Mom's Exhibition: Busy Three Days, Debrief/Afterthoughts

In tree short days, we handed out a little over 100 takeaway catalogues, and from memory around 60 signed the guest book. Mom and I reckon we welcomed around 90 friends, friends of friends, and family of exhibitors, and perhaps a couple of dozen cashmere shop shoppers. (The shop held a big sale during the week also, so some of our visitors went home with lovely mementos.)

Mom was in attendance almost the entire time; I was there perhaps half the time; Mrs T and Mrs E when rostered. I tried to take pictures when I remembered, but hardly enough; at times the tiny venue was as crowded as a commuter train and I had to step out, at others we were engaged in reminiscing with folks from our past, from time to time we had to explain weaving techniques.

Dad's early graduate looking dapper at 71 and a weaver from Mom's neighboring building, a friend of my brother's mother-in-law, whom we met that morning.

As soon as they received invites, Mom's friends started calling to find out when she'd be at the venue. Her second and longest-term teacher in the hat and scarf, who lives minutes away from the venue, did not ring so we worried about her health. It turned out she conspired with four or five of Mom's former study mates and popped up "en masse" on Day One. Mom was even more surprised when her husband stopped by later that day.

Weavers can relate: teacher explaining how to weave transparencies with regards to beating.

The achingly elegant mother-in-law of my sister's, wearing a piece I wove some years ago, with many pastel colors. It's a dreadfully difficult piece to color-coordinate with garments, but of course she had an elegant gray jacket with flecks of pink and from memory pale blue. Her two poised nieces came earlier in the day, although what I'll remember a long time is that brought me treats from Okano Eizen, a specialty Japanese treat place near my offices in IBM days, where sometimes I took orders from colleagues and stood in the long queue. I think they knew.

Two of three of Mom's high school friends who travel together once a month. (She just came home from an overnight trip to see Mt Fuji yesterday.) Another was busy seeing her grandchild get married. It's incomprehensible to me that they met over 70 years ago, that's Mom pre-Dad.

Members of Mom's English class, former neighbors, (one of whom said she'd seen the New Zealand moss piece in a previous exhibition,) former classmates under Mom's first weaving teacher, (and serious weavers among them, I'm told,) sister, brother, sister-in-law, one of my fav cousins, (who spent practically the whole day hanging with me,) and a former work colleague, and a few patient husbands were among those I couldn't shoot.

The exhibition, in the first instance, was cute; it was small, exhibited pieces were not large for the most part and friendly, none "challenging" or out there. The A6-sized takeaway catalogue was, you've got to admit, very cute. It was also a familiar exhibition in that the exhibited pieces were unpretentious and handmade, many well-used. The exhibition did not have the clinical, minimalist, "professional" look, but something of a peek into someone's treasure chest.

On closer look, however, if you were a textile/weaving aficionado, one could see the depth brought on by the variety of techniques and material, and by the different preferences of multiple makers. Mom's samples/notes/drafts were exhibited to showcase her knowledge and experience in the first place, but came in handy to explain/describe.

Mom had so much fun because she only had to stay in one place and friends and family from all areas and eras of her life came to see her; she likened it to having her own funeral except she got to talk to folks.  

Mrs T and Mrs E saw their "humble" works in a different light in an exhibition, which was another goal of mine. Though they'll continue to weave for their loved ones and themselves, it's nice to imagine they'll carry something of this new perspective as they plan and work in future.

We savored the significance of the first two and the near-last visitors being from Dad's past: one of Dad's first graduates; the wife of a PhD comrades, (because Mr PhD was busy volunteering planting trees in Borneo;) and the wife of the student with whom Dad and the family had the longest association with, (Senior, Masters, PhD, then Dad's assistant for a few years,) because Mr Long Association still works a few days a week.

Dad enthusiastically supported both our ventures into weaving, (and a few others of Mom's,) and unstintingly gave us financial support. After retirement, he turned Mom's cones and skeins into precisely equal-weight balls so Mom could make warps multiple ends at a time. Towards the end of his life after he went blind in one eye, he liked works that contained red, which he could see better, instead of "New Zealand green" (approximately forest green,) he loved previously. And he tolerated us making numerous things for him, both nice and experimental.

We were delighted Mom's exhibition turned into an homage to Dad, to feel he's still very relevant in our current lives. If you believe people who passed on live on as long as we remember them, Dad had a heck of a busy month and must be relieved to be back in quiet retirement.

