a stay-cation and a new beginning...

  Other than a weekend here and there, I haven’t actually taken a total vacation for nearly a year.  The studio calls me with urgency and it seems that I can never get caught up on the business part of art life.  The excitement of launching a new sculpture series has my total commitment.  The series began in my head during this very month last year.  I’ll write more about the series soon.  I haven't indulged in creating a non-commissioned piece in over seven years...!  My heart yearns to the point of pain for all that I desire to express.  The voice compels me to ....believe.

Begin I must.  The new log stood for over a week without me making a mark.  A blank canvas while inviting can also be intimidating.  Plus the built up pressure and tumbling ideas of a NEW series…!  Like a climber at the base of a towering peak, I found myself fiddling with my “gear.”  Preparing mentally, spiritually and physically to begin this new journey.  I trust the process but where to begin?!

Then a friend arrived from Texas.  I shared my space, place and Montana springtime world and didn’t work for FIVE whole days.  The endless office duties were totally ignored.  We spent a few rainy evenings drinking wine while sitting in front of the new log in my studio.  Just being with the piece is important to my process.  My sketchbook had pages of sketches done before Jeffery’s arrival but none were just right for this particular hunk of wood.

The morning after a plane took my guest back to Texas, I entered the studio, lit incense, pulled on work clothes, played music and began this drawing.  Each morning the rest of the week I tweaked the drawing ‘til finished.  I believe the mini-reprieve, a little "stay cation" without actually leaving was just what I needed.

Now the carving begins… 

 

baby critter season

Little spotted Bambi babies, geeky gangly moose calves, impressively fast elk youngsters and wee tiny antelope – I just love animal baby season!!

Last week a momma deer stood below the studio zip line in the rain with the “ready to pop” look about her barrel belly.  I imagine she brought life into the world that very day somewhere.  Each day I expect to see little “Zippy” or “Zippers” peeking from the grass and trees behind the studio.  I did get to see another brand new Bambi last night after plans to climb were thwarted by rain.  The youngster wanted to suckle right there in the middle of the road.

Last Friday I joined my dear friend Joe for a Pronghorn baby watching session.  Joe works with ranchers to modify antelope friendly fencing along Pronghorn migrant corridors.   He wanted to photograph antelope babies for his blog.  I sent Joe a “count me in” text at 4:30 am (being an insomniac has a few advantages).  Thirty minutes later we drove up Paradise Valley as the sun sparkled on the Yellowstone River.  Joe and I really didn’t know how best to go about the whole animal baby-watching mission.  We klutzed and bumbled - but our efforts were rewarded:  two frolicking big-eyed antelope babies were spotted less than 25 minutes into our mission.  Wee teeny tiny big-earred buggers on springs - the brand new babies were enchanting.  Vying for a better vantage point, we may have spooked them into hiding.  Thus we sat and waited.  They are so good at sitting still, they become invisible.  Of course sitting as still as an antelope baby is impossible for me.

We waited for hours while the mother grazed and napped. Joe and I finally gave up, headed back to his car – and right into one of the babies.  The little bugger sprang up just four feet from me and hopped away on delicate twiggy legs.  Not much more than 8 pounds and fairy-like.  We had no idea just how close we had been the whole time.

proof is in the butt print

   

I actually call this my “Mr Roger’s Chair.”  The stool sits near the closet where I keep my work clothes.  Most days I sit on it for a few moments while I put on my studio shoes.  But the chair is lightweight - easy to move – so I also use it to contemplate the large sculptures from various viewpoints while working.

All part of my job.

 

 

memorial weekend - snow and sawdust

The holiday weekend weather forecast for Lander, Wyoming didn’t sound too promising.  Then too, my truck had a leftover cough despite its recent weeklong stay with a local mechanic.  So I canceled plans to join friends from Jackson in Sinks Canyon for a climbing/camping adventure and opted to stay home.  Truthfully – the pull of the new log laying-in-wait at the studio was enough to keep me happily here.  I have work to do!

