Art Classes, Charles, and Painting

 Okey dokey. It's almost the end of September and I'm pretty good. (Cue the John Prine song).

I want to celebrate the patron's party opening for my painting master Charles Brindley's show at the exclusive private Montgomery Bell Academy this past weekend. I'm so missing his classes, even though with my cushy studio setup and fairly regular painting I'm making progress. Here's my latest finished "lakescape" from my 2nd home in a boat on Marrowbone Lake (don't I wish! What fun it would be to have a docked houseboat there, but it's a Tennessee Managed Fishing Lake, no docks, just rental boats and your own if you have the gear--no gas motors), from a photo I took in early fall of 2023. I'll also share an abstract that I finished this past week. More details at scottmerrick.me.

"morning marrowbone"

"that very moment"

All that said, I'm missing seeing him once a week for a full day of open studio, he having lost his lease at Scarritt-Bennett Center, right across from the school where I taught for 14 years, USN. It's a long story but suffice it to say his scores of students are disappointed in that property's handling of the situation. He's been there for over 10 years, y'all. 

Anyway, we've all been looking for locations for class locations, and I gather from our discussions that Charles may be sneaking up on one. Fingers crossed.

The opening was wonderful. There were probably 200 people attending, maybe more, and I got to see many of my fellow students, all of us pretty much in the "older" category, all them creative and filled with life and curiosity and a drive to make. Love all of them. We didn't stay long, but the show runs through March 2, though it's "appointment only" entry. I'll sure as hell make an appointment and go back. There are also a bunch of events that I will be attending. I have an iphone snap I took to share with my pal Rocky that details them. Hope to see some friends and you, if you can make any of them and are interested in the painterly arts. I don't believe rsvp is required for those, but if you read the fine print you'll see that you need an appointment to view the exhibit. I HIGHLY suggest you do so. 

That's all for this morning. Rocky just texted me to join him for breakfast at Mama D's in Ashland City and I have to get out of my jammies and into the car. Darn it and yay, I say. Be well.

Goodbye my buddy, goodbye...

 It's with a heavy heart that I sit down to add a final post celebrating my late best friend's life and passing. Sitting in my study, in a house that's quiet, with silent shrouds of snow on the ground and buildings of the neighborhood outside, I miss him. 

Now it's just me. No handsome huge white dog underfoot or begging for treats or whining for a walk, just me. And yes, we have hundreds, possibly thousands of photos of the boy, but I only wish to post one of them here. 

Last night I fell asleep on my back with my feet spread wide, savoring the memory of him flopping down, immediately asleep, hugged by my legs. I awoke in the morning in the same position; but, of course, there was no Watson.

Lee Ann and I traveled to Denver for the holidays, returning home on New Years Eve Eve, me in agony with my first bout with gout, Watson somehow not himself. His buddy AJ spent the weekend with us last weekend, while our friends Matt and Anitra did their annual Chattanooga city trip, celebrating their anniversary, and Watson sank into what I can only describe as a deep depression. 

His appetite was okay but waned after AJ had left us, and he was continuing what Taylor, another friend who housesat whilst we were in Denver, had described as "drinking lots of water". Friday we took him to the vet, who kept him overnight for IV fluids and diagnosis. We picked him up around noon on Saturday with a good deal of medication and instructions for dealing with rampant diabetes and a super high sugar level. On Tuesday, after MLK Day, we took him back. He had not eaten since Sunday morning, and even then only a cup or so of diabetic formula canned food. 

After that? Nothing. He was interested in nothing, receptive but not actively so to petting, drinking water and peeing in the yard, but mostly laying and sleeping. The vet was not optimystic, and we understood that any remediation she might try would only at best prolong the inevitable. He was on track to starve to death. 

We sat with him, on the floor in a corner of the small examination room, until he was gone. 

I'm tired of crying. I'm crying now. I imagine that will taper off with time, but it's still with me a couple days after losing him. No one can do more than will time. I'm breathing through it, more or less successfully, painting, doing my lower back and shoulder prescribed physical therapies, painting, playing some music, working a large jigsaw puzzle, cleaning the house, and listening to my remarkably escapist Outlander book IV, Drums of Autumn. I also recently downloaded Steam for my PC and a series of Steam-driven Tomb Raider games. I'm tired. I'm sad. But I'm okay. I'm okay, or will be. Here's the picture:

Bye, buddy. 

scottmerrickdotme is live!

 So, I've been working on this for a few months, along with painting, traveling, and recuperating from a near devastating first bout with gout. Here it is:

https://scottmerrick.me

I'd appreciate it if you'd take a minute to click around and look and if you see anything not working or have any recommendations to make it better, pop me a comment in "Contact". That is all. For now. :)