Art Night

Cindi walked into the museum last night looking stunningly beautiful. She has a unique ability to create a chic and understated outfit by throwing on a few basic pieces from her wardrobe. Last night it was a simple pair of black pants, a white blouse and silver jewelry that include the Elsa Peretti cuff I gave her for her birthday.

The evening started off with the Rothko exhibit. It’s not a blockbuster retrospective, but instead, concentrates on his works from the 1940s. The show traces his evolution from realism to abstract painting. I was awed by his paintings and found the color palates inspiring. The man was a genius when it came to putting brush to canvas.

The next stop was the Nick Cave exhibit. I would describe Cave as an incredibly talented multimedia performance artist extraordinaire. His work is unique and labor intensive. Cave did a live performance at the museum last night which had been sold out for weeks.

After the Cave exhibit we decided to get a little nosh from the buffet in north building. On the way, we cruised through the western art gallery, stopping to admire a Debra Butterfield horse sculpture fashioned out of red scrap metal. Cindi recalled meeting Butterfield when she lived in Montana. She regretted passing on the opportunity to buy a Butterfield horse sculpture for next to nothing.

We had an interesting conversation while enjoying veggies, fruit and cheese from the buffet. A video feed of the Nick Cave performance which was being projected on the wall. Cindi described the horror of getting a reverse 911 this week with evacuation orders due to a fire in her canyon. The fire department’s quick action extinguished the fire with only one house lost. Cindi recounted the panic she experienced after getting a call that means everything you leave behind could be lost. Then Cindi told me she may need surgery to repair her broken arm but her minimal heath care plan will not cover the surgery. She’s trying to remain optimistic but fears a possible devastating financial setback.

Cindi headed home after the museum while I stopped by Ice Cube to see a new show on opening night. There was one interesting plexiglass sculpture. The rest of the show was lackluster at best. I was in and out of the gallery in a matter of minutes.

My next, and final stop, was another gallery a few blocks from Ice Cube, near the Eagle. It was an unnamed two room makeshift warehouse space. The artwork shown was from young up-and-coming artists. The art was raw but had promise. The attendees were mostly young and inked, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I stood out in my chinos, linen button down shirt, summer tie and suede bucks. I was welcomed by one of the guys who gave me a brief tour.

Once home, I watered the garden while watching the lightning of an approaching summer storm. After the initial storm passed over, I climbed into to bed and read for a while, waiting for the next wave of thunder and lightning to pass. Ferdinand was sprawled out on the bed letting the breeze from the swamp cooler blow the fur on his stomach. After the storm passed he went out to begin a night of prowling while I turned off the lights and headed to dreamland.

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Rothko Tonight

Just one hour left to slave over a laptop and the weekend starts. I’m meeting Cindi at the DAM later this afternoon to see the Rothko exhibit. I’ve got to squeeze in the gym, a shower and a quick dinner after work and before meeting Cindi.

Rothko is one of Cindi’s favorite artists with Motherwell being at the top of the list. Cindi is a painter and printmaker but makes her living in the special events industry. Her true love is art but art doesn’t always provide the funding needed to pay the bills.

It looks like a good start to the weekend.

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Don’t Let The Door……

I came across this on the web today:

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Hell who am I kidding. I hope you fall down the Fucking stairs too.

It sums up how I feel about Nann leaving. I know it’s a cruel statement. It brings me down to her level. I don’t care.

A three hour gathering was organized this afternoon so people could bid farewell to Nann. I was not invited. I was happy that I was not invited. I would not have gone even if I was invited. I am not sad to see her go.

Miss MBA came by early in the afternoon to urge people to stop by the gathering. Most of my peers were not planning on attending. A few were only stopping by for a few minutes. Perhaps a poor turnout will cause Nann to reflect on how poorly she treated her peers.

A woman who retired from the company earlier in the year is coming back as a contractor to assume Nann’s responsibilities. This woman is nice, friendly and easy to work with. She’s everything that Nann isn’t. It’s like the tornado has ended and there’s a rainbow in the sky.

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Almost Done

I closed our joint banking accounts this morning. One of the last steps left in separating two lives that seem to be better parted. Agreeing on the distribution of furniture and other household items will probably not take place until K officially moves out at the end of February. Ending a relationship at this point in my life is a lot more complicated than when I was twenty-five and only had second hand furniture and a small wardrobe. I’m thanking the universe that the unraveling of our lives has been relatively drama free. It’s taken the sting out of realizing what was once a good life is no more.

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Email Of The Day

This email was sent to all 3,000 people who work in my location:

On Tuesday morning, 6/25/13 we will have barricades up in the front parking lot. Please refrain from parking their during this time. Their is a large crane that will be picking up steel structures and curbing.

I added the bold type.

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Departures

My workday started off with an email from Nann announcing her retirement. Her last day is Friday. Yeah! I will not be sad to see her go. She’s difficult and I don’t like working with her. She’s tried to throw me under the bus several times. Nann and her husband are moving to a small farm in Colorado. I hope she’s nicer to her farm animals than she is people.

Miss Z is also leaving on Friday. She decided not to renew her contract. I’ll miss her expertise and knowledge but I’ll not miss her irritating personality. I wouldn’t be surprise to see Miss Z return at a later date. She has a habit of leaving and returning.

I wished both women good luck in their next adventure. There’s no need to burn a bridge. I’ve been around long enough to learn that lesson.