Hard to believe the exhibition came down two weeks ago; it means I've been home a week, too. I've been working on the four-shaft, contemplating randomness on the loom, but that's for later.

Mom's Exhibition: Installing/Hanging/Curating

After the recon, I knew where to put the three focus pieces: Mom's was going to be at the "start" of the exhibition, on the "front" wall; Mrs T's knotted piece was going to be near the center when looking in to the gallery through the large glass windows, with allowance for the window frame in the middle; Mrs E's bag was going to hang in the center of the view as visitors walked into the store and turned left to the gallery space.

I put together works that looked good around each focus piece, other pieces for filling spaces, and a bag of Mom's small samples and notes. Mom and I decided we'd rather fill the small gallery "as much as possible", just short of "too much". Artists Statements would be spread around the gallery to prevent "crowd" build up. I walked through the gallery in my head over and over for a few days refining the plan, but the day before I wondered if I should have gone back to the gallery once more. Truth to tell, I didn't have the time, but still, I should have made the effort.   

The whole lot was loaded on Mrs T's car the afternoon before the exhibition; we met with Mrs T and Mrs E and the lot at the gallery in the morning. We also discovered to my great relief we could use push pins on walls.

Mom's transparent screen was returned to her, so we were able to put something interesting against the window. Her hand-dyed decorative panel was too dominant inside the gallery, so that, too, was placed to entice shoppers to come into the exhibition.

Folks kept not just touching but handling the pieces, some even trying them on, in spite of six discrete signs, later replaced by 10 not-so discrete ones. We exhibitors were were constantly returning and rearranging them.

See the small purse and the matching scarf at bottom right? Hard to believe they weren't designed to go together; the purse is by Mrs E, the scarf by Mrs T, woven years apart.

Next door there was a recycled kimono shop.

My sister came in the afternoon to keep Mom company and help me fine-tune the look. We finished much earlier than expected; Mrs T and Mrs E were able to go home a few hours earlier than estimated.

This was Mom on Day One looking a little drowsy from the aforementioned hay fever medication!

EDIT: We had several A4 posters outside around the stairs, which looked very nice, but I forgot to shoot them. Darn.  

Mom's Exhibition: Recon and Install Plans

For me, the focus of this exhibition was two-fold from the start: a retrospective of Mom's 25 years of weaving; and showcasing her two students' works over six years, (and our family's sincere thanks for their continuing friendship with Mom, because for the last two years they've taken either two trains or a train and a bus to journey to the high rise every fortnight.)

Mom's reason for the exhibition was to showcase different techniques under the heading of "weaving". Combining all three was a cinch as, goodness me, they and another past student tried their hands on many styles, end-products, fibers, and sizes. Visual coherence had to be created with color clusters. I chose three main focus pieces:

Mom's New Zealand moss-inspired tapestry;

Mrs T's yellow and green knotted piece, which I thought had the strongest visual impact in the first instance; and

Mrs E's rag-woven grocery-shopping bag, recycling her mother's (?) silk kimono. This bag is old and the original navy blue handles came apart, so she put on these new lighter ones, which I think work better. I had to hang this from Mom's living room light fixture with fishing lines to photograph, confirming my 10-year-old niece's believe I am the oddest adult she knows.

 The store/gallery is up a steep set of stairs.

 A large window gives a good view of the inside as we approach the store.

Mom described the walls as pure white, but they had a slight green tinge. She also said we can't touch the walls, so I was obsessed with how/where things could be hung.

The larger part on the street-side is a lovely, light cashmere garment shop.

Mom always described "the gallery" as a tiny, tiny space, and then rang just before I left to say, upon another visit, it was bigger than she thought. After a recon, we needed more pieces to show; we asked everybody to bring anything they made that they could get their hands on.

I threw out my notes on my last day in Japan, but from memory the space was about less than three meters wide by a little over four long.

Mom's Exhibition: Preparing on Paper

I went home last month to help Mom hold her first weaving exhibition, showing selected pieces from her 25 years as a weaver, along with those by her two current students of six years, and one past student, and her first, me.

Much of my first three weeks there were spent photographing works, (the changeable weather and white walls of her apartment made that challenging;) putting together an invitation in the form of postcards for Mom and JPG for the two students, and poster which is an enlarged version; refining artists' statements and Mom's chronology; and making up tiny A6-size takeaway catalogue.

