Breathing Spell

Yoo hoo! Hello? Does anyone run this blog? Anyone??

Hey gang. Really sorry about the stagnancy. I’m here, I assure you. I hope you all had a wonderful week because mine kind of sucked. Stress, tension, and painful frustration stemming from personal matters, life decisions, and shattered expectations. Anyway, I don’t want to elaborate. All I can do is try to make sense of it all and get my mojo back. I miss my mojo

On the art modeling front, I’ve reached the annual break in my work schedule that comes in late May. School semesters have ended which means students can say goodbye to teachers and classmates, hang their end-of-year art shows, go through final critiques, and look forward to a well-deserved vacation. The schools will close for a bit and regroup for summer sessions which will be up and running in June. What does all this mean for us art models? It means we get a little break for ourselves. With the exception of one gig at a local art center, I have no jobs booked for two weeks. After all these years of modeling I still haven’t gotten used to the sight of so many consecutive blank spaces in my calendar. It’s weird. So much free time dancing before my eyes, what will I do with myself? Haha.

Edward Hopper, Interior (Model Reading), 1925:

One activity I’d like to do is take a drive up to Woodstock. I haven’t been up that way in quite a while and there’s a farm sanctuary there that I’ve been donating money to for many years. Might be nice to visit and say hello to the animals. And of course, Woodstock is great town in upstate New York with lovely shops and art galleries. There is much to do and see in good old Woodstock.

In the meantime, I’ll be around, being lazy some days and productive on other days. And blogging for sure. So I’ll see you all very soon.

Claudia  xo

People I Know

After 33 years working at the National Academy in charge of building maintenance and janitorial staff, he has undoubtedly earned his retirement. We all bid a fond farewell to William the other night with a lovely reception in the school gallery where hugs, kisses, and well-wishes overflowed. Back in 2005, when I showed up for my very first modeling job at the Academy, it was William who directed me to the basement-banished Studio 5. “First day?” he asked. “Yes!!” I answered with the gung-ho enthusiasm of a  new, wet behind the ears artist’s model. “Good luck darlin’!”, William said. And I smiled. Over the next eight years William often witnessed me dashing through the hallways for quick bathroom breaks between poses, spilling coffee, asking for Band-Aids, looking for lost jewelry, and noisily pushing heavy armchairs around to set up long sitting poses. Always on hand to meet the requests of instructors, teachers, and models, William was our trusted friend. I wish him all the very best in his post-Academy life. A blown kiss for Willie to augment the kiss I already gave him on the cheek.

Still reeling from the harrowing loss of his son Ronan just one month before his third birthday, Rick Louis came here to New York City, his hometown, to visit family and friends. Rick and my brother Chris have been friends since childhood, and Rick has of course known me, Chris’s little sister, for just about the entirety of my life. All of us, along with our friend Greg, gathered for a reunion on the upper West Side where we enjoyed good food and great conversation. We were the Queens kids together again, reminiscing and sharing our favorite stories. While Rick is experiencing the unimaginable grief of a parent losing a child, he is seeking, and hopefully finding, solace in the bonds of those who love him and stand by him through his trials. Like me, Rick is a yoga enthusiast. For dear Rick, a spontaneous burst of upward-facing-dog on my kitchen floor. Namaste, friend.

Out of the blue, an email arrived with a subject memo that read “Blast From the Past”. Usually those words introduce something either very welcome or very unwelcome. In this instance it was, happily, very welcome. Again, an old friend, this time from high school. He searched for me on the Internet, which brought him where else but right here to Museworthy! Jimmy wrote the nicest note and thoughtfully attached some great old pictures of our gang. The faces of Stephanie, Heather, Leonard, Faby, and Jimmy are only partially obscured by my gigantic 80s hair! But gosh, we look so young. Ear-to-ear smiles. Exuberant. Energetic. The faces of carefree teenagers who have their whole lives ahead of them. Well, we’re all in our mid-forties now, but to assure Jimmy that we’re not old people just yet, a little fun in my living room chair showing that I can still kick up my heels like  the troublemaking high school junior I once was

All of the photos in this post were taken by the most important of the “people I know”, my boyfriend Craig. Thanks for the pics baby

Navel-gazing

For the past couple of days I’ve resisted writing a blog post about the latest stunt at the Museum of Modern Art. The “performance piece” can be summed up thusly; Tilda Swinton sleeping in a box. You all know the actress Tilda Swinton? Well it’s her. Clothed. Sleeping in a box. At this point I should mention that the admission fee for MoMA is $25. The title of this piece is “The Maybe”, as in “maybe I can find something better to do with my time and money”.

