Molly Goatwax

Portfolio Review

I'm not from around here. When the time as a teen came to apply to art school, I considered the one in Chicago, the one in Rhode Island and the one in Baltimore. The school in Rhode Island required ten specific application assignments which then became their property. Yeah, right. I sent slides to Chicago and had my mother take me with my live portfolio to interview in Baltimore. The conversation with the admissions officer made my cheeks glow, as did the dim lamps in the lobby of the grand pallazio that the art school's main building mimics. My mother was proud of me and descending the stone stairs to the sidewalk, offered to buy me a sno-cone from the vendor parked out front. The day was warm and as we approached the truck to inspect the colors of syrup the man had on offer, I noted the open National Premium on his counter. "I'd like a beer flavored sno-cone, please.",  I blurted, more to flirt than really wanting one. "Woll, shore.", the hippie in the truck replied, flirting also and dumping the bottle over a ball of shaved ice in a paper cone...My mother dragged me down the street by the armpit without the sno-cone but it was too late. I was in love. Hello, Baltimore!

Today's CUL DE SAC

 

By Richard Thompson

dirt church

Too bad the notorious Mount Royal Tavern is too gritty for Chuck Norris.

One tough town

Richard Irwin may be the Baltimore Sun's last hard-boiled reporter. Part of my fascination with the Police Blotter feature in the daily news lies in the brevity of these items as I imagine narratives unwritten. What's the story behind this vignette?

"Southern Baltimore

Shooting A female resident of the 600 block of S. Fulton Ave. was home about 11:30 p.m. Wednesday when she encountered a male intruder armed with a handgun. Police said the woman shot the intruder with her own gun. She called 911 and reported the incident, left her home and locked the front door, leaving the man in the house. Medics forced their way in and treated the man before he was taken to Maryland Shock Trauma Center, where he was in critical condition. Police traced the woman's cell phone and told the woman to return to her home. She did and was interviewed by police. Police spokesman Agent Donny Moses said no charges had been placed against the woman and that the incident was being reviewed by the state's attorney's office."

Did they know each other? This is a rough neighborhood, so I'm not surprised that the lady had a gun handy, but to shoot and critically wound the burgler, call the cops, then leave the house and lock the bad bad guy in? That's cold. Then the cops had to find her and tell her to come back to the house. I get the distinct impression that she left him for dead and went out for a beer. And what now? I'm curious to know more.

another day

Today found me driving out to Harford County on a visit to a fellow with Huntington's disease. If you or a loved one have this condition, you may know that it gets difficult to control the movement of your muscles. People affected have a jerky stride when they can walk, spasms and difficulty talking and swallowing. At lunch "Luke"and I were frustrated by the number of peas that escaped his plate, so for dinner I suggested a change. I asked him where to find a dish that had high straight walls that he could catch the food against with his spoon. He went right for the buffet where we found a square dish that not only had sides but rounded corners in which he could corral the food for capture. And a little handle on each side. We were both so pleased by how much more control he had. Such a simple thing. This is not my original idea, but one we learned in school last fall. Let's all give the Red Cross a high five.

woe.

I had a wen on my face. I think it was payback from when I used the word "wen" in Scrabble and Hubby accused me of making it up. I told him that for all the trouble, the word "carbuncle" would have gotten me a lot more points.

The next chapter opens (in the Great American Novel we live)

Besides the job applications, a few interviews, moving out of the studio house and the winnowing and condensing of the stuff in our main house, I have been busy helping Hubby get ready for a cross country drive. He left this afternoon for Las Vegas to dispose of the properties he has there as a resident. We don't know how long this will take. It may be months. I am desolate. Already emotionally fragile by the self esteem issues of the unemployed and my last birthday, losing the company of my best friend leaves me downright weepy. Who can I count on to laugh at my jokes over coffee, to hug me when when I feel afraid and eat my cooking even when it's indifferent? Who will rub my feet and hover, armed, whilst he protects me in my sleep? The simple truth is that there is no one to stand in or substitute and no one can take his place in my heart. I must dry my eyes and find my fortitude. After all, tommorrow is another day!

To this day

Today our little family attended a brunch thrown by our friend who is also nick-named Molly. She's the kind of gal who likes leopard prints and cats'-eye glasses and I was intrigued by the tin ceiling in her kitchen. It had windows in it, with old insulation bearing down on the glass under the tarred roof. They must have covered them over during the black-out of WWll. My house on 24th Street and one on Maryland Avenue had blacked out sky lights. Molly's house also had some fancy bakelite light fixtures with small round mirrors behind them throughout the first floor. I liked them even more than the creme brulee and cherry lambic.

Spring has Sprung

 

My spiky plant has two buds, see?

On the cheap

The younger daughter is on Spring break and she was expressing wishes to travel, or Go Someplace. Like Las Vegas or New York. I told her that if she could bestir herself to be ready by noon, I would take her out. And so we stumbled off to the Baltimore Museum of Art, which is supposed to be free, but the featured show cost 8 dollars each.  That's not really prominent on their advertising. I felt that it was a cruel bait and switch. And the place is heavily staffed by anemic looking hippies in black suits and badges who clear their throats when you get too close to an art. So we didn't sneak in through the back of the fee-for-exhibit, but went to the permanent collections. Today my favorite was a modern gilded plinth made of white marble whose edges were so blunted that with the gold leaf it looked like a giant cosmetic case. I tried to look more closely at its surface but set off an alarm. There were new acquisitions as well as some of my old friends and I enjoyed describing my take on them to the tot. We phoned an order to a take-out on the way home rather than sit at a linen covered table at the museum's upscale cafe...