Printmaking Weekend: Now, with More Rabbits!

I should probably dispense with the weekends have been BUSY!! and just get down to it, eh? Last weekend's seeming wealth of *two* scheduled studio days were foiled by: myself, some needed weekend work hours, and my headlights, which had mysteriously ceased to work the preceding Friday...

"Sounds like a blown fuse. Just replace it," advised a friend from work.

"You wouldn't take it in?"

"What? NO. Just get your owner's manual, find the fuses, take 'em out and pop the others back in~"

"But you think *I* could do that--"

His eyes bugged out, as they do, when the other person is obviously being ridiculous. "YES: It's SO. EASY." He had tried to get me to take a beginner's car maintenance class, which was a tremendously practical idea, but four hours claimed every Sunday? Seemed punitive.

Back at home, I girded myself with the manual and my little flashlight. PiC*, who seems to possess the same degree of fixitness as I do, texted: "Is he crazy? Just take it somewhere. There must be a gas station or mechanic nearby."

*Partner in Crime, shorten to Crime? 

Meanwhile, my learned more fixity neighbor pulled out my [perfectly fine] fuses --with his needle-nosed pliers. "It would be easier if I had a diagram of your circuitry." He floated several possibilities, all of which were over my head. Mechanic it was. I gave up quite easily and started watching Hysteria  (7.2/10.0 IMHO). About half an hour into the movie, my neighbor calls (who, if you're a regular reader, may recall him as the mocking-but-helpful lawn mower introducer): "Listen, I've been reading some Subaru forums and I think I may have an easy work-around..." Which sounded promising, given the speaker, but for the part that follows you can simply envision part of a flow chart: arrow to -- > Did the fix work? ---> No. --> Take it to a mechanic. And so it went, but not before the two-afternoon studio weekend, wherein I barely got through the annoying initial nothing-is-printing-well part before it was OMG it's almost dark, and country roads! Flee! As I drove, kind people periodically blinded me by flashing their headlights into my face. Yep, got it! thanks! Though oddly, it seemed like a less caring world when I'd pass a string of cars, none of whom cared enough to blind me.
 
Before I drove out initially I got a curious voice mail from Maestra, warning me that there was a rabbit in the studio. Don't you wish more warnings fell along those lines? But they don't. Rarely are we cautioned against the presence of chipmunks, lavender meringues, baby hedgehogs, no.

The bunny was waiting, as promised. He seemed a bit anxious because of my presence, but he may have only been going about his normal bunny business. Sudden bounding hops across his small space,  continuous paper shredding, bar gnawing. nose wiggling.

"It's cool, bunny. I'm just inking some blocks, 

 

nothing scary"

I talked with him more than I should say, as immediately after I first inked my block, it became apparent that more wood strips had defected from its surface -- and I had to cool my heels, waiting for wood glue to dry.

Bunny: "Here's me, not caring."

"If I could get farther away from you, I would."

Bar good, glue slow.

 

 

Decided to try out some different colored papers this time around

was undecided...

...But fancied the line detail lent by the "linen" paper finish

I also tried an unlined mustardy mulberry color (called "Curry" at Hollander's)

As usual, I printed most on white paper.

What's wrong with this picture?

Between the first weekend and last Sunday, even MORE wood defected! Not quite sure why I have had SO much block deterioration early on, but at this point, I'm just rolling with it. RE: the change at left, at least it's a clean absence. I fear gluing would only produce a muddied new variation. Obviously, I was going for the French spelling...

At the end of this Sunday, I actually had a productive bout: 46 prints

Busy Bunny day. Cardboard box mauling. Ardent love to Stuffed Friend.

Alas, I Have No Jet Skis. Lockouts, Brewcakes and Biscuits? Yes.

Well. So, the car and I are still talking, but I no longer know what to say.

On Thursday, Marv from Imperial Auto called. I was overly optimistic in my worry about a potential transmission replacement. "Well," said Marv, "I think it may be time to begin letting go..." The laundry list included bad ball joints, off-kilter timing chain adversely affecting the camshaft, paper-thin rear brakes, ominous rattles and the likely need for a new catalytic converter. Amidst the overload of bad news, I swear he said a biscuit broke loose within the exhaust. I didn't bother to get further clarification on that one, due to the volume of woe. The volume did not, however, stop me from asking numerous theoretical questions. About how long did I potentially have before it was really "done"? About a month.

"Now, your ball joint on the left side is really bad. The one on the right is just bad."

Hmm. "So, if any of these things gave out while I was driving, would it cause me to have an accident?"

"Well, on the left hand side, it would cause you to veer into oncoming traffic." As usual, his delivery was upbeat.

"Sure."

"On the right hand side, you'd just go into the ditch."

"Right, okay!" As if, armed with this knowledge, I could do anything other than go questing for a new car. Points to me, for the pointless questions.

"Now. I'm not saying anything *bad* about your car. I'm not *criticizing* your car...But maybe you could...upgrade a little. Get something five, ten years newer.** Perhaps a Honda Civic or a Toyota Corolla! I just think there are other models out there that are less expensive to maintain." 