In her high-rise WiFi didn't well, so I could use the Internet only on a tiny desk behind the television where I could hook up physically, but the bigger problem was Ben suggesting I don't install a Japanese printer driver on my laptop, but move the data on a stick and print through Dad's laptop. Dad's Word, (possibly not a standard Microsoft Word, and a vintage 2010-ish version at that,) reformatted all my files so I had to make two versions of everything, and somewhere between my-laptop/Dad's/a-fairly-OK-HP-printer/cheap-recycled-ink distorted the color-editing so much a lot of time was spent on trying to remedy that in vein.

Artist's Statement is not a common practice in Japan, except in art school and possibly in still-alive foreign artists exhibitions, and the three housewives/mothers/grandmothers had some writing about themselves and their weaving, but when I arrived, the students' statements were in near-perfect form, (I thought they needed no editing, but they both added a few sentiments,) but Mom was still working on hers. And I had to whip up mine.

Every version went up on the wall visible to her as she sat at the dining table, so Mom and I were more tempted to tamper. One day we visited the gallery and I took a lot of recon pics so they went up as well as I started thinking about how/where/which piece to show.

You saw the invite to "Three (Plus Two) Handweavers' Exhibition"; this enlarged to A4 was the poster. Artists statements and Mom's chronology were printed on white paper slightly smaller than A4 and glued to cardboard. Then came the takeaway catalogue, a cute A6, which contained all the blurbs on the wall and some photos of woven pieces; they were printed on the best copy paper in the neighborhood store, cut by hand, and bound with linen threads. The hardest part was to punch holes on the folds; this didn't always happen, the one I brought home was the worst with none of the three holes sitting on the hole. LOL.

Initially Mom said we'd need 30 at most, so I made 50 just to be on the safe side; good thing, as we distributed 34 on Day 1. That evening I made 40 more, figuring the most we'd need would be fewer than 34*3; after Day 2 we had fewer than 30 left so I made a further 18. Don't ask me why that number, but we had around 15 left after Day 3 and all participants and a few visitors were able to take extras home. Same with the invites: at first Mom was thinking of sending out around 35, but she ended up sending over 60, which produced wonderful results.

It was a heck of a lot of work, but Mom wanted something folks could take away, and I think it was a cute and meaningful gift from her to all visitors.

Back in the Saddle

I got home on Friday, but slept through most of that day. Then worked through a few loads of laundry, hand-washed a bunch of wool garments, put things away, fringed and wet-finished a piece I wove on Mom's loom, wound a warp on the four-shaft, and even managed a tiny bit of house cleaning, with amazing and totally uncharacteristic gusto.

I wonder if it had to do with Mom's new hay fever medication; it was so strong we think it stayed in her system for a couple of days; she took it once and put it away. I took one in the hopes of being able to get some sleep on the plane and got an amazing three-or-so hours' sleep, while one sleeping pill usually lets me sleep for a maximum of an hour. The medication was similar to what I was prescribed in the mid-90's, the kind that if I'm hit by a truck, I wouldn't notice for a couple of days. Anyway, by Saturday 10AM, 36 hours after I took the pill, I felt completely rested and ready for work. Had I known how this would work, I would have taken a couple more for similarly somewhat-dire situations! I hear it's going to be a bad, bad hay fever season over there, and we have plenty of sufferers in the family, so I'm sure the remaining pills will be put to well-considered use. LOL.

Though I didn't take many pictures during my month in Japan, I have a few good stories to share, so I'll work on them in the next few days.

On one of the first days, I transferred a warp she put on a narrow loom to a wider one as the warp was wider than the first loom allowed. I was doing the best I could in a small space and Mom couldn't stop laughing because I looked like a trapped wild animal. I couldn't easily come out for a laughing break so I kept working, though I had to stop and laugh several ties. I hope I threaded it correctly; we couldn't find the draft afterwards!

This is the piece I finished weaving about four hours before I left Mom's house.

Don't ask me numbers because I can't remember, but this warp is long enough for two pieces, and though I have the lifting going in one direction only on the printed draft, I wove top-down and bottom-up so Mom could see she has options.

I made another warp, for one piece, in blue-green-yellow-green-blue-green-yellow in some kind of Fibonacci sequence. This is for one piece, and I suggested a very simple lifting. This she'll have to put on the loom herself.

Two table looms warped and threaded with multi-color cashmere for Mom to weave on right away; another waiting; I also learned how to warp frame looms with linen, so I dressed four; I'm pleased.

We cleaned her stash/loom rooms as completely as we could while some overflowed into the living room. Her stash room, the size of a small bedroom, acted as my bedroom during my stay, because her true spare bedroom is her loom room; we got our priorities right, Mom and I.

