Deny and Arrive [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Kerri often has a difficult time sleeping which means that I, too, have a difficult time sleeping. Left to my own devices, I am a champion sleeper.

I don’t mind, though. Some of our best conversations happen in the dead of night. There’s nothing like a sleepless wife and a midnight snack to bring up the real stuff. I delight when, in the quiet of a slumbering world, we talk of dreams and disappointments, hopes and heartaches. Nothing is solved. Everything is revealed. The gift of the night is to clear the clutter.

I confess that I sometimes meet her, “Are you up?” with an intentional show of snoring or a delayed response, staged mumbling or, “What, huh…” There is a necessary transition zone from champion sleeper through denial to the arrive at the acceptance that sleepless for one is sleepless for both.

And, then, the great conversations begin.

read Kerri’s blog post on saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

Enjoy A Cuppajava [on Merely A Thought Monday]

The night is still and it’s hot. I suppose that’s why we’re having trouble sleeping though, if you read our smack-dabs, you’ll already know that sleepless nights make a regular appearance in our life and, therefore, our cartoon.

Sleepless nights and coffee. You might suspect that the coffee causes the sleepless nights but the opposite is true. Sleepless nights contribute to the giant mugs of coffee in our hands each morning so it also shows up in the hands of our cartoon selves. Puffy comic faces and never-enough-coffee. Sleep deprivation and coffee desperation make for good humor.

Coffee has always been central to our story. Before we met, the subject line of our daily emails was cuppajava. We wrote our cuppajava for months. Eventually, we called our combined catalogue of cuppajava The Roadtrip. With coffee in hand, we wrote truth-fests. Confessions. We asked questions and told secrets and laughed at foibles – all over a cup of coffee shared fifteen hundred miles apart. On my birthday, months before we met, a package arrived at my studio with a pound of Sumatra and a coffee mug stenciled with our shared middle-name (we have the same middle name). After months of correspondence, when we finally met, Kerri picked me up from the airport and had a cup of coffee waiting in the car.

Coffee is more than a casual player in our story. That’s especially true now that we are nearly a decade into our tale and have taken several actual road trips and written over a million words sitting side-by-side.

If we come to stay at your house, don’t be offended if we bring our own coffeemaker and coffee. We are coffee snobs, it’s true, but there’s more to our quirk than meets the eye. My old studio coffeemaker, the one that brewed my cuppajava, goes everywhere with us. It’s raspy and gasps the entire time that it’s brewing, but, somehow, all these years later, it continues to deliver coffee for our chats. Like us, it’s not pretty but it perseveres.

read Kerri’s blog post about COFFEE

Reinvent [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

As we’ve been told, Kerri and I are simpatico. Yet, at this time of year, the vast differences in our past lives come to the surface. For instance, she’s lived in this house – now our house – for 32 years. She raised her children here. I did not have children and was mostly – until I met her – a wanderer. For Kerri, the holidays are rich with memories and traditions, meal prep for the masses, all things that she now misses. Covid has served to amplify her longing.

I’ve always had to improvise during the holidays and, were I to do an accounting of my experiences, I’d wager that I’ve spent more holidays away from rather than with family. I do not suffer the loss and yearning that Kerri suffers. My holiday memories are not fond or tradition-filled.

It was cold on Thursday but we walked a trail anyway. We held hands and talked of reinventing or rituals. It seems so much of past two years has been an exercise in disruption and loss, letting go of what-was and making space for what-will-be. The holidays in our future need not be populated with the ghosts of holidays past.

We read an article that flipped on-its-head the usual Thanksgiving question. Rather than ask, “What are you thankful for?” the article suggested we ask of ourselves, “What will you do to help others be thankful?”

It’s a good question and a great seed to plant for the ghost-of-our-holiday-future.

read Kerri’s smack-dab. blog post

smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Say ‘Hello’ To Humble [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Suffering indignity is one of the surprises of aging. For every forty-something out there who feels on top of the world, for every thirty-something who feels invincible, for every twenty-something who feels immortal, I recommend that you enjoy it while it lasts. It does not last. Some day in your too-soon-to-come-future, you, too, will plan your travels according to the availability of bathrooms. Even a trip to the store will necessitate careful consideration. Monitoring fluid intake relative to the plan for the day will become a high priority – so much so that you will normalize it. “Is that all the coffee you’re having?” Kerri asks.

“We’re going to Chicago later,” I reply.

“Oh, right,” she says, putting down her cup.

You’ll arrive at your new-normal because, along the way, you’ll have surprise panic moments. There’s nothing more humbling than wetting yourself in public. There are few greater stress inducers than, “I gotta go now!” with no place to go.

And, the greatest indignity of all: at the time of your life that you need to run the fastest, your joints will creak and your muscles hesitate. Your sprint into the woods will look to others like…

Humble, humble, humble.

read Kerri’s blog post about KNOCKING ON THE NEIGHBORS DOOR

smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Release The Tether [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

As the old adage goes, timing is everything. It is a lesson I will probably never learn. When something pops into my noggin, I grab hold of it like the tether to a hot air balloon. I can’t let go of the tether until I’ve expressed it. So, I am, and always have been, a master of bad timing.

Kerri has adapted well to my balloon-filled-brain. She knows that I can release the tether, the balloon will fly away, and life will go on with or without my urgent need to capture-the-thought. And, usually, there will be a second chance: all balloons come down again and, sometimes, they arrive at just the right moment. No raincheck required.

read Kerri’s blog post about RAINCHECK

smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Appreciate The Nectar [saturday morning smack-dab.]

