Time until Election Day 2024

It will, if nothing else, be an historical day. Don't throw away your vote, unless it's a vote for fascism. 

Still Waiting. revisited

 Hello July. This year, my 74th trip around the sun, has already been a thing. I'm ignoring the absurdist play that politics has made ours, and instead focusing on crawling out of the mourning pit which this past Thursday night's debate dropped me unceremoniously into, and sharing something that made my day, just yesterday.

Yesterday began as a home-based workday, with loads of laundry piled in two rooms, remnants of our little aside journey into heaven the previous week. I may post on that soon, but maybe not. Suffice it to say that our 9 days at Jumby Island Resort, Long Island, Antiqua, Antigua and Barbuda.

Jumby Bay Island teaser

My main reason for posting today, however, is due to my afternoon yesterday, which began with yard and housework then joyfully deteriorated into grabbing a mid-day Mexican snack at Don Julio's in Joelton  with my friend Rocky, and then retreating to Rocky's own little heaven, his farm office, to sit in the air conditioned tiny home watching all manner of birds feed from the flower garden and the feeders out his big Northwestern picture window. He had picked up a couple of nice cigars and we each had one while sipping whiskey and working our way slowly through those together, chatting and sharing music. 

He introduced me to Erika Lewis and some wonderful other singer/songwriters who he had discovered on Spotify, and we talked about how much we both like the app's suggestions features. For the one or two people who may not know, I can, for example, play an album (Rocky and I are both unicorns who prefer listening to a record beginning to end) and then let it continue to play other songs Spotify's algorithms determine we will like based upon that. It's a feature that can be turned off but we both agree it is one of the app's best features, despite the well-known usury of artist's and its nation-mimicking economic unfairness to the less-famous creatives. Both of which we are.

Rocky snuck a song of mine I did not expect to hear. I hadn't listened to it, I swear to you, in years. It was kind of good. He proceeded to tell me that it had played after he had listened to another artist, and he had checked in to see who it was. "I said, 'Is this the Scott Merrick I know?'" And then he told me the album was in his morning rotation of music to start the day with his morning coffee, looking out upon the same garden view we were sharing. "I listen to it once every week or two." He also said the he thought "This is your masterpiece," and "I would love to get this in a studio with some really good players after running it by a producer who knows what he's doing. Orchestration, strings, an upright bass on "Strumsticking..." (on which I allude to bass with a tuned down acoustic six-string, ha).

So I listened. It's the first time I have ever listened to it with another human person. I like it. Some of the songs are instrumental versions of songs I sent out in 2004 with my Last Frontier Band live compilation, some are just instrumentals, titles suggested by musical themes within them. Rocky's favorite is one of the latter, "Flying Dutchman," a ghost ship song created in Alaska after reading about it somewhere, I don't recall. It's 12-string so it must have been recorded before my honey and I left Nashville to work and live in Florida in the mid-80's. But maybe read the Flying Dutchman's Wikipedia entry whilst listening to the song.

I share it all here. Hear...

Music I First Got High To That Still Makes Me Smile Inside

 I'm not a very good blogger these days, but just popping in to embed this little wormhole for you. This list was inspired by my morning's vinyl play of "It's a Beautiful Day," the album I may have played most when getting high at age 19. I was working in the undergraduate library of the University of Tennessee Knoxville as a page, one of those "just got in the employment door by sheer determination and persistence" employees whose job was to shelve books all day, pushing around a little cart organized by Dewey Decimal number one, after another, after another. I was writing poetry pretty seriously, though I had no idea what I was doing but maybe singing in prose, and living on White Avenue in a house with a balcony where we'd smoke weed and often tripped on game days, watching the swirling orange-clad fans parking on our street for the mile away walk to Neyland Stadium. I suppose this is the place where I admit all that, now that Mary Jane is legal in 24 states for recreational use and a huge economy is built around hemp-based THC and CBD, which are legal (often with restrictions) in all but 2 states. Iowa and Idaho.