Halfway through Day 1, I realized we didn't get a 'before' shot.

At the height of Day 2. In the end I left only three of those pink and blue containers in the living room. My sister is at Mom's today bringing out the sofa bed into the living room and putting whatever else Mom wants back in the stash room in... the stash room. And reorganizing her kitchen, but that's another story.

We could 't believe we did this in two days, and not whole two days but more like a day and a little bit. Now everything is where it should be, yarns in their properly-labeled homes, equipment easy to find. The four-shaft counter-balance is taking a break; it has problems with screws being loose and the loom wobbly all around; unfortunately I didn't have time to have a serious look into it. The wider and narrower eight-shafts are "staggered" (?) so two can weave at once; one sitting with her back to us, the other in front of the shelves. A four-shaft table loom, a Japanese plain weave loom called a Flamingo, and two rigid heddles go into the stash room until called for duty, which will make the loom room roomier and better-functioning.

Back in Nelson, I put Doni's cashmere-mix in orange and peach, (a reddish beige) on the four-shaft. I'd love to weave more complicated patterns on the 16, but I know that'll be brutal for the warp, and I'll be mending broken warps more than I'll be weaving, so four shaft it is. I've been buoyed by the experiment I did with one of Davison's drafts, so I'll continue looking into making four-shafts look interesting.

But I'm even more interested in putting together really interesting color combinations, so some warp candidates have been lined up. Lavender would have been my first choice to go with the orange, but alas I haven't got much at all, so it's not among the candidates.

An Invitation to Mom's Group Exhibition

Mom's exhibition is all go. It's a short one, only three days, but we are starting to get really excited about it.

Less than Eight Hours

It took me five and a half hours, but, phew, I swept the patio, weeded the pots and moved them to make it easier for Ben to water. Today was one of the hottest this summer, but I had to do it.

JB, A, Ben and I had a lovely Mexican dinner, although I ate too much. I was going to have one-third of the Quesadilla put in a doggy bag, but was too busy talking I was well into it when I remembered my plan.

And now I finished all the little stuff I wanted to do, so there's only a nice, long, cold shower left, and fingers crossed I can sleep for a few hours.

When you hear from me next, it'll be from Mom's "new" place. Bye!

Packaging, Packing, Partying

Mom rang twice yesterday; said she might ring me again before I leave. She had updates on "the group exhibition"; yay, she's beginning to own it, which is great. She's working on her blurb, too; said she had to because I'm so scary.

"Aha Aha" is going to Australia in this most humble fashion. I need to keep looking into available/affordable packaging, what I think my "brand" requires, and how far I'm willing to go without maiming my environmental commitments. I'm going to look around in Japan, the Land of Excess packaging, too, because there must be some companies doing beautiful and environmentally sane packaging, but for the most part, over-the-top naughty.

Worst case scenario, a piece of cake can: 1) be wrapped in individual plastic/paper bag, so it doesn't dry up; 2) be accompanied by its own small eating utensil in a plastic/paper envelope; 3) then sit in a plastic tray or between cardboard divider so they don't bump against each other; 4) these trays/dividers can go into an additional clear plastic bag; 5) which goes in a cardboard/wooden box or a decorative tin; 6) sometimes with bubble wraps in the top and bottom; 7) then there might be beautiful paper decorating the lid, or around the entire box; 8) some with bows, stickers or decorative strings; 9) and finally they go into a plastic shopping bag or the store paper bag with handles. You should see the look I get when I decline final bag! And sometimes the dividers don't work so all the content, (often with rice crackers) sink to the bottom anyway and get broken up. Idiotic.

And here's me handing presents unrapped.

I packed Ben's new suitcase because it has bigger wheels so even when a short person pulls the case, the front/bottom of the case won't drag. We've had this old, black, very simple case forever and I didn't realize how much I "knew" the space inside, so packing it was a cinch, but that one has only one setting for the handle and the wheels are worn. And now that it's packed, weighing in at around 17kg, sitting just inside the front door, I can't help thinking I packed too many changes of clothes and small gifts, so I know I'm going to open it up a couple of more times.

We're going to have light supper with JB and A 12 hours before I'm expected at the airport. Often during summer flights are timed so we don't have to overnight in Auckland, but it means early morning departure, and this time they want me an hour before departure, (it used to be shorter, I swear,) it's 5.40AM for me. That's usually when I'm trying desperately to grab a couple of night's sleep after a bad insomnia night!

