Birthday Girl
Today is Jen’s birthday, so I really should be mixing drinks and arranging flowers instead of writing this.
But maybe part of being a truly loving spouse is to be somewhat predictable and to carry through on one’s projects; if that’s the case, then I can at least take a little while to write today’s entry before we go out to the birthday dinner.
And offer a few words in praise of Jennifer Dixon, love of my life, light of my heart, on this the occasion of almost half a lifetime of birthdays celebrated together.
The first year I knew Jen I borrowed her car on her birthday and brought it back with a set of four new tires. That’s probably the best present I ever got her in all these years; arguably the best present I ever got anyone—although the armadillo handbag I bought for my mom one Christmas might offer a run for the money.
Subsequently, I’ve usually tried to write a poem or something; I can never match, though, the phenomenal works of art she has given me on special occasions in my life.
Her generosity in sharing of her talent is unmatched; I’ve got a whole collection of handmade books, precious found object sculptures, and beautiful cards marking my own birthdays; she’s got a box of yellowing pages with inadequate wordplay on them.
As a public artist, Jen Dixon has created works that are grand in scale but touchingly personal in their affect on the viewer. As the creator of personal gifts, she has an uncanny ability to draw upon universal themes which emerge through focused renderings of specific incidents in an individual’s life.
When I see the pieces she has showered me with over the years, I feel like I’m a unique and wonderful person who matters to the universe in some unique and wonderful way.
It may be Jen’s birthday, but I’m the one who gets the real gift.
But maybe part of being a truly loving spouse is to be somewhat predictable and to carry through on one’s projects; if that’s the case, then I can at least take a little while to write today’s entry before we go out to the birthday dinner.
And offer a few words in praise of Jennifer Dixon, love of my life, light of my heart, on this the occasion of almost half a lifetime of birthdays celebrated together.
The first year I knew Jen I borrowed her car on her birthday and brought it back with a set of four new tires. That’s probably the best present I ever got her in all these years; arguably the best present I ever got anyone—although the armadillo handbag I bought for my mom one Christmas might offer a run for the money.
Subsequently, I’ve usually tried to write a poem or something; I can never match, though, the phenomenal works of art she has given me on special occasions in my life.
Her generosity in sharing of her talent is unmatched; I’ve got a whole collection of handmade books, precious found object sculptures, and beautiful cards marking my own birthdays; she’s got a box of yellowing pages with inadequate wordplay on them.
As a public artist, Jen Dixon has created works that are grand in scale but touchingly personal in their affect on the viewer. As the creator of personal gifts, she has an uncanny ability to draw upon universal themes which emerge through focused renderings of specific incidents in an individual’s life.
When I see the pieces she has showered me with over the years, I feel like I’m a unique and wonderful person who matters to the universe in some unique and wonderful way.
It may be Jen’s birthday, but I’m the one who gets the real gift.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:56 PM
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