Umatilla Homestead

Posted on by Thor

This last Sunday, Cheré Carr, my local real estate broker took me to see three homes. We returned to the Howie Mission Studio since I wanted to just find out if the road noise was an issue. I considered planting more bamboo to dampen the noise, but having 18 wheeler’s drive by all day would be an issue for my peace of mind.

The second place she took me to was this gem in Umatilla. This home was built in 1913 and every aspect of it is an antique gem. The place has 3 beds, 2 baths and 1,761 square feet. That is whole lot of space for a single guy like me who really just lives at the Disney Desk each day, writing articles and doing digital paintings. It also has a pool which is turning rather green since it has ducks who like to swim in it. When I was married, it was my job as the husband to take care of the pool chemicals and keep it clean. I got good at it but sometimes things could go out of wack. It it really a several hour job every weekend. I never swam in the pool but I always used the hot tub to wind down, and this Umatilla homestead had a hot tub as well. If I were to buy, I am thinking about converting the pool into a sunken garden, by adding steps, paths and a whole lot of soil and compost. That would take time.

The front porch has white columns which it turns out are palm trunks painted white. I love the texture look of them. The place I would most likely set up my art studio is on the left side of the house where there is a sun room that connects to the wrap around porch.  It might be a light filled space, but there were curtains and a large Recreational vehicle was parked right there in the driveway and it blocked the light in to the room. There is an empty lot to the right of the house and believe it or not that extra land comes with the home. There is tons of space to start a vegetable garden or leave it open to let the dogs run around, not that I have one yet. Combined with home property, there is almost an acre of land. I have to look at what taxes are like and what home insurance is like in Umatilla. The garden had well water for watering the pants and the house had city water. Raised beds for that area was my first thought, but all these plans require plenty of work. The other thought is that right now all that land is covered with grass which requires constant mowing. To me grass is a weed needing constant care. I prefer ground covers and native plants that thrive.

The garage has been converted into a workspace, which I love. The back roof of the garage needs some work, since a back porch area overhang is starting to sag. The wood is giving way. The back yard had a large storage shed and believe it or not, a stage. The stage isn’t opulent but since I sketch arts and culture all the time, I should be able to convince some performers to stage their work here. For one person it is all a bit much, but if I invite in artist residents, it could become a vibrant artist hub. To truly embrace this huge place I have to dream really big. Perhaps someday I will meet someone who wants to build a life together, but for now I am just pioneering my way towards a new hope on my own.

Cheré took me to see a third property which didn’t inspire me at all after seeing the Umatilla Homestead. There was a tiny gnome door in one of the ground floor closets and inside there were cigarette butts and other refuge on what was the original wood flooring now dirty and decayed. The neighborhood itself felt run down. It seemed black and white paint was thrown over every surface. A gorgeous stone fireplace was painted pitch black. That place depressed me. I drove back to Umatilla to sketch, lighten my mood, and dream.

 

Orlando Urban Sketchers at Stemma Craft Coffee

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I drove down to Orlando to sketch with the Orlando Urban Sketchers group in Stemma Coffee (328 North Orange Avenue, Orlando FL). I like to go to the coffee and draw events since they are in the morning and my evenings are always full from virtual teaching.

I was running late since I had not considered the effect of rush hour traffic getting into downtown Orlando. When I entered this core group were well into their sketches. I ordered a Latte and a chocolate chip cookie. This group of three tables was full so I looked around for another vantage point from which to sketch. At the next table were two woman and an open chair. One woman was on her laptop, so probably not an Urban Sketcher. I asked if I could sit in the seat across from her. As I sat, I suddenly realized the woman next to her was very familiar. It was KC Cali. I have known KC since 2009 when I first started doing one sketch a day. I did a sketch of her when she worked with the police horses. I have a sketch of her grooming a police horse named Peanut. That was in the earliest sketch book of my daily sketch series. I have since filled two shelves full of such sketchbooks. I was so happy to see her.

We spent much of the next several hours catching up. I sketched at her wedding to Bob about 9 years ago. I remember because it was shortly after the Pulse Nightclub shooting. It was also at the time of my separation. KC never holds back discussing life’s challenges and rewards. As always I could tell her anything, and there was plenty to unload. Ironically she and Bob have been looking at property in Upstate New York but much higher up than I have been looking. The furthest north home I fell in love with was at Hastings on the Hudson. It was a gorgeous old place with an amazing rustic back yard full of plantings, and the ground floor was already set up as an artist studio in the Zillow photos. Unfortunately that place was sold out before I had a chance to see it in person.