That early we can get to the airport in a little over 5 minutes, so I could check in, come home and have breakfast, if not a shower, and head back out, but we'll most probably settle for those unconformable, restless coffee and a bite at the airport. If their cafe is even open.

I don't mind overnight if Ben's travelling also. Our regular hotel has a great restaurant, and interesting African artwork, the original owners were from South Africa, but last time Mom got locked inside the bathroom due to a faulty door knob, which had clearly been tampered by the previous person locked in there, so not sure if we'll ever go back there. The worst part was multiple staff were so nonchalant!

Jade's online party is wrapping up. I knew Jade, from our short encounters at the mixed media workshops in 2014 and our occasional "conversations" since, to be a calm, focused and intelligent person, but I was really impressed how much all of these she was.

Prior to the do, I thought I was well equipped to handle any New Age/Self Help talk. Boy, was I wrong! They spoke in tongue, flinging new -ologies, concepts, book titles and authors I had never heard of; I was never sure if a given acronym was standard text-talk or an inside code. Everybody seemed genuine, but repeatedly confessing to being "true scanners" their mantra, (people whose interest jump from one thing to another, apparently serially or simultaneously,) this one-track mind enjoyed being the outsider and people-watching.

I wrote in my feedback: "I found I like my life where it is now, I didn't have a wish other than for this life to continue; sure, more money would make things easier, but we're not lacking in anything severely. I guess I'm patting myself on the back for getting here since I started this phase with The Artist's Way in 2002. And in retrospect, [the transition] wasn't a big deal, and it didn't take that long. That's what I got out of this week. And I like being one-track-minded."

I wanted to add, "I'm also grateful to and for my soul mate," but since bad relationships were some members' problems, I didn't want to rub it in.

I noticed there were many women in our 50's and 60's; of course it depends on the environment in which we grew up, but we came at the tail end of, "girls get married and have kids; if you must, you can be a teacher, a nurse, or a secretary;" may have fought for women's lib, and may have had to convince skeptical daughters of the same. But then we saw the demise of lifetime employment and the smudges on the glass ceiling, then to be hit by the latest hideous iteration of misogyny. While no doubt feminism and bad economy would have been just as unfathomable for men, gee, no wonder women need to get together and rant as well as learn and help and readjust.

Another observation was technology. These folks knew a lot of different platforms/portals/websites. Still others thought getting up a (static) website or a blog was the answer; I don't agree with website as prerequisite unless it's includes a blog, and I'm not sure what the future of blogs looks like. I helped one person create an FB page, (he already had a profile,) and we discussed the unpredictability of anything online, lifespan or security. Even as worked, he could not see some things on his page on his phone while I looked on my laptop.

I'm happy with my laptop, camera, and no-camera cell phone for now; my blog, Facebook profile, and Flickr, although Flickr may go and/or MegWeaves FB page be resurrect in conjunction with the Pop Up Shop. (A shell is there because I needed screen shots.) I'm happy to stay ignorant of the newest and shiniest and focus on weaving until, oh, half a dozen of you start singing praises of something in unison. But I think I have to recess pros/cons of technology in shorter intervals.

Now I'm going to mention one last thing potentially offensive to everybody. When we came to New Zealand, I couldn't believe how somber Kiwis were in the face of grave exhalation; with the possible exception of All Blacks victories, Kiwis are a subdued lot. Although if you listen carefully, there is much witty joviality happening. We had to learn to clap sitting down at concerts, or worse, rush to the door for what reason we weren't sure. 20 years on, at the Mixed Media workshop, I couldn't believe how Aussies got right into the spirit of American-style Rah Rah cheers. I cornered a Kiwi who's lived in Sydney for some years, and she confirmed Aussies can be the way I used to be.

I guestimate a little short of one-third of the most active participants at Jade's do lived in Australia, one-third in Europe, and over one-third in the USA. And much Kumbaya was had by all.

Censored, Controlled, and Still Inappropriate Blather

As I grow older, I've come to see many sides to many truths, and have become less extreme in my convictions, to my slight dismay. I'm also fine with not having an opinion, or to remain undecided indefinitely. I take it this is part of what it means to grow up, although I can't help feeling a tad less genuine compared to, say, when I was 13 and knew everything.

On the other hand, I've learned a few things. I know these to be my truths because they've been put through persuasion, dissuasion, counterarguments, rebuttals, examination, reexamination and regurgitation and still hold them adamantly. But I'm willing to change my mind if need be.

