Pretty Things

Mr. Starlet and I have a punk(in). She's tiny. She's beautiful. She drools. She often stinks. And she's infinitely curious.

When we had occasion to visit Uptown Shelby yesterday, I promised Punk an afternoon of art and local culture. Nevermind that to her a stationary ceiling fan is a piece of art worthy of lengthy admiration.

With Punk strapped securely in her stroller and along with her 50+ pounds of baby-caring "essentials", we made our way to the Cleveland County Arts Council.

And that's where our afternoon of admiring "pretty things" nearly came to a halt.

Despite the lack of signage, I found what I could only assume was the handicap ramp, yet it was littered with an uncollected newspaper, an old broom, and some planters that made it appear unnavigable (and it nearly was). I apologized to Punk and resigned to window shopping around the Courthouse Square.

Moments later, we found ourselves in front of Buffalo Creek Gallery. Inside, we made the acquaintance of one very talented local potter, Tricia Woodland.

Buffalo Creek Gallery is a cooperative art gallery, run by the same artists who display in it. It was merely good fortune that brought Punk and I into the gallery while it was under Tricia's care.

Normally when in art galleries, I try to appear unassuming. Achieve a level of invisibility. Avoid engaging in any conversations whatsoever. After all, I am still rueing the day when in another local gallery I confidently inquired about the price of a painting I admired and was told a figure that was easily three times my then checking account balance.

However, when you're loudly wrangling an overburdend stroller over the threshhold of a very quiet art gallery, you're bound to be noticed. And notice us Tricia did.

To my surprise, however, Tricia proved to be equally unassuming herself. It was only toward the end of our visit that she informed me that she was a potter. It was only when I asked about her work that she pointed out her display.

Brilliant blue vases and plates. Whimsical wide-mouthed frogs. A brown and white glazed dish with a ruffled edge. The best of nature captured in each piece.

We talked about her inspirations. She described a haven of a studio in Cherryville. When I asked if she envisions what each piece she makes might be used for, she said she doesn't--beauty and function is the eye of the beholder. If you want to hang a piece, she'll happily tell you what type of equipment you need to do so. If you plan to use a piece as a serving dish for shrimp, she'll grin in appreciation.

Just don't immediately declare of her wide-mouthed frogs, "That's what you put a sponge in!" This elicits from her a sigh and a grimace. Like me, Tricia has a personal vendetta against germs, especially bacteria-ridden sponges. No, her frogs are trained for much greater things. Perhaps as a candy dish. Or even better, a planter for a Venus Flytrap. (How appropriate!)

Tricia is an artist worth watching. Her art worth adorning any home.

Plus, she saved Punk's and my afternoon outing by calling over to the Arts Council to ensure that someone would be able to assist us if we tried accessing the building again. We did. There was.

And in that moment, I learned to not only appreciate art, but the artist behind it.

Never Eaten

Mr. Starlet and I recently entertained four house guests who traveled no less than 4,000 miles to help us move approximately 15.

Moving is an evil necessity. This move was made even more so when one houseguest's insulin went missing for 30 minutes, another suffered an animal attack, and a third nearly passed out from heat exhaustion.

To reward--er, beg for their forgiveness--Mr. Starlet and I treated each to one of our favorite local restaurant's, Chen's.

I believe that Chen's is one of the many reasons why Shelby is called "The City of Pleasant Living." Their Honey Sesame Chicken is delectable. Their Spicy Ginger Shrimp divine. And Mr. Starlet's standby, Sweet and Sour Chicken, has not received a bad review yet. (A true indicator of just how good Chen's really is!)

Their portions are huge and their servings of steamed rice quite generous. Mr. Starlet and I do not particularly care for steamed rice. We're fried rice kind of people. Sadly, because steamed rice comes with every entree, it almost always goes to waste in our house. Indeed, we rarely ever consider the heaping pile of steamed rice we are sure to receive with each dish. In our fried rice world, steamed rice is a forgettable 'freebie'.

So imagine our dismay when we realized that our embarassingly large order for just six people was accompanied with seven cartons of steamed rice. That nobody opened. That nobody would open. That all met their demise tonight in the kitchen garbage. As if deserving ceremony, I said a few words about the potential of each as they loudly landed against the bottom of the bin.

OK, I could only think of one recipe. Maybe two.

If only I had known about Rice Recipes a week ago. Not that "Rice Cake" sounds particularly appetizing, but cake is cake. Right?

Oh, and if you place a rather large order from Chen's and they ask, "Are you having a party?" Agree, but then lie. Lie, I tell you, because inevitably the question they'll ask next is, "How many people at your party?"

If you don't lie, you'll get the response Mr. Starlet did: "You order too much food!"

Yeah. Tell us about it...