The Urban sketching group finished up long before I was finished with my sketch. I was so focused on what KC was telling me. All the sketchbooks were lined up on the tables and photos were taken of the sketches and then the group. I was so happy KC and her friend lingered after everyone else rushed off. It felt more Parisian for us to savor the moment.

I am having a rather serious operation next month that will involve staying overnight in a hospital. Amazingly KC offered to bring me to and from that surgery. She has had to deal with doctors who mishandled treatment of several family members and she knows what can go south. I immediately trusted her judgement and I want to be sure she gets to know all the medical details while I am anesthetized. KC really is one of the oldest friends I have in Orlando and now I literally trust her with my life. Her husband, Bob, arrived as KC and I we were finishing our sketches. Bob has an eye patch and a magnificent grey beard. He bragged and joked about how medical staff treat KC with absolute respect. His light hearted joking further cemented my trust that I have a true advocate in KC.

As we bundled up to leave, I paused outside the Coffee Shop  and watched Bob and KC walk away. They were holding hands and leaning close to one another talking on that chilly morning. My heart melted. Love and affection are something worth fighting for. I wrote this on the day I posted the sketch of their wedding, “It is reassuring to see a couple reach out to each other once again, putting their faith and hopes in marriage. Life is short. We all need to believe in the power of love.” I am getting old and sentimental, or perhaps I always have been.

Porsche Road Rats Rally

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An artist friend suggested we go to sketch a Porsche Road Rats Rally going at Bountiful Farms (27314 County Road 33, Okahumpka, FL). The event was almost over, so we had to rush to get there. I reasoned that men would still be talking about their fancy engines, and chrome with hoods open long after the closing time for the event.

In part, I was right. There is a small outdoor cafe called Bountiful’s Bestro, under a giant 300 year old live oak on the property. The outdoor seating was crowded, presumably full of Porsche owners bragging about their cars speed and many modifications. My ex wife used to drive a Porsche so I know that speed is everything. My artist friend set up near her car to sketch the cafe and huge tree, and I wandered over to sketch the Porches parked on the grass parking lot.

As I sketched, car owner after car owner walked to their car and drove off. A distant Porsche had the car owner come out and open the hood. He showed his engine to a friend. I had to stop sketching when it started to rain. At that point every car owner rushed over and drove off. I went back to find Stella and she was still sketching. We decided to head over to a small fresh market where we brought some produce. I wanted to get some cucumbers since I had recently picked some in a field nearby. The woman behind the counter explained that cucumbers were out of season, which I suppose was true since the crop was now in supermarkets rather than in the fields. There is a weekend farmers market that happens on Bountiful Farms and my friend discussed the possibility of having art for sale at the market. I will have to return to sketch that farmers market some weekend.

By the time we left the fresh market it had stopped raining. We then had a fantastic soup and grilled cheese sandwich lunch under the gorgeous live oak. We had the place to ourselves. The waitress kept offering us free Cokes since we were creating art, but in the end we paid. Despite the brief rain, it was a great outing. We both wished we had spent more time sketching, but it is the experience that counts not how polished the sketch looks. My friend’s sketch of the Bistro and live oak is really good and could easily be finished some weekend. My sketch, as usual is a panicked mess.

Impotent or Important

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Today I went in for a Cystoscopy which involved shoving a camera up my penis to view my giant prostrate. The camera is in this sketch on the lower left, It was hooked up to an iPad so the doc could show me the incredible journey to the obstruction.

A nurse walked me back to the room and asked me questions with a sing song voice. At first it seemed condescending, but then it became reassuring since clearly this all was just procedure and had been done many times before. Her job was to ask a few questions and then ask me to undress. My 3 layers of jackets had to come off to get my blood pressure which was normal. It was freezing cold outside. Then she asked me to take off my pants, underwear and wrap a white paper gown around my waste. I kept my warm socks on. There was another strip of white paper with a hole in it for my meat puppet to poke through. She left to let me undress in private. Once on the mechanical throne I started sketching. I knew most everything would change position, so I worked in pencil.

