Every Picture Tells a Story 5/30/14

Superbadfriend and her huge, happy kitty, Charlie.

Every Picture Tells a Story 1/27/14

Finally had the pleasure of meeting Superbadfriend's kitty Charlie on Saturday. Yes, he's really big. Superbadfriend is also really small.

For Dinner Last Night...

Homemade beef stew from Superbadfriend. Perfect comfort food on the first snowy day of the season.

BTW: This entry is going up at 11:11 a.m. CST on 11/11/11. What does that mean? Not a damn thing, really. Just very symmetrical, that's all.

A Decade of Adoresixtyfour

Today marks the 10th anniversary of this blog.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

I mean, I guess it's pretty awesome that I've been writing and/or posting photos here (and at this blog's predecessor site, which had a dedicated URL that, for some insane reason, I paid for instead of using Blogger's free, easier service) for so long. As mind-numbing and eye-blearing as my day job can be, it's good--healthy, even--to have an outlet for my more creative impulses.

This blog has also been a great venue for expressing emotional traumas of varying degrees--from the deaths of close friends like Kaytee and Gretchen, to the passing of beloved pets like Lottie and Ms. Christopher (who left this world three years ago today--anniversary convergence), to the continuing lack of love/dating/sex in my life (trust me--anyone reading this, no matter who you are, has gotten some more recently than I have) and the related woes of Valentine's Day, to the slow-but-certain vanishing of the city I grew up in to the personal reaction to the national tragedy of 9/11--much has been vented here. Also good. Also healthy.

But what has that decade amounted to, really?

Am I in a better mental/physical/spiritual place than I was in October 2001? Not really.

Has this blog attracted thousands or hundreds or, hell, a dozen regular readers? Despite attempts to pimp it out on MySpace, then Twitter and finally Facebook, no, it has not.

There were several individuals who, that decade ago, urged/pushed me to do something with whatever writing/photographic talent I may/may not have, and most of them--most notably JB and Jessie--are still here. Others, though, are no longer friends while still others, as noted above, are no longer even alive.

So where, 10 years down the bumpy, toruous road, does that leave me? I don't know.

Does this blog matter in the great scheme of things? does it even matter that much to me anymore, given that, most days, I only post photos here, usually without comment? Where do I go from here, if anywhere?

On. I go on.

Treading water can be fine exercise, but it doesn't really get you anywhere. Far better to lean forward or lie back, start kicking my legs, and head for shore, even if shore is nowhere in sight and my legs are already tired--likely from the weight of this cumbersome metaphor.

(Oh...and for those wondering why I have the photos of a sunflower at the top of this entry and a sunset at the bottm? No particular reason. I just liked them. Hope you do, too.)

Superbadfriend at the Ravenswood Art Walk

On a crisp autumn Saturday afternoon, I walked over to the Ravenswood neighborhood, which had its annual Art Walk in progress. Actually, I went to one specific exhibitor: Superbadfriend had a bunch of newly completed pieces on display, plus some old friends with some aspects. (Example: Her enormous sculpture of Martin now has a hoodie!) I stayed for a few, drank some Guinness and enjoyed the art, company and sun.

Last Night at Home

Olivia tries to ignore the explosions outside and comfort herself in the dark of La Casa del Terror with a stuffed sardine given to her for Christmas by Superbadfriend.

Brunch with Superbadfriend

It's Difficult to be Stealthy about This Whole Birthday Thing...

...When your friends conspire to sneak you presents--like, say, the festive pinata and adorable li'l cake pictured above--before my arrival at work this morning.

There were two small flaws in their plan, though.

Flaw one: Kathleen snuck over to my desk to drop off the prezzies before I got in, only to find I had arrived before she did.

Flaw two: My birthday is tomorrow.

No matter. The sugar rush is vastly appreciated, and the pinata has sparked much discussion as to what, exactly, he is. A llama? A donkey? A donkey-chupacabra?

It's my birthday pinata. Therefore, it is a llama. And his name is Roy.

Thanks, Kathleen and Jessie!

Before and After

In an effort to cheer me up after what has been a pretty abysmal month personally, Superbadfriend gave me an Easter basket full of goodies, including these 18 Easter eggs. Rather than hide them around La Casa del Terror for me and Olivia to find, though, I cracked their shells and transformed them into... ...devillled eggs!

Easter 2011, Part 9

This festive holiday tableau courtesy of the ever-awesome Superbadfriend!

All You Need Is Now (and to vote for Jessie!)

If you have a Facebook account and like fine art, fine music or any whimsical mixing of the two, please go here and vote for Jessie and her fabulous Duran Duran artwork. The winner of the contest gets a framed copy of the artwork signed by the band. Does Jessie deserve that? Yes, she does. So please go vote--NOW.

