One Small Way [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you take a peek behind the curtain here at The Melange International (parent company kerrianddavid.com), you’d find a big bag of chips. More specifically, Costco Kettle chips. The bag is bigger than a mattress though we somehow manage to eat our way through it in…an unspecified very short span of time.

Taking another chip from the bag, Kerri exclaims, “These are bad!” which actually means they taste good but are not healthy. I remind her that mental health is just as important as physical health and the salty chips never fail to make us smile. And, these days, things that make us smile are very important, indeed.

And then there is this: Costco is one of the few companies with spine in a nation gone rubber-chickeny. In the face of an all-out assault on DEI, an attack on basic sanity – not to mention a scrubbing of history, Costco refuses to surrender their moral center and chooses, instead, to exercise their integrity. Our dedication to buying monster bags of chips from Costco is our way of supporting one of the last vestiges of courage and goodness in our nation.

Each chip we eat is a small “thank you”.

“Shall I refill the bowl?” I ask, already on my way to the gargantuan bag.

“Why not!” she says.

There’s no end to our gratitude. We delight that our love of salty snacks is one small way to support and celebrate goodness and courage. At least that’s what I tell myself.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHIPS!

likesharecommentsupportsubscribe…thankyou.

Load The Snacks! [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

We wrote a play entitled The Roadtrip. It is comprised of the many months of emails we wrote to each other before we actually met. Like Love Letters only with a happy ending. In it, as is true-to-life, Kerri is the wise character and I am the character without a clue. Note: the best part of being clueless is that you don’t know it.

If we were to write a sequel there would be less words and many more snacks. As the audience, you’d have to watch us eat. Kerri is a Twizzlers girl and I am a peanut M&M man. The snacking begins before we hit the end of the driveway. It doesn’t end until we arrive at our destination – and even that is a momentary pause.

There’s usually plenty of room in Little Baby Scion but you’ll not be surprised to learn that when we pack for a road trip, after the snacks are in the car, there’s barely any room for our clothes, which is a good thing because after all those snacks we can’t fit into our clothes.

Let’s just say that we have our priorities straight.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ROAD SNACKS

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

like. share. comment. support. subscribe…thank you.

Snack And Be Lost [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Years ago I wrote to Rob and told him that I felt lost-in-the-woods. His advice to me was to be lost. To sit down in the woods and rest for awhile. Orientation would come with a clearer mind. It was sage advice.

Yesterday Rob wrote to me and told me that there was a hole in his life. My advice to him was to sit in the hole for awhile. Let go of attempts to fill it and experience the hole. Wholeness would come in time. It is grand to return sage advice to the very person that offered it to you.

Lostness. The hole. They are not fixed states. They are fluid. The same is true of wholeness and found-ness. They are never forever. Life rolls on and each new day brings surprises and change. Comfort and discomfort. Thank goodness.

Rob’s message to me was simple: I never resist the comfortable experience of knowing-where-I-am so why should I resist the uncomfortable experience of not-knowing-where-I-am. The discomfort comes from the resistance so stop resisting. Be lost.

The sun is setting early these days. Our shadows stretch long on the trail by 3:30. I’ve not adjusted and it throws me for a loop. Disoriented, I stop, turn and look at the orange ball low on the horizon, shining through the trees. The seed pod glows and reminds me of a crazy muppet in mid-howl. In an attempt to orient I ask, “What time is it?”

“Snack time,” she said.

Ah, yes. With a lifetime of sage advice swirling around my soul, to this latest disorientation, I willingly gave over and offered no resistance to her suggestion. The lesson I wish I knew when I was younger: disorientation, sitting in my lostness, is always easier done with snacks.

read Kerri’s blogpost on LOW SUN AND SEED POD

share. like. support. comment. and, for heaven’s sake, snack no matter what you decide to do.

buymeacoffee is a table for two set in the deep woods made available for anyone lost and willing to sit down and rest for a spell.

Change The Plan [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

The snack rules on a road trip are different than the snack rules at home. Even when we delude ourselves into thinking we’ll be virtuous snackers on our trip, we quickly breakdown and stop for Twizzlers and Peanut M&M’s. And Munchos. “Do you want some apple?” I ask, and Kerri makes a wrinkly face.

“I don’t want any of that,” she pouts.

That’s when I know there’s a change in the snack plan. That’s when I know there’s a stop ahead. That’s when I know the road trip has officially started. With the onset of wrinkly face we revert to our inner 20-somethings.

“ROAD-TRIP!” we whoop in unison, turn up the music, and speed for the nearest exit.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNACKS!