If you’re curious to see images of Tilda sleeping in the box please click on the above link, or check out the ample coverage of this “event” in a Google News search, because I really don’t want to post them here on sweet old Museworthy. After all, this is an ART blog. <— burn!

So without embarking on a rant-like objection to this kind of gimmickry into which the contemporary art scene has sunk, or going into a lengthy jeremiad about the cynicism and soullessness that has crept into the art world in general, I’ll just say that Tilda’s shtick bothers people if only because it embodies the worst kind of navel-gazing. Since it’s Tilda’s piece, she could have hired a model or any other interesting individual to take a nap in a box. But she decided to do it herself, which makes it very difficult to dispute the sheer self-regard that seems to lie at the root of this piece. And extreme self-regard, to me, is just an inherently boring and off-putting quality. That’s all I’m saying. Tilda can certainly do whatever she wants, and no one is being forced to attend her “performance”.

I may be a professional artist’s model but it’s doubtful anyone would pay to see me sleep in a box, although they have seen me sleep on the modeling platform at Spring Studio. Just a couple of times And I too engage in a lot of navel-gazing in my work, but in the literal sense. So allow me to share the art model’s version of navel-gazing, brought to us by two of my favorite artists who also happen to be very dear friends.

My torso by Daniel Maidman:

Me reclining, by Fred Hatt:

Bones, Flesh, and Harmony

Those who participate in typical life drawing classes do not generally obsess about things like the latissimus dorsi (back muscle) or the anterior superior spine (bone in the pelvis). Artistic anatomy classes, which are required in most graduate art programs, involve intensive, meticulous study of the musculature and skeletal structure of the human body. The MFA students at the New York Academy of Art are fortunate to have a superb instructor like Robert Armetta, with whom I’ve had the pleasure of working with for some time now.

Posing for anatomy is a different experience for the model as well. While students make good use of classroom skeletons and écorché casts for bone and muscle observation, the model is there to exhibit, and sometimes actively demonstrate, those same bones, muscles, and connectors as they appear in a living, breathing life subject. We’re often asked by instructors to flex, twist, rotate, or create resistance so as to emphasize a particular muscle or bony landmark. For the long pose, students will draw on their paper the model as skeleton alongside the full figure. Teachers and students alike benefit greatly when their anatomy model is a seasoned professional, one who is comfortable being pointed at at close range, and who doesn’t cringe when the term “fatty tissue” is uttered during a demo. Fatty tissue???? NOOOOOO!!!!! Just kidding

Here I am in Robert’s class posing alongside my anatomy buddies - écorché cast on the far left for muscles, skeleton (who lost his head!) in the middle for bones, and the sum total of it all, yours truly, with bones, muscles, skin, a messy hair bun, the whole shebang:

It was a marvelous experience posing for this class of first year students at the Academy. The focus and dedication they displayed was impressive, and I was honored to be their model over the past several weeks. They’re well on their way. Keep up the good work guys!

Lovely drawing from the class by Chusit Wijarnjoragij:

Glory to the Figure

In case I wasn’t clear enough in my previous post about preferring figure modeling to portrait modeling, I have some images that might express it more effectively than any words. I had written about the frustration I sometimes feel when I’m confined to sitting in a chair, clothed, when my natural impulse is to pose with my entire body and demonstrate a wider range of movement. From shoulders to hips, from head to feet, from arms to legs, the human figure is ready, willing, and able to show off its “intelligent design”. We can twist and turn, rotate and swivel, extend and contract, balance and shift our weight around, and put on a glorious show that merges both our physicality and our humanity. Muscles allow us to move, bones hold us together, and the whole sublime package provides a timeless source of inspiration to artists throughout history.

Mark Tennant is one of those artists. Recently, I had the great pleasure of posing for him privately. Mark has drawn me many times at Spring Studio, and I have modeled for his class at the New York Academy of Art. Our private collaboration was a marvelous extension of our professional relationship. Mark was kind enough to send along these images of our session together. You can follow Mark’s progress on these and his other works on his Facebook page. Long live the figure!

