Park Your Potato [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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This week’s proof that life is an awesome, wacky, and a completely unpredictable affair: Someone parked their potato in the spot next to our car. There was no warning or precedent. I’ve never previously parked next to a potato or imagined that I ever would. Kerri hadn’t either.

And, this was no ordinary Idaho russet! This was the SUV of potatoes. It was very large. I wondered how many occupants could ride in such a large potato? I also wondered – since I’ve never driven a potato and, also, status symbols are generally lost on me – if this was a luxury spud or something more practical?

It’s the beginning of the holiday season so I suppose it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. I only wish I’d seen the driver. I’d have complimented their ride and asked a few of my many, many questions. What about insurance rates? Miles to the gallon? Stuff like that. I would have certainly masked my ignorance in the face of so many questions. Though, as a male, I’d have pretended that I knew quite a bit about potato rides. One can never let on that they know absolutely nothing about which they speak [you should see me talk to the mechanic! I nod my head, grunt, kick tires and everything!]

Didn’t I tell you! Wacky. Awesome. Completely unpredictable! Life.

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read Kerri’s blog post about PARKING SPUDS

 

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Land Safely [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Two artists can get into a world of trouble. They (we) can also create our share of trouble. Our idea pile is mountainous. The word ‘reality’ requires more than a few footnotes.

If you’ve ever spent the time considering the melange (as I know you have…) you recognize that we lack the simple wisdom of knowing when to stop. In the corporate world we’d be known as constant content creators. In the mad mad realm of entrepreneurs, we’d be understood as being in a constant state of pivot. Our Two Artists designs were initially intended to be improvisational, gestural-let’s-see-where-this-goes statements. I dare you to find the bottom of that idea pool!

All of this is to say, you could leap from a very tall building and land safely – even comfortably – on the stack of pillows we’ve imagined and designed. There’s no need to test my assertion. Stay in your swivel chair. But, if you have impulse control issues, it might be a good time to buy a pillow. And I know just the place. Follow the link.

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THE LINK

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THROWING PILLOWS

 

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two artists designs/products ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Look To The Odds [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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With every bizarre image comes a good story and that is certainly true of this odd affair.

A few hours after I dropped Kerri at the airport for her flight to Colorado I was cutting paper for a project. My x-acto knife wasn’t paying attention and rode up the ruler and through my left index finger. I bled so much that I decided NOT to tell Kerri. I didn’t want to worry her on her trip.

An hour later, walking around the house with my finger above my head, trying to get the bleeding to stop, a text came in from Kerri. She was cutting stems from daisies and the knife slipped. She cut a nasty gash in her left index finger. She was bleeding so much that she wanted me to know.

What are the odds? We calculated that our accidents happened within the same hour.

Our story is one of strange connectivity. We started paying attention to it when, long before we laid eyes on each other, we discovered that we had the same middle name.

What are the odds?

When we met, that first day at O’Hare International Airport, I stepped off the plane to find a woman dressed just like me (black sweater, jeans, boots,… The Truth: our closets are mostly identical – filled with blue jeans and black things though she has more variety in tops and waaaaaay more shoe choices).

What are the odds.

I won’t bore you with the now long list of weird coincidences and connectivity. Nowadays, when Kerri breaks her baby toe, as she does once a quarter, I immediately put on my steel toed boots and move slowly around the house.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about LEFT INDEX FINGERS

 

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Leave It! [on Two Artist Tuesday]

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If a picture is worth a thousand words, then what you don’t see in a picture is worth an additional word or two.

One of Kerri’s many nicknames is “Brat” and it is more-than-well-deserved. No one knows this better than Tripper-Dog-Dog-Dog. He silently suffers her full brat nature. He patiently tolerates her howling laughter when he is, once again, the object of her brat-ocity.

DogDog easily picks up tricks. And, as an Aussie, he is a hyper-sensitive-good-boy, so Brat takes full advantage of his trusting nature, his need to please, and contorts the tricks. This is a photo of “leave it:” drop any snack on the floor, tell DogDog to “leave it,” and he won’t touch it until he’s given the magic sign. Tell him to “leave it” and he won’t move. Instead, he will follow you with his eyes imploring you for the magic sign. On this day, instead of dropping his snack on the floor, she put a tortilla chip on his head. And left it there for a very long time.

