Bathroom Labels

Random List

-hacksaw
-2 liter of sprite
-box of cereal for Tony
-potato salad
-a baked chicken
-furniture moving pads

Found yesterday.
From Mom, April, 2004 

Random: End Annie One Way

OBSERVATION

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again,
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much,
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

-Dorothy Parker

For Japan With Love

Didn't know about For Japan With Love until this morning.
So I'm shutting up and doing my part.

Googling Doppelgängers

I love googling my name and finding other Andrea Avery's across the country. In the top ten pages of googling, besides myself, I've found...

• Andrea Avery, the actress. Was in a Hillary Duff movie called, The Cinderella Story. I'm hoping she doesn't get famous because that would be miserable.
• Andrea Avery the writer. This gal is super cool and lives in Arizona. We actually corresponded for a while and we had similar interests and even sort of looked alike. A little. She has since married and is now Andrea Decker. I hope she does get famous.
• Andrea Avery, the 17 year old power lifter. The irony here is that we were both born in Troy. I in Troy, Missouri; she in Troy, NY. I'm sure the similiarities end here.
• Andrea Avery, the doctor.
• Andrea Avery, the socialite, even shares my middle initial.
• Andrea Avery, the S and M practitioner, hails from Anchorage, Alaska.
• Andrea Avery, the First Christian Church bible study leader, in Champaign, Illinois.
• Andrea Avery, the owner of a 22 toed cat, in New Hampshire.
• Andrea Avery, the special education teacher's aide, at Cameron Elementary School.

Monkey on my back

Tomorrow I close on the house. 6811 Fyler will no longer be mine. I was a bit sad--but after sinking $2000 into a new electrical panel, $2000 into a new furnace, $1500 on a radon mitigation system, and getting totally low balled on our asking price...I'm very ready to say goodbye to the place. We put so much work into getting the place in tip top shape and then to have to replace two major systems and have the market go south on us. It has been a very discouraging process. Very discouraging.

Lindsey and I went over tonight to get the very last of the items left over there and to harvest the last of my basil. We had a feast of homemade pesto with fresh tomatoes and pasta. It was delicious. While we were picking basil two ladies came into the driveway and asked, "Is this M******'s house?" "Not until tomorrow," I said. They looked a little taken aback. I didn't mean to sound curt. I just meant that I'm not counting my chickens before they are hatched...I won't believe it until I see it...I'm so used to being disappointed in this process. From the first contract falling through until today, when the stupid oven wouldn't light and Laclede didn't pass it. I've learned to expect bad news. So until I sign the last line of tomorrow's contract...no, until the check clears...I still consider that house a monkey on my back. I loved it for so long. No more. No more. Ready to move on. Becca joked today that maybe the house wasn't ready to let me go.

Not So Fast!

The deal on my house fell through this afternoon. The buyers were a flaky couple with shaky financing and I'm beyond crushed. I went on a four hour crying jag. I had started to truly disassemble the house over the weekend...packing away all the cutsies, moving bookshelves, tearing down the bed in the back bedroom, moving more boxes. I'd scheduled the movers, the phone/internet switch. Now...I have to stop everything and return to limbo land. Do I go ahead and move...or try to stay so the house looks somewhat lived in? 


It is most irritating that nearly the whole month of June was wasted on these flaky idiots. The weekend I was supposed to have the open house, but cancelled because of their contract, I had at least 6 other calls from agents wanting to show the house. Lost opportunities. Now it is almost July. People are on vacation. The house won't look as cute because a third of it is packed and gone. 


Did I mention I'm crushed? We worked so hard.

Big Trash Day

It is official. Our offer was accepted and we close on our house on April 6th. We are quite excited. The kitchen in the new place is awesome and for the first time in my adult life, I will have a dishwasher. As an avid cook who likes to use every utensil at her disposal, I can't tell you how much this modern convenience will mean. I can really have dinner parties and entertain now. While my kitchen on Fyler was adorable, it was an eat-in kitchen and I couldn't really serve elaborate meals. Same with the house Lindsey is renting--not really conducive to entertaining. The new house is in beautiful shape...a totally rehabbed 1925 bungalow that has had the attic converted into two bedrooms. So it has all the charm and character of an old house, but none of the problems. 


I am excited about whipping the back yard in to shape. It is not quite as private and magical as my backyard on Fyler, but I know I can make it sweet and I will be glad to have less yardwork to do. All I really want is an herb garden and tons of zinnias. Sort of a cottage garden. 


This whole moving experience is proving to be quite cathartic. The editing process can be painful, but I feel good letting go of the clutter. Some gal came by on Saturday (Big Trash Day) and gleefully left with old windows for a craft project. And I'm sure my bowling ball collection went to a good home as well.

Hurricane Relief

I had two different people approach me yesterday at Mad Art about helping them organize some sort of artists relief effort for hurricane victims. One wanted artists to donate work (because artists don’t have money) for an art auction. He wanted to do this monthly—maybe at different places—starting with Mad Art. The other wanted to do a fundraiser where artists donate work and people pay a fee to attend the fundraiser and get a piece of artwork as part of their “ticket”. His intent was that the money raised would go directly to artists who lost everything. I know he knows one artist personally, but how to get money to other artists…I don’t know where to even begin.