 

About Face

Due to happenstance, I am currently posing for four ongoing portrait classes; three painting and one sculpture. That contemporaneous amount is unusual in a model’s schedule. I can’t speak for other models, but I’ve always found that portrait work differs from figure work in some fairly significant ways. Before I elaborate, I should confess that portrait sitting is my least favorite type of modeling assignment. Why? A few reasons, some petty, some less so. It bothers me somewhat that portrait sitting can be done by pretty much anyone who can sit reasonably still for a couple of hours, therefore the services of a professional artist’s model is not required. So I suppose I harbor a touch of snobbery in that respect. I know what I’m capable of with my body in terms of movement, posing, and gesture, so why am I just sitting in a chair with my clothes on staring into space? Also, portrait work often demands that the same garment, accessories, hair clip, necklace, etc. be worn for each session. This is a minor nuisance to me, having to manage tops and scarves and remember to have them washed and ready to wear the day of the class. What a huge pain in the ass!! <– just kidding

From a more serious perspective, portrait sitting produces a distinct relational energy between the model and the artists. Now this may sound strange, but I actually feel less connected to the artists when I pose for portraits than when I pose for figure. In fact, I feel more objectified. It’s bizarre. Portrait artists are observing the face primarily, and this leads to open examination that scrutinzes my eye sockets and eyebrows, upper lips and earlobes. Sure, part of me is interested and amused by such talk, but it is a tad unnerving. Conversely, class study of my nude body doesn’t bother me in the slightest. For some reason I’m much more at ease and in my comfort zone having my rib cage and pelvis discussed in an open forum than, say, my nostrils. Ah, maybe I’m just a freak.

One could argue that the face is the truest, most honest and unvarnished broadcaster of a person’s character, preserving the badges and imprints of one’s life journey, the visual seat of our fluctuating moods, temporary irritations and worries. Facial expressions vary from day to day, even from hour to hour. We look different on stressful days than we do on carefree ones. When we’re lacking sleep or experiencing anxiety, our faces tell the story whereas our bodies do not, or at least not as overtly. When I am having a bad day emotionally, I much prefer to do figure modeling than portrait sitting. As models we can “fake it” with our bodies if need be. You’d be surprised how unsettling it can be to maintain a portrait face when your mind is racing with troubles and everyone is staring at you. Eyes dart, hands and feet fidget, brows furrow. It’s a mess. And then you hear the instructor, as he assists a student in creating a likeness, utter the phrase “laugh lines” and your whole day is ruined! As a professional artist’s model, I’m used to being stared at. That’s a huge understatement. But the few times in my career in which I’ve heard the silent scream in my head of “What are you looking at??!!” have occurred during portrait sitting.

I think I’ve babbled enough. Let’s conclude with two expressive examples of portraiture, an art genre that I sincerely admire. I have nothing but respect for the creators and the sitters. That’s the truth. Heck, the most famous artwork in the world is a portrait. And effective portrait painting is a rare specialty that demands tremendous skill on the part of the artist. In other words, pay no attention to the trivial gripes of a jaded artist’s model. We just like to bitch once in a while

Young Woman with Lowered Eyes, 1869, by Frédéric Bazille:

Portrait of William H. MacDowell, 1891, by Thomas Eakins:

An Armenian in Chicago

Thoughtful, wonderful friends are a blessing. And I am very blessed in this regard. After a bustling week of modeling, running around – and exhaustion! – it’s a treat to open an email from a friend with an attachment to share. My good pal Daniel Maidman is currently in Chicago and during a visit to the Art Institute he saw this 1912 painting by Ralph Elmer Clarkson titled Nouvart Dzeron, A Daughter of Armenia. Daniel was kind enough to take a picture of it and send it my way. Now I may be a daughter of New York City, but I’m still an Armenian girl

An elegant work and a charismatic model. According to the Art Institute of Chicago’s artwork page for this piece, Nouvart was one of Clarkson’s students. Three years after this painting was created, the Ottoman Turks began their genocide against the Armenian people. I had never seen this painting until Daniel sent it. So huge thanks D!

