The Keeper

Husband Number 2 (the Keeper) is a handsome, creative,
loving man. Our relationship is strong after some stumbling
blocks (that which does not kill us...) Suffise it to say I am
crazy about him.

On the other hand (design flaw no doubt - having two
hands I mean) he drives me crazy. As my friend Mary told
her Husband Number 2 (also a Keeper) “it isn’t that we’re
not good partners - it’s that we are not good roommates.”
Put those words right into my mouth.

Gapetto (The Keeper) is a fixer of things, a renovator, a
creator, a borderline hoarder?!? He gets it from his mother.
She has boxes piled to the ceiling in the garage. She is always
going through them, rearranging them, scurrying here and
there like a squirrel in autumn, but there are always
The Same Amount of Boxes.

We have boxes EVERYWHERE. In the basement, in the garage,
in the sunroom. We have boxes that haven’t been opened
since cardboard was invented. And now we have plastic
boxes - big things with lids. At least before there was a
chance things would mildew in our old basement and I
could chuck the whole thing but, no, these suckers keep
your sh*t FOREVER! Damn you Rubbermaid!

A few years ago Gapetto signed up for a welding class. He
took to it like a duck to water. While others were practicing
straight line welds he made a sculpture of me and Melba

(worlds best chocolate labrador) in the first two weeks while
also working on a cowboy with a lariat and a runaway horse
for the yard. They are amazing! I love them. But now...

we collect rusty metal things and I mean BIG rusty metal things.

His original idea was that all of his sculptures would be created
from found objects (ie free junk) so we have piles of the stuff.
He has so much metal he doesn’t know what he has. Now when
he comes up with a sculpture idea he sketches it out and then
starts surfing eBay and haunting antique stores and flea markets.

What about the SCRAP in our basement, in our garage, in our
back yard? And then...

The Last Straw.

I came home and saw a stripped boxsprings propped up against
our house.

“Honey? It is starting to look a little low rent around here.”

What came to mind was changing our respective last names to 

Clampett. Maybe even putting a nasty upholstered couch out 

in the front yard. I think I practiced AMAZING restraint of tongue.

He allowed that I was probably right and removed the offending
object. The springs became the hair on the most beautiful sculpture 

to date - a winged angel on antique roller skates playing a trombone -
I dubbed her Gabriella. And as soon as I figure out how to insert
pictures I’ll show them to you.




















What I know is this

You take the good with the bad.

If you look beyond the mess you might see the beauty inside.

And you CAN make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear or maybe some 

old rusty boxsprings.

Or at least Gapetto can.