Alaskan Halibut, anyone?

Our son, Bo, has spent the last four years at a culinary school while studying to become a licensed chef.  If you enjoy the freshest of fish, have you ever wondered how the fish comes packaged to the restaurant in the first place?  It is not necessarily cut and boxed like the fish you find in the frozen food aisle at your local grocery.  Chefs actually butcher big fish behind the scenes in the kitchen.  Bo holds a rather hefty 80 pound halibut that was swimming in the ocean a day before boarding a plane on its way to Kansas City.  Chefs often create recipes, order the ingredients,  calculate profits, prepare, and cook the meals.   It can all rest on the shoulders of a good chef who efficiently orders the proper amounts of necessary ingredients while offering up the freshest meals without waste.

I had never really thought all that much about it, but fresh fish does not stay fresh for all that long.

We didn’t simply click together the heels of our ruby slippers and arrive back home in our humble abode in Andover, Kansas, but we are are glad to return after a rather sweltering weekend on the art fair circuit. The weather was about as unforgiving as a bump on the end of the nose from the gloves of George Foreman. You couldn’t see it, but the humidity clung to the air like white on rice. As much as I do love participating in art fairs across the country, there are times that I miss the simple comforts of home. Yes, air conditioning comes to mind. Yet, there is something that we miss even more when both Sheryl and I leave home together for a weekend at a show. We miss our dogs. I just hate to go off and leave them at the doggy hotel no matter how many stars are behind its name.

It would be hard to describe the well-found greeting that we received early this morning when we returned from our short trip to Kansas City. Lexi and Dude acted as if we had just returned from a far flung adventure around the world. Although it had only been a few days since we were last together as a family, the dog’s joy was written across their faces. I opened the back door and Dude raced down the steps from the back deck to the lake shore some forty feet behind our house. Before I could say a word, he was frolicking and swimming circles in the middle of the lake. Lexi looked on with a grin that said it all. A few years earlier and she would have been right there in the thick of it. These days she gets about as much enjoyment watching and knowing that all is well. Life is very good at the Stephenson household. Yes, it certainly is.

About the show. Most of what I can say is that The Prairie Village Art Fair is a well run neighborhood art event in the Kansas City area. It is not a large show. The people in attendance are quite nice and I enjoy the overall friendly atmosphere. The crowds seemed a wee bit small to me, but that may be relative to some of the bigger events that I tend to frequent. I feel certain that the heat and humidity this last weekend kept people inside. I know the show’s administrator, and Donna does a ten-star performance. She, and her staff and volunteers,  would settle for nothing less. For artists unfamiliar with the Prairie Village Art Fair, it is worth the first time experience. You be the judge. The sales are there for some, not all.

We recently got news that some of our good friends had relocated in Bend, Oregon.  Tom and Martha became close friends when he headed up the office of OSHA  for the state of Kansas and lived here in Wichita.  Tom later transferred to a bigger job in Washington, D.C.,  where he worked inside government until retirement.  After retiring, he and Martha moved to Colorado where they made a home for themselves.  We have a son living in Aspen.  It is not hard to understand why anyone could be lured to live in the Rocky Mountain state.  I understood why they never wanted to move back to the Jayhawk state.  Kansas really was just a stopping off place in a long government career.  Tom and Martha have made close friends every place that they have been along the way.  But we missed them.  From my own, selfish perspective, their recent move to Bend, Oregon is a great one.  That, is, because I would like no better than to retire to Oregon, myself, when the  time comes.

I was out in Oregon for the first time last summer when I visited artist friends, Randy and Lyn Sedlak-Ford in Portland.   I have know these two working artists for about a dozen years now.  Randy and Lyn are a husband and wife team who built a lovely home from the ground up, and paid  as they went along.  Hardwood floors flow throughout their home; the wood was taken from trees cut and milled by Lyn’s father and brothers in Ohio.  There is a unique artist thumbprint stamped into the interior of the house.  When I first met the couple in Oklahoma City, I was taken by Randy’s sense of humor and his outgoing love of life.  Nothing ever ruffled his feathers, and each day became something new to explore.  I often wondered why it was that someone would live in the far northwestern portion of the country, and then travel 1600 miles east to do art fairs for a living.  Visiting Portland, and a few other select communities in the  Pacific Northwest, gave me my answer.