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Wine And Vicodin

Cindi broke her arm when she was bucked off a horse on Friday morning. Cindi’s injury was a good reason to skip the charity benefit on Saturday night. Jay, Cindi’s boyfriend, planned a quiet dinner at Cindi’s house in Coal Creek Canyon. I volunteered to make a desert. Cindi maintains a gluten free diet so I whipped up a batch of chewy chocolate meringues on Saturday afternoon.

I left around five to begin the hour long trek to Cindi’s house. It was 90° in the city but it was only 70° when I arrived at Cindi’s house high in the canyon. Michael, Cindi’s previous boyfriend (not the one who tried to stab her), also joined us for dinner. It was a beautiful sunny calm afternoon. Hors d’ouevres and wine were served on the deck while chickadees and hummingbirds flew back and forth. A lone deer wandered by among the towering spruce and pine trees.

Jay grilled marinated chicken to perfection which was served with roasted peppers and green beans. A melon salad was served after the main course. The meringues were a big hit. Many glasses of wine were poured but I stuck with water.

We snuggled up in the living room for post dinner conversation. The cool mountain air was drifting in the open French doors. A small herd of deer wandered by the house. Cindi told a funny story about a crazy oil heiress client who wanted to scatter 3,000 tea lights in glass votives on the heavily wooded grounds of her hillside Castle Pines mansion for a memorial service honoring her late mother. Cindi reminded the woman that 500 houses recently burned down thirty five miles down the road in the Black Forest. Cindi did a hilarious imitation of the woman explaining that her sprinkler system would extinguish any fire. Cindi told the woman to take a hike as she wanted no part in burning down another forest. By the end of story Cindi started slurring her words from the mixture of wine and Vicodin signaling it was time to leave.

There was a great view of the glowing supermoon in the dark canyon when I pulled onto the main road. Michael followed me down the canyon road that leads to highway 72. I pulled over when we reached the two lane highway so Michael could pass me. I knew he wanted to drive faster than me. I tried to keep up with Michael on the twisting and winding road but the taillights of his Tesla Roadster were soon out of sight. I slowed down so I could enjoy a leisurely drive down the rest of the canyon with the windows down and the sunroof open. The local jazz station was playing on the radio. Soon the lights of Denver were twinkling on the horizon. I would be home is less than an hour.

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Rent Boys Working Out

I’m sitting on the sofa in the family room watching the evening news hoping a friend will call with exciting plans for Friday night. Instead of cleaning the house, I decided to write a post about the two eighties looking rent boys at the gym today. They were the trashiest looking guys I’ve seen at the gym since that aging red haired former porn actor with the huge dick, who had a habit of doing military press, without a jock strap or underwear, enabling everyone in the free weight area to view his junk. The two guys this afternoon were tragic. Both were tanned to point of looking like a baseball glove left on a Florida beach for seven years. They wore extremely skimpy gym shorts that looked like something out of an UnderGear catalogue. One had a spaghetti string tank top while the other had a cropped t-shirt that ended a few inches below his pecs, exposing an unflattering stomach. Both were tall and lean so their ill fitting clothes only made them look more pathetic. It was as if there were transported from a sidewalk in West Hollywood in the summer 1985 into the gym. They pranced around the gym like male strippers in a dive bar working the crowd. Thankfully, there were a couple of hunky young guys to distract me from the spectacle. I finished my bicep routine and headed to locker room to retrieve my backpack. I couldn’t wait the get out of there.

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Updates 6-21-13

We’re burning up. There are nine wildfires currently burning in Colorado.

Cindi invited me a benefit for the Tennyson Children’s Center at Rolling Hills Country Club on Saturday night. Hazel Mill is performing so it should be a fun evening.

The American Institute of Architects (AIA) held their convention in Denver this week. Fritz and I did a gallery tour in the Golden Triangle last night that was held in conjunction with the AIA convention. Four galleries had exhibits that showcased designs of unbuilt work from 20 Colorado architecture firms and area students. It was interesting to see work of these creative minds. I asked Jackie to join us but she was doing an evening shoot from the roof of the capitol.

The Mark Rothko show opens at the DAM this weekend. I’m looking forward to seeing this show. Cindi and I planning to meet up to see the show in the near future.

My parent’s 60th wedding anniversary was yesterday. I didn’t call or send a card. They should have divorced forty years ago.

It’s almost time to quit working for the week. I hear the gym calling my name.

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The AARP Mosh Pit

Aaron gave me a ticket to the Tony Bennett concert last night at the Denver Botanic Gardens. It was my first concert at the garden and my first Tony Bennett concert. The audience was limited to 2,500 attendees so it was a more intimate concert experience. The gates opened at six with the concert starting at seven. Aaron has a high profile position at the garden so our group of seven was able to enter through a private entrance and secure a prime spot for concert. We enjoyed a picnic dinner before the concert on the grassy lawn of the sunken amphitheater. Tony’s daughter, Antonio, opened the concert. The group thought she was mediocre at best. I felt for her. I can’t imagine having to open a concert for legend, let alone one’s father. Tony was great. He sang many of his hits and standard favorites. It was hard to believe the man can sing so well at eighty-six. The crowd loved him. Couples started dancing in front of the stage. Others moved down to take pictures close to the stage. It soon looked like a well behaved AARP mosh pit. It was a wonderful evening. The garden was beautiful, the company was great and the concert was most enjoyable.

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