My busy modeling phase continues tomorrow morning with a terrific new gig; posing for the Saturday workshop taught by the marvelous Peter Cox. And I’m extra excited because my other good friend, Janet Cook, will be in the class. Looking forward to seeing her. Friends and art and modeling – I have no complaints

Gainfully Employed

My friends, one of those busy, jam-packed weeks of work awaits me. It begins 10:00 Monday morning, which is less than 12 hours from the writing of this post. Modeling, modeling, and more modeling. If I don’t update the blog until the end of the week, don’t despair! I’ll just be traveling between Manhattan and Long Island, getting undressed, then dressed, then undressed again, to fulfill my posing obligations. It’s what I do. Hopefully I’ll have enough time to eat now and then. And sleep. Sleeping is good

I may or may not find the time to post, but if I can’t then have a great week everybody!

Busty Lady

First they took measurements of my head with a sculptor’s caliper. Then they slapped slabs of water-based clay on their armatures. Then they began the process of creating portrait sculptures of yours truly. When Mario D’Urso asked me to pose for his private sculpture class in his Queens studio I jumped at the chance. I haven’t modeled for sculpture in quite a while, and Mario is a delightful, wonderful guy, so it was a no-brainer. Here’s Mario showing Lara some modeling techniques:

My booking with Mario’s group is open-ended. We’ve agreed to continue with the portrait sculptures until they are finished, with no fixed timetable. So as far as planning sessions is concerned we’re winging it from week to week, scheduling the nights according to my modeling calendar, which is very considerate of them.

Still a work-in-progress, this piece is coming along nicely. And I’m really enjoying watching the class work as I sit for them. They mold, carve, add clay, take clay away, and try to achieve a likeness in terms of features, proportions, and character.

A sculpture “bust”, by the way, usually refers to a sculpture of the subject’s head, shoulders, and upper torso. What we’re doing in Mario’s class is more accurately a “portrait sculpture” of just the head. But I couldn’t resist using “busty lady” for the post title. I thought it was funny. Or wishful thinking. Or maybe it was just a cheap ploy to get more search engine traffic

Tale of the Traveling Canvas

Three days prior to Christmas, before I embarked on an afternoon of last minute shopping, I stopped in for a lovely gallery visit at the invitation of my dear friend Janet Cook. Janet had two gorgeous lithographs on view at the Alex Adam Gallery on W. 120th Street in Harlem’s historic Morris Park district. Other works included various prints, oil paintings, and  drawings by artists I have known and admired for years, among them Donna Skebo, Benat Iglesias Lopez, Tai Lin, and Eleanor Adam, whose son was the inspiration for the gallery’s founding. He died of cancer at the age of 23. The Alex Adam is located in a wonderful old brownstone. It consists of artists’ studio spaces with a shared exhibition area upon entering the building. That day it was adorned with a festive Christmas tree:

At one point Janet informed me that there was a painting of me on the premises but not on display. Intrigued, I went to check it out. So I walked downstairs to Eleanor Adam’s studio area and, lo and behold, a huge canvas painted by Alex Cox, my old pal from the National Academy, was leaning against the wall, amid paper plates, cups, and art supplies. I remembered that painting well. It was created in Mary Beth McKenzie‘s class at the Academy around five years ago. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me at the gallery, so I had to take a Blackberry pic which doesn’t do it justice:

A bit of a story surrounds this painting. It became a model “double” purely by accident. Both Peter and I had showed up on the first day of class, expecting to pose. After some confusion, we learned that the school had double booked us by mistake. So since it wouldn’t have been fair to send one of us home, and cause one model to subsequently lose a ten-day booking, the class got to have two models for their composition. Everyone was thrilled and more than willing to take on the challenge. Then, as I was undressing, the class monitors took note of my black slip and asked if I would pose in it. I was happy to oblige.

Alex’s painting was later accepted into the year-end student show at the National Academy, where it attracted a lot of attention. I asked Alex if he would send me a photo of the painting so I could post it on the then-newly launched Museworthy. I wanted to use it for a discussion of modeling in doubles. Alex assured me he’d send it. “I promise, Claudia. I’ll send you a picture”. And of course, he forgot!  Within a year Alex had disappeared, to where I wasn’t sure. Probably the Art Students League But this painting was in storage at the Academy. I used to pass by it all the time and was tempted to pull it out of its slot and take a picture myself. But I didn’t.

