Can I Keep It?

Dejeuner a Midi

New Year's Eve, we started the day by tossing a coin.  Go to the Opera? Too far away. Sacre Coeur?  Did a church already.  The Bastille?  Maybe.  But knowing Hud is a Civil War fan, I figured that maybe he would like to go to France's favorite war hero's final resting spot --Hotel des Invalides.  It's right next to the Musee de l'Armee so he could get two birds with one stone.  What I didn't know is the best way to procede.  Hud ran down to ask Zahir at the front desk.  He sent us left out of the hotel, left at the first street, go three blocks and head right between a museum and a gallery and voila!

Go under the Eiffel Tower! There was a Christmas village set up at the base and a small fair.  And 9,485,283 and a 1/2 of our closest friends and their dogs.  I really needed my dog.

We made a left at the carousel and headed for the Tour Eiffel!

Through the hoards of visitors. Closer...

Closer...

Under and out!

Another left.  A little to the right and follow the golden dome to this:

The Hotel des Invalides is a large church finished in 1706.  It served as a large complex of buildings, apartments, hospital and church to provide for soldiers who had served in various wars over the years.  Napoleon and his son were exhumed from Elba and Austria respectively and moved to the church in the 1800s.  Actually, Hitler (!) thought the son should be with his father and had the remains moved to the catacombs of the Invalides.  Who knew he ever did anything nice?  Well, I have read that he liked cats, so there must be some kernel of good in everyone.

First we visited the Musee de l'Armee to the left of the dome.  It's a vast complex housing the armory of France's great warring past.

I loved this Art Nouveau pitchfork gate.  But onto the show!

First, you pass though one man's vast collection of examlples of all the outfits soldiers wore throughout the ages.  I said, " Wow.  I've never seen such a big doll collection."  Hud said, "Good thing you didn't say that in French."  Hmmph.  It's a DOLL COLLECTION.  I don't care what he called it.

I had no idea the suits of armour worn by knights were so intricately and masterfully etched! 

This one belonged to Louis XIV.  As Hud and I wandered around, we started to notice that all the artifacts we were drawn to belonged to him.  Louis and I could have definitely shopped together.

Even the horses were suited up for defense.

And the children.

At first, I couldn't figure out what the hook was for on many of the suits.  Je parle comme un bebe, but I can read a good bit.  Finally, I read that it was a support on Jousting suits.  You know. For the jousting ram.  As you do.

I was amazed that they still had the pantaloons for this suit.  The fabrics were why the lighting was kept so low and flash was not allowed.

The variety of these powder flasks was so interesting.  They ranged from antlers to ivory to a small bejeweled turtle shell.  That's it, second in, from the bottom right.

This ancient shield was carved from wood, covered in leather and adorned with paint and guilding.

Little known fact, as a child, the Furry Godmother was pretty good with a crossbow.  This one inlaid with ivory could convince me to take up the sport again, I think.

But the most amusing piece of armory came in the form of a canon, celebrating the marriage of a duke and given by Cardinal Richelieu. 

It had a portrait of the bride.

Lovely.  The handles were a carving of the bride and groom in an embrace. Naked!

Isn't it romantic?  Nothing says love like your very own weapon of mass destruction!

Hud said, "This is wonderful!  I'll get the Metals Museum started on ours the minute we get back!"

Quelle romantique!

I'll leave it here,because Napoleon deserves a post to himself.

Adieu pour la nuit!

 

 

Art for Hope

Come on by Art for Hope at the Memphis Botanic Gardens tonight from 5:30- 9:00.  Great local artwork for sale benefiting Hope House, the ONLY facility in Tennessee dedicated to helping children affected by HIV.

*THAREipist owned by the lovely Betty Snapp Barrett*

As a show special, I am offering custom portraits, ordered tonight only for 10% off.  Come by and get yours!  Because your pet deserves to be in pictures!

