Pleasantville

It's been a mostly quiet week here in the valley. I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing the hot air balloons float by or the sight of skydivers unfurling their parachutes and floating downward, or all the Canada geese honking by.

I spent the better part of today tearing apart my closet and reorganizing things. I had pretty much just thrown stuff in there when I moved in. I also hung a few pictures. It still feels weird to do that... still feels like I'm intruding on someone else's territory. I'll get over it. Steve likes to give me shit that I'm putting holes in his walls. I retort that he's spent more than enough years living in black and white and it took an ol' gypsy gal to bring him into tru-life technicolor. Still, anyone who took one glance into my rather bohemian looking art studio would know in an instant that any objet d'art in the place is strictly my doing.

It reminds me of something John said when I met him, speaking metaphorically, "You came along and straightened all the pictures on all the walls." I always thought it was one of the most endearing things he ever said to me.

Neighbor Danny always calls Steve "Bubba"... as in, "Hey Bubba! What's on the menu today?" He's taken to calling me Mrs. Bubba. I love it.

Color and shape. Smudge here, smear there, little dab to enhance the ambient light. How to make a house a home.