I knew I would be in trouble if I gave DogDog the magic sign. I knew I would bring Brat’s focus on to me if I interrupted her chuckling mischief. So, like DogDog, I sat very still and followed her around with my eyes. When would she give the magic signal? Both DogDog and I quaked with unbearable anticipation. When?! She moved back and forth, Dogga’s and my eyes tracking her every move. She took a picture. Moved across the room and took another. “Don’t torture the dog,” I implored.

“I’m not torturing DogDog,” she smiled, giving DogDog the magic sign, “I’ve been torturing you!”

 

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Lydia! Here’s the link: read Kerri’s blog post about BEING A BRAT

 

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Will It To Happen [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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This is the first face, the first thing I see each morning when I open my eyes. BabyCat, aka Sumo aka ONEBIGCAT aka Scrawny Cat. Let’s just say that he is a substantial kitty. And willful when hungry. The morning ritual goes like this (my eyes are closed): he mews up a storm with no result (eyes are still closed). He pulls books from shelves and then claws the back of the already-destroyed-chair (eyes still closed). He shreds the previous night’s crossword puzzle and any other loose paper on the floor. No movement from the human. The final stage is a cat-leap onto the bed (BabyCat landing on the bed feels like riding a rolling ocean wave in a small dinghy). And then he stares at me like some 19th century hypnotist, willing my eyes to open. No matter how long it takes. None of the ruckus produces results but the silent stare is a killer. It’s unnerving. It makes me open my eyes.

This morning the thunder and rain are at it again. The air is thick, sticky and humid. Wisconsin has gone tropical and, apparently, now has a monsoon season. When my eyes popped open this morning there was something extra in BabyCat’s stare. More than food, he wanted to know where summer had gone. Was it here at all or was is merely a B-Cat dream? A passing fancy?

Blinking my eyes, the best that I could offer was this: “I don’t know, BabyCat. I dreamed it was summer, too.” And then we finished the morning ritual with our customary promenade to the food bowl.

 

if you'd like to see TWO ARTISTS copy(the BabyCat coasters kill me! the travel mug is downright unnerving!)

read Kerri’s blog post about WHERETHEHECKDIDSUMMERGO?

 

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

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wheretheheckdidsummergo ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Follow Your Feet Home [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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I’m not sure how it happened. At some  point, early on in our life together, we began documenting our travels with photos of our feet. Feet in snow, on sand, on brick, tile, carpet, turf, and tundra. Our favorite wedding photo features our feet (red carpet, Frye boots). When pet sitting DogDog and BabyCat, 20 regularly receives photos of our feet on the dashboard. “Stop sending me pictures of your feet!” he rants, though I know he secretly appreciates being included in the foot photo loop.

It’s become a ritual and like most rituals no words are necessary. We just know what to do. On the subway Kerri will glance my way, the camera emerges and we raise our feet. In the museum, I point to the floor and we stand together. Click. At a wedding, Kerri raises her eyebrows and our dressed-up-feet know just what to do. In the forest, without notice, our boots come together. Click.

In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy clicks her heels together, chanting, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” I think of Dorothy and her ruby red shoes every time our feet enter their ritual photo mode, every time we are in a new and strange place and the camera comes out as our feet come together. I think, “Home is here. Home is right now, right where our feet have found themselves. Home.” Click.

if you'd like to see TWO ARTISTS copy

read Kerri’s blog post about FEET

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

feet collage image and products ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Bring Out Your Humor [on Flawed Cartoon Wednesday]

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…and wouldn’t the world be a better place if our stress-default-setting was laughter instead of worry? It would be an odd world but we’d be a healthier human herd.

Don’t get me wrong, if I were a zebra being pursued by a lion I’d want my adrenaline rush to help me skee-daddle! Some stresses are useful! But, in the absence of a real lion, laughter might be more useful than screaming, fretting, worrying, or general angst. Just imagine being stuck in traffic and rather than pounding the steering wheel, rather than sending your blood pressure through the roof, rather than honking your horn or screaming at others stuck in traffic, you laughed. And, your fellow commuters laughed, too! Pretty funny, huh?

if you'd like to see FLAWED CARTOON copy

 

read Kerri’s blog post about CHICKEN STRESS

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

stress brings out my sense of humor ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood