I spent yesterday afternoon trying to get a freelance article finished, but it was Fleet Week here in San Francisco, so I kept abandoning the iMac and hanging out the window to goggle at the Blue Angels. Jeremy, who is the work ethic I never had, kept hauling me back in. He and the cat were deeply annoyed about Fleet Week, arguing that it's a cynical exercise in public relations for the military-industrial-entertainment-complex. Me, I'm a total sucker for fighter jets.
It was a very my-God-I-love-California kind of weekend. I drove up to Napa on Saturday and lolled around at the Calistoga Spa (see what I mean about my work ethic?) Highway 29 is glorious this time of year, all golden poplars and hot blue skies and windmills slowly turning. Then on Sunday after brunch we went to the open studios at Project Artaud, just up the road from where we live. Some of the lofts were completely awesome, with mosaics on the floor and beautifully hand-built mezzanine affairs. The art varied enormously, but the best of it - an incredible photograph of four little girls in Rome, some giant portraits and some exquisite small prints - was fantastic.
Makes me realize how important artists are to my neighborhood, and how much I'd hate it if they had to leave. When I get stinkin' rich, I'd like to endow another art-space like Artaud. Only with jets.