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

Be Grand! [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Little pot roasts are popping up everywhere! Adorable bundles of baby smell and killer smiles. In our pal-group, the babies are having babies. And it’s transforming us into something a little more grand.

Not having had children of my own (I am the proud papa of my two given-children), I’ve spent my life as the weird uncle. I taught my toddler niece to say, “I want another margarita!” and my sister was not pleased. I’ve never successfully changed a diaper but I’ve had riotous fun with many crawling creatives, banging pots and breaking crayons. Uncles, like grandparents, are there to break the rules.

Of this I am certain: Kerri dreams of heaping love and presents on her future grand-pot-roasts; I can’t wait to finger paint and then meet after the mess at the Cheerio bar. Green fingers and snacks! A sure sign that life is grand.

read Kerri’s blogpost on SNACK TIME!

[happy mother’s day!]

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Fill The Pot [on Two Artists Tuesday]

It’s food week at the Melange. Well, truth be told, it’s always food week here. When we’re not in our studios we meet in the kitchen and either eat food or talk about eating food. Sometimes – okay – everyday, when I am up in my office working, Kerri sends me a midmorning text: “Are you staaaaarving?” My reply never waivers: “Yes. Yes I am.” Snacks appear and happiness ripples throughout the house.

It’s winter and it’s covid so our circle of experience has shrunk mightily. Kerri injured her foot so our daily winter walks through the frozen tundra are on hiatus. As our recent photographs have betrayed, we are explorers in our own house. Photos of Dogga. Photos of the moon. Clever shots of candles and glasses of wine. And food, food, food.

Because it is winter, the big pot has re-emerged. Soups or spaghetti sauce are often simmering on the stove. During the warm months, the big pot goes on vacation but faithfully returns when the temperatures drop. There are weeks when the big pot never makes it back to the cabinet. It’s a workhorse.

I appreciate the reappearance of the big pot because, in addition to being essential for soups, it evokes stories. It never fails. The pot comes out. The chopping commences. And the stories start to roll. Our big pot has been around for a very long time so it is alive with story. Big pots bring memories of parents and grandparents, holiday meals, Dorothy cooking on the cast iron stove. It evokes remembrance from childhood, steam rising from the pot and fogging the kitchen window. Once, as a boy, I couldn’t breathe and leaned over the big pot. The steam helped.

This week we are excited: we have a new soup to try. Last week we made a simple vegetable soup, a recipe we lifted from 20. The big pot also helps us to dream. We remember a pre-covid world when we had gatherings and dinner parties, when we squeezed people into chairs at the table, elbows negotiating heaping plates of pasta, crusty bread, and wine. Laughter. “It’s the first thing we’re going to do,” Kerri says, “when this is all behind us.” The pot will come out. A vat of sauce will bubble on the stove. Friends will pack into the kitchen, asking, “When do we eat?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about BIG POTS

Follow Your Conscience [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Kerri introduced me to Nutella and I’ve never been the same since. Early in our life together, our night-time treat was animal crackers dipped in Nutella. We considered having bowls of animal crackers and Nutella at our wedding but changed the plan when we considered how many lives we’d ruin with Nutella addiction. We like our friends and felt virtuous protecting them from the horrors of guilty pleasure.

We don’t buy Nutella because people send it to us in the mail. Apparently, Kerri has a reputation. We’d keep it out of the house due to an extreme absence of willpower, but when people send you gifts in the mail it’s only polite to enjoy the gift. We wouldn’t want to lie. Our mommas raised-us-right.

I’d also like to confess my lemming nature. When she jumped over the Nutella-waffle-cliff, I followed without thought or hesitation. Never-been-the-same-since.

read Kerri’s blog post about NUTELLA

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Take Another Sip [on DR Thursday]

I am spending a significant amount of time studying software. An unlikely task for an artist that prefers brushes and canvas over screens and keyboards. This improbable exploration follows a trend in my life: much of my work has taken place in foreign arenas. I love it because I learn. I love it because I am completely prepared to fail: a trait necessary to walk an artist’s path. To learn, it is necessary to begin in unknown places and make big mistakes. The same rule applies to creation. “Make big offers,” John used to say to his actors. “See what happens.”

Yesterday in my software study, I read about Mathilde Collin, the CEO of Front. She inspires me. She believes work should make people happy. She believes people shouldn’t dread getting out of bed in the morning. She believes in balanced-lives and finding each person’s “genius zone” and leaning into it. She knows a healthy culture doesn’t just happen, that it must be created and tended. And modeled. She believes paths to prosperity must include everyone.

