Yesterday he explained to us in five sentences how a plane gets off the ground and stays in the air. Then he demonstrated by blowing on a folded piece of paper, causing the folded section to rise up in the air. All I can say is I'm glad I stuck to art. Thank God for the analytical-thinking types of the world. Otherwise we'd still be traveling in covered wagons.
Here's the postcard, without mailing devices in glorious digital-pixel color.
I could Photoshop stuff all day. The model is 2 1/2 feet long and ingeniously fits together with folded tabs—no glue. I just like pretending I'm somewhere else for a while.
I'm glad you found a helpful postal employee. I'll look for the new entry. I'm very happy to do this project with you. I agree—lots of ideas coming all the time. More incentive to make something every day. Now I need to apply that work ethic to drumming so I can rise in the ranks of garage drummers. By actually practicing in my garage once in a while. I mean, every day.
I'll write more about exercise. I've found past age 40 that if I don't do some form of exercise EVERY DAY I feel pretty much like garbage. It sucks. But I try to discover new fun ways to do it so it's not a "job." There are ways you can shoehorn it into your day but I know what you mean about finding time. When you're working and you have a family—the day suddenly ends and you're left wondering: now where did that go?
Just listened to WTF with Paula Poundstone. She was a regular at The Other Cafe and she talked quite a bit about what a nice scene 80s San Francisco comedy was. She mentioned many people who ate at the Ironwood and then walked across the street to perform. It was a good interview. She's really bright and has 16 cats. She usually wears a tie and a vest. An unusual comedy icon who doesn't get a lot of credit.
I'm not proofing this letter so apologies if my grammar is poorly. I have something to mail to you, which I'll do this week.
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