It must be autumn, because the colors are changing on the tops of the treeline and the fireweed has all gone to seed. Day really started at 8:00 p.m. the night before. That is when Flick Red officially declared our photo shoot rescheduled to the next day at 8:00 a.m.
Had something to do with Vincent Tillion being in town. Vincent piloted in a cruise ship (which is why Seward Ships kept offering him all the Tanqueray/tonic he could possibly drink, which he politely refused) and was just in town for a few hours. Had never met Vincent before, but once I had I immediately agreed to reschedule the shoot.
A little background, this shoot is for a brochure for Sweet Darlings. We started it last October. I have every shot I need, except the cover. Little thing, the cover shot. I can cut down the brochure to four pages, I can pump it up with my cover to eight pages, but I am stuck where I am with six pages...because there is no way to properly keep the middle page in place.
I have met Vincent's parents and had a wack-ed encounter with his mother. One of my clients sent me to Halibut Cove, where his folks live, on zero notice, in the rain, in an open skiff, in an Armani skirt-suit, with my sick six-year old child, on the pretense of buying a Clem Tillion painting.
This is actually more annoying than it sounds, because Mako has to take you to Halibut Cove, and he can't just drop you off...you have to have permission to land. No one had scheduled me an appointment with the Tillions, or even confirmed that they were present in the state before I got sent on this trek.
Fortunately I was able to get Diane Tillion on the phone, she was at home, and graciously gave me permission to come over. She did not meet me at the docks. I wandered town like an asshole, small sick child in tow, until I happened upon her way-cool looking house.
She gave me a tour of her studio and the octopus ink paintings of Japanese-style bird paintings. I was polite, humoring her as she displayed painting after painting after painting that was the wrong size, style, and subject matter. At the end of her available stock I finally put it bluntly...I was specifically instructed to buy a piece of Clem Tillion's work. Then the bomb got dropped.
"Clem doesn't paint."
Back to the story. 8:00 a.m. arrives and I actually wake up and brush my teeth. Ring Flicka Red who complains, "No, you can't really be awake. I have alternate plans. I only scheduled you in at that time because I knew there is no way you would wake up and make the appointment. I was just humoring you. I am double booked and I HAVE to do this other shot first. Will be done by 10:00 a.m. and the light will still be fine at the glacier."
I grumble, but since I do have another piece due, agree to the 10:00 a.m. shift. Put together a package on the Jesse Lee Home for Iris Darling for Senators McCain, Clinton, Murkowski, Stevens, Congressman Young and Governor Murkowski. Different variations on the same theme. Run out of ink, paper, staples, and paper clips on the project.
Call Flicka at 10:00 a.m., she is still at Johnstone and not quite finished yet. Noon?
Finish Jesse Lee package and take it to Iris Darling for her signature, mailing, and then to the City Manager so he has a reference hard copy for his file (Iris and I have given up on backfiles, that is what our employees are for) and a briefing on where we are at on the project.
It is now noon, call Flicka. She is just landing at the lake, five miles away, and needs to process her fish. Process her fish?
Go to the Hamptons and let the turkeys out. Bob Valdetta has brought in five new babies - three grays, Vanta, Margaret, and Linda and two whites - Kevin and Willard. They are going to be food turkeys not pet turkeys, but we named them anyway. Bobby feels that since we named them after our fellow council members it will not be that difficult to eat them. I think that he is on to something because since the names have been released we have had individuals offer to strangle them, pluck them, and smoke them.
It is now 2:00 p.m. Ring Flicka, she advises the shoot is off because we have lost the light at the glacier. This is my second choice of glacier for this shot, the first one opened up a large crevice so we weren't able to land the helicopter there anymore. I move to Plan C.
"Come to the Hamptons, I have a set up. I need this shot today."
"There is no way you are going to like a shot from there. We shot there last year and you didn't like it. Just use one of those pictures. Okay, one shot and I am done with this." Agrees a grumpy Flicka.
She arrives. We walk back to the creek. She refuses to shoot a set-up that has a mangled salmon left by the bear in the immediate background. It would have been a great natural set-up with several dead humpies lying around. The product is "Salmon Roe" candy, and it could be a hilarious piece for the client's back room. Flicka complains she doesn't have the battery to waste.
Turns out her shoot this morning was in Johnstone Bay, where they were catching a fat silver on every caste, with some 14 guys in a big turbo plane. Flicka tells me that some guy named Bill Bucket tried to convince her that he was famous, but she was pretty sure he was putting her on because he looked kinda old to be a ball player.
For those of you not in the know, she is referring to Bill Buckner, the first baseman who let the World Series trophy itself roll through his legs, costing the Red Sox game six in the 1986 World Series championship. Flicka doesn't follow baseball. She is still sour from when her Coach Mother benched her in fourth grade.
We get my shot. On the way back to the truck I hear a long, low growl...the forest is noticeably silent. What was that? A second growl and every dog next door goes crazy. Grizzly bear in Mr. Roger's kennel, good time to be heading back to town. Go to Flicka's house just in time to change for the 5:00 p.m. luau at the new harbor hotel. Taxing my patience when Flicka spends 20 minutes deciding what thong to wear with her dress. Captain Mikie did appreciate her asking, and the fashion show.
At the luau I get robbed. They pull my name out of the hat and offer me a vase of flowers that had been used as a decoration. They pull another name and give the tickets for two to Hawaii to one of the owner's grandsons. Robbed. I complain loudly to deaf ears.
Stop by J-Dock on my way home, haven't seen Teresa since the Mexican tall ship was in town and wanted to catch her before the summer was over. Somehow the conversation catches to my grandmother, Teresa didn't know that she had passed away. I ended up crying in her store with anxious customers milling about waiting for their processed fish. Horrible.
Walked over to Rays, where Nina cross-examined me about Prince Jonothan and why I hadn't set her up with him yet. Lots of talk about Marsha being killed yesterday, hit by a red-light runner in Anchorage. Her son is in critical and now everyone is confident that Brad is going to fall off the wagon this winter in the worst way.
Migraine sets in. Only 8:30 p.m. but time to take two Tylenol PMs and get some sleep.
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