Tonight Janet and I had dinner (Indian Food!) with our good friends Teresa and David. I will always be grateful to Teresa for introducing me to my wife Janet some fifteen years ago this May. I was doing a local, outdoor art show back then, called Stockley Gardens, when Teresa brought Janet my way and now here we are a couple of old married couples hanging out breaking the naan (like I said, we were at an Indian restaurant). We always enjoy hanging with them because the conversation is lively, full of art and travel talk. As old Jimbo once said, "I love the friends I've gathered here on this thin raft." Indeed.
OK HW
UPDATE: February 27, 2011
Last night Teresa was telling us about a video she just did for the Virginian Pilot, she's the arts writer there. This is her first video project for the newspaper's web site (Teresa shot it and Brian Clark handled the post-production). I like it so much, I want to share it. Enjoy!
I see these big spheres everyday where I work and I have no idea what they are for. I think they have some connection with a wind tunnel or test facility, maybe a gas storage system. Sometimes I prefer to leave things ambiguous, enjoy the mystery. Pretty colors and shapes. Isn't that enough?
I have a long drive to work, twenty-seven miles one way. To further complicate the deal, I also have to go through the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel a wonder of transportation engineering when all is going well. A nightmare, torture device of bottlenecking frustration when things do not go well. This morning's ride was solidly in the later, with a full on two hour interruption due to multiple accidents, breakdowns and general chaos. I dream of the day when I have a shorter commute. I fondly recall my days living in Ireland where I worked at a restaurant about a mile from our cottage on the south edge of Galway Bay. Some nights after finishing my shift and sharing a few pints with my workmates, I'd head out on foot into the still, dark night. The quiet of the midnight road broken only by the occasional passing car, headlights like a roving lighthouse swinging over the horizon and by the gentle, persistent munching cows. Back to the traffic jam and once more, all was still and quiet; an unexpected break in the routine. A chance to think and remember and daydream. There is always a choice.