Leave Me Hangin'

The good folks over at MIFA invited me to hang my work in their gallery for the next sixty days. And I said, "Thank you, I believe I will." 

 

MIFA (Metropolitan Inter Faith Association) is a fantastic organization that brings all denominations of churches and laypeople together through nine programs that help seniors, teens, children and families in crisis.  Thirty percent of the people they feed with Meals on Wheels are sixty-five and live alone.  The Memphis Food Bank assists families with pantry basics for families in need. MIFA Transit makes over seventy thousand trips shuttling seniors to appoinments.   Eighty-six percent of every dollar goes to directly into MIFA programs.  Annually, sixty thousand Shelby County residents would go homeless and hungry without the care they provide.

In gratitude, I am donating thirty percent of all sales of my paintings to MIFA for all the great work they do.

Thanks, Jonathan and the rest of the MIFA staff and volunteers.  I hope my work can go to work for you.

Crest Fallen

The Mississippi has held Memphis hostage for several weeks now.  Built high on a bluff, the downtown was safe from flooding.  Only Riverside Drive and the elegant homes on Mud Island down there risked being submerged.  Neither faired well.  On Mud Island the first floors of many lovely homes became new breeding grounds for catfish.  And snakes.  Riverside Drive was closed as the Big Muddy leaked across its edges.

 

Memphis in May moved the Championship Barbeque Festival down the street from us to the fairgrounds.  It normally resides at Tom Lee Park.  In 1925, an african-american named Tom Lee saved thirty-two people from a sinking steamboat.  He rowed a tiny boat across the strong currents of the Mississippi to get to them.  He could not swim.  A monument to his bravery is the central point of the park.

 

It's nearly been swallowed by the water.  The current came up quickly as I was standing there.  One second, I was dry.  The next, I was enveloped in the thick brown of the river.

 

The waters have begun to receed here in the Bluff City.  The rice fields of Arkasas are coming back into view.  Downtown is drying out.

 

But the barge traffic is still having a rough go of it.  We watched as a fully loaded one barely squeaked under the M Bridge.

He probably would have had an easier time if he had taken Riverside Drive.

*My heart goes out to the people of Mississippi and Louisiana as the River

makes her might known to them.*

Furry and Terra at The Tower Center

Gentle Readers,

Make no mistake about it: Furry and I love, in this order, each other, our furkids, and wonderful food. Sadly, the Zali Lama and Simone were not able to accompany us as we journeyed recently to The Tower Room, Memphis's newest and tastiest place to have Sunday Brunch. Our new best friend, Wade Hartsfield, has been catering fabulous events for some time and decided that it would be great to use the top floor of Clark Tower as a restaurant, but only on Sunday for brunch.  We visited back in November during their soft opening and were blown completely away by their fantastic food, attentive service, and warm, friendly atmosphere.

And, omg, the view of Memphis from this place is unmatched.

It turns out to be true: We DO live in an oak forest!

Here we are, having a wonderful time, wishing you were here with us.  Our waiter, Michael, was kind enough to take this for us.

But sincee it's not all about us (though it probably really should be), let's talk about the food. There is an individual table for starters, where you will find the grilled and smoked artichokes, which are nothing short of amazing....probably the best thing on this delicious menu. There were also marinated mushrooms and grilled asparagus, and mesclun salad with dried apricots, walnuts, and cranberries. You could make a complete meal and never leave the salad table, but you must resist this temptation.

In the distance, far left, is the waffle-making station.  He made mine with chocolate chips in the batter, covered with strawberries and topped with whipped cream. It was the best I have ever eaten. And your waiter brings it, and your omelet, to your table when it is ready. That won't be happening at The Peabody.

Here is a closeup of the carving station...

where you get your prime rib (truth be told, we went off our no-red-meat high horse and had a small slice....very, very tasty). Hidden under the covers are shrimp and grits, biscuits and gravy, eggs, and sausage patties.They also have a station where a lovely chef makes a perfectly-cooked French omelet, so thin and scrumptious. However, I was busy drooling and forgot to get the shot.

