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"Do you think Garden Treasure will be here?"

"Maybe Lavender Princess, Angel Cheeks or Petticoat Flounce?"

In the eyes of the beholder.

For someone that is a visual person and sees everything, Tom has been able to create beautiful art in an atmosphere of complete and utter chaos. Well at least to the eyes of the occasional visitor that is allowed into the inner sanctum. Even for business meetings Jolie and I enter in one door and Tom enters The Studio Door. 

There are to be no interruptions. No comments or conversations made in this space. Only a teenager’s room is more closely guarded, organized in a way only they can understand.  Perhaps artists are teenagers that never grew up.

With all other spaces of our home pretty much cleaned out and organized for the great move – only one domain was left. The studio. Only Tom can do this. And get to it he did. No one wants to hear or know about what went to the massive burn pile. No one wants to see the trashcans full of slides, photos, calendar pages, old paintbrushes, tubes of dried up watercolors, oil paints gone amok and years of ‘you’re the best teacher’ gifts.

Only Tom can handle every item. Remember its usefulness – either for his head or his technique.  Why a poster of nearly-unknown blues singer Billy  Price?  With Billy’s fist clenched and cocked, what words of strength is he sending out? Why the photos with Hoke, Rick and various cats?  Music is obviously important. 

There are hundreds of music CDs, multiple ipods, and lyrics scrawled on the doors (“No guru, no method, no teacher” – Van Morrison). Music is the wall that blocks out any chance of thought except for the reaction of arm to brush to paint.

How could anyone think straight in here!? Who knows, but in a beautiful and happy way, Tom does. 

The Holy Grail

The Holy Grail in the Clean-up Chaos: the triumph of finding 

the long-lost, favorite, now-I-will-do-great- things paint brush.

The Mistress

It’s a lovely early summer evening. We’ve just returned from a reconnaissance trip to Bourdeilles. We’re like young lovers making plans for all the new things happening in life. About half way through dinner Tom drops a bomb. “The love of my life. She’s breaking my heart.”

Now that drops a fork!

Every time we have a stay in Bourdeilles there has been another marriage crashed on the rocks of extra-marital affairs. The village is too small to sneak around in so everyone is sure to know sooner or later. Often one of the spouses is the last to know, but indeed they do find out fairly quickly. It’s not always a good idea to return home unexpectedly in this village.

Could this part of French village life be seeping into my blissful world?

“Haven’t you noticed how unhappy I have been? How I am just not up to my usual performance? Things just don’t seem to be working out.”

Do you hear something crashing on the rocks?

 “She seems to have one blade running higher than the other, her starter is a bit tricky and I’m not sure what it will cost to get her engine up to par for the new owners.”

And, voila!, here is my true competition – the lawn mowers. Yes, mowers. Many of them. All in various states of working order. But all loved for their particular habits, curves and demanding temperaments. What else could a man ask for?  And, given the messy disasters of adultery in Bourdeilles, what better mistress could a wife wish for?

Mow on, my lover of the bent blade, the slipping belt and the exploding engine. And keep your pecker in your pants.

Love Affairs

Keep your husband's mistress close at hand........