Eventually, the painting disappeared, Alex was still MIA, and I forgot about the whole thing. Fast forward to the Alex Adam Gallery, where this painting, long lost in an unaccounted for, migratory mystery, is leaning there against the wall. We meet again old friend! Now the story as I understand it is that the painting was in a studio space, and then another studio space that Alex was sharing with another artist, I think. Word got around that the studio was being vacated. Eleanor found out that this painting was available for anyone to just take away, so she did. And the model comes face to face with it  purely by chance. I’m glad Eleanor rescued it from an uncertain fate.

In conclusion, Alex Cox is gallivanting around Italy with his new bride, the Alex Adam is a thoroughly charming and inspiring venue of art in upper Manhattan, and I am still a full time artist’s model, immortalized on canvases throughout the city – on walls, in studios, in basements, attics, second hand stores, sometimes forgotten, sometimes reemerged to see another day

De-Cocooning

So now that 2013 has arrived and the “holiday season” as we call it is officially over, my heavenly homey existence of cocooned contentment is also, sadly, over. You’re all wondering, “What the hell is she talking about?” I’m referring to the manner in which I spent my holiday break. It involved staying in Queens and avoiding going into Manhattan, wallowing in the cozy warmth and intimate charm of my house, sleeping late, cooking, writing, wearing sweatpants, taking indulgently long showers, poring over the magnificent art book I got for Christmas, and rarely venturing beyond my neighborhood in northeast Queens. It’s not as if I lived like a lonely hermit, mind you. I spoke to my family every day and, best of all, enjoyed the beautiful companionship of the man I love. It was all quite glorious.

But alas, the art model’s layabout paradise cannot go on forever. Art schools are opening for the spring term and I must crawl out of my snug cocoon and return to work, like most folks already have. The actual modeling, of course, is something I look forward to and have genuinely missed. What I haven’t missed is the commuting – the “schlepping” as we say in NYC – from Queens to Manhattan. The train ride, then the subway rides, then the buses, then the teeming crowds, the harassers, the sneezers, the cell phone yakkers, the panhandlers, the oglers, the  . . . well you get the idea. I’m going to miss the cocoon! I am a Cancer, and we are homebodies at heart. We like to feel sheltered and safe. And protected. And loved.

On the positive side, my returning to work means more drawings and modeling adventures, more blog post ideas and art topics and tales of the city. Much ahead for Museworthy! That’s a promise. I hope you all stick around for more discussion and fun in 2013. Happy New Year everyone. Let’s make it a great one

The Mirror, by Giovanni Zangrando:

Becoming Found

Greetings friends. I hope this blog post finds you well, at peace, and still joyful from the holiday season. Monday night, I attended Christmas Eve services at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church on Manhattan’s east side. Ten years ago my presence at that church, or any church, would have been highly improbable. On several occasions on this blog and in my other writings, I have alluded to, even discussed a bit, the “dark” stage of my life; my struggles with depression and anxiety, my exasperating inability to find peace and personal fulfillment, and my difficulty coping with losses and emotional pain.

As I walked toward St. Bart’s on that chilly, rainy night, my mind, my soul – my entire being – became swelled with thoughts; thoughts of how my life’s journey has unfolded over my 44 years, where I’ve been, where I am now, and where I might be going. I thought also of the grave plight of my fellow Christians in the Middle East and how the Western world is willfully turning a blind eye to their persecution. I thought of people everywhere; the ambitious, the destitute, the brave, and the misguided.  My heart began to ache, and part of me wanted to fall to my knees and kiss the pavement of Park Avenue.

Inside St. Bart’s, a magnificent structure of Byzantine architecture, the pews were filled to capacity with New Yorkers who came to worship. Our voices and the voices of choir members rang out like heavenly bells as we sang “O Come All Ye Faithful”, and the Rev. Buddy Stallings delivered a poignant sermon about hope and eternal light, about being lost and becoming found, and how even though we don’t always seek God, he always seeks us.

I never paid much mind to the notion of being “found” after having been lost, certainly not in the religious Christian sense. But it came to me, gradually, over the past several years. In fact, it snuck up on me and wove its way into my life in the most quiet, discreet way imaginable until I finally became aware of its presence and decided to pay attention. Consider it the slowest, steadiest blindside to ever take place.