Rescued from the storm, the Petunias reward me with their aroma even as they take over my wee cabin.  Who doesn’t LOVE the smell of fresh flowers?!  Thick pink bunny flannel jammie pants, a hat and gloves have replaced the sandals and shorts worn a week ago on the walk through the woods to the studio.  The “Mr. Rogers Closet” in my studio has Carhart overalls already warm from hanging in the mechanic room next to the woodstove.  Wood is chopped, a fire started and tea made before the workday begins.  The squeak toy Zaydee carried through the woods from the cabin is abandoned in a pile of sawdust when a biscuit is pulled from her treat jar.   Thus begins a studio day…

Alas.  The straight-line math part of art is NOT my forte.  Cliff and I spent more than a few hours on two separate days working on the log.  We set up a chainsaw jig, scratched our heads, cut slices and made sawdust but without the perfect results desired.  Luckily my buddy Dustin is a skilled timber framer.  He saved me tooth gritting irritation and time by setting the log straight. Phew!

 Now the fun begins...

 

soon...?

My poor petunias were wearing a sparkle layer of thick frost this morning when I woke in a cloud surrounded by dense cold wet heavy grey.  Snow is blowing sideways, a fire crackles in my studio, the new log lies in wait…

And wait it must.

Computer ailments and my sputtering truck, both fresh from their respective doctors are still in need of more expert care – so despite the pull of the new sculpture and the creative ideas screeching like playful monkeys in my head I must bundle up, head over the mountain pass in a snowstorm and take care of the truck and computer first.

Tomorrow?

thinking of you dad

Tears sprung involuntarily this morning when I realized the date while writing a check at Matt's sawmill for the new log.  May 23 is my father's birthday.  Dad would have turned 73 today.

Yesterday I stumbled across an email written to my aunt during the trip to Nebraska a year ago to bury my father.  She never got it.  The email was returned unsent but surfaced since I'm still trying recover data and a zillion email addresses lost in the recent computer crash.  Since today is my father's birthday, somehow it seems right to share a bit of rambling that poignantly popped me back to the plains where my father grew up.  Memorial weekend is nearly here.  Below is an intimate slice from life at this time last year when I drove Mom to Nebraska in her Lincoln Continental to bury my father.

Written to my aunt:

Chance of "a scattered thunderstorm" was posted on the TV screen above the coffee machine in of a small lobby at the Super 8 in Kimball while I checked in.  The sky was perfectly clear.  A vivid pink red splotch of sunset sat on the horizon behind the trees and the interstate like a wine stain on a pale blue dress.  One would imagine that the sun would stretch itself across the mountain-less landscape, settling itself lazily with glee across the low rolling hills but it just hovered over one small area of sky.  Contained -by what?  The sunsets back home in Big Sky country spew all over the place.  Like an overzealous dance number in an old Hollywood musical, they go on and on taking up the whole screen (and then some).  I didn't see a thundercloud anywhere when I parked the Lincoln and gathered things out of the giant deep trunk where Dad's and Taz's ashes are stored beneath a plaid blanket.

Mom carried her tiny 16 x 12 x 6 inch peacock blue bag that was part of the new set of luggage I helped her find for her trip to Denver last winter.  She carries on and on with amazement about how HEAVY the bag is (insert multiple exclamation points here and imagine plenty of wide-eyed huffing and puffing with a bit of exasperation.)  Both nights on the road I've left her with the one little bag to carry and each time she pokes along like a delicate wingless little bird strapped down by something that weighs 8 times its own body weight.  Considering her tiny size 1 frame and the contents of the bag - maybe the little bag does weigh more than her.  The heaviest thing in it is the giant can of aerosol hairspray, then her light-up makeup mirror, two small flowered makeup bags, underwear, socks (which she wears with her sandals) and a few zip lock baggies of misc.  The bright blue bag doesn't weigh much.  I worry about how physically weak she is.  That and the fact that Mom coughs like grandma did, soft and phlegmee in the morning.

The "one scattered thunderstorm" struck.

Storms smell, sound and feel different in the plains -but perfect somehow.  The loud whir/whine noise of semi trucks and the interstate are woven with deep throated thunder in my memory of this place.  Cottontail rabbits, lawn ornaments, oil well rigs and grain silos punctuate the landscape of my memory of Nebraska.

they say things happen in threes...

