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June 9, 2005 8:13 PM
Today was painting class day. It was great and fun. It was nice to finish an oil painting in a single day. Below you find pictures of the chicken hisself and my sister-in-law Gail who took the class with me to give me moral support. As you all know I need lots of moral support. You all remember Gail? No? Do you remember me? Perhaps you found this page in error? If so please click this link to Paypal and send me a dollar.Thank you.

the technique is interesting and fast. First you bring your roll of paper towels, wear old clothes - that would be all my clothes and open your mind to new things, techniques, and creativity. I did my part by immediately noticing that the teacher had a great butt - just a perfect heart shape. However the moral police busted my ass and I had to go back to painting. Basically it is wet oil - without any drying of layers. Started with white then put in distant mountains, working forward with darker desert hues. The real pressure was putting in the bushes and cactus, and if you'll go back in the weblogs you'll see that I have close cactus friends in Quartzsite, so it was important to do her justice. I'll take a picture of the completed works tomorrow.

Gail actually has fun because her heart was not encumbered by teacher butt lust. She was much bolder in her work and presentation and thus we were able to devote much of the class time to appreciating our short comings and those of the fellow six painters around of. What really screwed the pooch was that the lady next to me, who was very senior and had complete double vision, produced a work that was much much better than mine. I do think she stole some of my ideas however. As I was creating this page, motivated by a clear sense of completion and painting follow through, I called the teacher to ask pertinent storage questions. She was out but I had a nice talk with her husband. Jeez.

Some trip report and what's up with Wyoming? Is it really necessary. It looks more like a Stephen King setting just waiting for the soul suckers to finish me off.

It was four days getting to Fort Collins, Colorado. I started with the idea of going over the pass to Bend and then through Burns in eastern Oregon (my previous most desolate place. Hah! Compared to ALL of southern Wyoming, Burns would deserve a Club Med, GOs ((gentle organizers - do the hand signs!))).
Three of those curving things - I know soooommee shit, hunh.

BUTT (butts on the brain), I was worried about being out of cell contact with all the work that had recently been done on the truck so I elected to go up I-5 and then over through Boise and down.
It rained and rained and when it wasn't raining it was grey. I stayed for free at the Wind River Casino, parking with the other RV's and the dish worked perfectly and I was able to perform my webmasterly duties in a timely manner.

AND then what happened? I ate dinner in the casino and it sucked. I thought all the casinos where supposed to have good food. Halibut (but?) and instant mashed potatoes, and downhill from there. Off to beddy bye for an early push through Idaho to Utah, thoughts of picking up a few spare wives, but not to be, first I had to be sick from the meal. Then I wake up and SHOOT the wrong insulin! F@@@CK (fuck - for the euphemistically impaired). Fast acting instead of the all day slow stuff. Which meant I had to eat a day's worth of food RIGHT THEN within fifteen minutes - finally an excuse for a donut. No donuts within fifteen minutes. Took four hours to make sure all was right - late start and off to Utah.

Utah. Nothing there nothing to say.
WYOMING - oh my god Chandler Bing. Climb, climb climb sometimes so slow I got out to see if I was still moving. THE ONLY life I saw besides cows were people and one pissed off squirrel like object, who ran in front of my truck. I yelled for him to get out of the way - this was steep uphill and there's no stopping. HE throw me a dirty look and PASSED ON THE RIGHT. How dumb can a squirrel get. You have to pass on the left!!!!. I think he was the bastard child of a parrie dog and a squirel. Whatever, he had the speed and the power I lacked.
I didn't know but Wyoming is the way I was going to get over the rocky mountains. There is much to say about this weird, slightly spooky state, so lets start with the smell. I tried to stay at Walmart in Twin Falls but Walmart was surround on two or three sides with FEEDLOTS. The stench started stripping the paint from my silver Ford F250 (similar power characteristics to my 1969 VW beetle). So I fled like the Republican national guard (tip o hat to Dave) to Flying J's where I holed up with a wild bunch of school bus drivers and passed the time watching a chick flick and crying myself to sleep ("alone again, naturally" Gilbert O'Sullivan).