The air is clear and tall trees pierce the sky.  Scattered volcanic mountains, capped with snow, keep watch over the high desert at night.  Crystal clear glacier-fed rivers traverse the state.  And the people?  Well, I will tell you about the people I have met in Oregon.  There is an untamed spirit to the people who live in Oregon.  They are much more accepting of others and carry an open mind on their shoulders.  That cannot go unnoticed by this liberally minded artist who currently hails from Kansas.  I am not going to do a round of Kansas bashing, but it takes a degree of patience to live here and get along with fellow Kansans who prefer that we think  alike.  Thinking outside of the box is better seen in advertisements for children’s crayons than a state of mind.   So dreaming of retirement in a much more liberal environment is not so strange for those of us willing to color outside of the lines.

A few years back I began to restructure my art business around mixing  business with fun. I wanted to travel and see more of  the west.  It was a big step for me.  What were these far off, most western states, that I had heard about most all of my life, but seldom visited?  Traveling to the tip of Florida was not uncommon and made perfect sense when attending an established art show that draws crowds to support sales.  But Oregon and Washington state, were after all, a longgggggg way away from the flatlands of Kansas.  From a business standpoint why would I want to spend an extra week on the road to do an art fair that no one but those in the Pacific Northwest knew anything about?   I might travel all that way and not sell jack?  It is a business after all, and businesses like mine are generally sales driven. Sheryl wasn’t thrilled about it because I was away from home more days out of the year, and mowing the lawn became her responsibility when I missed a weekend at home.   There were not many pluses in the plus column for adding days away from home on the road.  Such decisions about where and when I travel would have been made much more easily for me if I were in a position to fly with my work to a given destination.  Why had I not decided on making jewelry as my craft, rather than lugging large framed paintings coast to coast?  My friend, Caroline Viene, lives in Eugene, Oregon with her husband Dennis.  Caroline makes lovely contemporary jewelry and simply boards a fast plane anywhere that she chooses when doing art shows.  Check her out at WWW.CAROLINEVIENE.COM.

I have chosen the life that I live and I would not change a thing.  One of the biggest advantages about being a successful working artist is the freedom that it provides.  I could choose to sell my art through galleries and stay inside the studio much more of the time.  But I like the idea of working all winter and setting sail in the spring and summer to sell my wares.  Visiting exciting new ports along the way is the spice of life.  Getting the opportunity last summer to participate in Art In The Pearl in Portland was a special treat.  It was actually my second trip  in so many months to the Pacific Northwest.  I had been in Bellevue, Washington a month earlier for a show.   Each long trip is accompanied with its own set of pleasures along the way.  A fly fishing trip on the Yak in the orchard state is a great reward for driving the distance to do a show.

A 20 inch rainbow taken on a dry fly on the Yakima River.

Both Washington and Oregon are beautiful places I look to visit more often.  I have fished the Yakima twice now, and spent a week on the Deschutes last summer.  I do not overlook the other good streams that I cross on my journeys westward.  I managed two trips to the Green River in Utah last summer.  Then there are the Roaring Fork and Frying Pan outside Aspen. (son Reese lives in Aspen) I ask, who could resist such a trip?  That said, none of it would be possible without the most understanding wife in the world.   Thank you Sheryl, for your patience and understanding.  Marrying Sheryl was the best thing I ever did.

A nice sea run steelhead rainbow trout brought to hand on the Deschutes River outside, Maupin, Oregon.

I ask.  Could it get any better than this?