My computer crashed. BIG time.  The poor thing took ill somewhere between Texas and Montana.  The computer spent several days in ICU where recovery seemed possible – news was slow but promising.  Alas – four days later came the fated phone call – basically the computer died in surgery.  I took it to Bozeman for a second opinion and another expensive round at resuscitation – without results.   Nine months of computer data is lost forever (no one to blame but myself).  I guess more than two decades of computing without a single crash made me complacent when it came to back up.  Silly girl; LESSON LEARNED.  Before me lies a whole new chapter; beneath my fingers is a super sweet snappy new Mac (my 1st).   The crash sucked a ton of studio and fun time into a vortex of lost data, computer doctor visits and irritation.  I face the looming learning curve with a deepened appreciation; technology certainly has inserted itself into the morrow of business and communication.  I am humbled by my mistakes and wowed by the cleverness of my new Mac – a whole new chapter!

My truck broke down.

The “check engine” light went on during my trip over the pass to Bozeman to purchase a new computer while in the post-computer-crash crisis.  I’ve NEVER seen the “check engine” light before.  The truck still feels rather new to me despite five years and 90,000 miles together; bought used with 30,000 miles on it – it is only the 3rdtruck I have owned in the last two decades.  The initial diagnosis was puzzling – meaning even the shop computers and my trusted mechanic couldn’t figure it out.  After hearing about my computer and the fact that my beloved o’l Wedgewood oven mysteriously quit working a day before the truck broke down, my mechanic advised me to stay home, “Don’t touch anything.  Don’t start anything.  Don’t go visit your neighbor unless you don’t like him,” Rodney the mechanic advised.

The truck has been in the shop for more than a week but a handful of friends offered to lend me their rigs or a ride – thus I am not totally stranded and once again feel lucky to be taken care of by people around me.  Honestly during the past nine months or so had a nagging anxious feeling about my truck.  I asked a few friends to drive it and see if they felt what I felt but what I felt wasn’t actually mechanical or possible to pin point.  I just had a feeling that something was or was about to go wrong.  I find myself noticing other trucks; test-drove a Tundra but feel an allegiance to Ford - we'll see.  I would rather shop for logs than vehicles - thus I managed to get some log shopping time in - excited to begin a new series of sculptures...soon!!!

dancing in the texas full moonlight

April ended with me clinging to a rock spire.  May began with a weekend at Charco Ranch where the sculptures arrived safely just as a big Beeville Fire Department fundraiser weekend party at Charco Ranch kicked off.  I pulled on a bright red volunteer T-shirt and jumped in to help out.  Thirty-two teams gathered with their BIG black barreled cookers to compete in a BBQ cook-off.  Yum!  The only thing better than the “no one is a stranger” genuine warmth of the Texas people, is the addition of delicious BBQ and libations to their innate hospitality.  Despite the 97 degree temps, each team hovered over hot cookers and offered heaps of succulent flesh, beans and liquor to anyone.  I couldn’t quit grinning (or sweating).  I drank my first (and 2nd) “Salted Dog,” spun to live music on a wooden dance floor in the middle of the covered riding arena, dished up and served fried fish and half chickens.

The BBQ fellas from Lufkin Texas charmed me the first evening.  Jeffery traded his camouflage and hunter orange “GAM” (Grown- Ass Men) team hat for my flame embellished Devil Women Saloon cap.  Dances were promised but forgone when the party moved into the saloon.  People are so totally taken with the custom Devil Woman Saloon Reliquary sculptures.  I must say it is fun to see and hear reactions as the sculptures hold court in their special spot in the world.  The next night brought more live music, plenty of dancing, and two auctions.   Once again the evening topped off with the intimate fun companionship and craziness in the Devil Woman Saloon where Brenda reigns as a fun-loving gracious and generous hostess.

A bigger-than-life full moon landed languid and lit on the final night.  We took one of the Kabota’s for a middle of the night spin on the 7000 acre ranch.  Spider webs lit and popped like fireworks as we bust through them, the front windshield open, hair flying.  Parked beneath a twisted knurly mesquite tree, serenaded by whippoorwills and visited by a wee little armadillo – new friendships were formed.  Stories were swapped and punctuated by an electrical storm which danced across the horizon until dawn.

from peek party to peak

Warm fuzzy goodness surrounds me like a comfy cardigan on this super BIG snowflake spring day.  The “Sneak Peek” party last week was sweet – good peeps and sincere support.  We zip-lined under the impressive Montana mountain sky - shared fun and libations.   I feel over-the-top blessed with this place and my pals.  The yummy feeling lingers and I find myself excited for future studio celebrations.  “Dancing in Orion” is on its way to Texas along with 6 bronze dog banks.  Phew!