**I realized with a shock last week that my Saturn's 18 years old. But! it was a mechanic's first engine rebuild and so many of its internal parts were new(ish) when I bought it for a song six-some years ago! Not sure whether he replaced the exhaust biscuits.

I frowned and nodded at the cell phone. While it was super-sweet to put in that disclaimer about my car, I can see how it was needed, as another part of me felt quite protective. And who knows how many times he has delivered such news? My neighborhood friend laughed when I conveyed the conversation to him. "Hahaha, your car's in hospice!" This, coming from a hospice counselor...

So, now I'm spending more time on Craig's List than I ever have before. I have been receiving helpful tips from friends and family, and am sure something viable will come together. I am alternately lured in and dissuaded by random descriptions.

"motor runs but has engine noise i could put gear oil in it to make motor quiet but im not that kind of guy most likely it only needs rod bearings...firm on price possible trade for jet ski sit down or stand up"

***
Following an intensive work week, it was time to blow off some steam this weekend...But not before locking my keys in my moribund car, in the parking lot grocery store. Excellent! A  woman observed as I stood next to my car, glowering and shaking my head.

"You look like you locked yourself out!"

"I sure did! VERY happy about it!" The calm imparted by an afternoon yoga session seemed to have evaporated. This exceedingly nice stranger offered to drive me back to my house so I could get my spare key -- which was primo, until it became apparent the neighbors who had my spare house key were out. But still! Talk about random acts of kindness. I thanked her and trudged inside to tick items off my grocery list, while repeatedly feeling my pocket for keys, in the same way that one repeatedly thinks,"The blackout's okay, I'll just watch a movie...Oh." I came outside again and hopped onto my trunk, glancing at the storm clouds racing overhead and chatted with CG.The tow truck managed to beat the rain.

Got home later than expected, but early enough to roast a chicken and go out dancing: not too shabby. The weekend was a mixed affair, but worked out after all... Good people and good people watching last night; creepy individuals kept at bay by the mysterious filtering system of one's dancing group. This morning, I woke up to the sound of rain and met up with Ginger to sample the new brunch at Ypsi's Corner Brewery. Few things are better suited than brunch on a rainy Sunday, don't you agree? I wasn't entirely bowled over by their offerings, but I liked the flavors of their banana espresso-love-stout pancakes  ("brewcakes") and was pleasantly surprised by their version of a mimosa: oj + hard apple cider. I think I may actually like that mimosa better than the traditional! Springy, light, and smooth. And as always, I love the atmosphere there, which often trumps any other perceived deficiencies. It simply feels good to be there.

So. We eventually drove off (or Ginger drove us off, with him casting unnecessary slights at my poor car) and set our sights on the rest of our Sundays. Ginger has another night of dj'ing.

"...So I need to figure out the rest of what I'm going to play. I need to figure out what I'm going to wear~~"

"A cute little dress."

"Probably. And guyliner."

"Hah! I usually hate adding guy/man/gay to every thing to make it male, but I like that one.Yes."

"Mantyhose."

"Yes!...Have fun with that."

Maybe I'll cook, or sketch, or clean. Or maybe I'll lay on the couch and watch more Closer episodes. That also seems appropriate for a rainy Sunday. I do so like to do what's appropriate.

Have a fine week, All!
 

Unfortunate Exchanges While Commuting

My Car to Me (conversationally): Soooooo, I hear you're getting a tax return. When's a good time to talk about that large cement block we drove over?

Me to Car CD player (in monotonous drone): One, you lock the target, two, you bait the line, three, you slowly spread the net, and four you

My Car: You know. Just because you'll have a shorter commute, you still NEED me

Me: ...catch the man. Lock the target, bait the line, spread the net

My Car:..This is just childish. I...clearly have...trouble...accelerating. I could die RIGHT HERE. And maybe I will! Then you'd be sorry.

Me: Oh stop. You're not gonna die. Don't die.

My Car (pettishly): I *might*

Me (imploring): Please don't.

Car (in a burst): I drive you EVERYWHERE! Do I *ever* complain??? AND you're a nervous driver, to boot!

Me: -- I'm less nervous than I used to be. I'm better about that -- 

Car: It's annoying! But really! ANYWHERE YOU NEED TO GO, *I* TAKE YOU!!

Me: No, I know, it's great and I totally appreciate that --

Car (hotly):  -- And you can't even bother to vacuum me?? And my ceiling light??? Do you think dangling is *normal*? Were you really confident that strapping tape would do? Anyone would think you just don't even care --

Me: NO. I *do*, I DO care. Look! You're the *first* car I ever bought, the only one I have owned. Of course I care.

Car: --Wait, how old are you?

Me: Oh. Seriously? That's the road we're going down?

Car: Hah!...not really. I'm familiar with your license. But look: I may not be transmitting.

Me:...No. NOT the transmission. Let's not have it be the transmission.

Car: Who's to say? But in any case, that tax refund may come in handy.