Next moring I crossed the continental divide twice and was struck by the sense of forboding that permeates all of southern Wyoming. It's not just that there's nothing - that same nothing in the Sonoral desert translates to cacti, rattlesnakes, gold, silver and copper - and all the stories that come along with them. No this emptiness is an emptiness of life. Desolation. I was supposed to stop in Laramie (7700 feet up up up) but I was appalled by the sense that the grim reaper was on my tail (butt?) and fled south to Colorado. As soon as I crossed the state line, the geology changed, the color changed, small trees appeared and for a moment I could see Gandalf and Frodo heading home. I fled to my brother's home, and parked my dirty life stripped, feedlot perfumed, rig in a neighborhood where they don't even have to have garbage cans and toilets - it's just PERFECT.
Consider I had been hunkered down with 13 rounds jammed in the 9mm Mak, feet pressed against the door against the life sucking power of the dark side just hours before, and now Gail shows me to a bedroom that is something from a five star hotel, there are wonderful things arranged on the nite stand, and m&m's in case I had low blood sugar. The mental deacceleration caused a small embolism and I awoke to a slight difference between the size of my pupils the next morning. I think it is nothing. But when I looked close in the mirror, I could see the grinning face of the little squirrel/marmot/parrrie dog grinning at me out of the larger pupil. He was laughing at me so I quick took one of my syringes and plunged it - no that didn't happen. But the rest is true. Tomorrow will talk about big Wyoming wind and the sideways living people.. Night chicklets

June 11, 2005 11:00 PM
It's Saturday night. I've begun loosing track of the days, just like a part time retired person should. It's been a busy two days, but nothing feels too exciting. Here are the pictures of Gail and my painting that I mentioned in the last blog. We're waiting for them to dry so that we can sell them on ebay.

I did start my workout program this morning and everything hurt, even the stretches. Gail and Butch were kind to say it is the altitude - 5000 feet, but us helpdeskers know the real answer. It is the slug like existance of our job slowly freezing our joints to cement. I thought every two days would be good, but as I was leaving for the trailer Gail said see you for a workout tomorrow morning, so I guess that's where I'll be.
My brother and I also enjoyed a short 4 mi bike ride to a nearby coffee shop, where one of the two coffee girls (both pretty, Tedd) had a Mensa study guide. I used that opportunity to talk about Mensa like I ran it or something - what a dope.
Yesterday was more fun. We drove down to Boulder and met with my brother's friend Tom who is helping his son open a bookstore on the main drag in Boulder. Boulder is very much like Eugene. I saw pretty much the Saturday market crowd on their pedestrian maul. We had a great and expensive mean and I took this picture of Butch, Tom, and Gail in front of the new bookstore.

Last for tonight is a tool my brother wanted to show me that unscrews the light bulbs that are too high to reach - without a ladder. Here's the result.

It appears that it worked too good! I wanted to finish the Wyoming trip story today. The thing about Wyoming, besides the desolate barren countryside is the WIND. It blows and blows and only lessens so that it can gust even harder. I kept driving towards Colorado simply because I was afraid that if I stopped the solar panels would be torn from the roof of the trailer. Apparently none of this is unusual for them Wyoming-ers - as I saw people out walking their dogs - with both the dog and the person leaning sideways into the wind. How can anybody talk in this state - all you hear is the roar of the wind.

Chicklets - I never lie to you, not here anyway - only in person. I'm sore, tired, sleepy and nothing is all that exciting. Here's what I need you to do. I need you each to write and tell me one thing that happened to you (tomorrow) that made some sort of impression on you. Just email it to me at penchant@escapees.com and I'll put it in the weblog for tomorrow. Anonymous of course which means you can squeal on your friends and neighbors and family if you like. Sweet dreams all you.

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