“Tailing Redfish” a painting by Larry Stephenson

Fishing can run both hot and cold.

Last fall Sheryl and I traveled to Houston to do the Downtown Bayou City Art Festival.  This has always been a good show for me, and people come out in good numbers to enjoy an October weekend and buy art.  I like Houston.  Houston is a large city full of friendly people ready for a good time and a great art festival.  But I must admit that attending the art festival is not the only reason that I look forward to the event.  It gives me a chance to sneak away to the Texas Gulf coast after the show.  Traveling to Houston and doing the show, somewhat justifies  an excuse for doing one of the things that I enjoy most in life.   Mixing business with pleasure is one of the perks that comes with doing art shows for a living.  In my travels and after most shows, I always find time to wet a line.  I do all kinds of fishing, but what I enjoy most is the challenge of catching a fish on a fly.  Whether fishing on the larger rivers of the Pacific Northwest, wading the cool mountain streams of the Rocky Mountains, or poling a boat across the oyster flats of the Gulf coast, fly fishing is my reward for a job well done.  So, after just about any show, or maybe somewhere along the way; I go fishing.

Most fly fishermen understand that there is much more to fishing than just catching fish.  If it is numbers that you want, or meat on the table, fly fishing is not necessarily the most productive way of going about it.  But if you are interested in the sport, and if you like a challenge; then fly fishing is rocket fuel to set you free.  For me fishing is about much more than catching fish.  It is about being there.  It is a day on the water surrounded by all of the elements of nature.  Last October we did not come away with tall tales of monster fish.  I did come away with a good story and a fun illustration of the day.  What follows is my story and a fun painting that says it all.

My story…..

The sun was not yet above the horizon and already the humidity was glued to my skin like a hot bath.   The fishing may have been running a bit cold, but the Gulf weather had definitely turned on the heat.   It felt more like a morning in late August than the beginning of October.   The thrust of the big Mercury engine provided the only relief, kicking up a slight breeze as we raced a pelican out into the bay.  The big bird glided effortlessly, skimming a mirrored surface devoid of the slightest ripple.  Boom!!!  The bird dipped below the surface and came up jawing his beak and swallowing hard.  The sun peaked through a veil of low-lying clouds, sending a blinding light across the water.  The purples and pinks of daybreak gave way to the reflective light of early morning.  I pulled at the visor on my cap and dawned a pair of Polaroid sunglasses just as the engine hushed and the boat slowed to a dead drift.  Almost immediately, the air fossilized around us; choking at the stillness of the bay.

My guide silently poled the boat over a carpet of scattered beds of razor-sharp oyster shells spotting the ocean floor.   We crept slowly forward in only inches of water as the occasional mullet broke the surface, skipping across the glassy surface.  I watched a blue crab skitter out of a bed of grass, disappearing as quickly as he had first appeared.  My guide strained his eyes, searching for the first sign of a tailing redfish.  Redfish stand on their heads using their noses to root around the oyster beds in search of food.  On the flats the water is so shallow that their tails break the surface, marking the locations of feeding fish.   We could see the tell-tale sign of a redfish moving through shallow water leaving its v-shaped wake spreading across the mirrored surface.  But nowhere were tailing fish to be found.

Conditions like these are beautiful for taking postcard photographs, but never the best for spotting tailing redfish before they spook and run for cover.   The slightest vibration or shadow can alert a feeding redfish that danger is close at hand.  I was reminded that very moment just how fragile life is, as an osprey fell from the sky and flew away with a large fish anchored in his talons.  It is all part of the food chain inside the bay.  Today, we were the predators in search for game and even the slightest breeze would have rippled the water just enough to help camouflage our approach.   Like the shadow of the osprey overhead, the shadow of the boat or the slightest vibration gave us away.