Anyway, to the music. I may throw away another hour sometime adding to it, but here are 18 hours and 13 minutes of my 1969-70 playlist, first enjoyed mostly on cassette or vinyl turned up LOUD. Here, I recommend you listen on the Spotify app and hit "Smart Shuffle" for the best experience. Here...is...

Chris Smither at Finally Friday!

I had a great experience yesterday at WMOT Roots Radio's weekly Finally Friday. Here's a snippet of video from the legendary Chris Smither that demonstrates why. The Youtube description describes a lovely happy accident of weather, setting, and talent :)

The entire set should be available for viewing/listening in a day or two at WMOT's "On Demand" website. Kudos also to FF stagemates Mustangs of the West and Pi Jacobs!Pi Jacobs

Chris performed Finally Friday solo acoustic, and his new record, All About the Bones, which released the same day, is a remarkable pleasure to listen to. Nuance of phrase, tidy and seemingly effortless fingerpicking, and fatherly voice makes me smile and cry at the same time. Give it a listen. If you want the record or CD, hit up his website. I'm running out to Great Escape as soon as they have it in stock. It's already on Spotify if'n that's the way you roll. 

Read about the recording and personnel and such at Grateful Web.

Total Eclipse of the Middle Son

 Or of the sun, I should say...

The sun shows up the morning of April 8

This morning, casting about for a topic to wax upon, I recall the amazing camping trip I took up to my best buddy Rocky's childhood stomping grounds to view the Monday, April 8th total eclipse in totality. Nashville looked to be cloudy and was not in the predicted path, so up I went. Rocky had arranged for the younger brother of his best high school friend to allow me to camp on his substantial property just outside of Harrisburg, Illinois, itself the home of the very fine Thrive Dispensary and the closest city to the huge farm his people owned and operated in his youth. 

I left on Saturday around lunchtime, Casper the Friendly (Kia) Soul loaded with my camping gear, a cooler of beer and food, and my mandolin. It was smooth sailing up I-24 to Paducah, KY, where I stopped to explore a bit and discovered the extraordinary Paducah Antique Mall, where I spent some time digging through a vast record collection and finally asked Randy, who I believe is the owner, if he had any Steve Goodman albums somewhere among the 20,000 or so in the store. It took him a while, but I was tickled to purchase a mint condition double compilation set called "Essential Steve Goodman." That doesn't get me any closer to owning all the 17 studio albums, but it's a good listen, with a couple songs I hadn't heard. 

I crossed that funky blue grated bridge into Illinois cruised on up State 145 to Harrisburg, where I drove around recalling some of the stories Rocky had told me when we spent a weekend up there last February, of course dropping in on Thrive just to look, heh heh. I also pulled off 145 to re-visit Shotgun Eddy's roadhouse, where I chatted with a lovely bartender human I'd met our last visit and had a whiskey and a beer and a rockin' Reuben Cheeseburger with a side of fried okra. Pic:

Reuben Cheeseburger with fried okra at Eddy's

And one with my pal Sasquatch outside the bar:

Me and Sasquatch

I had never met Jim, Rocky's friend, but he had previously texted me to come on out and he would direct me to the campsite he'd prepped for me. My GPS took me to his address but I was following it and drove right past his clearly marked home driveway entrance to a gated gravel road, which took me back to his barn. Through the woods I saw the house, at the end of a 150 foot or so trail. I steered Casper down into the woods and onto that trail and muscled him through a little creek and back up onto the trail and up to the house. It was huge, with a broad manicured front yard, past which I saw an aggregate driveway and realized my mistake. I parked at the back yard lawn's edge, beside a cute little gardening shed, and walked up to the house, ringing the back doorbell. No answer, so I repeated the ring around at the front of the house. 

