Westward Ho

I think that I can start to write again. My suitcase is finally unpacked, the cat and I have once again established cordial relations, and all of my wares have been placed back on the shelves in my shop. I am now permitted to write and to touch my guitar again, at least as soon as I take out the trash. Saw a little mouse last month...

I should probably say something about New Mexico before my memories start to blur like the bleed on a sloppy watercolor. All in all I have to call it a good trip. I sold enough to pay the current bills and a few more and was lucky enough to buy some extraordinary merchandise, through some magical conjunction of luck and providence and maybe even a few orbiting bodies.

While the receipts pale when compared to the good old days, said good old days have packed their bags and gone and left no forwarding address. So we do the best we can. I sold some wonderful things that I probably won't ever see the likes of again, the Kalo 1917 hand hammered silver pitcher in the perfect kool-aid shape, the navajo pictorial weaving of Shiprock.

The show in Albuquerque was mostly an exercise but I did make contact with a different buyer base and managed to pay my rent and most of my cost of goods. Sometimes you just have to buy a ticket and see what happens.

Instead of wild carousing between shows, I stayed on a nice ranchita outside of town and rested and wrote and recharged. Very little drinking, or even eating for that matter, although when I did I tried to do salad and fruit. I did make it over to one of my favorite haunts, La Fonda for breakfast once, I love the trout and eggs and they make excellent coffee.

My eyes met the waiter's, a man who has been serving me and the rest of the world faithfully for going on at least 17 straight years. His hair was now pure silver. I looked at him and pointed to my temple. He shook his head and looked at my own and said,"You too, friend." We wake up one day to find out that we have really gotten older and we have no idea how it happened.

I set up one of the most beautiful booths I have ever presented in Santa Fe, having two facing booths due to a last minute cancellation I was able to segregate the classic and the modern. Got a nice Fritz Scholder to accompany my New Mexican Transcendentalist's Bisttram and Raymond Jonson. Sold the Helen Hardin and the Italian/Peruvian Vargueño. Had very strong interest in the florentine chapel painting by Pedulli. A good show. Millard had a great show, a fact that he drove home to us at every opportunity.

Went out to the interesting African Carribean restaurant, Jambo one night with friends. I made jokes about chasing a UNICEF truck throwing rice bags but the truth is the food was really good. I had goat stew. French fries with cumin. That was one night I did get tanked, started off on vodka, accelerated into the pinot world and then god knows where. Ended up in a piano bar listening to long hair music and lasted about three minutes. Here are pictures of dinner companions, Sue, Sue and Steve as well as Dane and David.

The road home went well. Picked up some firecracker fountains for the next new year's blastoff In Bluewater. Stayed at the incredibly hip Springfield Suites in Flagstaff. Au courant. Tommy's double on the way home in Barstow.



Here is another shot of the area near Quemado.

In the words of Samwise Gamgee, "Well, I'm back."