"o give it to me..."

This week began with some interesting things, mostly the aftermath of the weekend. The last post gave a sizable hint as to Derek's "facial wound" being a bit gynecological... and it does appear that way.

Last Saturday one of my male artists got groped by two drunk men who thought him a woman. And while they provoked a certain amount of rage, indignity, and incredulity initially, upon hearing how the incident unfolded brought about giddy laughter. The quote of note being, "You are one tall glass of woman!" Thought I would wet myself, considering the artist in question is built like a linebacker. He said he didn't know what to do, that girls are better trained to handle this situation. In all fairness, I'm sure the initial shock was more profound, deadening the urge to knock the crap out of them.

This week I encountered a quirkiness of texting of receiving the last part of a message first. The message I received is the heading of this posting. And I had a "What the...?" moment upon receipt, particularly when the artist in question is a 17 year old girl who works for me. Somehow I could feel She-who-must-be-obeyed's cast iron skillet poised to smite my bald spot yet again. Later on in the day, the first part arrived to something like,"...I would like to get my paycheck...but when I go to the office there is no one t-..." Hopefully you see how this was to be, and excuse the initial kneejerk reaction of my being a lech.

Kelsey, my niece, was at the park last Saturday with my daughter, and they wanted a caricature together. Here's the first version...

Kelsey is the angel, and Rachel is cast to type. Or, as I've been like to say, "...had she come first, there wouldn't have been the other two." And in typical fashion, one drawing didn't suffice, but I needed to do a drawing for each of them. Here's the girls together...


Here's the one I did for Kelsey...


We had some equipment go south this season, and the Ford family was kind enough to come through with help. Payment for this was in the nature of me doing a caricature of the father. I don't do "parents" well when it comes to employees, finding that usually they hate my guts. And I admit that I've had a certain "creative bankruptcy" the past few years, struggling to find that energy again. It seems to take about everything I have to pull it out of whatever well reserves I have left to draw. BID.

Here's how his caricature turned out...

...and him with the drawing for comparison...


I think he liked it. He wanted the motorcycle in it and he has a Harley, which I can kind of "halfass" draw. The flag thing just seem to fit. Here he is, again, with the sketch...

...although in my psychosis I'm wondering if he just wasn't missing the machete in this pose, ready to give me my just desserts. "Ghost machete," perhaps?

I find myself restless today. Must be a weather change coming. Only 5 hours of sleep and I am wide awake. The season, like a runaway train, is speeding to a crashing halt, and I'm haunted by what I didn't accomplish this year. While there was/is a lot of positive that did happen, I'm not naive enough to say, "...there's next season." I approach my birthday this next week and the last weekend of the season. And instead of looking at it joyously, I find a sense of dread looming over it. I will be the same age as my grandfather was when he died, and a sense of foreboding has enveloped me. Not sure as to how to handle this next year.