Marilyn Hoffman Leaps into Reality

non-representation reality, no less.

Is it an intrinsic element of being an artist that enables them to embrace change? Where do they find the Courage to Create?

After one conversation, albeit lengthy (is there any other kind with MFH?), Marilyn Hoffman leapt from the cliff of abstraction  and threw herself headlong into non-representation. And it was/is sublime.

You'll have to go by and visit her to see it. I was so startled I forgot to take photos. Her work is in The Main Street Artists Gallery and in the  Capitol Arts Gallery, both in Quincy, CA. Her contact info is available at each.

The one she's holding is recent, but her newest is a masterpiece!!!

Quincy - Northern California Art Destination

Quincy is walkable. No crowds, nice stuff, two galleries, a theater, numerous restaurants and several coffee shops. Lots of choices and all easily accessible.

Main Street Artists Gallery has 30+ artists some of which do abstract work. ( !!! ). That's Johanna Griggs on the left with Kathy Peters nearer the door. Ms. Griggs' former husband (deceased) is represented by the gallery and Ms. Peters is a patron (not an artist).

Capitol Arts Gallery (CAG) is directly across from the county courthouse. It's yellow "eyebrows" also help identify it. There was a sandwich sign on the sidewalk earlier in the day, but as you can see, they normally go incognito. CAG represents over 40 artists.

Both galleries participate in the First Friday art event each month.


There's a natural foods grocery in the center of downtown too.



Over the hill about a mile in East Quincy is Papa's Donuts. I can recommend the Bavarian Cream and Apple Fritters. They also have wifi, albeit password-protected.

North From Oroville, CA to the Feather River Country

After several days of camping near Bodega Bay while attending the Cotati Accordion Fest I'd had enough of the beach and headed north looking for cooler climes. It's not the "usual" way, but highway 70 between Oroville and Chilcoot, California follows the North Fork of the Feather River much of the way. 

The steep mountains are covered with pines and oaks. I found a respectable pile of bear poop outside my door when I parked to camp near Rush Creek. A welcome change from the more common cow shit.

There is water everywhere. Each canyon has a stream and there are springs coming out of every cleft. Upstream a little way from this trestle are beautiful pools.

Most of the terrain is vertical. What few roads there are go up the sides of the mountains. There aren't any "tops" so once they reach elevation they follow the side of the hill. It's a little cooler higher up, but level spots to camp are rare.

If you camp along the highway you might look for a place where the train isn't braking. It follows the river, just like the road, but since it's often going up or down the brakes are usually squealing. (Train enthusiasts line the roadway with cameras & tape recorders.).

John Brown Canyon - Gateway, Colorado

Lasell, the woman in the prev post, suggested going through Gateway. I had no reason not to. At the entrance to John Brown Canyon is a resort built by John Hendricks. It's a travesty of cultivated grass, wasted water and homogenation....demonstrating yet again, having a large amount of money doesn't give you an aesthetic.

Boulevards Stretchin' Out Far & Wide. Lawns!!

The canyon tho', is spectacular. Well worth the drive. At the "T" I went left for about a mile. The view is spectacular!

Near the bottom

Near the top

If Anybody Wants To Know....

You know how depressing those Points of Interest can be. Grisly details of another massacre, devastation by over-grazing and clear-cutting...misery and greed couched in the guise of Westward Expansion. And yet...something made me go back. Thank goddesses! There was Lasell waiting just inside the front door of the Anasazi Heritage Center.

She launched into an  informative introduction laced with drollery so nuanced it inspired the group to applause.

Afterward, I beckoned her over and asked for details of her time in Raton, New Mexico. She segued into how she'd fallen in love with a cowboy and (it ain't called tha Land of Entrapment for nuthin') ended up teaching for more than 20 years at Valley High in Albuquerque. There - in Albert's Turkey -- she met husband #3 through an ad in The Singles Scene, a free paper that covered arts and culture.

She described a rough childhood that included a STRICT Victorian grandmother; cruel teasing in elementary for being smart and a traumatic encounter with an older man at the age of 7 that left her with lifelong PTSD. Several mean husbands didn't help, but now, at age 77, she's been happily married for over 30 years and has been able to come to terms with much of it.

Now we back-track a a few days to a short tale of a nun. In the wilds of southern Utah the sign to The Monastery of Our Lady of the Desert seemed about as good as any excuse to stop driving. Hoping they'd have some crafts to show for their contemplations, I inquired of Sister Mary. She explained that nearly all was in Albuquerque for the church congress. BUT!!! there was enough to incite a conversation on iconography.