I don’t want to be a punk…but anyone that would have to win a piece of artwork before they would donate money to hurricane relief…If you have the money, write a check. No need to make a big show and production out of it. And I don’t care if my money helps an artist, a mechanic, or manicurist. I feel so sorry for everyone affected. This thing is so overwhelming and depressing, I can barely stand it. I know these two guys are just trying to think of some way to contribute and help. I don't question their sincerity at all. But there is already so much confusion around the whole thing...I can't help but think the best thing is to just send some money.

This guy at my office actually had the nerve to insinuate that the people left stranded deserved their misery because they had plenty of warning to get out. But since he’s never not owned a car, been poor, been ill, been disabled, etc. I guess he wouldn’t really understand. Poor over-privileged jerk. I was furious and pretty much said so while he stuffed his face with brownie at our impromptu lunch gathering of about a dozen folks. Oh, and the other priceless comment he shared was, “The national guard should just surround the dome and let them all take care of themselves inside there.” I don’t know why he just didn’t come right out and say what he was really thinking. I have a whole new level of disrespect for this guy.

I just don’t get some people. I mean it. But I guess his thoughts aren't too far from the president's. Why should I be surprised?

I hear Sauce Magazine is trying to organize restaurants to donate a portion of all meals eaten next Friday and Saturday. I think we are doing a 50/50 raffle at Art Outside next weekend for hurricane relief.

In the mean time…I’m not sure how to address these two guys who want Mad Art’s help. Like I said. This thing is so overwhelming and depressing, I can barely stand it.
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2005/katrina/help.center/

Barks, Birthdays and Birds

Mad Arf was a huge success. Attendance was great and we raised a lot of money for Stray Rescue. Blair was on the cover of the Saturday LifeStyle section of the Post Dispatch with a nice article inside about the event. It seemed to be a very positive experience for everyone involved. 


Saturday was my birthday and as usual, it was a cold blustery day. I took lots of naps and read Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point while Lindsey worked on setting up my new computer. We went to dinner at The Chocolate Bar with Tim, Heather, Ron, and Tracy. Dinner, not just dessert, was excellent. I had a marvelous time and really do have the greatest friends. Tim crafted a stamp dispenser/postage meter out of Altoids tins that was engineering genius. I love it. And from Tracy, I got an autographed photo of Bernie Koppell of Loveboat fame. 


Finally, I have two quick bird stories. On the night of my birthday, I dreamt I was in a huge white room (white floors/white walls) and all these white birds were flying over the top of the wall to enter the other part of the building. The fluttering of their wings was very loud. I was barefoot in a white gown and picking through an extremely large pile of nice, brown, masculine, vintage dress shoes on the other side of the wall and kept stopping my shoe search to peek around to see the birds. Not so fascinating. But today, when I returned home from work, I noticed a plethora of white downy feathers littering my porch. Then I saw a tan pigeon hiding under the pink chair in the corner of my porch. He had fire engine red feet and an I.D. bracelet with numbers. It looked like a well kept bird but was acting kind of punchy. I threw a boot on the porch to scare it away at it just fluttered up a bit. So I got another boot and tried again. Off he flew. I don't know why I was so creeped out and scared. Ultimately, I think birds and shoes mean good things (forward moving). But if I have one more bird/shoe incident this week...well we'll just have to see. It seems like there is a painting or a poem in there somewhere.

Highlights / Lowlights

Highlights of the last week:

1. Five of my Holga shots from Las Vegas were selected for the upcoming River Styx anniversary issue. I'm really excited about it. While this literary journal allows showcases excellent writers, apparently the anniversary issue has some real big shots in it. So the exposure will be nice. I knew good things would come from that Vegas show.
2. Hamiet Bluiett concert at Washington University on Saturday. WOW!
3. Nina working on getting neon show from Las Vegas here in St. Louis. Progress was made, but I'm not at liberty to discuss. Just let me say...this will be fan-flippin-tastic.
4. I'm pretty happy with my dog pieces for the Mad Arf show that opens on Friday. They are pretty illustrative. Didn't really know I had it in me. I'm going to try working with gouache.

Lowlights:

1. I think I'm going to have to start looking for a real full time job. Several factors are pushing me in this direction. The last two years (of freelance and gallery work) have been extremely gratifying, but my bank account is an echo chamber of despair.

I have other personal highs/lows, but I'm trying to keep this blog about artsy stuff. Stay tuned.

Happy New Year

I can almost guarantee that no one despises the months of January and February as much as I have come to over the past few years. This year these two months will be exceptionally busy for me as I work on finishing pieces for two group art exhibits in February; one in Las Vegas and one at Mad Art Gallery. Experience tells me that excessive creative activity will not prevent the gloom, but is necessary for surviving it. I will anxiously await some undetermined time in March when light pierces the extreme sheet of lingering indescribable funk. In the interim, I will wander aimlessly through an empty quiet courtyard—black birds will fly far overhead, but the sound of their wings will swish loud as helicopters inches above me. I don’t like winter in St. Louis. Someday I will figure out precisely why and when I do, that will be the painting or the poem that defines me. Well, this is what I have to tell myself for now, anyway.

Happy New Year.