I don’t make any claims about being a great fly fisherman.  I do know enough to hire a good guide for a day’s fishing when I get the chance.  Living in the flat lands of Kansas does not provide me the opportunity to cast a fly to a tailing redfish as often as I would like.  There was nothing wrong with my guide or our presentation.  It was just one of those days when the fish were not feeding and the weather was simply too perfect.  We gave it our best, but the fishing was running cold.   I have also been on the water when it was running hot, but that was not the case today.  My mind had time to wander.   I felt like I was soaking inside a steaming bathtub looking for that one monster red to take my fly.  My shirt, damp with sweat, clung to my body like a second skin.   I imagined a wide wake spreading out across the water at the far end of the tub, and a tail, with a single black spot, surfacing for just a moment.  Rust formed by saltwater etched the sides of the tub.  Crusted sea salt lined my brow as I casted my fly out over the water.  I aimed along an imaginary line where I envisioned I might intersect the path of the fish as he nosed his way along the bottom of the tub.   It should be so easy, I thought to myself.   Then the reality of the situation finally sunk in.  This is nonsense, I thought.  Yes.  It is.  All fish stories cannot be about catching fish.   In reality we have to accept the idea that there will be those days when the fish don’t bite, or even give a damn that we are there on the water beside them.  I guess that is why they call it fishing.   Lucky me.  As an artist I seldom have to deal in reality.  I can create my own.   I had a great day of fishing, and came away with a fun illustration about the day’s events that I later put brush to paper.

Okay, so I have a blog.  I am not always sure who reads any of this stuff anyway.  I guess that means that I can write about anything that I want.  Sometimes I may just be entertaining myself while having my morning coffee, or making a short note that I may want to come back to years from now.  This blog is for me.   Sure, blogs are a great marketing tool, to say the least.  Once in a while I even hook up with someone who might not have known anything about my artwork had I not taken the time to write about it on the internet.  Blogs are also a great educational tool for those ferreting out specific information, like how to paint a watercolor.  Just check out my step by step approach in one of my blogs.   But for you dog lovers out there, this one is for us.  It is my special way of recording those puppy years that come and go all too quickly. Dude and Lexi snuggle together. I cannot help but wonder about what appears as true love.  Lexi is the most patient mentor figure to ever come down the pike.  Dude is a premeditating little monster with razor sharp spiked teeth.  Yet, Lexi simply humors him and then snuggles up on his little bed instead of her own.

Lexi and Dude in the field, January 16, 2009. This day will disappear from memory too soon.  Lexi is a 60 pound female eight year old Lab.  Dude is still growing into those big paws of his.  It will not be long before he dwarfs Lexi.  This winter has been brutal.  Up until today, we still had unmelted snow drifts on the lawn that blew in Christmas eve.  For three weeks now the sun has refused to shine for any length of time.  This morning a damp fog hovered against the asphalt as we took off on a morning walk.  Dude has been walking on a leash for some time now.  We love to take Dude and Lexi up the street to an open field where they can play and exercise between a pair of lakes.  Dude will sit on the ground and track the  flights of ducks and geese with his eyes.  It is almost like he is spell bound by the sound of their wing beats as they travel closely overhead.  Waterfowl are on our lakes in great numbers during these winter months.

Sheryl keeps a watchful eye as the dogs run together in the field.  They are unleashed and running free for the moment.  Dogs have always been a big part of our family lives together, but Dude and Lexi are special.  Lexi was a gift from heaven when she was given to us by our son, Reese, seven years ago.  Reese did a wonderful job of training her.  There is absolutely no need for Lexi to ever walk on a leash other than the fact that local ordinances require all dogs to be on a leash.  In the field Lexi  is an unleashed extension of myself.  Her loving personality allows her to get along with every walk of life including other dogs.  I have never known her to fight with any animal unprovoked.   We are hoping that Lexi will be the perfect mentor for Dude.  When we found Dude through Blackfork Labs in Southeastern Oklahoma, we were looking for a litter bred for temperament.   Labs have the ability to learn quickly and can be taught to do almost anything.  A responsible Lab owner can easily train a Lab the proper behavior around people and other animals.  But it always helps to have the genes for special behavioral talents bred into the dogs through the careful eyes of a qualified breeder.  Dude comes from a championship line of Labradors on both sides of the family tree.  Most importantly the match was chosen to produce puppies of a loving nature with personalities to match.

