Wednesday, January 09, 2008

2008 Comes in with a Bang - OR - It Can be Rather Dangerous to go out and Pee if you're the Wrong Color

I don't know, my life seems to be filled with some pretty crazy drama and chaos, and yesterday morning was one of those moments. If I only had a video clip of what happened they'd be booking me on The Morning Show for the unprecedented number of hits that video would have received on YouTube.

It starts like this. After a glorious, week of Sundays filled with family, food and fun, I came down with a horrible cold. I don't get them very often and when I do, it's like watching the Statue of Liberty melt. I go from this really strong, outspoken, brazen person to a whimpering mollusk.

So, the dogs, who are accustomed to a pretty good walk everyday have been deprived. Lucky Man, the one who was shot last March (see story) and who is finally, after nine months, almost using his damaged leg on a regular basis, had tummies. This is a condition that is so loud it will wake you up at night. His belly growls and he becomes obsessed with eating Hackberry leaves. (Yes, I know pretty weird, but he's very specific about his herbal cures.) In winter, with the absence of these magical leaves, he resorts to eating grass.

Lucky Man pleaded with those big brown eyes of his and I caved. "Okay, big bubbie, you can go out the door and eat a little grass, but you must stay in your yard and come back within five minutes to receive your treat." It was, after all, 7:30 a.m. and I didn't think the gun-toting monster that shot my dog before would be up yet, thinking he would still be nursing his hangover. Otherwise I would never have let LM out on his own.

Not 30 seconds after letting Lucky Man out the door, I hear a loud round of gunfire. Let's just say for this mixed audience that I came unglued, certain that the same monster who shot my dog originally was now gunning him down with vehemence.

The gunfire continues. I race into the yard in my bathrobe, and find the dog peacefully eating grass in the yard. I call him. The gunfire continues. I get LM by the collar, insuring he won't bolt and the gunfire continues. It is just one house beyond our next door neighbor's. Very loud and very close. It's 7:30 a.m. remember.

With this I see my half dressed husband fly out the door, racing up the hill. The gunfire continues, rapidly, obsessively. At this point I'm pretty certain that the yahoos at the half constructed house, just one house over, got a new gun for Christmas. But the gunfire is too frenetic for this scenario. It continues. It might even be coming from multiple guns or automatic weapons. "PUT THAT DAMN GUN AWAY!" I hear my husband yell during an uncertain pause in the gunfire. With the acoustics of the lake on one side and the mountain behind us, I'm certain they hear him in the next county.

I live in an upscale neighborhood and it's 7:30 in the morning mind you.

The gunfire stops. I race the dog into the house, and Mitch follows closely behind. "Call the Sheriff," he says. I do it without compunction. The Sheriff never shows, but the contractor gets a call. An apology is issued, "it will never happen again, (yeah right); "they did it before, and I didn't think to tell them not to? (great justification form, it was done before, so that made it okay); and the kicker, "sorry we woke you."

"Sorry you woke us? This is our home, this is where our kids roam the woods, this is where our dog, who eats with us and sleeps with us was shot."
Well, this is not Mitch's first foray into defending hearth and home. When Meth Lab garbage was dumped on our land, we bagged it up and he pulled up into the driveway to return it to the dumpee. How did we know this? They threw away a charge receipt with their name and address on it. Pretty bright huh?

Even brighter were we to return it. I slunk down into the passenger seat saying my mental goodbyes to by husband of 25 years while praying that bullets wouldn't make their way through the side of the car.

Another time, in defense of hearth and home, Mitch rather loudly chased after a large gang of drunken 4 wheeler people, who were trying rather unsuccessfully to climb up the side of the mountain next to our house. I could see the shotguns strapped to their 4-wheelers, and it wasn't hunting season. Hmmm?

So, while we thought life at the end of the road would be quiet and peaceful, it hasn't proven so. Am I for gun control. ABSOLUTELY!
So what does this have to do with collecting art? Well, like the T-shirt says, "Life is Good." Art is peaceful, art is bold. Art is self expression without violence. Buy art now. We have some amazing work on the site, and some of it is incredibly well priced.

This peaceful seaside scene is by George Wittenberg.

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