Paint your wagon

Red. It's always red, at least when you are painting your wagon. I must admit that I have not only been on my wagon since the last post, but it has definitely been red. It's been a very red month in every regard. At present I am siting in the lobby of my hotel in Capri at 2 o'clock in the morning trying to take advantage of the stillness and clarity born of jet lag. This has really been the first time in the last month that I have felt like putting it down on what, in a different time, would have been paper. To recount, I celebrated my 40th birthday party at the farm in Millbrook about a month ago with my wonderful friends and since that time have done shows in Jackson Hole, Aspen, Carmel, New York and now Capri. There is a consistency and evenness that one tends to notice from waking up in the morning slightly unsure of what state or country they are in. I tend to see similarities in the differences. I imagine that it's a subconscious need to tie places together by nuance. The ribbon that has united my discord is the aforementioned color red. For some reason it is what I am seeing more then anything else. The fact that ruby is my birthstone and this has been a rather big year in that department only frames the allure that the color has held of late. The red-haired women I have come to visit here in Italy, the red bushes that catch ones eye biking in the Rockies, the highly polished red ferrari cars at the concourse elegance in Pebble Beach, and the chestnut horse that never wants to leave the farm, are like old, red friends, harmoniously living in my frenetic present. It has long been said that one should never paint a restraunt red because of the subconscious effect it has on people. The color apparently stimulates the eye so much that it creates a restlessness ill advised for the table. I have never really understood this theory. I used to love the Russian tea room as a child and have always equated the ruby with great passion and strength. I am not the only person by a far stretch to feel that way either. Rubys were often sewn into the skin of warriors before battle to inspire courage and purify the blood. Ok, perhaps not issues for the dinner table, but I still love red restraunts. In the gemstone world I adore the beautiful spinel, I find them more interesting then rubys on many occasions because of the abundance of secondary color they show. Spinel is never heat treated and the nuance of variations in unheated stone is significant. At the moment, and over the last number of years, they have become significantly more expensive due to heighted awareness and the Chinese paying anything to get the best stones from Burma (damn that bright red flag). Ancora! It interesting how many of my favorite places have strong associations with ceasars. Rome with Caligula, Constantine and Istanbul, Tiberius and Capri, and little Caesar in West Palm Beach. I did spend one of the most romantic weekends of my life here during a cold March years ago. I have never forgotten it, and never will. I think I'm getting a little bit loopy and will end my musings to spare the reader. However, I would like to thank the many friends who are spread all over the would for making life so interesting. I have been very lucky to have seen many joys of my life as a result of their largess and I appreciate it very much. I am giving myself the gift of 3 days in Riva del Garda windsurfing early next week. It's not a fancy place, but it is a place I found when I was 15 and find myself drawn to again and again because of many separate events in my life that kept bringing me back. I was where Mussolini hid out before the unfortunate end, and the home of the "mistrale", a consistent wind that makes it a windy paradise. The deep red glass of wine from the neighboring town of Vallpocella awaits. I guess that means I'm off the wagon.