A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
So the other morning, I was finishing up HR’s yummy breakfast of local country ham, soft-scrambled eggs (one of his specialties—I don’t like hard scrambled!) and black raspberry-covered toast …
… when, Lo and Behold, I looked down and saw him :
But who is he? A character from Finding Nemo or The Little mermaid? Or what?
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
So the other morning I sat down to Robert’s yummy breakfast of English muffins, black raspberry jam, and some kinda seasoned stir-fry potatoes.
I was still trying to wake up, but immediately saw some artistic possibility when I popped a couple of dollops of jam onto the two halves of the bread.
Oh, and when I Piled the Potatoes beneath the eyes, I knew I had a breakfast Masterpiece in the Making.
Doesn’t he look a bit like a walrus or maybe Burl Ives in the iconic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?
Chef-d’oeuvre!
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
A little while ago, Robert and I were leaving our favorite little Atlanta breakfast place, Homegrown.
Walking toward the car, I heard them before I saw them. Detective-like, I quickly turned around.
They were casually (and somewhat seductively) leaning against the back shed of the little hole-in-the- wall jewel of a restaurant, singing, belting their hearts and souls out.
The Seven Sisters singing their way through The Great American Songbook.
I could’ve stayed there all day, reveling in the joy, the pathos, the excitement, the disappointment, the yearning fullness of their song.
They were us all—EveryWoman, EveryMan—leaning back and leaning into life. Our days, months, and years filled with living the truth of their diverse songs.
But HR finally made me get in the car.
“Neal, other people need to park.”
“And hear,” I thought.
So we made our way back to our midtown Airbnb, but not without the Sisters’ melodies still ringing in my ears and heart.
As we pulled up to our Airbnb, the most amazing thing REALLY HAPPENED, raising goosebumps on my skin. A young lady in a pick-up parked near us. When she opened her door, Robert and I heard her before we saw her—-singing joyfully. She made her way into the other half of the duplex that makes up our Airbnb. She continued to sing as she turned on the vacuum cleaner. Vocal joy. It actually felt a little quietly empty when she got in her truck and drove away.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
Minding my own business and gobbling up Robert’s yummy EBB (egg, bacon, and biscuit breakfast) …
… I took a few-seconds break and put my fork down to breathe.
That’s when I saw her …
A cute little chick perched upon an amber crag, nearly blending in.
“How adorable,” I thought, “I wonder how she/he got inside the apartment.”
But if truth be told, I did not wonder long. I picked up my fork.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
Minding my own business, I sauntered into my bathroom …
… and and was caught off guard with a sudden sneaky suspicion that I was not alone.
But I saw no one.
I saw no one, that is, until I spotted Little Blue Horse, with his head hung low.
“What’s wrong, mon petit,” I softly asked.
He answered me nought, and so I left him in his silent spray, (I mean grey!) meditation.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
Breakfast this morning. Bagels with peanut butter dip.
I call him Bart (“Bagels + Heart” or maybe “Bagels + Art”).
Bart is quite the actor. Here he is as Phantom of the Opera.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
So I was walking down the hall, mindfully minding my own business, when I looked over and saw Boopers perched in what seemed to be a deep transcendental meditative trance.
I looked closer, behind the meditating cat, and saw … this.
Her? Him? They? A … being, with two eyes, both upper and lower noses, a tongue-y mouth, not to mention hair that could use a shampoo.
I waited impatiently until Boopers finished with a Downward Dog and an ardent “Namaste!” and asked if he knew who that was behind him.
“All I can tell you,” Boopers coyly purred in Zen-like calmness, “is that her name is Cordy and I find her smile electrifying.”
I walked away, satisfied with his answer, then turned around to see Boopers standing intimately close to Cordy, staring into her eyes.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
So last night HR and I were at Bar Food Sports, one of our very favorite Savannah restaurants/bars.
We ordered the Carolina barbecue wings (extra veggies, with both blue cheese and ranch dressing, because we so disagree about that—causing near-relationship-ending issues), with a side of spring rolls. I know, I know, that’s mixing cultures and all kinds of things.
I was minding my own business, enjoying the vibe, when, lo and behold, I reached for a spring roll artistically placed on a bed of shredded lettuce, took a bite, asked Robert for a quick little kiss, looked down and saw this …
Both our last names start with S. “Saye” for me, “Smith” for HR.
“The universe must be telling us something!!!” I over-enthusiastically semi-shouted to Robert.
He stared at me, as if I were a child, picked up a wing and gnawed it to the bone.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
So the other morning, Robert made these incredibly delicious apple fritters … from scratch! (The only thing I do from scratch is my back.)
He thought they turned out way too brown and bland.
But oh my goodness, they were beyond delicious. Apple-y, cinnamon-y pastry sweet.
And when he put mine on my breakfast saucer, I gasped! (Gay men gasp dramatically so very well.)
Look what I saw!
Wait, let me zero in a bit better.
See him? No?! Okay, here …
A big fat brown bunny. He hopped. And hopped. Right into my mouth.
NealEnJoy 