Sunday, August 15, 2004
Breakfast with John. John was down from Phoenix and he called bright and early this morning to make sure I didn't have breakfast. I was thinking about painting windows again, but was glad to hold off.
Right front window, first coat.
He pulled up in his butch truck- it still surprises me because he had always had this big tan Volvo station wagon, which he needed for his work.
I am always happy to hang out with John. We have a fun time and I can tell him things that I can't tell other people. John was friends originally with my old roommate R. and used to call to chat with him, but since R. was never around, he and I would talk. So for about six months I would be on the phone with this person, who I had never met. Finally at a party I ran into him and we have been best buddies ever since. He is perhaps one of the three people in this world that I would call a "best friend."
John with the left front window in the background.
We hop in my car and drive over to the Cup, which is located in a hotel built around 1919. They have great food and always interesting people to see, although the cute redhead waiter wasn't there this morning.
The Cup Cafe.
We sit outside and little birds hop around nearby, hoping in their tiny little heads that we will drop some tasty morsel. John and I talk about interesting things like people we know, crystal meth, modern architecture in Minnesota, a famous artist, and so on.
John peers over Thursday's New York Times.
I attempt to take a self portrait.
It wasn't very successful.
The table items were interesting.
Still life at the Cup.
Self portrait in creamer.
Afterwards we drove around and looked at houses and the antique stove store before coming back to my house. As I started work on the other front window, scraping off paint and replacing putty, I could hear John talking to Doug, who is creating the cupboard above my stove. Some Sunday mornings are just about perfect.
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Right front window, first coat.
He pulled up in his butch truck- it still surprises me because he had always had this big tan Volvo station wagon, which he needed for his work.
I am always happy to hang out with John. We have a fun time and I can tell him things that I can't tell other people. John was friends originally with my old roommate R. and used to call to chat with him, but since R. was never around, he and I would talk. So for about six months I would be on the phone with this person, who I had never met. Finally at a party I ran into him and we have been best buddies ever since. He is perhaps one of the three people in this world that I would call a "best friend."
John with the left front window in the background.
We hop in my car and drive over to the Cup, which is located in a hotel built around 1919. They have great food and always interesting people to see, although the cute redhead waiter wasn't there this morning.
The Cup Cafe.
We sit outside and little birds hop around nearby, hoping in their tiny little heads that we will drop some tasty morsel. John and I talk about interesting things like people we know, crystal meth, modern architecture in Minnesota, a famous artist, and so on.
John peers over Thursday's New York Times.
I attempt to take a self portrait.
It wasn't very successful.
The table items were interesting.
Still life at the Cup.
Self portrait in creamer.
Afterwards we drove around and looked at houses and the antique stove store before coming back to my house. As I started work on the other front window, scraping off paint and replacing putty, I could hear John talking to Doug, who is creating the cupboard above my stove. Some Sunday mornings are just about perfect.