But never be fooled into thinking that puppies will not go through the normal puppy stages while growing into adulthood.  They will always chew, and nip, and get into everything in sight.  That is simply  part of being a puppy.  Their little minds begin growing at a very early age.  Every new experience is an additional wrinkle in a brain that will someday become the dog you want to get to know.

These are a few pictures of fishing moments along the way.  When I am not painting, I love to find the time to wet a line.

Reese provided a family get together in the Bahamas on our 35th wedding anniversary.

Reese on his boat.

Sheryl and I fishing for black drum in Galveston Bay after the Houston show in May 2009.

FISHING FOR RED FISH AFTER THE HOUSTON SHOW IN OCTOBER 2008.

A NICE RAINBOW TAKEN ON A DRY FLY ON THE YAKIMA WHILE TRAVELING TO SEATTLE FOR THE BELLEVUE ART FAIR JULY 2009.

SHERYL FLY FISHING ON THE SNAKE RIVER OUTSIDE JACKSON HOLE, WYOMING AUGUST 2008. Jackson has a small art fair that provides the perfect excuse for combining a vacation with a weekend’s work.  If you ever go, check out Jack Dennis as a guide service.  Our favorite guide is Mark Fuller, a senior guide for Jack Dennis Sports.

REESE ON THE RIVER. Son, Reese lives in Aspen and enjoys whitewater rafting.  I love to stop in for a visit whenever I am traveling west.  The Roaring Fork and Frying Pan are gold medal trout streams outside of Aspen.

CULLEN ENJOYS A MOMENT AT SEA.

A NICE KING. Our boat hand was a professional fisherman who made his living by selling fish to the island natives.  We kept this fish, and others for Allen to sell in his local fish market.  While we caught our fish on rod and reel, Allen preferred a heavy hand line and a big baited hook without the aid of either rod or reel.  We would sometimes go out to the reef where we would catch smaller fish that Allen would attach to his giant hook and line in an attempt to lure monsters from the deep.

THIS IS A GOOD PICTURE OF OUR GUIDE MARK FULLER WHILE FISHING IN JACKSON HOLE. There is nothing special about the fish.  It is a native cutthroat, typical of the fish we catch on the snake.  Sheryl and I have fished with Mark several times and he works his tail off to find fish and provide a good day’s entertainment.  I have caught bigger fish in other places, but there is something special about the Snake River and the mountain range inside Teton National Park.

28 INCH STEELHEAD CAUGHT SWINGING FLIES ON THE DESCHUTES RIVER, MAUPIN, OREGON SEPTEMBER 2009. If you are interested in learning to fly fish with a spey rod or simply looking to stalk steelhead on the Deschutes, Deschutes Angler offers a great guide service.  I traveled out to Oregon to do the Art In The Pearl Art Fair in Portland and fished along the way.  Other stops included fishing for browns on the Green in Utah below Flaming Gorge Reservoir.

Blackened redfish for dinner.

This photo was taken several years ago on the Texas coast.  Several if us artists got together and spent a few days kicking back in Port Aransas.   We stayed in budget housing at the Double Barr Cottages.   Part of the fun is cooking in the kitchen and fixing fresh sea food.

Reese and his monster from the deep.

Bo and his trigger fish.

The island natives in the Bahamas say these fish are great eating.

READY FOR BIG GAME?

This colorful group of blue water rigs caught my eye.

FLOUNDER FOR DINNER.

