the girl scout meeting I was going to miss Thursday night. I got to see my son's soccer game Saturday and take my daughter to squash lessons Sunday.

There was ice cream and tree-climbing at the farmstand yesterday with friends. I've arranged for rock-climbing lessons for the three of us later this week.

But now that the children have been re-deployed to their vacation camp (already paid for), what to do with myself....?

Surely I should be able to squeeze some art in this week? and paint that office wall at work? And my roaring twenties gala party I'm helping to run? Shall I start a banner? Either of these inspirational works might do . . .

And I really do need to find some office furniture for our new space on Craig's List . . . Oh, and those closets to be cleaned! Those are WAY up high on the priority list . . .

Not in France!

Today I started to unpack my luggage, or I should really say, I started reaching for things I had packed to wear on my trip to France this week.

I had packed with restraint, I thought, under strict advice from my sister, who was hosting me on this trip to the Dordognes. For footwear, only two pairs of shoes! (Ok, and some very flat sandals but really, they could double as cardboard to protect the art I would be bringing home.) On top you can see my watercolor paints, that I had packed hopefully, with visions of plein air painting at some point during our travels. What I predicted for my first painting: The brown nearly black soil, the purple wash of flowers in the forefront, the yellow limestone of ancient chateaus in the background. And something modern in the foreground as well--perhaps the front of the rental car, or a figure with Puma-shod feet.

I picked up my favorite gray and green striped sweater. A triangle of paper fell off the sleeve. In pencil, the unmistakable handwriting of my 11 year old son, "I miss you," and the two dots and a semi-circle of a sad face below it. Then he signed it as well, in case there would be any doubt. So, despite the fact that my much-looked-forward-to vacation has been canceled, I could not ask for a sweeter moment today . . .