Two female nurses entered the room. As I suspected, their job was to numb me downstairs. The chair I was in began to tilt waaaay back with a mechanical moan. I bunched up the little pillow under my head so I could keep looking down towards my feet. I wanted to see my shy member uncovered, and numbed, but all the crumpled paper gown in my lap blocked my view. One nurse said, I am going to touch you now. She grabbed the head and shaft poking through the hole in the paper gown, and immediately began injecting Lanacane into the mouth of the beast. HOLY SHIT! It BURNED! I curled my toes and restrained myself from slapping her hand away from Sam wise. The pain just kept coming in waves, as she kept injecting the fluid deep into the orifice. When the two nursed left, I regained some composure and started sketching again in ink. My thighs were wet with Lanacane.

It took quite a while for the doctor to enter, I managed to get most of the line work done on the sketch. When he did enter, the real adventure of pain began. The evil scope was immediately shoved up into my penis. My penis was numb, but deep inside I felt everything. Every muscle inside my body clamped down tight. As I writhed in pain he told me to breath deep and imagine that I was peeing. That advice helped. Through out this process I could not sketch. My eyelids were clamped down hard in pain. He joked about how large the prostrate was, as if he had never seen one quite so large. He said, the Cystoscope was shoved in right up to the hilt.  He tilted the iPad towards me so I could see the small slit that was the only egress for urine from my bladder. He said any time I went to the bathroom only half of the liquid in my bladder could make its way out. A reading of 128 meant that 95% of people had a healthier urinary system than me. When he pulled the camera out of me, Lanacane and other fluids gushed out. There was a small portable toilet behind the throne of torture and he let me dismount and pee.

Then came the back door entrance. A Vaseline covered finger thrust up towards my prostrate and then more imaging was done with an ultrasound device. My prostrate is supposed to be the size of a small chestnut but now it is bigger than a softball. That huge growth reduces the size of my bladder by half. The doctor’s plan is to remove all of the prostate with a laser which will once again be shoved up inside my penis. After that operation, I will no longer be able to have children. Sex and orgasm will be possible but I will never again ejaculate. I actually opened myself up to the possibility of having a child in January of last year. That was a fleeting moment. Now, it is more important that I can hold my bladder for several hours while I finish a sketch.

For the big operation I will be out cold under general anesthesia. I will have to stay in the hospital overnight with who knows what hanging out of the mouth of Shrunken Sam. I was told a nurse would call me and give me exercises that I should do before the operation. Perhaps my penis will need to do Jumping Jacks or Push Ups. What ever is needed, he will be trained and ready. Though I joke about the operation, it is terrifying to imagine a laser disintegrating a softball sized growth from inside my bladder. Is that even possible? It seems like my body and all aspects of my life are struggling to regain balance as I search for a new life moving forward.

Waiting for a Cystoscopy

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I drove down to Orlando Health for a Cystoscopy which is an outpatient procedure where a camera is inserted up the penis to look at the prostate.

The drive down was quite pleasant with open country and many country cabins with metal roofs much like I have been searching for. I allowed for extra time since it was rush hour, but there was no rush hour on the roads I drove on.

In the waiting room there were a few other patients. I recognized their faces from the last time I had been to the office. The guy in the back row was always on the phone talking business. I was sitting on the opposites side of the room which was empty since the TV was above my head. A program was on about a young couple buying a home in Maui. They had to keep the budget under a million dollars. I felt bad for them having to settle for a place where the bedroom had a view of whales swimming buy. Maybe I should move to Maui, I bet no one has a swollen prostate there. No I don’t think it is in my budget, unless I find some wreck of a place on the rim of an active volcano. But think of the views before being burnt to a cinder. I did go to Maui during the making of Lilo and Stitch, and there are lovely homes with metal roofs and chickens in the yard.

A nurse came in and let us all know that there was a delay since a patient before us had complications. Dear god, what kind of complications? Was I about to experience similar complications? Should I sneak my way towards the door? The couple in front of me was called in first. They never returned. Then I was called in. It took me a while to pack up my art supplies. When I am in a nervous rush the supplies have a habit of refusing to go back in the bag. I eventually had to stand up with a paint rag dangling out of the mouth of the bag like a colorful tongue. I walked towards the nurse. I am sure everyone was thinking the same thing, “dead man walking.”

Committing to Cremation

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Some junk mail arrived at the Lake County Studio that offered a free Italian meal to attend a seminar hosted by the National Cremation Society.

I arrived a few minuted late and everyone else had ordered. I had expected a crowded room with a large screen Power Point presentation, but instead I found the presenter George and two women from The Villages. George had the 3 audience members across from him, so it wasn’t an ideal situation to sketch everyone. I focused on George. I had just learned about the “Loofah Code” at the Villages and desperately wanted to ask the women about it but the topic was death and ashes, so I held my tongue.