Retracing our path to the road, I found the driveway and pulled up to the house, thinking I might just nap in the car, but I got a text that he was not at home, but he asked me to call him for directions to the campsite. I did, and he gave me those, but what I didn't realize was that he assumed I would park there and carry my gear down to the site, while all the time I was assuming he understood I was car camping. I don't do the pack-it-in thing. Retiree's rights. 

I drove out the drive and returned to the barn, the trail, over the creek, and back up to the lawn's edge, continuing into the woods surrounding the house and maybe 200-300 yards down a woods trail to the campsite he cleared for me. It was at the edge of a clearing with a nice mostly flat spot for my tent, a beautiful steel fire pit, and handy strong oaks for my hammock. Through the woods below I could see a pond, surrounded with 8 foot tall grasses and covered by lily pods, water rippling in the afternoon breeze. I pitched my tent, hung my hammock, started a little cooking fire, and also set up my back hatch shelter extension tent and the little window screen for ventilation in case I decided at any time to move from tent to car for sleeping. I also expected some rain in the next couple days, which did appear briefly. I'm glad I supplemented the tent fly with a tarp over all. Here's a video:

By the time I had all that set up, the sun had set back past the woods trail and the other slurry pond and I had a little fire going. I played mandolin, sat by the fire, and leaned my camp chair back to watch the sparkling stars in the heavens through the thin treetop border. It was probably 10 or so by the time I retired to the sleeping bag supported by my air mattress, and snuggled up in the dark tent for sleep. I awoke several times in the cold, but slept well overall.

Sunday morning dawned. Chilly and foggy, with the (literally) star of the day just rising and making itself known through clouds. As the morning wore on I cooked some eggs, sipped a beer, and enjoyed the rest of the early afternoon, playing mandolin with my Spotify and Van Morrison's "Back to Skiffle" album, one of my faves. I napped a bit in the hammock, mostly just enjoying the sunny blue sky and the steady breeze. I had no T-Mobile cell there in scenic rural Illinois, and that was okay by me.

I had no butter so I scrambled my eggs in Jack Daniels. It all seemed just right...

 

I heard some stirrings up at the house but wasn't inclined to head up there, thinking it would be a bit awkward to meet Jim in person without Rocky, and he was on the way. I had received a text from him likely on data, but when I attempted to text back it was only "message did not send" time. He had expressed that Jim had some concern that I had likely driven over his septic system, and I had tried to let him know I did not drive over his lawn to get back there but had taken the barn trail. But no go. We ironed that out later. Jim was amazed I'd gotten down and up that trail with my Kia front-wheel drive but there ya go. Now he knows me better: I'd never dream of driving over someone's lawn without their permission and guidance! Certainly not that one, which was so tended and flawless I was a little hesitant even to walk on it!

Sometime around 11 or so Rocky texted again, saying he was up at the house with his lady, Carol, so I walked up to the house and met the Andersons, Jim and Jennifer/Jen. He was cordial and clearly a smart human and she was pretty and gracious, and we hit it off I spent the afternoon on the porch with new friends, including Greg and Matt, Jeff and Robin, and it was a beautiful day, even with a little rain. Keith showed up from Nashville, and Nathan and Jerusha and Robin and Jim's mom, visiting from her assisted living residence. Jim fried up a mess of fish filets and we gobbled them down. I retired to the campsite early and spent the night much as I had the previous one. In the morning came the dawn again. The sun came up amidst fog and clouds but the online apps predicted clearing and so it did. Early a.m. I hiked through the woods to the other pond, making it to its edge, and took some pictures because it was so stunningly picturesque. 

Coal slurry pond at the Anderson's

Back at the site, I unhooked the tent extension from the wheels of the car (that could have been nasty, right?), tucked it into the open hatch, and picked my way up to the house. Rocky had walked down earlier and said there was a taco bar going, but I'd already had some eggs and Tinwings  curry chicken salad. 