I’ve also spent some time with Evariste Galois. He was a French mathematician who died in a duel at the age of 20. The night before he died, so the story goes, believing it was his last night on earth, he compiled and wrote his thoughts, his life’s work. What he left behind has kept mathematicians busy for more than two centuries. I’m not a mathematician but I am a systems guy and Galois’ Group Theory is useful when studying cultural change – or, more to the point, why it often looks like change but doesn’t really change. Rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. It’s useful to consider when products are being developed – or stories – when they iterate but go nowhere.

When I come down from the office I am often glazed. Kerri gives me a glass of wine and steers me to the Covid table. While I stare at the bubbles in the wine she makes a snack. Food and wine always bring me back to the land of the living. After a cracker and cheese, a sip or two, I blink my eyes and she says, “Welcome back.” She knows better than to ask what I did at work. A time or two I’ve taken her hand and headed back toward the mind-cave and she’s learned to dig in her heels. “I learned the most amazing thing,” I say. She responds, “Take another sip and we’ll talk about it later.”

Mathilde Collin. Evariste Galois. Both are French and it only just occurred to me that they share the same country of origin. Revolutionaries both, believing that the systems should work for the people – rather than the people working for the system. Life should feed passions. Evoke personal genius. Happiness.

All of this good stuff from a stumble into the land of software.

“Take another sip,” Kerri prompts. I blink my eyes. “We’ll talk about it later.”

read Kerri’s blog post about WINE BUBBLES

in dreams i wrestle with angels © 2017 david robinson

Eat And Evolve [on Merely A Thought Monday]

DogDog actually sat still long enough to don antlers and have his picture taken. This is progress. Our Aussie pup rarely sits still and is known for his committed resistance to headwear. He is, however, responsive to the promise of treats and the real story of his antler success is Kerri’s ability to juggle the antlers, the camera and the waving of a treat – all in one balletic gesture. I suspect we are not so different from DogDog: all evolution is probably snack driven.

More than once we’ve made the 45 minute drive to Lake Geneva to buy a single piece of flourless chocolate cake. In pre-Covid times we’d stay awhile and visit the shops or walk part of the path around the lake (it’s a 21 mile loop), but lately, we grab our cake and go. I also want to confess that, in our recent drive to Denver, we went through Lake Geneva and, not only did we buy a piece of cake but also an entire loaf of freshly baked Turkey Red Rustic bread. And a brownie. It was all gone before Kansas. I am certain that decadent cake and warm bread are signs of incremental evolution. We are slightly better people for having indulged our food fantasies. We are slightly bigger, too.

It’s the holidays. I know this because my dog is wearing antlers. I also know it because people are making plans to gather and have meals together. There will be singing and gifts and other events but mostly there will be food. Cookies. Pies. Hams. Yams. Kerri asked Jen for a recipe in our evening Zoom happy hour. Yesterday, the grocery store was packed with enthusiastic shoppers carrying lengthy lists, racing through the aisles, all to hunt and gather the ingredients necessary for evolution to continue.

Sworn enemies find a path to peace when breaking bread together. A community knows it is prosperous when none of its members want for food. The same will be true of the world. Peace and enough to eat are bedfellows. We have a ways to go in our evolution.

When this world really wants to break bread, might I recommend Simple Bakery in Lake Geneva. The Turkey Red Rustic has always brought us great peace and I’m certain the same will be true for the bevy of committed enemies the world round. In the meantime, it’s my turn with the antlers. Kerri has promised me a treat and a sip of Bailey’s Irish Creme if I am good boy and sit still. Let’s just say that DogDog and I share the same sitting-still-for-headwear gene. I love evolution though I fear the photo. I suppose there’s always a price to be paid.

read Kerri’s blog post about EVOLUTION

Obsess [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

I’d never heard of Munchos until I met Kerri. I’d never pulled all of chip bags off the shelf at a store in search of Munchos until I met Kerri. I’d never been escorted out of a store by the police because of a Muncho search until I met Kerri. And, to make this fun, only two of the last three statements is actually true. Let me just add that the police were kind. Evidently, the officers that came that day appreciated Munchos as much as Kerri.

In reviewing the past several weeks of Smack-Dab, I see how snack-driven we really are. I’d have denied it outright before today. Dogga is completely food driven and you know what they say about people and their dogs. Dogga was in the car during our Munchos near-incarceration. He pretended that he didn’t know us though his deniability was questionable since he was in our car and had a collar with our phone number chiseled into it. The police were kind though. They cautioned him to keep a better eye on us and to forbid us from going back into the market. And then, they gave him a treat. Not a Muncho-treat. Those were nowhere to be found.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MUNCHOS!

smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com