Dear Mom,
Then the next day, Ron put up greyboard and framed the new counter.


Then he added rebar. You know a project is good when it needs rebar.


His boss came over and spent four hours with him pouring the concrete.


That's right, cast concrete. He wanted to learn how to do it so he could utilize the knowledge in future sculptures, so rather than doing a small piece of practice art, he made the focal piece of the kitchen.
Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
Although the communications from Chez Zelambert have been sparse, there has been a lot of hub-bub. Besides traveling a lot, Ron decided it was high time to renovate. So while I was in San Fransisco in May, Ron demolished the kitchen.

He first took off the counter top and removed the sink.


And he fixed the plumbing.


And since the backsplash was plaster made to look like tile, he took that out too.


More tomorrow.
Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
I think I need a sign out by the garden that says, "Patience, Grasshoppah." In other words, LEAVE THE VEGETABLES IN THE GROUND UNTIL THEY ARE DONE.
They're getting there!

Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
If one can make it through the wild hinterlands of Kentucky, you can rest assured that all your needs will be taken care of at the Welcome Center Rest Stop in Tennessee.
You'll be able to get your Vienna sausages:

Your lip gloss:

And, very importantly, your toe separators:


Phew!
Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
Yesterday we drove 4+ hours each way to Cincinnati to their beautiful museum to see the Tara Donovan show on its last day. And it was worth it.


The piece above was in the lobby, the only place we could take pictures. The exhibit was breathtaking, in a nearly literal sense. One piece, made from millions of clear white drinking straws undulating along a wall, created such strong sound-proofing that the guard told me to put my ear next to the piece. When I did, the sound was so deadened that it seemed to suck all the sounds out of my head, and made me completely deaf in that ear. It was amazing. Also, looking at the hole-end of millions of straws confuses your eyes; they cannot tell where to focus. So a most mundane material becomes something that silently, and colorlessly, affects (very strongly) two of your senses.

It was unbelievable.
Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
It's been a busy week. I have been working hard in the studio against a deadline, and we had a house guest for three and a half days. Our friend was a visiting artist, so there was a presentation of his work and hitting the town until the wee-hours. There were was a senior show and an end-of-semester party.

I am happy to report that at least a couple things have started to grow in the garden!
Beets:

and radishes:

I am going to add a little decorative fencing to keep Tucker out of the beds. He's not digging, just tromping through and leaving big paw dents where I've planted. I still have a few more plants from the garden store to plant, and hopefully some of the starter pots I planted will sprout soon.

Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
The Fauxmestead is going to shit.
Horseshit!

(poop jokes never get old.)

Also, the colors are accurate. That dirt is black.
Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
I am hoping we have a better crop with this garden than the one in New York, where the radishes didn't even grow. To improve our chances, we didn't build just the one, we built two:



Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
There has been lots of work happening on the Fauxmestead this weekend. On Saturday we drove down to Murfreesboro to meet with Bo, a guys with a small lumber mill who had some cedar advertised on craiglist. It was also the gallery crawl night, so we had an evening out on the town and dinner with friends afterward.

Then yesterday, Sunday, it was the most beautiful day ever born, so we got to work. What do you do with a bunch of cedar?

And a handy husband?

You get garden beds.


More developments should happen shortly, although now that we're back to the rainy cold doldrums (and the work week) it will probably slow down a little.
Last year around this time we were still having blizzards, and today I have a tan.

Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
For the second time this week, I received an email from a boutique I work with letting me know they're closing.

This economy is a drag.

Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
gahhhh
allergies.

Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
On Sunday, we took a scenic drive to Chattanooga to see the Lesley Dill show at the Hunter Museum. It was a lovely day. Chattanooga is very cute, more so than I expected.

The museum is part mansion, part 70s architecture, part new architecture:


The river goes right through the city, and you might see paddle boats:


and people in the park enjoying the nice weather:


And if you're really lucky, and looking close, you might see a painting of Dad from the 1800s:


Love,
Ruth

Dear Mom,
I know you had given up hope. You tried the various mom-ish ways to hint that you were checking the blog every day, and wanted new entries, to no avail. Well, I never intended to let it lapse for so long. The emotional adjustment to living in a new place, and the schedule adjustment of juggling so many things overpowered me, and I found it hard to have anything to say.

I am hoping to do a better job of upkeeping my end of this blog bargain. If you're interested, that is.

Love,
Ruth