May 31, 2004

8:34 p.m.

The Joy of Dishes

Five hours strolling through building after building browsing hundreds of craftspeople's wares. Pottery, jewelry, weavings, furniture, clothing, pottery, metal sculpture, leatherwork, pottery, handblown glass, vintage hats, handbags, and most of all, did I mention pottery?

By the end of the afternoon I felt I was running headlong from aisle to aisle, with my hands outstretched, crying, "I'll take it! Here's my money, I'll take whatever you have!"

It wasn't quite that bad. But I did commission some unspeakably cool dishes from a potter from NYC. She didn't have everything I wanted, so I'm having her make some plates and some mugs. I bought one bowl with one of the patterns on it, just so I'd have something to look at in the weeks while I await the shipment.

Then, from another vendor, I bought a small but exquisite pottery bowl -- it's impossible to describe, but it now holds Annapolis beach sand and some incense and resides on my altar as promised.

Carol bought a set of two absolutely luxurious espresso cups with saucers and fine silver spoons -- the cups are white but they have a band of, get this, PLATINUM around the edges, about 3/4" thick. They're elegant and were ridiculously expensive. At least for the money I'm spending, I got EIGHT pieces, full sized! Anyway they're gorgeous and she also got a framed, matted pressed flower thingy for her bathroom. It turned out that the vendor with the pressed flower artwork saw us play in Vermont earlier this year, at a venue near her home, and where we're playing again this Thursday. So Carol wanted to buy this one piece to see if it would go with the bathroom, which contains tiles of a horrible dark mauve that goes with nothing, and the woman wouldn't even let her pay for it yet. She said she'd come to the gig and they could settle then, when Carol decides whether she wants to keep it. It made us feel very famous.

She also picked up a metal dog sculpture. They have one from this guy already, a Deputy Dawg sort of fellow, with a sherriff's hat and a gun in a holster. The companion is a smaller, golf-playing dog. They're also frivolously expensive. I see that, left to ourselves, Carol and I will only egg each other on with this spending thing. Gonna stop right now. Well, after I pay for the pottery.

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The DVD, I believe, is done. I'll see it tomorrow. Chris has worked out a thing with his filmmaker buddy Dan, where Dan will hire him as a cameraman on these corporate shoots, or if he can't make it, just rent the camera which Chris has now been convinced to buy. Talk about expensive -- the money is just flying out of our windows this week -- but it could pay for itself in three or four months with this work. Chris has done camera work before for cable TV, and he's learned really fast how to edit and so forth on Dan's equipment. It'll be a great side gig for him.

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On the way home from Northampton today, I suddenly realized we were going right by the exit to my possibly-future apartment, so we got off the highway and found our way to the street. I'd been a few weeks ago but wanted to show Carol; once again I could not remember the house number (what's with that? I've looked it up twice) but we cruised the street and she gave her seal of approval. Meanwhile, I got a call from my actress friend Joan today, who lives in Hartford in an artists' building, where the rent is based on income. I applied before moving here, and was surprised to find I didn't qualify for enough of a reduction because I made too much money. Isn't that a hoot? Anyway, she has the tiniest studio in the building, but can't afford the solo rent any more. We found out that if we combined our incomes, we'd actually qualify to occupy an apartment together in this place, and between us the rent would be a cinch. Every year she calls me up and says there's a 2-bedroom opening up and do I want to share? (We roomed successfully some years ago, during a lovely transitional period for us both.) The first time we were planning on taking one of these, the woman changed her mind at the last minute. That's how I ended up here. This time, she said there's a huge three BR opening up in September, and we talked about that as a possibility if this Springfield caper doesn't work out. She's at the bottom of her barrel now, and really needs a lower rent. We both prefer to live alone, but alas, the artist's life.

So I'm going to see her later this month; she needs some computer tutoring, and maybe we can sneak in and look at this apartment. The guy is being evicted, so he won't be changing his mind; but meanwhile he still lives there so we'd probably have to get the office to let us in when he's not there.

The disadvantage of that plan, of course, is that I don't have 10 months at my sister's to save money.

Oooh, the uncertainty of it all is making my spine tingle.

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Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will. Oh, Will.

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I had some anxiety this week. It comes upon me in the evening when I'm winding down. I hate it; vague, disturbing fears I can't seem to get away from. They make my heart race and, if I let them run amok, I feel faint. A few nights ago I had to talk to Dar for an hour before I could go to sleep. He's good; he distracts me, he makes me laugh, he offers suggestions, or just says, "Dammit, I wish I knew what to suggest." In the end, he said next time I feel it coming on, to just slap myself in the face and say, "Snap out of it! For pete's sake!" By that time it was all pretty lighthearted. But it's scary when I'm here by myself and I can't figure out why I feel this way.

Anyway, I feel okay right now so I think I'll plop down in front of the tube and try to get sleepy. Throat is better today. Some cool things are coming up in the next couple of weeks. And I've got all those dishes to look forward to.