0909

September 9, 2022

 In bed before 10, up at 4:30, 3(?) pss, no vino.  Reappearance of slight pain in upper back on rising.  By 6:30, local paper read, dishwasher emptied and reloaded, recycling out, kitchen cleaned and tidied, a glaze applied to Calder knockoff.  Now going through the 'do I stop now' phase of painting and thinking probably yes.  What's to be gained from more black circles and strings a la Caldwell's original, what could be lost?  The issue to be considered is over 2 basted eggs on a bed of corned beef hash and mixed-in American cheese slices, all seasoned with Adobo and Sriracha.

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    Morning papers all lead with the death of QEII.  Her life of duty and service and her death make me think of the 'lottery of birth' and William Blake's

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight

Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born

Some are born to sweet delight

Some are born to endless night. 

How should we think of Elizabeth's life: sweet delight or misery or both?  She was born into and lived a life of opulence, unearned and undeserved wealth, like Donald J. Trump and all born into inherited riches.  But she was never really a free agent from the moment she was born and it's hard to imagine any person with a keener sense of duty and acceptance of required service than her.  The person I'm most reminded of, perhaps oddly, is Ruth Bader Ginsburg who fought the good fight against oppression right to the end.  Two women of 'true grit.'  As a grandchild of Dennis Healy and Catherine O'Shea who emigrated in poverty from Ireland when it was under the iron boot of Great Britain, I can't say that I mourn the death of any English monarch and I certainly don't cheer the accession of now-King Charles to the throne that represents to so many people around the world (where, as Brits were wont to brag, the sun never set on 'their' Empire) violence, oppression, white supremacy, and exploitation. I must admit that I would experience some schadenfreude if Scotland and Wales were to leave the United Kingdom, and some exhilaration if Northern Ireland were to secede and join the Republic of Ireland, righting some wrongs committed with the Plantation of Ulster in the 16th and 17th centuries and with the division of Ireland after its War of Independence and Civil War in the 20th.  I'm reminded of the insensitive and politically incorrect joke about 'Irish Alzheimer's', where you forget everything except your grudges.  All that being said, I must say I sure admire the Queen's grit and have some sympathy for those who feel pain over her passing.

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    Andy's almost 20-year-old Lexus lost its power steering this morning so it's Volvo to the rescue again, hopefully for less than a week this time.

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    Made an abortive start on another knockoff painting, a Kees van Dongen portrait.  Tried to prep an old canvas but realized when I removed some painter's tape that the acrylic paint I had applied did not have good adhesion, making me think the underlying painting was done with oil paint, not acrylic.

    After dinner, I drove over and picked up Andy to get the Volvo to him while Geri and Lilly visited with an across-the-street neighbor and friend and her poodles.