We were trundling along fine when suddenly she was describing a painting she'd seen in Italy of Christ's mother breast-feeding him. This was, according to Sister Mary, meant to convey Christ's humanity. Quickly recognizing my excitement at the tho't of a bare-breasted virgin, she asked if I'd taken my meds. I hadn't so did and, on principle, added a cold shower.

She then described how in the 3rd and 4th century breast-feeding was totally natural. Thus, the image was nothing more than a simple "even god did it."

But when it came time to discuss polyamory and human-ness well, that was the work of the devil. We parted on friendly terms and altho she claimed an epiphany had brought her there, I felt as if she'd been "chosen" as a way of avoiding having to deal. Keep that in mind as you read the next part.

Now back to Lasell.....


Lasell complained of the unending  anxiety, morning dreads, a constant fear of death, compulsive behaviors and more. But she faced her fears head-on. She said she worked on it daily but it was only in the last three years that she felt she'd gotten the upper hand.

PUMA on the left

Her husband, completely opposite, stays at home while she goes dancing at the senior center, sings (she didn't say where, but I don't think it was at church) and volunteers at nursing homes and the Heritage Center.

She said she embraced the theory of  Christian Science but couldn't handle the practice. A friend said she tho't Lasell was more a Science of Mind/Taoist/Buddhist. She wasn't sure, but maybe.

Her advice: Just put one foot in front of the other.

"In case," she said, "anyone wants to know."

Kumho Solus KR21 Tires - Ripoff

After less than 13,000 miles my Solus KR21 tires were a hair's breadth from the Need To Be Replaced marker. I estimate 20% of those miles were on dirt which, altho' I have no scientific evidence for my surmisal, I surmise to be "softer" than pavement -- and thus SHOULD have helped them last longer?

So a tire that's rated for 85,000 miles actually wears out at 15,000. Doing the math, that's barely more than 15% of the advertised life. Kumho said to work it out with the dealer, but wouldn't comment on the tire's (lack of) longevity.

After some wrangling -- we have three vehicles kept shod by these folks -- the dealer prorated the usage and I accepted a set of General Altimax RT s. They don't prorate their Road Hazard Warranty so after paying for "certificates" for each of the new tires and the disposal fee for the old ones I was out another $100.00. When I pointed this out the Dealer said to take it up with Kumho. Kumho never replied to either phone calls or emails.

Let the buyer beware, eh? Or is it P.T. Barnum's quote?

Sex, Love-child & Whitney's Bookshelf - You never know what you'll find

The location of Tonopah's wifi sites are close-held secrets. In my search I stopped at a motel where the receptionist generously offered the password and invited me to "set uh spell" in the comfort -- at 9:00 a.m. it was already hot outside -- of the lobby.

While awaiting the boot-up I gently inquired: "So, ummm, what's yer plan of escape?" She launched into a heart-rending tale of how, in the army, she'd been trained as a combat medic and had acquired, through natural processes, a child. The skills needed as a combat medic are different from those in urban environs. In town, there isn't that much demand for someone who can stuff peoples' guts back inside their body cavities and stabilize them for shipment. Plus, the liabilities of urban care loom much larger than on the battlefield. Originally from Oregon, she'd returned to Tonopah to be with her family. She likes it and was committed to staying.

Continuing, she admitted to a high level of anxiety. Just that morning, two hours before she was due at work, her daycare guy gave notice. Her best friend had come to her aid but could only help for that day. She was now "wukkin' ha'der din uh cat coverin' shit on momma's new rug carryin' durt fum a mile away" to find coverage for the remainder of the week.

She leant further focus to her attitude as she described her long-term solution. She'd called a disabled Army buddy and convinced him to move -- immediately -- to Tonopah where she would not only pay him $3.00/hr for watching her son, but would let him live with her. He had agreed and said he'd arrive within a week. And all this before 10:00 a.m. !!

Then, in what was (to me) a wonderful display of self-assuredness, she described an evening of impromptu love-making with a friend that, even with preventative measures, had resulted in pregnancy...for her. Her prosody suggested they'd enjoyed themselves. And she made it clear she had no regrets.

She and the boy's father, who was transferred overseas a few weeks after their tete-a-tete, were still on good terms, but he wasn't helping with the costs. She disdained Federal Assistance and took pride in the fact that she paid her daycare people $3.00 an hour. She was making just over $5.00 an hour.

As her story unfolded my admiration of her perspicacity, optimism and commitment deepened. But the wifi was slow. So with well-wishes and a hearty "Good Luck!!", I took my leave. 


Downtown I noticed Whitney's Bookshelf.

An awesum collection, it's on par with The Archives in La Grande, Oregon. I recommend the Adults' section, in the back. Contrary to the stereotype of magazines with vapid-faced models, the BOOKS cover a plethora of orientations and a wide variety of proclivities. Prices are better than reasonable. Open seven days a week.