For dessert we had strawberry shortcake with whipped cream, bread pudding with rum sauce, chocolate mousse cake, and carrot cake. It was a feast fit for the Furry Godmother.Wade even took Angela's suggestions at the soft opening and now provides black napkins and fresh silverware with each course. Purr-fect in every way.

We were once huge fans of The Peabody for holiday brunches, but now have seen the light and the realm of possibilites.  The truth be told, we waited until the Sunday after Christmas to have our Christmas Brunch, because they were closed on Christmas Day. People who provide such wonderful fare definitely merit the day off, and we were glad we waited. I have no reservations as I encourage you to call 901-767-8776 for reservations. You owe it to yourself; make your day! Thanks to Furry for letting me hijack her bully pulpit.

Terra

Super Young Festival

I have been derelict in posting the pictures of the Cooper-Young Festival.  Hud normally uploads my pictures, but he's been so busy with MUS Homecoming festivities that he left it up for me to figure out.

Huh.  I feel like Zoe must feel on a daily basis.

I JUST sold my soul to Satan.  I can now move pictures from my camera to the computer.  The crying and screaming of obscenities helped amuse the old devil and he took pity on me.  In fact, I'm quite sure they're the only reason I slogged my way through it.

This is my booth directly after set up.  Later, it will be so packed with humanity that it will take seven minutes to cross from its opening to the trash can in the middle of the street.  One hundred thousand people made their way to this part of the city that day.  A full tenth of the population of Memphis.

And let me tell you, it is a REAL cross section of the city.  All different races, religions, BLGT, mohawks, tattoos, piercings -- you name it --Cooper -Young has got it and most of them have had a lot of beer.  It's probably why it's my favorite festival in all of Memphis.  I love to see all the different people getting together and having the time of their lives.

Poor Hud.  Eating carrots and pretending that it is NOT 100 degrees and all of Memphis swarms about the tent.  Next year, I am not bringing any artwork.  I am going to arrange a baby pool in the middle and fill it with ice.  I will never have to work again. 

It was hotter than the hammered hinges of hell.

We were set up next to my friend Tatia and her marvelous beads she makes at Solstice Studios. 

Zali and I made our way from the house, around Rhodes College and over to the Presbyterian Church this weekend where Tatia was set up at the Clanjamfrey Festival.  We witnessed the "Bonny Knees" competition.  There's a dog parade, that we missed apparently, in which people tart up their fuzzy pals and prizes are won for the best ensemble. 

Zali is sooooo winning next year.  I feel sorry for the other contestants.  I'm going to make him a kilt, knee ribbons, scarf and a tam.  That dog will wear anything.  I should have named him Smithfield.  Because, you know he is a ham.

And the weather?  Has dropped twenty degrees over the course of the week.

Today is 75.  There is no God.  Or if there is, He has a wicked sense of humor.

Paw Prints Gala 2010

The largest fundraiser for the Humane Society of Memphis and Shelby County is tonight!  Festivities will begin at seven o'clock at Central Station in Downtown Memphis.  There will live and silent auctions, music by The Living Daylights and food provided by Memphis' premiere restaurants.

My friend Tracy and I will be there with bells on!  Okay.  Not actual bells.  More like Pucci prints and outrageous heels.  I'll take pictures.

I wonder if Zali would care to escort us.  Hud has Homecoming at MUS. 

Wish me luck that my painting brings them lots of cash!

Party With the King

A few weeks ago, Elvis had us over for drinks.

I have to say, for the King of Rock and Roll, he was a little stiff.  But his digs were way groovy, man.

Hud  had a rockin' good time.  There were photographs covering the walls.  Most were of Elvis kissing some brunette.  We met her when we drove up.  She was there with a tour bus, trying to crash the party.  It was tribute week.  Memphis is all about Elvis during the week preceding the sixteenth of August.  It's a regular United Nations of lamb chop sideburns and sequins.  Vernon wouldn't let her in.  She wasn't on the list.

The pool has been filled in, but oh!  The stories it could have told.  Seems it had a leak that couldn't be plugged.

So they made it a patio.

Girls would jump the fence to tap on Elvis' bedroom window.  It's on the left beneath the Japanese maple tree.

Don't be jealous, but I've been in the King's boudoir, drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I even used the phone in in his bathroom. 

I just called a friend to document that I was there.  Heeeee.

In truth, the party was put on by our Drinking Team buddy, Tracy Patterson, for Rhodes College Alumni Association.  Rhodes owns Elvis' first home.  It is being repaired  for party rentals and events.  He had the house pre-Priscilla.  The girls sneaking around, jumping the fences and peeking in his windows, had the neighborhood as itchy as a man on a fuzzy tree.  He politely moved to Graceland.

Call me, Elvis.  We don't have to do anything special.  Maybe we could just watch some TV.

I Confess

I killed an eggplant today. 

Two, actually.  And I am not ashamed to admit it.  They were delicious.  I cut the tops off of fairy tale globes and scooped out the insides, stuffed them full of garlic-y turkey bolognese sauce.  Baked in a frog shaped clay dish, I served them with aside of penne and Romano cheese.

And I'd do it again.  They were delicious.  I wager that if they had known they would be so tasty, they would have prepared themselves for my lunch.

 

This isn't the frog baker.  It's an opossum effigy bowl made by indigenous Indians Hud and I saw at the Pink Palace last Sunday.  Cute, huh?

I wish all of my baking dishes resembled animals.  I own frog, pig and chicken bakers, a pig molcajete and a Oaxacan fish salsa.  This one is an owl.  Heeeeee.

I wonder if I might have some Quapaw in my lineage. 

This is a cat serpent bowl.  They were the chupacabra of the Quapaw.  It's how they got their children to eat their vegetables and do their homework.

   

I will have to draw the line at human dish ware.  Having my oatmeal out of the open skull of a random head is unappetizing somehow.

But the animals?  Always make me smile.

Joining the Circus

Zali didn't get an omelet this morning.  He says he's packing a bandanna on a stick and leaving to join the circus. 

   

Clown.  

I told him there's a precedent in the family for it.  My maternal grandfather left home at thirteen and joined a traveling roller skating show.  That's almost the circus.  Well, except that there aren't any clowns, so what would they do with him?

He's pouting on the giant dog bed in the office.

Hud and I are trying to get out in our town more since he said, "I wish somebody would come visit so we could go see the Stax Museum."  I shot him my best RCA dog head and responded that he should get in the car.  I mean, what were we waiting for?

This past weekend, we traveled over to the Memphis State area to visit Clarence Saunder's old digs.  He built it out of the moolah he scored creating the first grocery store, Piggly Wiggly.  It's called the Pink Palace.  Clarence really raked it in.  It's built of pink Ashlar.  Hence the name.

*Photo from the Pink Palace Museum website :

Pink Palace

One of my favorite exhibits in the museum is the Clyde Park Miniature Circus automaton.  It's a twenty five foot spectacle of every aspect of a circus.  Ninety-eight percent of it is animated. 

Clyde lost his job in the Great Depression.  To make good use of all the extra time on his hands, he started carving.  1500 people.  Countless moving animals.  Exotic parade floats.  Carny side show booths.  

It took him thirty years to complete.  Mostly working eighteen hours a day.

And I spent yesterday regaling you with my six week project  regarding the repair and decoration of my office.  I am a slacker.

Look Zali!  I found your tent.  It's full of animals...  No wait.  That's mine.

  

You belong in the big top.

*In 1970, Clyde Park donated his masterpiece to the Pink Palace.  He thought it was selfish to keep it to himself.  He wanted kids and adults alike to understand his wonder at the Greatest Show on Earth.