Count On It [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It’s true. There’s rarely been a punch-clock in either of our careers. No one who actually holds the service imperative of a mission-driven-not-for-profit counts minutes and hours because it would only serve to confirm what you already know: if you are good at what you do, you’re working for pennies-per-hour. There’s a reason it’s called a not-for-profit. There’s a reason they call it a service organization instead of a business. Those folks dedicated to the gods of efficiency and effectiveness, those bottom-line devotees, can never fully grok it. It’s almost impossible to see actual service through an accounting focus and a forest of numbers. It’s very possible – in fact, predictable – to strangle a service organization by attempting to make it run like a business.

It’s also true that we used to be night owls. There was a time that my best work, my most productive time in the studio, began at 10pm and ended with the sunrise. There was a time when we took midnight walks. Now, we are transformed. Night is for sleeping. Or at least the attempt at sleeping. We delight (I exaggerate) in rising at the crack of dawn, the birds sing us awake. Dedicated 9-to-5’ers!

read Kerri’s blogpost about 9-to-5

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Homecoming [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

Kerri is back.

She disappeared over 4 years ago. A world-class pianist who fell and broke both her wrists. And then, fell again. Her artistry fractured, her community blew apart and then consumed itself. Pandemic isolation. Depression. Confusion. Hurt. Despair.

And then, in a moment that I can only describe as miraculous, in the most-unlikely-scenario, she let it go and laughed. The choice was easy. The heaviness fell from her spirit. Sitting next to her, I felt the light return. It was so startling that I turned and stared. It was like watching a sunrise. There she was. She came back. After 4 years, she came home.

We walked down the hill, hand-in-hand, and got into the car. We drove away. We literally giggled for miles, overwhelmed with the return of spaciousness in her spirit, the bright light shining in her eyes. Ahhh.

Perfect.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HOMECOMING

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Generous Blossom [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

We took a walk to clear our heads. There, on an embankment adjacent to the trail, were daffodils in full bloom. The yellow was shocking. They were so vibrant that they stopped us in our tracks.

They were so unexpected that they tossed us out of our dilemma-of-the-day and infused us with their quiet hope. We didn’t stay for long but we did take their inspiration home with us.

Such a small thing. Such a generous and timely blossom.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAFFODILS

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Hold Your Head Up [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

She rarely sleeps the whole night through. Which means neither do I. And, to be honest, most of our midnight conversations are world-class. The deep night calls forward the deep conversations. We generally talk until dawn. It is ironic that the light in the sky is, for Kerri, like a sleeping potion.

And, if I am honest, there are nights that I am incapable of cogency. In other words, I am less than lucid. With white noise buzzing between my ears, the best I can do is listen. And nod. And mutter. And hold my head up. And hang on for the dawn.

*****

and in a fit of randomness, here’s a blast from the past song that has almost nothing to do with this post except that Kerri began raucously singing the chorus when I read her my post…

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEING AWAKE ALL NIGHT

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Better Than Nectar [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

My dad used to call coffee “the nectar of the gods.” Kerri and I feel the same way about a good strong cup of black java. There’s nothing better. The smell of fresh coffee brewing is hard to top. We giggle each night in anticipation of the coffee we will sip the next morning.

So, on those rare mornings that the coffee is brewed, the scent fills the house with rich warm delight, I bring the “errand of mercy” to my sleeping wife and announce the arrival of the nectar…and she doesn’t open her eyes…

It has been THAT kind of a week. There’s always more coffee to make, but sleep, real deep rejuvenating sleep, now that is hard to come by. Better than nectar. A welcome gift from the gods.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SLEEP

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buymeacoffee is, apparently, a gift you deliver to artists straight from the gods. get to it!;-)

Prepare! [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It’s true. When one of our children alerts us that they are coming for a visit, life as we know it instantly enters a high-energy-whirling-dervish phase. Kerri begins spinning so fast that she blurs. Dogga and I seek cover.

