A go-to store to add to the list

My husband is a good gift-giver. He really tries to think about gifts and often gives me significant things -- a piece of pottery, little one-of-a-kind trinkets and jewelry that has a story. I thrive on this. But he has a secret.

In every one of the places we have lived together, he has a go-to store, a place where, for any occasion, he can go in and find something I will like. It's always a store that is part art gallery, part gift shop, and eclectic, filled to the brim with goodies. And once he finds it, he knows it.

If we ever move to Asheboro, I have his go-to store all picked out ... Circa Gallery.

A few weeks ago on a blustery but sunny day, I got to wind through the countryside to this little NC town, known more for the zoo than anything else. But what I found was a little oasis in a couple of downtown blocks where I could have happily wasted an afternoon. Circa would be the center of that afternoon.

Filled with art of various mediums, jewelry and even handmade soap (I love to smell handmade soap!), this gallery stocks close to 80 artists and is at the forefront of an evolving Piedmont art scene. They have good stuff, shiny stuff, colorful stuff, warm and fuzzy things, and plenty of space to browse, to stop, to take a closer look. Go, but be warned, it could become your next go-to store too.

I'm Wild for Wild in the Kitchen

For this year's Southeastern Wildlife Exposition section in the Post and Courier, I had the opportunity to write about a new program which focuses on S.C. products and local chefs using those products (read article here on p. 10). Part "state fair" tent and demonstration kitchen, Wild in the Kitchen was a great event B. and I got to attend this past weekend.

Besides seeing a great cooking demonstration by Fred Neuville, here's what we sampled as a roving breakfast of sorts -- remember, all produced in S.C.-- in as faithful an order as I can remember:

-- boiled peanuts
-- a pork rind with barbecue sauce on it
-- a tortilla with barbecue sauce on it
-- creamy cheese grits
-- dry wine from noble grapes
-- semi-dry wine from muscadine
-- bloody mary mix
-- quail
-- more cheesy grits
-- pimento cheese
-- pickled okra
-- chocolate milk from the Coburg dairy

And then I was hungry for lunch.

Positive Art

Positive gets a bad rap. Pollyanna. Naive. Pipe dream.

Critical people are often seen as smart. Discerning. More in tune.

Truth is, it's often harder to be positive, to step over the ease of doing nothing because there is no use. I like positive people.

Edwin Gil is one of those people. A visual artist who transformed a youthful rebellious streak into an adult rebellious (or activist) streak that says "This does not have to be the way it is," he is using what he knows, art, to bring awareness of the growing problem of HIV/AIDS in the Latino community. He is speaking out when so many others are holding it in. He's tweeting. He's posting on facebook. And he's painting. And his paintings are cool.

I met him through his upcoming new exhibition, "Positive Art.". Who knew painting could be brave?

Honoring

I've been asked on a couple of occasions to write an article about an artist who has recently died. Although I didn't know these artists, I always interview those who did and try to find a kernel of their artistic life to pass along to the readers. The latest is in Go Triad today, a watercolor artist whose "day" job was that of a commercial artist in New York City.

Although I never met Carl, for my angle in the article, I conjured an image of a quiet studio on Saturday afternoons where he would paint, away from everything except for the memory of a beautiful locale. He did it just for him.

Relocation of My Little Desk

I am a water person. Never made any bones about it, from the days of my childhood spent in the pool overlooking Kure Beach to the way the black rocky ribbon of the Catawba River underneath the highway can make my eyes water in the space it takes to drive over it just after dusk on a deep August evening.

So it is only fitting that B. and I have packed up the little desk and our overabundance of grilling spice mixes and headed again for the coast. B. has always loved the beach, and although the bright sands of our beloved Florida are too far a drive from family, B. discovered I've fostered in him a love for the marsh and the way the grasses turn deep green after a long golden winter dragging the tides of brackish water between their reeds. It also seems that we didn't realize how much we missed the simple joy of driving past the skies reflected in marsh on a simple trip to the grocery store, a friend's house, or a workaday morning.

So here we are, relocated again, back to the coast where we can hear the tide reports on the evening news and smell the salt (along with pluff mud and depending on an unkind breeze, an occasional whiff of the paper mill) in our little spot on James Island, back to the island and the city that I love.

A Case for Cute

I knew I was going to like artists Joel and Ashley Selby before I met them -- they're aesthetic was evident from their website and artwork, and they were prompt with a sunny e-mail response. But I was never prepared for them to be such a (oh I hate to even say it...) cute couple!

How, you ask, could you use such a cliche? Well, I provide the following list as support for the use of such a well-worn phrase:

1. They live in a farmhouse, an 1851 farmhouse. I am a sucker for 19th century farmhouses.

2. They have chickens outside the farmhouse.

3. They are young, just out of college young.

4. They smile a lot.

5. They seem at ease wearing hats.

6. They love to bake bread and cookies and save scraps of good paper.

7. They use chalkboards as decor.

8. They love Flight of the Concords.

9. They understand the importance of good fonts and can discuss them at length while keeping you interested.

10. You just know they have only begun to stretch their artistic wings.

Read the Go Triad cover article, and find out more about their budding business and great eye for design. Also, there will be a few pics online supporting, if not condoning, my choice of words.

Welcome to Welcome, NC

It was raining. It always seems to be raining. I'd followed my little map to Welcome, N.C. to meet Richard Childress at his mega-motorsports facility, and I needed gas and to make sure I hadn't passed the turn (I am a woman -- it's easy to stop for directions).

I pulled into a one-pump station in downtown Welcome and inadvertently rang the full-service bell before getting out of the car. A man walked out, gray sweatshirt as armor against the blowing mist, and I apologized, saying I would pump it myself.

"You will not," he said with a smile as he opened the tank. "Oh, and (looking at the card in my hand) you're paying my credit. We usually only accept cash or check. But ... I can see you are not from around here." Check? Really? Who pays for gas by check? "We'll take care of it for you and run the card, although we usually don't like to."

Mind you, this was said without a hint of sarcasm or rushing. I stood beside the car, awkwardly, not used to having someone pump the gas. Cars drove by slowly, their tires hissing on the rain-soaked street. We walked inside where tires and Lance crackers were stacked, and I signed for the bill. I was bid a good day with a smile, and told to be careful out there, walking back out into the rain. Full-service hospitality, sincere and not sticky-sweet. The good stuff. The real thing.