Belatedly I'm picking up on how/when to modify my delivery, to choose the right time/audience, and even feel less compelled to present my case at times.

Still, I'm long-winded. And repetitive. I think while I speak/type; at times I'm not presenting but thinking and refining in my head, but out very loudly. I misread situations. And I can be relentless.

This in my life may be blamed on my unyielding know-it-all bitchiness, but it's not a good look at work; "damaging the brand" sorta stuff. It's the same old maneuvering of  本音 (honne, inward truth, which is usually true,) vs 建前 (tatemae, outward truth, which can be not true,) when I have virtually no 建前 (tatemae). And how do we reconcile throwing away the shackles of societal expectation, and being nice, and still be our "authentic selves"??

Ahhhhh.... [expletive]!!

Still Hot

It's been so hot, the last coupe of months feel like one long haze. We had interminable hot/dry days, several not-as-hot-but-humid ones, then one slightly-overcast-but-not-so-hot day, and we're back to scorching 29C. It's funny how temperature is relative. I couldn't tell which was worse, 28/29C and dry with itchy skin, or 26C and humid with vertigo and headache.

Usually in Nelson evenings are cooler, so much so we rarely keep our windows open overnight and some nights you do need your trusty electric blankets or extra covers, but this year the bedroom windows were shut once at around 4am this side of.... oh.... late Nov/early Dec. It's noisier but cannot be helped.

Although a few days later than planned, I finished fringing/hemming/washing/pressing/labeling all woven pieces, so I have a clean slate to start weaving when I get back; if/when I want to do another Pop Up, I need to do only the photos and write up, so slightly more prep done than the last time. It's really felt like Lent, weaving in the basement would have been lovely, though even the basement hasn't been as nice as usual. My plan was to then garden because there are gazillion things I sincerely want to do before I go, but if I can't do them, so be it; I am not risking heatstroke like last year.

Yesterday may have been the only day to venture outside, it was overcast and cooler, but I baked a loaf of bread, a cake, a batch of biscotti, made a second batch of pasta sauce, and made two lasagna, (lesagne?) sans pasta, with slices of egg plant, some of which I did to ease Ben's cooking load while I'm away, though he keeps telling me not to worry, him being the better and faster cook, but I kind of wanted to put my stamp as the female/wife of the pair. Can you tell I had saved up all the oven stuff for a cooler day?

At least Kiwis are loving the hot. They call 30C "warm". Some are doing that delirious eye/bending one knee thing when they say, "long, hot summer," so as an immigrant, I shall not complain. Too loudly. In front of them.

Mom finally got started on blurb-writing, and we talked discussed it during our weekly Skype. I feel I've been saying the same thing for months; it seems she finally understands it every time I explain and then forgets; and sometimes I get a headache-y kind of déjà vu because I don't want to repeat if she remembers, but I'm counting on her forgetting again and I repeat the same stuff. But we narrowed down the focus of artist statement to two good points so I think she's good to go, and get help from my sister or her friends in polishing them. It's crucial she gets this done because attractive blurbs in Japanese is something I can't help her with.

Then she wants to distribute invites Monday morning after I arrive Thursday night, allowing me two days to take pics, buy ink and cards, set up the printer not in use since I was last in Japan, and make up the invites. That's assuming Mom's got details of the gallery including a map. I'm pretty confident I can count on her with this, although... I've asked for these some months ago, and she told me she just threw out a mailer from the gallery. Mother, if you're reading this, please get and save the info!

[EDIT: I'm used to needing two days to get home, but this time I get home on the day I depart, late on Wednesday. I have four days to make the invites, so, yeah, doable! Even if I arrived late Thursday, that still would have been three days. Ah, heck.]

Goodness, I'm a good daughter. And if you thought I'm being grumpy about Mom's exhibition, not so; I'm getting totally excited to the point I decided not to worry if I'm bullying her. (Ben, not so much; I hate it when he misses me while I'm still here.)

I've got three days left, and I need to pack, give Ben a haircut/beard trimming, see if we can meet up with JB and A for supper in town, think seriously if I need more Yen in cash and get some if so, and clean the house with Ben tomorrow morning.

I planted these, Ben took this. The package showed redder ones like we had four years ago, but these are taller and more brown and yellow than red. But what better in the scorching heat, right?

EDIT: Mom rang Sunday. She went to the gallery again, got the details and map, and did another check on the venue, which turned out not to be as tiny as she thought and has few fixture which could hold dowels or coat hangers. And she's been working on her blurbs. Well done, Mom!!