George was pleasant and informative. He once worked at Meryll Lynch in the twin towers in NYC. A friend of his was supposed to be in the Twin Towers on the day of the terrorist attack. The meeting was held at a nearby building instead and because of that his friend survived.

Did you know that 57% of burials these days are cremations? Cremation is a more affordable option since there are no expensive hearses or large brick and mortar funeral homes, the upkeep is just to keep a furnace running. From the start I was offered a form where I could commit to cremation which would lock in the price and save any loved ones from having to make plans about what to do with my body. If there is no will and no plans in place, then the body becomes the property of the state and is held in cold storage for months before becoming part of a mass cremation. None of this should of course concern me, since I would be dead. I loved that the woman seated next to me referred to herself in the third person as, “the body.”

Also offered was “the freedom to go with confidence.” This plan cost about $600. If I were to die while traveling in a foreign country, my remains would have to be repatriated back to America which could cost $11,000 and would involve lots of red tape for family. The Cremation Society would handle all documentation and diplomatic issues in getting the body back home. Local Cremation services would run about $2,800, and that includes an alternative cardboard container, packaging, and the shipping of ashes!

This was a lot to think about as I ate my ham and cheese hoagie with onion rings. Everyone else had ordered together and they all had salads. They finished well before me since my right hand was busy sketching. They left and I remained behind alone to finish the sketch in progress and half of my sandwich.

The Lynx

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I had a delightful adventure driving up to Gainsville, Florida for the first time and went to The Lynx Bookstore. On the drive north, I drove past The Villages, which is a cream and white vast sea of look alike buildings for Florida retirees. The place seemed to take up an entire county. I was told about the “Loofah Code” where different colored loofahs are hung from antennas of cars to represent sexual kinks. A white loofah is for novices and beginners, while yellow is for a mid level swap, someone looking for fun but still nervous. Another theory is that the loofahs just help them find their car in crowded parking lots. There is a vast variety of cars, so I prefer the first theory. I was zooming past on the highway so I didn’t stop to investigate.

In the Lynx, I met local author Tricia Booker who had her dog Bayou. Bayou was in training as a service dog. She is still a 1 year old pup and everything caught her nervous attention.  In her excitement she snoot booped over a small book stand, but from that point on she reined in any bull in the china shop tendencies. Bayou listened intently to Tricia’s every word.

Tricia Booker is an award winning journalist and writer of creative non-fiction. She wrote a memoir titled, The Place Of Peace and Crickets, which I ordered and plan to read soon. She has a substack called My Left Hook where she writes about life as a warrior mom. I have been following the substack and find myself inspired with each reading. I got to ask her about how her sub-stack was started and it is a direction I need to move in myself.

The Lynx bookstore was founded by Florida author Lauren Groff. Tricia loves Lauren’s writing. The beautifully crafted language draws her in. She told me about Lauren Groff’s book Vaster Wilds which is about a young girl who was brought to America on a slave ship. She manages to escape captivity and has to learn how to live off the land. I like history and tales of survival, so once again I am hooked.

I picked up a tiny sketchbook which had the title of The Creative Ramblings of a Restless Mind. It looks worn and tattered before even being used. I love that. I loved the vibes of this independent bookstore that also had a coffee shop. The Latte I had was delicious, though my fat fingers had difficulty figuring out the plastic lid. There were little hand written notes under many of the books. These were thoughts by staff who had read the book. If you weren’t sure what to buy, the musings might help.

Most important, is that many of the books at The Lynx are currently challenged or banned in Florida, as well as books by BIPOC authors, LGBTQ+ authors, and Florida authors. Here the marginalized have a voice. The Lynx stands as a beacon of inclusivity as we enter a time of national chaos.

Fire Pit

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On the evening before a planned hike in Gainesville, Florida, I sat outside in the back yard of the Lake County studio at the fire pit and burned some of the refuge from two large pine trees that had been cut down after Hurricane Milton damage. Larger branches were left for edging areas of the yard, but some the needles and small twigs were set ablaze. I love sitting by the fire and watching the flames flicker. I set several other blazes on previous nights because it got arctic cold out all week.

Sitting there I wondered if I could capture the dark silhouette of the building and the warm lighting from inside where I sit at the Disney Animation Desk and work. The scene reminds me of a quote from Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother Theo, “A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke.”

