Since falling on my skateboard I have been healing. My hand I think was broken, as the swelling lingers. Still, a doctor I know would just tell me to be careful and maybe give me a little shell to keep bother dings away.
On the holiday weekend I did not travel. There’s something cheesy called a staycation. All in all, it may be less cheesy than tourism, so, that’s another point towards staying put. I did not go to New York, to see Michaelangelo’s or Hockney’s or David Hornung’s show, or to Boston, to see a show of paintings by George Nick, patron saint of PAFA. In the short term then, I’ll remain ignorant, or uninformed, or uninfluenced.
I likewise did not run to Florida. I’ve had plenty of hundred-dollar hamburgers, so I stayed put.
My neighbor had invited me to dinner, for Thanksgiving. I said I might just take her up. On the last night of school before the break, I stayed really late painting with another motivated student. I left first, and invited him to join our Thanksgiving celebration on the way out, giving him my phone number on a band-aid. He didn’t call, and after waking late the following morning, and going on a run to the tune of six miles, I cleaned up and knocked on my neighbor’s door, and she let me in, and I had a Thanksgiving afternoon and evening with her and her family. It occurred to me how plastic a holiday could be. Sitting with her mother and father and sister and brother-in-law, felt like sitting with my mother and father and sister and brother-in-law. And there was a dog; a big golden retriever who was a pet addict, and I obliged because I’m so terribly lonely probably. I ate two portions of dinner, and two slices of pie, and felt a little bad about that, about thinking about dinner like that, like a buffet.
On Saturday following, I ran to the Woodmere Art Museum, a ten mile run. I’d looked up a marathon training program, and, this far out from the race, was scheduled a 20 miler. So I planned to run there and back- to the Woodmere, and to attend the museum to see the Violet Oakley show in between, and I did. I did and more. I got lost a long the way, which I estimate accounted for three to five extra miles, and at the Woodmere I took a break to run into town to get lunch and a coffee, which I estimate accounted for another 2-3 miles. So, I’m counting Saturday’s running efforts as twenty-five miles. I ran 25, and my body seemed to break apart in a calculated way through the week following. I got an okay painting on that following Sunday, though I scratched out the portrait. I’ll need to get that portrait- to composite one on. We’ve got the same model for yet another week, so it’s looking up.
I tried maintenance running, it my knee is hurting and swollen, along with my hand. This is a real Ship of Theseus kind of thing, that happens when you go into many too-big projects at once. My dad’s got a titanium knee, and Grammy’s got a metal hip. So here’s to hoping, here’s a poem, for a taught sea-worthy ship.
I’ve got another batch of paintings on the way. Models in chairs.