The party was starting. Totality was scheduled to begin a little after noon and first contact was like 10:08 a.m. I sat on the porch with everyone, two professional photographers setting up high end camera gear and Rocky situating his telescope with filter and ready to go. I set out sheets of drawing paper in case the "snakes" made their appearance (they did not, but they proved useful anyway. Colanders were set out. Nathan was playing his amplified electric guitar, beautifully, and I pulled out my mandolin and attempted rather lamely to pick along from the other side of the big porch. Toward eclipse time Jim fired up his green egg and started putting out hotdogs and then plump hamburgers and cheeseburgers for everyone. Jeanette was holding forth and a pleasure to chat with. Matt and Greg, who drove 19 hours from South Dakota, were in deep conversations with her. Molly and Maya (Rocky's two charming and endearingly precocious grandchildren) were talking with all the adults. 

I had popped a little THC drop about an hour before the first contact and shared one with a new friend, and the effects added additional nuance to the way the light changed. It was like a stage set, with a technician in the wings making controlled tweaks to the lights, as things became preternaturally vivid, leading up to totality. A jet plane left a contrail that did not distract, but enhanced, like additional perspective. When totality hit, we all took off our eclipse glasses.

Some fun was had with the colanders after the totality had yielded to the point of last contact. I got this fun little video of that:

Pano in the Anderson's beautiful backyard

the long shot

the moneyshot pano after first contact

I loved that Jeff Frazier and Robin Conover were there because that let me abandon my amateur iphotography and just relax into the enjoyment of the last total eclipse visible in the continental US for 20 years. I can't wait to see what they took during those spectacular moments. 

Here's one I did take:

Whoopee.

Several folks hit the road just as soon as  the sky was a normal sky again, particularly Matt and Greg, who had yet another 19 hour drive ahead of them. 

I stayed the evening, sharing a pizza with the remaining partygoers, and having the unique and amazingly fun experience of playing mandolin with Nathan Griffin's acoustic guitar and singing with him for probably an hour and a half at the kitchen table. That, my friends, challenged the eclipse for memorability, in my book. 

I had chosen to break camp and move my car around to the driveway, planning to sleep in my car and leave as soon as I arose, because rain was predicted. I did not want to be packing up tent and all wet for the drive home. That was to prove a good decision, since I got to have a delightful walk to the road with Jeff Frazier to look at the stunning night sky. As we were returning to our cars, the clouds rolled in. I was awakened by raindrops on the tailgate tent extension around 6 a.m. and skedaddled (Jeff had already pulled out), driving across the state line into Kentucky and well into the morning. I made three stops. One for gas at Casey's in Harrisburg, where I pulled a dozen or more little seed ticks off my body in the bathroom, another a little side jag into Metropolis, where I got Hardee's drive through breakfast tacos and a snap of Superman in his eclipse glasses :)

I made another detour to the Casey Jones Distillery near Hopkinsville to pick up a couple of bottles, one for Rocky, and was home by noon. 

A good time. Was had. By all. Thanks to Jim and Jen Alexander for their hospitality and the memorable weekend in sunny southern Illinois! Thanks to everyone I met, all new friends, and to Rockyespecially,  for including me in the little "Festival of the Sun".

March Update

 Well, well, well,

I haven't posted in a while, being otherwise distracted by life and such, so here is...

I've been painting. A lot. Looking at ways to both up my landscaping game and make my abstracts more accessible and moving. The biggest news, for anyone who might care (and you do or why the hey are you here?), is the loss of my longtime buddy, Watson. Watson succumbed to the hands of the Big Clock about a month ago, and as anyone who has lost a long-time pet can tell, you, it slayed me. That aforementioned clock has done what it does and moved on, and after a couple of weeks of weeping every day, and under the advisement and encouragement of my loved ones, Lee Ann and I began looking for a new companion. It was true that I was talking to myself perhaps a little too much, so empty seemed the house. 

We worked with the folks at the Nashville Humane Association and they were wonderful. We placed a long and fee-required online application with the Adopt a Golden rescue; but we were lucky enough to find our new family member, Lemon, at Wags & Walks, a Hermitage, TN based operation before Adoptagolden had even contacted us back.  

