Pajamas on the Betsie. . .

 

Sounds like a Merchant-Ivory film from the 1980s, doesn't it.  

June was a busy month here and gone before I knew it.  And here we are in July after a conference in Washington, D.C. with a visit to my sister, intense work on a summer podcast series aimed at college professors, and topped off by an all too brief vacation with the Grand Duchess and Young Master in Northern Michigan outside of Traverse City on the banks of the Betsie River.  You'll note, as clear as the water is, that it looks brown rather than the odd shades of blue on commercially produced river  and lake sections.  Only deep water on sunny days, for example Lake Michigan and the other Great Lakes, appears dark blue.  A dark blue-gray on cloudy days.

In any case, time now to dive back into the painting fray and make some progress with my version of Saxony's von Polenz Cuirassiers, circa 1733.  I am throwing my gauntlet on the ground at my own feet and issuing a painting challenge to myself to have 'em finished, or just about, by the end of the month.  Here's the plan for this evening: shoulder straps, coffee brown facings with possibly highlights depending on how things proceed, and black touch-ups to finish.  

You heard it here!  Permission granted to mock, deride, and chide should I drop the ball.  Check back for an update tomorrow morning. 

The second photo features some clear acrylic boxes I purchased two or three years back, to protect and keep dust off of current (or ongoing) painting projects.  It's nice to be able to see in-progress stuff at a glance without necessarily digging into several odd containers and old boxes.  After some searching on Amazon, I managed to find just what I've been after since, oh, the mid-1990s.  One of the many things I took care of in June after the conference was to take a day and straighten my office area down here in Zum Stollenkeller (my Welsh step-father would say "tidy"), which included the built-in bookshelves above my painting table.  The clear boxes now reside just overhead where I can retrieve/replace figures currently under the brush (or those long stalled) as and when time permits.  Easy.

Finally, another photo of yours truly with an early morning mug of coffee before anyone else was up on the day we packed the car to return home.  The house we rent is a nicely renovated and appointed farmhouse off by itself along a rural road that quiets down wonderfully in the evenings.  Situated just above the aforementioned Betsie River, it suits our needs well and is within 20-30 minutes of various touristy areas, activities, and Lake Michigan of course.  "Big water" as the Grand Duchess so aptly referred to it one evening as we enjoyed some wine with a game or three of Yahtzee.  For the record, I rolled yahtzee TWICE in two of the three games we played, thank you very much.  It is not always so.  The Grand Duchess is the true master (mistress?) of the game, which her family has enjoyed for decades.

In any case, the three of us enjoyed cycling, sailing, kayaking, and yoga on the beach among other things, along with nice meals at home, an anniversary dinner out with Sonja (19 years on June 24th), and a couple of evening jaunts out for ice-cream in nearby Interlochen.  Our time away ended all too soon.  Easily one of the most relaxing holidays we have enjoyed since before the Young Master came along.  It was difficult to say goodbye and make the journey home.  

My late mother always maintained that two weeks was the ideal length of time for a summer holiday if one could could swing it.  Cliff Richard anyone?  A week to settle in and calm down with another to genuinely relax before it's time to think about heading back to the real world.  Now, there's a thought!  Besides, the Grand Duchess can perform most of her summertime deaning activities via Zoom, which she actually did one afternoon while the Young Master and I watched a variety of history programs downstairs courtesy of Youtube.  With all that in mind, I'm lobbying for two weeks next summer.  And who knows, I might just take along a small batch of soldiers and some paints?  You never know.

-- Stokes