We’ve moved it all—new shop location, new blog location, lots of new and exciting developments all around. From now on, please read up on the blog from here: www.gravelandgold.com/blog You’ll find that all the old content is there, along with new posts down the line.
And please definitely come stop by our new location, 3266 21st Street at Lexington Street.
(I can’t believe the stop sign, in addition to having all our relevant information, even points right at the shop. Very happy-making for me.)
I’m starting to get nervous that I’m not going to be able to go camping this summer. Wondering about the sad state of affairs in which, as time goes on, I’m likely to be lured toward the camping way only when there’s a concert or a delightful piece of art I must camp to see. I attribute this condition to the most kind, most awfully talented David Wilson.
It’s just that these days, I’m feeling so rushy busy, that I think only a show of the grandest scale could lure a practical wooly sweater to my back and boots to by feet. Well, that or my similar slim white suit with a spread collar shirt.
On September 18, 1979, after 20 years of imaging, Marden Abadi organized a team of forty people to help carry his one and a half ton rosewood grand piano to the rim of the Grand Canyon so that he could play selections from Debussy, Gershwin, Chopin, and of course Grofe’s “Grand Piano Suite” before several hundred people. And in that suit.
Marden now teaches piano lessons in La Jolla. Playing the Grand Canyon, for him, was like playing the greatest hall in the land. I know I would have lent a hand and camped out to see him. (Though I recognize why Cold Splinters doesn’t see it as I do.)
And I love the point that for proper Beethoven, a bathroom would do. But he would not abide playing Beethoven honky tonk (whatever that is, and which sounds kind of great to me) whatever the venue.
Any time is a really, really good time for a gigantic batch of Jamaican Jerk Chicken, especially chilly summers in San Francisco. Here, your rude lesson.
Remember to go heavy on the gold of Jamaica.
Serve by taking a f’**k and try and be tender with them.
My roommates are here now:
I am running late and so sad.
Nile is amazing.
For example, we’ve been talking about this stained glass window that she was to make for me for years and years, as it simmered and stewed in the backs of our minds, and just when the lady is full tilt ahead with nursing duties and shop duties and music projects and on and on, she goes and whips this business out in her free evening time over at Cradle of the Sun. It is so bright and juicy in real life, I can’t begin to show it off here. Plus the diamond center of the diamond center throws rainbows all over the room. R.I.P. Michael, girl. Y E S. It is.
Thanks so, so much to everyone who’s lent their hands, backs, and words of support to the new shop space. We’ve had such a great turn out each Saturday, in addition to nights, lunch breaks, and times between, which really makes all the difference.
It is such a thrill to be able to build a place with all our friends. I think we’re finally reaching the stage where the daily work is no longer so yucky and tedious, and is more significant and awesome. We’re getting there….
Thanks + Love!
I can totally see this drum circle in my mind now, and Wowsa, if ever there was a good reason for a perpetual drum circle in my mind, it would have to be lesbians in formation around fancy purple turbines, doing their part to preserve the well-being of flying creatures whilst infusing their special energy into the power grid.
Thank you, thank you Wendo. And thank you Salem who found this first. Now where is this farm, exactly?