I generally believe in catch and release.  It is more about the sport and being out on the water than taking home fish.  I was on my way to Atlanta for an art show and had a few days to kill along the way.  I arranged for a guided fishing trip outside of New Orleans along the way.  We were fishing for Reds and saw plenty of wildlife including the occasional alligator visiting us boat side.  I hooked up with this flounder towards the end of the day and gave it to my guide for dinner that night.  Flounders are considered great eating by most folks in the know.  These locals were no different.

The last steelhead. As darkness engulfed the river, I brought to hand the final steelhead of the day.  A great day swinging flies on the Deschutes!

HOPE TOWN.

We are standing beside Reese’s boat.  That is the Hope Town lighthouse in the background. We are in the Abaco Islands of the Bahamas.

FISH ON!

Mom gets into the action. Sheryl loves to fish.  This one will be all that she can handle.  The reel in the lower right is as big as she is.

The Last Fish of the Day!   Maupin, Oregon 2009

Some day I will come back and look at this collection of photographs with fond memories of times and places, friends, and family, and fish caught and released.  None of these memories may mean more to me than a day on the Deschutes stalking steelhead with my guide, Travis Johnson from Deschutes Angler.  It was a long day that began at 4:00 in the morning and ended at sundown.  I know that Travis does this two thirds of the days out of a year.  No one angler will make a dent in his memory because Travis takes it all in stride while giving each day the best that he has to offer.  He may never know the impact he made on me, or just how much I learned in that single day’s stretch of fishing.  After all, that is what guiding is all about.  I only wish that I had deeper pockets that would have  allowed me to double my tip at the end of one of the finest days of fishing I have ever experienced.  That day on the Deschutes will live on with me until I die.  Thank you Travis, and keep a tight line.

No one can deny that he is a hand full.  But a new puppy in the family has its special moments.  Sheryl could not resist getting Dude a new coat for Christmas and the weather cooperated for that “perfect” picture.  The fact that he will grow out of that coat in no time at all, was totally lost in the moment.  Dude’s paws are already big as saucers and his jump puts him within reach of any and everything.  Thank God, he is house trained; already twelve weeks old and counting.

Smoked Turkey!!!!

I marinated this turkey for 24 hours in a brine composed of salt, brown sugar, apple juice, fresh squeezed lemons and cooked spices.   I slowly cooked the bird at 250 degrees for six hours on the smoker.  The inside cavity was stuffed with oranges and lemons cut in half.  It was one of the best turkey dinners in memory.  A brined turkey is more moist than turkeys cooked any other way.  The smoke gave this turkey a rich and unusual taste when combined with the herbs and spices in the brine.  I actually placed freshly picked sage into the fire while smoking and also added dried basil plants from our garden of last summer to the coals.  The bird was totally consumed by nightfall.  Ah, it was time for turkey sandwiches on hand sliced sour dough bread with Romaine lettuce and provolone cheese.  Bo had brought along a few large bottles of select micro brewed beers to taste.  It was the end to a perfect day.

I want you to meet the new member of the family.  Sheryl and I traveled to Tulsa from Wichita, Kansas over the weekend to meet the owner of Blackfork Labradors at a location half the distance in between our two homes.   We picked up Dude, the most adorable cuddly creature on earth.   He is simply gorgeous!  (Check out Blackfork Labradors at www.blackforklabradors.com)

After a three hour drive back to Wichita, I found myself ready for a night’s rest.  Lucky for us, Lexi, our eight year old lab, accepted her new role as surrogate mother and nanny without a trace of hesitation.   The cat could not have cared less and disappeared to another part of the house.   All was well until we introduced Dude to his new crate and turned off the lights.   How can such a cute little dog cry so loud and for so long?  I had all but forgotten that puppies do just that.   I found myself sleeping on the floor with the puppy next to my side so that Sheryl could get some rest.   Serious  crate training would have to wait until morning.

