Intervention

"When I was growing up. . . ."  Yea, I don't want to be that kind of guy.  But this is what a weather map looked like when I was. . . .  Isobars.  The closer they are together, the more forceful the weather.  Wind.  Rain.  Sleet.  

Maps like this seem to have gone the way of the television test pattern that used to come on after midnight when stations quit broadcasting for the day.  

Stores were closed on Sunday.  

I don't want to be that guy.  

I went to my "intervention" yesterday.  There were four of us seated in the deep chair, open air seating overlooking the Boulevard and the passing parade.  It was quite something.  We ate lobster flatbread and mushrooms fried in batter and doused in some spicy Szechuan sesame coating.  Two drinks in, however, it was time for me to go.  It felt like the party was just starting.  I left a little before six, but I had to go back to my house to get the Whole Foods meals I'd bought for dinner with my mother. It was six-fifteen when my phone rang.  It was my mother.  

"Where are you?"

I was half a mile from her house. 

"Why?  Do you need something?"

"Are you coming back?"

"What's wrong?"

"You said you'd be here by six."

Holy smokes.  I'd stolen fifteen minutes of "me time."  I wanted to put a gun to my head.  There is to be no sustained joy in my life.  Servitude is my fate, or so my mother implies.  To wit, I got up at five this morning. I have to take my mother to the pain doc at eight.  My mother was up and banging around all night.  She must have heard me get up because she was right behind me.  What does she do?  She sits in her chair at the dining room table and doom scrolls on her phone.  

A photo book I ordered some weeks ago came yesterday just before I left the house. "Verso Reverso" by Patricio Reig (link).  Wow!  A treat.  I could not be sure of the quality of the book, but it is quite wonderful, large at approximately 9"x12", with full sized images printed well on fine paper.  I was a bit overwhelmed with envy, though.  I've done this kind of work before but not nearly this well.  From looking at his earlier photos, I found that Reig worked at this for years before the culmination of this book, and as I always say, you do best what you do most. I looked to see how much his images were selling for.  $6-8,000.  Reig has a nice studio and some people working there with him.  He's doing alright. 

It has given me some ideas.  All I need is money, space, and time.  

O.K. I need to hustle now to get mom out the door, into the car, and down the road.  It is Friday, but there will be no sushi dinner for me tonight.  I had my hour of fun yesterday.  If you need anything, I'll be right here on my mother's couch trying not to think about what I could be doing instead.