We went to dinner tonight--at the fabulous Spiral Diner--with Floyd-the-Sidekick and Robin-the-Artist. Floyd is an incredible writer. His writing voice is unique and there is an emotive quality to his work that gets delivered in a wry, conversational sort of way. Actually, Floyd got his nickname from a piece he wrote for my brother-in-law, Troy's, 40th birthday party. (Long live Chicken Woman!)
They live in a quirky artistic neighborhood--actually the same one the Spiral Diner is in, so we picked them up at their house.
I always love walking into Robin's house. She has a style that is reflective of her art and it is almost as if she lives in one of her pieces. Last night, the newest piece of work I noticed was her remote control holder which was a collaged box with the HOLLYWOOD sign worked into the piece. Then of course, in the bathroom I discovered a really cool lotion with an interesting black tea, jasmine and sandalwood smell, and--best of all--Robin sent me home with art toys to play with because she was cleaning out stuff and decided to share.
The conversation at dinner included the adoption process. Robin and Floyd are going through the very long process of adopting a baby. The organization they are using allows birth mothers to choose the parents. I'm bummed as I'm typing this because I realize I forgot to ask Robin last night to show me the book she put together to tell prospective birth mothers about their family. I saw the cover and a few pages as she was working on it. It was an art piece--like everything Robin touches.
After Spiral Diner, John and I ran to pick something up at Troy and Rhonda's (aka Chicken Woman) house, then went to the bookstore where I was able to find exactly what I was looking for. We then came home, and Casey's distinctive greeting bark was missing and the sadness settled over us again.
Each time, it seems a little more final.