We met her in person at a Wags adoption fair held at Marble Fox Brewing Company. It was a Saturday morning at noon. Luckily, Lee Ann had already expressed our interest in her and that gave us an edge up when we arrived at precisely noon to find the W&W volunteers and their charges already in the company of a number of hopeful pet-finders. It took about 90 seconds of petting her before I nodded my head to Lee Ann and the lovely young lady who held Lemon's leash and we were on. 

The W&W folks are the real deal, and after a consultation with their onsite adoption specialist we took her out to Lee Ann's car, loaded her into the front seat, and drove her home. Today is Tuesday, and we will have had her for 3 weeks come Saturday.

Called "Mama Lemon" by the W&W staff, likely named that by the partner shelter in Florence, Alabama where she was taken after being picked up as a stray, we think Lemon is a good name for her. After all, it was only used by people who cared for her, right? And it also makes available a plethora of nicknames--Lemon Cello, my Lemon Drop, my li'l Lemon Meringue Pie.

She's an excellent addition to Chez Merrique. She likes her crate, excepting for first thing upon awakening, when she howls the song of her people pretty reliably at 3:30-5:00 in the morning. She's smart and she's a great size, weighing in right at 70 pounds at an estimated 4 years old. I took her in for a two week check after becoming concerned with the look of her spay operation scar and the wonderful Dr. Roberts at Belle Meade Animal Hospital added 3 sutre staples to her incision. After a good regimen of the newly prescribed antibiotics and carefulness, I returned her just yesterday for the sutre removal; Dr. Roberts removed the staples and proclaimed her good to go "for normal activity".

It's approaching 1 pm here in Nashville, and she is dozing on the floor at the top of the steps behind me. I'm thinking I'll finish this, get her into my car, Casper (the Friendly Soul), and drive out to Cheatham Dam and Lake. We'll walk out there today instead of just around the blocks surrounding Chez Merrique. I'll paint later. If you want, check out the latest additions at scottmerrick.me. 

We're outta here. Gotta practice for future--and soon, I hope--camping!

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. :)

Happy Holidays!

 Yeah, that. Happy Holidays. I agree with Instagram's Rodney D Norman: "...Just enjoy whatever you can, as long as you can." Well said, me guru...

Enjoy this:

Scott Merrick · Have a Very Scotty Christmas!

(Spain, Final!)

 Okay, well, that was a noble attempt, but now it's, what? December 11? I've had no indications anyone is reading this and I have to confess that so much is going on elsewhere that I've abandoned the goal of chronicling this amazing trip in detail. I'll bullet list important memories here to summarize the rest of it, though. Just for me. 

• DAY VII
• Day at leisure to explore Sevilla, which we did, much to our delight. 
• Evening cooking class at a private apartment, hosted by our hostess, Patricia Terry, very relaxed and lots of good conversation and food
• DAY VIII
• Up early to meet driver and host, the incomparable Anna. 
• A drive through the Natural Park of Grazalema, almost all the way to the southern tip of Spain (~30 miles as the crow flies)
• a stop at an ancient but still functioning olive oil mill, Molino tradicional de aceite El Callejón
• another at a boutique cheesery, where we had to don shoe covers to protect the sanitary floors
• Lunch at a lovely local cafe in Ubrique, Cadiz region
• A final stop at a small winery, functioning for 6 generations, before the long drive back to our hotel, where we canceled our reservations at the hotel's Restaurante San Fernando and went out for tapas locally
• DAY IX
• Lazy morning at the hotel breakfast in the inner courtyard
• Transfer to Seville Airport via private driver and flight to San Sebastian
• Short chauffeured drive to the Hotel De Londres Y De Inglaterra on the beach, 3 floors up, in center of the building 

  

  Hotel De Londres

  
  