Gouache sketch of me by Jonathan, created at Spring Studio:

For those who care to listen for a brief eleven minutes, here is Rev. Buddy Stallings’ Christmas Eve sermon, aptly titled “Forever Light”. And I invite all of you to share in the comments any creation – book excerpt, sermon, poem, article, work of art, piece of music – that holds for you the answers to your spiritual questions, gives you hope, or best reveals your understanding of life’s purpose. I’d be honored to read your contributions.

Abundant blessings to each and every one of you. Let’s meet here one more time before 2012 comes to an end. See you Monday, friends!

1:00 AM Post

Helloooo Museworthy. May I post for no other reason than to say hello to my darling readers? Of course I may, it’s my blog! In the early days of Museworthy I used to do that a lot. I’d log on right before bed, ramble some meaningless nonsense for a few sentences, and maybe post an image if I had one to share. But that was before I was the seasoned, proficient blogger I am now Just kidding of course. I was, and still am, your humble muse.

Here’s a sweet little pencil drawing of me by Susie, created last Monday night at the National Art League, local life drawing in Queens just a three minute drive from my house. During this 20 minute pose, my mind was consumed with rapturous thoughts of a special someone:

I’m a very happy girl these days. Looking forward to the holidays with warmth in my heart and joy in my spirit. I am blessed both personally and professionally, and if I could pass on my precious contentment to all of you I would. Maybe I already do a little bit, here on our little corner of the big wide web.

Hope everyone is well. See you again very soon friends

Thankfulness, Every Day

Apart from the historical implications, Thanksgiving, and its attendant spirit, has always been a warmly welcomed holiday in my heart. Why? Because gratitude comes easily to me. It’s one of my better qualities Certainly we should all be grateful every day of the year and count our blessings consistently, whether they be blessings of selflessness or self-worth, needs fulfilled in ourselves or needs we fulfill in others, opportunities to give, to provide, to inspire, to heal, or simply experience joy and discovery. And oftentimes even the smallest kind gestures can prompt a surge of gratitude that will change your outlook and reset your priorities, if they need resetting.

I am especially thankful this Thanksgiving and can sum it all up in one word: love. Love of my family, friends, and my rekindled old flame. Love of my modeling profession and my good fortune to actually make a living at it. The day before Thanksgiving I posed for the afternoon session at Spring Studio. Afterwards, a nice young man named Andy approached me and offered to give me the small portrait drawing he did of me on the final pose. How nice! I was thankful, but he too was thankful that I accepted. It pleased him so much to give me the drawing. Gratitude is everywhere.

Andy’s pen drawing of me, for Thanksgiving. Looks like a profile on a Roman coin. Love it.

Hope you all had a marvelous Thanksgiving, my friends. See you soon!

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

– Meister Eckhart

Klee’s Ghost

So remember a few days ago when I was gearing up for a jam-packed modeling schedule? Well that has since been altered a bit, courtesy of hurricane Sandy. And by “a bit” I mean all my classes this week have been cancelled thus far. If FIT cancels tomorrow, which seems likely, then the whole week is a bust. Funny how things work out. But there’s nothing funny at all about the catastrophic damage inflicted by the storm, particularly in the New York and New Jersey area. I’m sure most of you have seen pictures of the devastation. People have died, homes have been destroyed, and our vast, complex transit system has been brought to its knees.

I was incredibly lucky in that my little section of Queens did not lose power. It’s a miracle really. As long as I’ve lived here, we have been susceptible to power outages during severe weather. It’s almost guaranteed, that’s why it’s amazing that we made it through this particular storm. My mother, however, was not so lucky. Her Queens neighborhood is without electricity, heat, and internet.

Today is also Halloween, but a somewhat compromised one. Kids in ravaged areas can’t go trick or treating I was going to post some spooky art images in honor of this “lost” Halloween, but my friend Fred Hatt already published a superb post that I couldn’t possibly compete with. I highly recommend clicking the link and visiting Fred’s rich, inspired collection of death and horror imagery. A marvelous assortment of works.

I will present just one offering of spectral theme. An atypical, unconventional one from a modern artist I’m quite fond of, the Swiss-born expressionist and surrealist Paul Klee. From 1931, this is Departure of the Ghost, in watercolor, gouache, pen and ink. It’s a strange, minimalist apparition. I can’t explain why I like it. I just do.

I hope all my readers who were in the path of Sandy are safe and well. Happy Halloween everyone! I’ll see you all real soon