Private Art

One of the perks of the Gig are pre-auction invitations to view the artwork coming up for market.  Usually, they are breakfast functions where practitioners get private group tours and viewings.  This year was no different - one at Sotheby's, followed the next day by one at Christie's.

Sadly, a calendar misread caused forfeiture of this year's Sotheby's event - mixed it all up and showed up to an empty Christie's, and by then it was too late to head back.  So only made it to the Christie's event on the second try the next day.

Early days, both.  But a lovely opportunity to wander among nearly empty galleries and gaze at beautiful pieces is such a treat.

Dirt

Mushroom suit.  Planters in the hallway.  Unifying theme is dirt.

Mushroom suit - ashes to ashes, dirt to dirt - oh, wait, no; it's dust to dust, isn't it?  Ah well, already picked a theme and title for the post; sticking with dirt....  So, further to the self-composting post from some months back, this past weekend Luke Perry's daughter revealed that he was buried in an Infinity Burial Suit - a biodegradable suit imbued with mushrooms and other organisms that aid in decomposition, removal of toxins from the body, and transfer of nutrients to the soil and plants.  Sounds like a responsible way to do it, and gentle to the earth.  Easy enough to get behind.  Sissy forwarded the link.  She knows the alleys that are favored in these parts.

And in other developments, with the full onset of Spring, the very nice, albeit more private, adjoining terrace neighbor ("Ms. Neighbor A," to correspond to her unit letter) raised again the offer to return the planter that had gotten mistakenly exiled to her side of the fence when last year's roof contractors so helpfully re-erected the fences without seeking confirmation of which items belonged to which apartment.  Being at work when the message came through, the task of accepting was delegated to Sissy.  Sissy was able to get it across the hall and into the apartment, but apparently ran out of steam in the interior entrance hallway.  So there is an outdoor planter sitting indoors, awaiting reunification with its planter brethren on the terrace.  Ah well, small steps.

Candidate #3

Senator Cory Booker.  Needless to say, a well-attended town hall session.  There's a reason he's been a rising star all these years.

That said, honest assessment?  Great storyteller, passionate, charismatic, charming, funny, attractive, sexy even.  But didn't seem to have concrete ideas.  Studious, good with the facts, could learn and pick it all up.  Maybe it was the format and the limited timeframe, but nothing solid.  Perhaps that will develop.

And then besides attending that, the rest of the day was mostly another non-billable block, prepping to present a CLE.  So today was not a particularly good one for the work side of the balance scale.  Sigh.  Hopefully it all balances long-term.

At least dinner (last week's pizza) and dessert (yesterday's Cinco de Mayo brownie pie) were covered.  So the CLE prep can continue at home.

Cinco de Mayo

Tonight's lovely dinner party came after yesterday's lovely dinner party came after yesterday's fantastic brunch came after last weekend's brunch came after the two Fridays past's dinner splurge.

Always trying to keep it all together and do and fit more in, with varying degrees of success.

Saturday Salvage

A new pattern has emerged over the last few months of Saturdays - long, lazy, languishing bed stays, stretching for hours after the eyes pop open.  Sometimes, like today, extending into early evening.  Until the guilt and panic of delayed projects and plans put off sets in to spur some action and movement from the comfort and safety of bed.

This Saturday, there was a touch of a cold to blame - congestion and runny nose and watery eyes, lack of good sleep last night and the previous night.  And always, always the exhaustion of the week just past.  But it didn't always used to be this way.  Saturday mornings once were active outdoor ones.  Unclear whether the roots of this recent change are psychological or physiological - weak mind or aging body, or some combination of the two.  In any event, it cannot go on; it must not go on.  How can there be room for more if not enough fits into the time that exists now?  They say priorities just shift.  But the shift would be quite radical; what if it's too much?  Discipline has got to set in soon, like now, soon.

But today there was napping, web surfing, long calls with old friends swapping accounts of the current life trials, a quick trip to the lobby to retrieve an anticipated package, a short step out onto the terrace to check on the results of the recent rains, lots of television, little actual nourishment.

Late in the day, some surrender to self indulgence and self care - a break into the gift box of chocolates from Miss Lovely Neighbor.  Sometimes, self permission to call the day a loss, let the body and mind rest and refresh, and salvage what little positive is left - by taking the opportunity for a treat, eating chocolate - becomes the call for the day.

And we try again tomorrow.

Time Greed

Gluttony, or just a normal part of hectic life?  There never feels to be enough.  The shorter commute somehow has not managed to translate into more usable time - instead, that time seems to have turned into more sleep, which perhaps is a good thing (although a reminder of the aging body - once upon a time about 5 hours was enough).  The guilt of continued late arrivals at the "Orifice" have translated into regular late work nights, now unimpeded by a last ferry schedule - one of the cons of being able to travel more easily to work by subway.  That in return means super late meals, super late or skipped breakfast the next morning - just a vicious cycle.  Must re-jigger.

But the body and mind crave respite - and time carved out for a jaunt about the park.

2019 Earth Day +1

+1 because the eyes wouldn't stay open and the sofa was so comfy.  Hazards of not leaving the office until well after 9, attempting to eat late dinner quickly in hopes of keeping to a modified fasting plan, then catching up with the news of the day.  There is just not so much time left over, and the body fails.  Well intended blogging attempts do not get completed, until the next day....

So, for Earth Day, a piece that appeared in the New York Times on a lovely sounding itinerary to the Netherlands to see bulb farms - how dreamy it would be to go with Mama Bird one day.

Not in the Netherlands.  From the Hicks aisles during their garden show some weeks back on Long Island.

The day itself was actually abundant with work extras - another candidate town hall, this time with Julian Castro.  Intelligent, young and earnest, progressive.  The sound bite from his presentation was his plan to implement a "21st century Marshall Plan" with respect to Central America in an effort to solve the immigration spike.  Bold, but likely will never sell, and fraught with difficulties.  The Marshall plan was implemented with respect to defeated adversaries, after all.

Photo from Wikipedia.

Then late in the workday, a gathering of the T&E department, a "party," if you will - ha! - to listen to oral arguments in the Kaestner case, the first trusts and estates case to come before the Supreme Court in something like 47 years.  Interesting.  The justices clearly don't all get the ins and outs of trusts (an affirmation that if one specializes, one can come to develop a body of knowledge somewhat deeper than a Supreme Court justice), but they are sharp and quite with it.  Thomas was silent, as usual.