What followed on Sunday was a day of introductions.  Dude learned where we expected him to do his business.  He learned that he was expected to take naps in his crate.  And yes, he cried when left alone without constant attention.  I could tell that this is not going to be easy.   Monday morning we included Dude on our morning walk and I ended up carrying him much of the way.  His little legs simply won’t keep up with us grownups.  Lexi seemed somewhat puzzled at our slower pace.

Perhaps I should ask myself  if a person is ever too old to have a new puppy.  Not since the boys were young has a baby dog occupied a place in the Stephenson household.  That was almost twenty years ago, and my three sons were there to reflect much of the energy given off by a wound up baby canine.  Our last two dogs have been rescue projects in one way or another and came to us already grown.   We had a 140 pound Harlequin Great Dane that we named Toto.  She slept at my feet in the studio for eight years.  Then we inherited Lexi, our current adult yellow lab, six years ago when middle son, Reese, moved away to Aspen.  He had gotten an apartment without space for a dog.  She came to us so well trained that it would be difficult to find better.  Lexi fell seamlessly into our lives.  So, what makes a person stick their neck out at 59 years of age and take on a major project like a new puppy?  I guess it is a quest to reclaim youth or something as simple as a love for dogs.  It is the knowledge that a well trained dog will give back to its owner ten fold the love it receives.  I have a friend who often tells me that this is unconditional love.  If only humans could be so tolerant of one another, the world would be a better place.

So, here begins the next chapter of our lives.  I say our lives, because Sheryl is a big part of this decision.  The jury is not completely in, but already I would not trade Dude for anything in the world.   He has won our hearts.   My hope is that he becomes a constant studio companion.  Hey, Dude!  Off to paint another day.

If you are ever considering a new pet for your own home, and think you might be interested in a Labrador Retriever, a visit with a good breeder is a great idea.  We could not be better pleased with Blackfork Labradors.  There are also plenty of Labrador rescues that a specialty breeder or your veterinarian  can also recommend.  Most labs are very intelligent and quick to learn.   As a breed, they are generally extremely gentle and like children.  They love to swim and are born retrievers.

As long as I can remember the evening’s entertainment around the Stephenson household has centered on creating dinner.  There is something magical about creating an exciting meal that does not come out of a box.  Ideas can take flight while experimenting with unusual foods and different cuisines from far away continents.  It has not always been pretty; but I say nothing ventured, nothing gained.   That is how it always was for our three sons, while growing up in a household where the evening meal was the big ticket attraction for the end of day.  I hope that they never thought of themselves as Guinea pigs in some grand experiment.  Oh, yeah, we did our share of soccer outings during the weekends, and had plenty of evenings watching Bo play hockey.

Sheryl works as a marketing director for a large credit union.   There has never been enough of her to go around.   That did not stop us from spending hours each evening in the kitchen.  I have always made a business out of my art and I treat each day like a day at the office.   Our shared cooking time at the end of the day was our special way of rewarding ourselves for a long day at the salt mines.  Our interest in gourmet cooking helped shed some of the tensions carried home from the daily grind.  Cooking was never work.  It has always been just for fun at our household.

Because of this induced cooking environment, it is little wonder that Bo, our youngest of the three boys, chose to become a licensed chef.   He is more than halfway through a rather demanding culinary degree.   The school’s requirements are not for anyone without a strong work ethic and the ability to literally think outside of the box.  While going to school full time, he currently works two fulltime 40 hour-a-week jobs at two separate gourmet restaurants.  And he just cannot get enough of it.  That makes his mom and I sing with joy!  He seems to have found his passion and nothing is finer in life than doing what you were meant to do.  Go Bo!

A couple of years back I painted this painting of a grumpy chef presenting  rare sliced roast beef tableside.   The model for the painting came from a lead toy chef from the 1940’s manufactured by the Barclay Toy Company.  For anyone interested, I can print this in custom sizes using the giclee printing process of 1800 dots per square inch.  The printing quality is phenomenal.   We have one hanging in our own kitchen and it always brings a laugh.