phew. they're up. the new oils are hung oh-so-officially on the red-brick wall of the old town cafe, wet-paint signatures and all. today, i made a list, checked it twice, and did just about everything except eat breakfast in just the nick of time. yesterday, me and my number one guy spent the day framing, using the old grey cedar fence boards from the former fence of our portland house. once framed, those paintings looked finished, and almost antique, like they could have been painted forever ago, pulled from the loft of a dusty old abandoned barn. fittingly nostalgic and rustic, considering the time period of the imagery. and today, i signed each one with my little trademark b in a box, each b in a different color, hand mixed to compliment the colors in the painting and stand out just enough from the background. finished. i hand wrote a little statement, and printed out the officialest looking business cards i could muster. i loaded those paintings, strategically stacked and leaning in our trusty old van, and up the chuckanut we gingerly drove. it's funny, every show is just as nerve-racking as the next; even after doing it for years i still get butterflies and act like a crazy lady for the few days leading up to a hang. upon our arrival, we were met by the sweetest family of friends and childrens i could have ever imagined. i made tea, took off my boots, helper james balancing like a marsupial hanging the lines from the hooks on the up-high picture rail. said and done, it looked great, like those paintings were supposed to be there, like the art had been there all along, watching over the people and their breakfasts and lunches and coffees and conversations. it's funny, i've always preferred my work on the walls of a cozy restaurant, as opposed to some stuffy gallery. there, in the company of good people and their daily lives, it just seems so at home.