Since my virtual classes let out at 8pm, I am starting to think that I may need to start doing nocturnal paintings each night. I had some Masonite cut for a bookcase that was just reassembled and I am now planning to do paintings in oil 15 inches by 23 inches which would fit snugly in the shelves. I may need to make a custom carrying box for the paintings so they can be transported without spearing oil paint everywhere. I’ll need to get more Masonite, plexiglass, a few wood strips to keep the painting from touching the inside face f the box and some sort of hinge. I will have to draw up some schematics. I thought I had a Tupperware oil painting pallet that seals up but for the life of me I can’t find it. I will have to order a new one.

Oddly on this night after completing the sketch and going to bed, I was restless and could not sleep. So much has changed in my life the past month, and thoughts and plans keep racing in my head. I am finally settled with every box unpacked. Now I am searching for a new direction as I acclimate to life in the country. A month’s worth of design and illustration work is about to begin, which will keep me focused and distracted.

Howie in the Hills Mission Style Studio

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I am searching for my next studio and or forever home. On Zillow, I saw this home in Howie in the Hills and decided for the first time that I had to go and take a tour in person.

The place was built in 1925. Caved up above the entry is “Anno Domini 1926” which means, “In the year of our lord 1926.” The original home owners had their busts carved in triangular motives around the entry. What appealed to me the most was a sun room off to the right which is where I would put my Disney Desk. Each ground floor room has built in bookcases which is awesome. The living room with a working fireplace could also act as the studio space. The dining room had a doorway to a back yard lanai. The back yard was small but had the original iron work fence. Unfortunately the iron is starting to rust out and would need work. There was also a quirky fountain in the yard. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom with a tiny tub that had doors to both bedrooms. In the back was a shed with a window AC that could be plumbed with a toilet if I wanted. The home was formerly owned by a police officer and the front door had more dead bolts in it than a bank safe.

I fell in love with the place immediately. The kitchen was gorgeous having been converted into a gourmet chef’s dream. Since I am not a gourmet chef it might be wasted on me. There had been termites in the kitchen but I was assured that they had been taken care of. The septic was out to the west of the shed.The place could be made into a perfect working studio. Since I now work digitally I wouldn’t need tons of space. The home is on a corner lot at the intersection of West Myrtle and highway 19.

After the tour, I sat across the street to sketch. Over the course of two hours, I noticed the road noise from 19 more and more. 18 wheelers roared down the road constantly and every car seemed to be in a mad rush. There was one mass of bamboo planted between the road noise and the home. I started to reason that expanding the bamboo patch might cut the noise down. With cars and trucks rushing by at night, I would probably loose sleep.

The home is 1 block from Little Lake Harris which is a part of a chain of lakes. I had to run across 19 to avoid getting run over. The lake is gorgeous and there is a dock at the end of the block. I could easily set out on a kayak any time I wanted. If I could just move the home away from the highway noise and closer to the lake it wold be perfect. Having lived for the past 6 months on the flight path for planes landing at Orlando International Airport, I know how grating such constant noise can be.

As much as I am madly in love with the place, I will probably have to pass, though I change my mind every few hours.

My Baby Does the Hanky Panky

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This sketch dates back to 2008, one year before I started doing one sketch a day and posting those sketches online.  With this sketch I was just getting used to sketching live performances. The band was singing, “My Baby does the Hanky Panky.” I like how loose my line work was. Structure gave way to wild flowing lines. Clearly the music influenced how the lines went down on the page. I am certain I felt some annoyance that I wasn’t closer to the performers. Over time however I learned to accept and embrace being part of the distant audience.

This sketch was done at the Fiddler’s Green (544 Fairbanks Avenue, Winter Park Florida). It was here that I discovered that Guinness Ail goes absolutely perfectly with a slice of chocolate cake. Just thinking about it makes me want to experience that flavor sensation again.

I kind of miss these impromptu sketch sessions. I used to go out any night of the week and discover some new musical talent. Now I work until 8pm 6 nights a week and tend to miss such performances. I need to focus my attention on finding really late night music jam sessions. They must exist and I need to dial myself into that scene. For now I am focusing on discovering Old Yalaha Florida architecture. It has been bloody cold out, but it si worth it when I get a good sketch of old forgotten Florida.

I just realized that this will publish on the first full day of the Trump return to office. Things about to go south very fast and I suppose an artist should be in the wings to document the downfall.