Apparently, I buy groceries at the airport.

This past weekend, I flew to Cape Cod to see my Uncle's art exhibit. So I spent a great deal of time in airports. I became scared when I realized the prices were no longer absurdly shocking. I've gotten so used to parting with my money in huge chunks in SF that not even airport prices are all that scary.

The weekend was a huge success. On Saturday we made our way to the Cape Cod Museum and saw Uncle's exhibit. It was stunning. The walls were a deep red that really helped his egg temperas jump off the wall.

As we walked in, several people recognized my Uncle and he was caught up in several conversations that went entirely too long. I laughed to myself a bit as I heard a woman in the background saying, "Is that Garry Gilmartin? I think that's Garry Gilmartin." She was a docent at the museum and had been giving people tours of the exhibit for weeks. She gushed on and on about how people were asking about the paintings, where could they buy one, what was he thinking when he painted this. My uncle's answers were so simple she just looked flabbergasted. No hoity-toity quadruple-entendre? No meaning of life hidden in the brush strokes? But they are so brilliant. And it's true, they are brilliant paintings. But they are brilliant for the very trait she seemed unable to comprehend. They're stunningly simple. Not over complicated. Not pretentious. Just what they are. Really brilliant captures of life on Cape Cod.

Saying goodbye was tough. Uncle recently went through a pretty major surgery but he's doing well with the whole thing. Easter dinner was great as we had a huge ham with fixins.

Glad I went. Sad to leave. Glad to be home again.

Here's a picture of Yo: