Yesterday as I moseyed around the State Fair grounds, I happened upon Frank Barr who, with his wife, makes Faerie Houses. He was manning their booth and it seemed like a chance to chat with a fellow artist. Also, there was nothing going on in his booth.

As he was asking me questions and we were trading information, I realized that as an artist, my life seems pretty pathetic. I found myself trying to make it seem a little more like what it really is - just life - but I think I sounded like the knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "Just a flesh wound!" Bleeding all over the place. 

It just doesn't sound good, you know? No, Frank, I don't do art fairs anymore and the kiln is broken, and no, I don't actually have a studio anymore, and well, no I don't really teach anywhere anymore. And no, I'm not still working at the art center. And no, I don't have really anything to do with it anymore. And well, okay, it's true that I don't sell my work anymore. But REALLY, it's all good! Oy, I ended up wishing that I hadn't even stopped to chat. He had this look on his face like he was trying to figure out why I was still standing there talking to him. And I wasn't really sure at that point. Probably should have kept walking. And eventually, after clearly too long of a conversation, I did.

Then I went back to the West End Market and bought a piece of pottery there. It was super cute. And I kept my yap shut.

Today is both National Dog Day and my birthday. I'm trying not to take that personally. I had promised the dogs earlier that I would take them out somewhere, but now I'm wondering if they remember and plan to hold me to that, because I kind of don't feel like it anymore. The sun was out and shining and now it's cloudy and I'm kind of tired.

I'm upstairs in the office and the dogs are up here with me. They aren't normally allowed up here, so kind of this is going somewhere, right? Damn close to an adventure if you count that they had to walk past the cat boxes on their way up here. 

I can hear the cats fighting out in the hallway. I have no idea what's up with that, but Gypsy is now at the door whining because she's the official investigator of all cat goings-on and probably needs to know what's happening.

Well, anyway, another thrilling birthday and I suppose I should change and go get Marv and head to dinner. I should also mow the lawn. It's looking pretty damn scraggly.