My dad called coffee ‘the nectar of the gods.’ It has special properties that I am only now beginning to fully appreciate. The-nectar-of-the-gods was wasted on me when I was young. I didn’t appreciate it. I drank it for comfort and taste. Now I get it. Coffee is an essential survival beverage. The gods are laughing. We’re just trying to stay conscious.

read Kerri’s thoughts about COFFEE!

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Do More Than Watch [saturday morning smack-dab.]

It’s short. It’s precious. Both/And.

Live Life, My Sweet Potato stuff on Society6

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Laugh At Yourself [on DR Thursday]

Had you come across our website during the era of The Roadtrip, a play that Kerri and I wrote from the several-months-email-conversation we had before we first met face-to-face, you’d have read this phrase: smack-dab in the middle of middle age…a true story of quiet hope and the arrival of life’s second chances.

Smack-dab. In the middle of middle age. We met. We married. We walk the neighborhood arm-in-arm. We write these blog posts each day. She brings her wise-eyes into my studio and I tell her what her music makes me feel and think.

For an intense year or so, we tried-like-crazy to syndicate a cartoon strip called Chicken Marsala, the imaginary child of two people who met smack-dab in the middle of middle age. In the course of writing and drawing Chicken, we also pitched a single-panel cartoon, Flawed, and another called At The Door. Chicken Marsala had several iterations because the syndicate liked it…almost. They asked for improvements though never specified what those improvements might be – in the writing? The art work? In this age of too much information, no answer ever came back to us.

In the face of unspecified and uncertain improvements, this ONE thing is certain: we generated a mountain of material in the hunt for the elusive improvement. Oh, and this, too: we laughed heartily at ourselves. The mountain of material was about us. We were poking fun at the things we do and say each day.

This morning I found Kerri furiously working at her computer guffawing. She’d pulled up the old Chicken file. There was an iteration of the strip that was pre-Chicken, the middle-aged couple prior to the appearance of their imaginary son. We sat this morning and laughed again at ourselves. These things actually happen and how joyful is it to chronicle yourself in-and-as a cartoon?

I suspect we are going back to the drawing board. This time, we’ll not hide behind our imaginary son. This time, we’ll pull the blankets on the source. Smack-dab. In the middle of middle age. Two artists met and got married. What could be a better set-up for ridiculousness?

read Kerri’s blog post introducing SMACK-DAB

*don’t believe a word she writes, she guffaws all of the time.

smack-dab ©️ 2021 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Look In And Laugh [on DR Thursday]

I’m concerned. This is the 4th week in a row that Kerri has penned a new AT THE DOOR for use in our Melange. “This would be good for DR Thursday,” she says, showing me the latest draft. Originally, this cartoon was about the differences between DogDog and BabyCat; what they might think when staring out-into-the-world from the same door. Now, I fear Kerri’s new AT THE DOOR revival is about us. I am the dog. She is the cat. I am easily amused and too often state the obvious. She is more discerning and precise. I am, I confess, remedial. She can’t help but roll her eyes.

It’s not that I mind the cartoon comparison to DogDog. There are definite similarities. The circles I run are also counterclockwise. I am food driven. I want to run at every horizon simply to see what’s there. She is given to sitting in the sun, content in the bounds of the known, the delights of home.

Other comparisons of note: when BabyCat is hungry, he tortures the Dog. When Kerri is hungry, well, let’s just say that I spring into food-prep-mode for self-preservation. I can feel BabyCat’s stare boring a hole in the back of my head. Kerri’s stare has the same power. No. Words. Necessary. When DogDog is upset, he disappears into his safe spot. For him, it’s the bathroom. For me, it’s the studio.

Saturday – the day we choose our images for the upcoming week of the Melange – is fast approaching. I lay awake last night wondering what message or observation will come my way via AT THE DOOR. Last Saturday, before she showed me the cat’s commentary on the dog, dog = remedial, she was literally cackling. Looking at me and snickering. So was BabyCat!

Of course, it’s possible that AT THE DOOR has always been about us. It’s possible. DogDog and BabyCat, despite their vast differences, are constant companions and champions for the other. Just like us. I suspect that, if DogDog and BabyCat were to collaborate and pen a cartoon about us sitting at the door, staring into this vast wide-open universe, they’d snicker with love at our character collisions, a study in oppositions, and adore us and celebrate us, as we do them, weird quirks and all.

read Kerri’s blog post about AT THE DOOR

Fill In The Thought Bubble [on DR Thursday]

sketch with frame copy

I sit in the truck and wait while Kerri goes into the building to work. I’m not allowed in so I use my time to sketch or work on other projects. Big Red is my mobile studio.

I was flipping through my latest sketchbook and found  this on the last page. I laughed because I’d forgotten about it. It is from the early days of the pandemic. I LOVE YOU. NOW STAND BACK. It captures the ever growing mountain of contradictions that tumbled-in with COVID-19.

On the facing page of the sketchbook, I wrote 3 haiku:

Screen Shot 2020-07-01 at 11.20.28 AM

Sketchbooks are like archives or a diary. If I wrote a book about this time I’d call it Weird Calculus. Every decision, even the smallest, is awash in contradictions and placed on a sliding scale of risk.

Since I drew this sketch, we’ve thrown ourselves against a hard wall of conflicting beliefs. We play a deadly game of racquetball with so much intentional misinformation. Data denial. We’re 4% of the world’s population and we’ve managed to fight ourselves into a full 25% of the world’s infections. That’s quite an achievement.

Were I to draw this sketch today, a mere 3 months later, the thought bubble might say: I LOVE YOU. NOW WAKE UP!

 

read Kerri’s blog post about STAND BACK!

 

seagull in fog website box copy

 

 

 

now stand back ©️ 2020 david robinson

sleepers ©️ 2014 david robinson