• A nap with our window open, then dinner at a tapas cafe a block away.
• Cocktails in the bar at the window overlooking the beach and sleep
• DAY X
• A drive up to Biarritz, France with our lovely guide, Esther 
• A walking tour of the tiny village of Pasajes and also one of Hondarribia, on the banks of the river Bidasoa, a natural frontier between France and Spain
• Lunch on the porch of Les Baigneuses de Biarritz, some tasty ribeye steak and veggies, overlooking the Bay of Biscay, maybe 80 miles south of Bordeaux
• Drive back to San Sebastian with an evening at leisure before dinner at Narru, beneath the Arbaso Hotel
• A casual walkabout back to retire at our lovely hotel room
• One morning I awakened to an amazing panorama off our balcony, a rainbow over the harbor, literally at our feet. I later completed a painting of it, which was fun to do but doesn't really convey its majesty:



"san sebastian rainbow", 18x24 acrylics on stretched fabric, by Scott Merrick, in the collection of the artist

• DAY XI
• La Rioja winery tastings and visits
• Tour and tastings at Bodega Toro de Oná, marvelous technology, the bug hotel (sketched later)

"bughouse" at Bodega de Toro Oná, Rioja, by Scott Merrick, pencil on paper, in the artist's collection

• Lunch at the architectural wonder Marques de Riscal Winery and Hotel Hiribidea
• Tour of Bodegas Tritium in Cenicero, with its ancient wine cellar and wines aged under the sea in clay bottles (we brought one home and it's still aging on our family room shelf
• Transfer via chauffeured car back to the Londes
• Cab to cooking class, private, just us and the young chef, at
• DAY XII
• We arose early to be packed up and breakfasted in the hotel before hailing a cab at 6:15 am to drive us to the train station (only about a mile away from the hotel
• By 7:20 am we were high-speed training to Barcelona (2 "comfort tickets" provided) 
• We met our guide and our driver who took us via that reliable black Mercedes to our boutique hotel in Barcelona, the 5-starr Serras, which proudly boasts of its home as Pablo Picasso's first studio
• Am afternoon nap after investigating the rooftop pool (maybe thrice the size of our hot tub at home), the Picasso Library, and our room itself, all was luxurious, even the enclosed view of the bustling alleyway beneath our room
• We canceled our reservations at Amar, just because it looked a bit too stuffy and formal for our mood. A trusted concierge in the Serras suggested a brief walk to Llamber, a charming restaurant where we sat at a two-top in the window overlooking the cobblestone pedestrian street. We continued to trust those recommendations, and we returned to Llamber for our last dinner in Spain. Again, a lovely walk home to Serras
• DAY XIII
• We slept in a bit and had our breakfast at the hotel -- breakfasts were always included at each hotel we stayed in and they were always stellar, setting us up for those long days of exploring
• From roughly 10-2 we toured the historical center of Barcelona with Marta. Marta was a doppelganger for Lee Ann's late stepmom, but she was very informative and  any discomfort was soon dispelled
• A brief stop into a museum which contained a beautiful diorama of ancient Barcelona
• Temple D'August
• The Dancing Egg fountain 
• The Picasso Museum, WONDERFUL
• Finished with Marta at Basilica of Santa Maria del Mar
• 3-7 Foodie walking tour with Regina 
• Poopy man store, cheesecake at Ixtar Pena, a stop at 
• DAY XIV
• We had a morning at leisure and discovered (once again via concierge) El Nou Ramonet, a little restaurant off the beach that was full of local families and smaller groups--LOVED that place and its food and hospitality:

• 

  El Nou Ramonet

• There's more, including a foodie tour with Albert, @stuntmanbarcelona on Instagram, then a lovely afternoon with Aina, @thepaellamama, driving up to Alberti Noya, Spain's first fully organic winery
• Shipping a case of Cava and wines home to dear old Nashville
• The final day, flying home via Chicago
• Our first less than cordial welcome in Chicago
• Home!

I have overlooked some things, misplaced some, and done a few much less justice than they deserved, but yeah, the chronicle is done. Yay.