An adaptable practice

The cake is in the oven. If all goes well, it'll be a truffle cake, no flour, for tonight's "Excuse me, you have art in your teeth" salon at Michael Steinberg Fine Art . It's the first art and food salon of the year and hopefully I'll be able to get organized enough to hold it every month on the last Wednesday.

Grant won't nap, maybe it's the smell of chocolate? So, I'm juggling a truffle cake, a computer, and a 2-year old (I know, it could be worse)! In order to drive the message home that he couldn't be bothered with a nap, he threw diapers all over his room and spread greasy baby balm into the carpet, on the bathroom floor, and in his hair.

Yesterday, it was just me at 1000 Park Avenue, working, as I am now in the kitchen. When I'm uptown I usually work in the dining room/library, but the table was being employed as a document sorter, so I set up my art studio in the kitchen. I think I like working in the kitchen better, for it's a lot brighter and there's a plethora of monochromatic objects to rest my eye on.

It's all eyes on the oven at moment, well the eyes in the back of my head are watching Grant draw with a red Sharpie! Maybe at the psychiartric hospital where I go to be treated for a nervous breakdown they'll have a nice big table for me to get a lot of work done on alone. One can only hope.

Later, it'll be fine, with art, I mean, cake and Amy Yoes's beautiful show to feast our eyes upon. Uh-oh, Grant just unlocked the front door (his new trick) and is running down the hallway with chocolate smeared on his belly (he's only in his diaper). I better go catch him, or it'll be social services that locks me up!