Superbadfriend's Art Show

There was quite a wonderful turnout Friday night for Superbadfriend's art show reception Friday night. I got a chance to meet people whose names I've heard for years without having faces to put to them and see some old friends for the first time in a while.

Oh, and there were many fab paintings, too.

I would post more photos, but my camera is a little iffy on close-up shots of art, so many of my pictures are crap. You can go to Superbadfriend's bloggity to see more shots of her work as well as the amazingly intricate pen-and-ink work of British artist Christopher Guest, who joined the party via Skype.

And this? Is the dark chocolate brownie I had there. The plate originally had two forks--when I ordered it, Superbadfriend's husband was ordering food as well, and the server put two forks on the plate in the assumption that we were a couple. (That happens a lot when I'm hanging with friends, whether said friends are female or male.) Don't know what happened to the other fork, though. Maybe it found its way to the plate of an actual couple?

A Reminder...

Superbadfriend's art show starts tomorrow night with an opening reception. Go there and see some beautiful paintings by one of the most talented people I've ever known!

Superbadfriend's Art Show

Friend, supporter and regular reader Superbadfriend is having an art show with her friend, Christopher Guest, on Friday, April 23. I've seen photos of some of the pieces she's created for this show, and they're quite beautiful. You should go.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 3/25/10

"Midnight Martin," who was painted for me by Superbadfriend as a Christmas present, hangs out in the living room of La Casa del Terror. He's trying to be all spooky and stuff, but his bright yellow flowers give him away, as does the smiling presence of his best friend, Orangedotstickbutt.

Holidaze: 12/9/09

The Cheshire Cat ornament given to me last year by Superbadfriend.

Ernie

Last year, when Ms. Christopher had to be put to sleep, I was in no emotional or financial shape to play host to my annual Halloween Movie Bash (or HMB, as it's known amongst my friends).

Fortunately, Superbadfriend and her husband, Scott, very kindly allowed me to shift the HMB from its usual venue, La Casa del Terror, to their place.

There was much fun and festivity that night, significantly aided and abetted by Superbadfriend's kitty, Ernie, who greeted me, JB and Dee upon their arrival and more than occasionally "worked the room" (i.e., stopped by each person to rub their legs and/or offer his head for petting), making an already comfortable and welcoming atmosphere even more so.

Ernie was always like that. I've visited Superbadfriend and Scott many times (either at their old place in Boystown or their current abode in Buena Park), and I never failed to get a friendly welcome from their feline companion.

Even when their other cat, Other Ernie (who passed a couple of years ago), hissed or even took a swing at me (because he could smell my kitties on me and took offense), Original Ernie never gave me anything but affection.

If a gentleman could manifest himself in the feline form, that would be Ernie--with a special emphasis on the "gentle" part of the equation.

Even in recent times, when Ernie's overall health declined due to kidney problems and caused him to lose a good deal of weight, he still made the rounds, giving everyone an opportunity to stroke his soft fur and feel his strong purr.

On the Sunday before Labor Day, we sat out on their deck, drank wine, ate brownies and generally had a grand old time. More than once during the course of the evening, Ernie wandered out, walking between legs and sticking his head between the bars of the railing to look down into the darkness below before wandering back inside.

Last night. Superbadfriend had do the thing all pet owners know they must do someday as part of the deal for all that unconditional love--she had to say goodbye to her sweet, furry, funny little friend after 17 wonderful years together.

He'll be missed by everyone who had the pleasure--the honor--of knowing him.

The Cat in the Window

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with Superbadfriend (as I often do), and she mention that, when she and her husband dropped me off after our excursion to the Cascade Drive-in, she saw Ms. Christopher sitting in one of the living room windows.

"Which window?" I asked. The one farthest to the right (as seen from outside), she said.

That made sense. That had been Christopher's favorite window.

It also confirmed something I believed for some time--that Christopher's spirit still pads around La Casa del Terror.

Sometimes, I feel a cat jump on the bed when Olivia is already peacefully burrowed under the covers next to me.

Sometimes, I hear a cat sharpening its claws when Olivia sitting next to me, waiting for me to offer some of the milk from my Miller's Pub pint glass.

Sometimes. I even catch a glimpse of white fur out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look, there's nothing there.

It was a year ago today that Ms. Christopher died, and I still miss my sweet old bird. But she's still here in spirit, at least.

Oddly comforting, that.

Shocktober, 10/5/09

The full moon, as seen from Superbadfriend's back porch.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 9/29/09

Brushes in Superbadfriend's studio.