Eventually, a list of assigned duties comes flying from the tornado. A small piece of paper lands at my feet. I try to make sense of the instructions that whip out of the whirl but sound travels slower than my bride and, in her spinning, I can only catch every third word. With my list in hand and a puzzle of instruction, I begin my tasks, careful to stay out of the path of the funnel-cloud-of-excitement whizzing about the house.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VISIT

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Proof That We Were [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Time keeps moving,” I wanted to say. “It eventually dumps all of us back into the ocean.” I hold my tongue. In my silence I wonder about the origin of this odd idiom, hold my tongue. It invites some hysterical images. It’s better, I suppose, than biting my tongue. Same thing, less damage.

We sort through the children’s clothes – our children’s clothes – from the time that they were toddlers. Kerri coos and tells me stories. I never knew them at that age but delight in imagining the very independent adults I know stumbling around, infant drunken sailors, clad in OshKosh b’gosh overalls. We giggle at her recollections. I marvel at the tiny shoes. I am grateful that she’s filling me in on their early years.

Every so often we wonder what it would have been like to have had babies together. On the drive to our honeymoon we were visited by our first imaginary child, Chicken Marsala. He was – and is – infinitely wiser than his parents. That simple truth, an imaginary yet wise child born in the minds of two aging artists, inspired us to write a comic strip. It was a great premise! It was also great fun to write and draw and Chicken knocked hard on the door of syndication. Alas, he grew up and left us as empty nesters. There are no cute clothes as proof of his existence but there are hundreds of drawings. Seeds for Smack-Dab.

The river runs. Time keeps moving. We have so many ideas! Most pop up and then roll downstream and join the ocean of possibilities. Some leave their marks behind. Toddler clothes that we capture and develop into mature creations. Those creations are what we leave behind, proof that we were once toddling to-and-fro on this gorgeous planet. OshKosh b’gosh!

chicken marsala © 2016, 2024 kerrianddavid.com

I Will Hold You/And Goodnight…a Lullaby Album © 2005

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about OVERALLS

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buymeacoffee is like a footprint on the trail: evidence that you are out there and proof that we have reached you.

Taste The Memory [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It’s true. Taste can be a time machine. Champagne and burgers and fries – an odd combo to be sure – will always transport me to a specific magical evening in 2013, the night Kerri and my relationship launched into the mystical. It’s the story behind the story of why we had the Burgermeister truck cater our wedding.

After she wrote and produced this cartoon, we had a lengthy and delicious conversation about the foods that take us back. Try it. You’ll be amazed at the places you revisit. I landed in Slumgully. And Columbus’ delightful and mysteriously shaped pancakes for dinner. Extra syrup!

This week, we added a sure-fire food-memory destination: shrimp tacos with caramelized pineapple and red cabbage. Good god. I just went there and now I’m starving!

read Kerri’s blog about FOOD TIME MACHINE

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buymeacoffee is a prerequisite for eating baked ziti in a tiny bistro unless the bistro only exists in kerri’s imagination where money is not an issue.

Expect The Burst [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

It’s alright. I know she will inevitably burst and I’ll be covered head-to-toe in her thoughts and opinions.

She’s the same way with gifts. She can’t buy presents ahead of time because she gets too excited to give them. Overwhelmed with gift-giving-anticipation, she bursts.

She’s the same way with ideas. There’s too little space in her heart and mind to contain so many burgeoning ideas. She bursts several times a week. It’s why she’s a pile-organizer. Her good ideas stack up because they have no where else to go.

What’s not to love?

read Kerri’s blogpost about BURSTING

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Don’t Wait! [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I’ve shared Master Marsh’s insight before: “Customer service…” he said, “…is a firewall against serving the customer.”

This smack-dab is hot off the reality press; it just happened. When she hung up the phone, she immediately reached for the computer. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” she smirked.

It tickles me that Kerri so readily translates and transforms her real-world experiences into our cartoon land personas. If nothing else, if no one on earth ever reads our weekly comic strip, of this I am certain: smack-dab is good for our mental health.

“As the customer, isn’t the business supposed to be valuing our time above their time?” I asked, knowing I was about to get that special stink-eye saved for my too-idealistic-no-duh-commentary. She didn’t disappoint!

“Where’s the complaint department?” I asked in mock rage.

She smiled, “Your wait time will be three hours and fifteen minutes.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about WAIT TIMES

Bonus cartoon from the Flawed Archive:

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