I woke early Friday morning, sang and danced through the post party clean up, packed my sleeping bag, climbing gear, Moscow Mule fix'ns and warm clothes.  Zaydee jumped aboard and we scooted out of town in a snowstorm.  The weather forecast was iffy but my girlfriend Leslie and I were both itching for adventure – even if it meant simply hanging out in hot springs and finding a hotel room if the weather proved too adverse.  Alas we were charmed!!!  City of Rocks in Idaho is a mystical magical playground.  We climbed, camped and soaked through the sunny weekend  - what a blast!!!  I must say it felt really good to have rock under my hands and a whole weekend off to play.  We shared climbs with friends from Wyoming and Colorado.  Leslie and I sat on top of Morning Glory Spire Sunday afternoon- a special spot in the world made more special when shared with a dear friend under a vivid blue sky with breathtaking views.

Zaydee and I slept in the back of my truck next to the soothing sound of the Madison River on our way home Sunday night.  We drove beneath a stretched out lazy sunrise Monday morning and arrived at the studio in time to bundle up and load the new sculpture.  The studio is begging me to make new messes – I can’t wait!  But for now I’ve the desk part of life and pre-trip packing to do.  Tomorrow I will be in Texas.

sneak peek

Come and see “Dancing in Orion”

before the 2000 pound sculpture gets bundled up and put on a truck to Texas

I never publish photos of a finished commission before my client gets to see the sculpture in person but my studio will be Open Thursday April 26 from 5-8

So that friends can come have a peek!

Music, refreshments and (of course) the zip line….see you soon?

dancing in orion

Early morning sun filled the studio with soft spring light.  I sat for a moment to look at the sculpture  just completed.  Bright light softness filled my insides, my heart overflowed and my eyes sprang tears.  Relief?  Satisfaction? Happiness.

LOVE

Simply commissioned to create a “Reliquary” sculpture from the 2000 pound mesquite log, I promised my client a horse motif but was given total freedom to create.   Sculptures become pages torn from my journal; sprung from my head and heart, composed like a poem layered with meaning and woven with life.

I put the final touches on “Dancing in Orion” six months after the first cut in wood.  The three bright stars of Orion’s belt float in the niche.   Each hand carved turquoise blue stained star is inscribed with a name; Jake, Ali and Sami.  Bright lights, beautiful souls and bold blossoming beings – those three special people blaze my sky and punctuate my world - always and in all ways.

I climbed onto their zip line landing platform in a tree behind the studio with a cup of tea and a piece of blueberry peach pie.  Gifted with grace and a moment of peace, I soaked in the sun; marveled at the memories.  Excitement fluttered like a vibrant butterfly, skin tingled with the promise of adventure - inside and outside the studio.

golden green day

 

Springtime in the Rockies pumps up Momma Nature’s “switchy mood.”  She puts on and discards outfits in a fast frenzy like a gal getting ready for a date; fun and frilly (snow), grunge (mud), hail (heels), blue sky (blue jeans), rain (sleek and slithery) or even the flannel-pajamas-grey-day kind of rain.  Rarely does Momma Nature settle on something for a full 24 hours.  She keeps us guessing.  The only thing somewhat consistent is her frenzy.  The wind has been pretty relentless and definitely a hindrance in my plans to join my buddy Chris for a flight in his helicopter.  Chris said the wind allowed him only one flight in the last 6 weeks (just to see if he still knew how).  So when Momma Nature decided to take a sunny morning nap from the frenzy, Chris whipped me right up into the calm blue sky in the magic bubble of a helicopter.  SUPER!!!

Birds-eye view is ALL it is cracked up to be - oodles better than a plane.  We could hover just high enough to turn the folks and trucks below into a miniature toy world surrounded by mountains.  AH -  the mountains!!!  We circled around Gallatin Valley then zipped across the pass into Paradise Valley so that I could gander at my place.  Lordy my studio is BIG!!  The zip line added to the toy-land look of my place.  Chris handled his copter well – smooth – but not smooth enough for my touchy inner ears.  I can get sick on a swing set.  Thus while the golden pre-spring world below barely hinted at the lush green it will become; I got greener and greener and greener.

Luckily I did not have to pull the pre-packed puke bag out of my pocket.  I did however have to sit on the ground within a minute of landing and close my eyes to the movement of the rotors.  Next time I will pre-medicate even though Dramamine makes me spacey.  I want to dodge around the peaks and scoot among narrow canyons.  Chris is a gem.  The copter is a joy.

twist of fate

“Here you are climbing all over God's creation and you fall down your own stairs,” my friend Kat wrote to me this morning.

Yup.

Certainly there are a gazillion ways climbing, hiking, biking, dancing and creating big sculptures using ladders and stuff that I could bugger myself up but I simply rolled my ankle while walking down the stairs after cramming in six office hours late Sunday night.  I couldn’t yelp, swear or scream – knocked me breathless with pain.  Frustrating.  Just a fraction of a second and BLAM!!!  Birds are twittering around my head and a tight-lipped sheepish and pissed-off grin is carved into my face.

POOP!

Speaking of poop – Jake, Ali and I enjoyed a poop spotting spree Saturday afternoon while hiking “my” mountain.  We spotted elk, moose, rabbit, marmot, bear and deer poop but Jake doesn't think we should count the deer poop 'cuz it is too common – the debate is unsettled on whether bunny poop counts.  We spent most of our time creating in my studio.  Jake set his alarm for 6:20 a.m. as I tucked them in with cuddles into the cozy beds at the studio nap room for the night.  He wanted to get an extra early start in the studio Sunday morning.  Precious!

Life is full of unexpected twists.  I have worked for months on this 2000 pound log, envisioned the carved horse a deep rich black color but realized when I applied a clear coat of conditioner on the wood before staining the horse; black would be a mistake.  I thought I knew two things before I began applying color to the sculpture – the color of the horse and the color of the niche but I was wrong.

Thankfully I was paying attention and accidently discovered the right color before mixing up a dark stain.  I can’t imagine what bit of goodness the accident on the stairs brought me but perhaps I am meant to spend the weekend in the studio instead of the rock climbing trip I planned.  Twists, turns and an interesting variety of poop contribute to the life I lead.

ready for color

My innards are chirping like a nest of baby birds – full of hunger, life and high pitched excitement.  A whole new chapter outside and inside the studio; I wake before the sun each day full of gleeful anticipation and a new found energy.

Yesterday I completed the “carve part” of my latest sculpture while listening to “Catching Fire” (the book by Susan Collins).  Sawdust danced in sunbeams as I swept the studio.

Twittering with joy, I get to begin mixing and layering translucent stains.  I know what color the horse will be and I have an inkling how the niche will look but the rest is a mystery.

I LOVE mystery and all it holds - the unknown, the fear of failure, the potential for discovery.

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed." --Albert Einstein

dancing in cracks with stone

Two thousand pounds of dense dark wood – the Mesquite log smells strong as the red earth of Texas.  The log stood split open before me in the beginning; a would-be blank page full of possibility if it weren't for the large deep cracks which flawed the surface.  My soul overflowed with thoughts, emotions and images but I had to edit and place them within the confines of the torn log canvas  – a bit like playing Scrabble with just a few obscure consonants to work with and only one vowel available on the board.

But I like to push my confines and stretch boundaries as much as possible (both inside and outside the studio).  I find beauty and character in scars, admire the depth of dark cracks.  Yet if I were to strategically fill a crack here and there...not to hide but to adorn?  I don’t believe in wood putty but my client loves turquoise.  Here was an opportunity to try something new.  Actually this is the 2nd Mesquite sculpture project I introduced turquoise to but for some reason we didn’t seem to be instantly compatible this time around.   Sometimes I am blessed with the thrill of partnering on the dance floor in total ease - a seamless connection.  Other times…well…there can be a few klutzy moments figuring out the new partner’s lead and trying (in my case really hard) NOT to lead myself.  What me?  Controlling?!!  Ha!

Deep breath.

Pay attention to the nuances and pray for grace.

Grin.

I stepped on toes and stumbled.  I ruined a perfectly good tungsten carbide grinding wheel.  But I am beginning to figure the turquoise out- getting into a grove (no pun intended).  In fact; I can envision future dances with stone and wood. 

I’m excited.

the journey

The wood is full of possibility.  We fall in love.  I flirt.  We dance.  I sweat.  We become something outside of ourselves. The log is no longer a log.  But just when we are both on the brink of blooming...petals fall, roots shrivel, fear feeds. Murk.

Muck.

Failure.

The sculpture is LOG again with firewood its only redemption.  My broken heart becomes an open heart.  There...in the opening is...a glimpse.

Grace; a sunbeam in the sawdust.  The knowing.

We embrace.  A sculpture is born.

I am reborn (again and again).

beautifying a buggy

The buggy is over 100 years old, painstakingly restored by a friend of mine. I simply have to take after it with a brush and more red paint to personalize the jalopy for a saloon in Texas. After a very mild winter, Momma Nature decided to step in for a few hours and insta-dump super slick snow the ONE afternoon about a week ago when the wagon was scheduled for delivery. The trailer jack-knifed on my steep mountain road and really rattled the poor folks cautiously hauling the precious pricey antique to my sweet studio.  Cliff came to the rescue with chains and the kind of "hearty smarts" that come from decades as a logger.  He has plenty of experience with various back woods equipment fiascoes. Eventually we rolled the wagon off the trailer into my studio.  After we brushed the snow off ourselves I poured shots of whiskey to calm Harlon and Joell’s nerves (yes I keep a bottle of Jack at the studio). I can certainly use the commission and must say am enjoying my sun-filled studio space to "doodle it up!"

field trip fun

The “Field Trip” event launched with the warmth and joy of a school bus packed with youthful spirits ready to explore and share.  Complete with good o’l sack lunches and a lunch-box-spread of handmade (and quartered) PBJ’s, Oreo cookies, animal crackers and wee carrots – the night buzzed with an electric warm-fuzzy energy – similar to the Freeman Butt’s openings I remember with deep plumped-up-heart fondness.

Good stuff.

The weekend before the “Field Trip,” I shared a day in the studio with three of my favorite people as they labored, laughed and splashed their magic into plain metal aluminum lunch boxes for the “Field Trip” fundraiser (see last blog post).  My job was to fuel schemes and dreams with whatever tools and materials required for their various visions.  Wood smoke, hot glue, paint and fresh baked chocolate chip cookie smells mingled in my bright light studio as the children drilled, cut, carved and created….masterpieces.

Their art creations were exhibited and auctioned alongside more than a dozen other professional artist’s Lunch Boxes at the “Field Trip” event.  The night was filled with original music from three different bands, food, dancing, art and fun.  The children's works of art brought in just as much as the other artists (and even more)!!  Too cool.

"Robo" brought in the highest price at the auction!

"Bacon Bits" by Sami

lunch box art

Will and Cache are gifts to each other and the world.  Zesty juicy souls who grace the lives of anyone lucky enough to brush their warm fuzzy wide reaching web; they are precious.  Will and Cache are healers, teachers, musicians and Buddhists.  Cache coaches with laughter and compassion on the yoga mat.  I have reveled in Will’s healing hands while he treated me (for free) before and after my surgery a few years ago.  Will and Cache give and give – and now they have conceived an "Artists Helping Artists" event.  Thus, they will host a “Field Trip” evening complete with sack lunches made with love AND a silent auction of "artified" lunch boxes.

My new studio lends itself to creative group retreat endeavors – the space and place is simply inspiring.  Lucky me - how can I NOT share?!  (Well.  Um.  Actually – I can be a bit of a space bitch and a hermit when it comes to the bare bones part of making art BUT the studio just oozes opportunity to share.)  Share I must – with Snoopy dancing joy.  Twice last week, artists gathered at my studio to spew creative genius into the plain metal lunch boxes.

BUT first I had to tackle the chore of trying to clear the sawdust.   Lordy I can MAKE A MESS!  I would just love to have a little flying leprechaun to dust at night and keep the place spotless but instead I have an air gun, a rack of brooms, a dust mask and industrial garbage bags to haul out the latest mesquite sawdust taken from the 2000 pound log sculpture project.   Relatively dust free – the studio was graced with creative spirits happy to share my space, place and tools to transform lunch boxes for a good cause.  Stay tuned for photos from the 2nd gathering of special artists and more lunch boxes!

Indulgence on Main Street in Bozeman are displaying the boxes.

"Field Trip" is Wednesday Feb 22 at the Filler (9 pm)