Margret and H.A. Rey Residency: Day 1 - Oh, the Humanity!

Day 1:
I need to apologize before I even begin this post, dear readers. It's been a very difficult time here on my first morning as the Artist in Residence at the Margret and H. A. Rey Center.

I was forced - please, delicate readers be warned, this gets graphic and I will include photos for proof - I was forced, before I had even had a cup of coffee this morning, to decide which of the three balconies I should sit on to drink my coffee and read.

Balcony #1 with views of the distant mountains?

Balcony #2, overlooking the nearby trees?

Balcony #3, which looks up at the home of my hosts?

How am I supposed to make decisions like this before coffee?

Eventually, and after much internal deliberation, I selected Balcony #1 because the chairs looked more comfortable than the others.

I've decided to post daily blog updates to warn my artist friends who may be considering applying for this residency next year. Don't do it! Please, please, please. Spare yourself this ordeal.

The description on the website describes the accommodations for the artist as "a guest cottage". 

Yesterday, I arrived with my family and found this to be my "guest cottage":

ONLY 3 stories tall? You call that a guest cottage? Why, it's barely large enough to accommodate me and 20 or 25 of my closest friends. WHAT IF I WANT TO HAVE 26 PEOPLE OVER?!?

Walking inside, we were shocked at the conditions I was to be subjected to for the next 2 weeks.

My family is knocked off their feet as they witness the huge, airy, beautiful living space on the third floor of my "guest cottage". They beg me to come home so I will not have to endure 2 weeks of suffering in these conditions.

The bright, open kitchen with the sliding doors that overlook the Mad River.

Kerri tried hard to provide me with some semblance of comfort , but even the wine rack was ill-suited to my needs. WHY MUST I SUFFER SO?

Another view of the top-floor space where I will be forced to spend most of my time working away at the craft I love.

The view off one of the balconies, showing the house of my incredibly kind hosts, Chris and Len. They're probably sitting up there right now, laughing over their coffee, because they only have one huge deck to choose from, not 3, like me.
My suffering knows no bounds.

The study, with its tasteful decorations and comfy reading chair, complete with a small built in table PROVIDING ME WITH YET ANOTHER CHOICE FOR WHERE TO HAVE MY MORNING COFFEE.

Alex is such a great kid, he offered to spend two weeks sitting in the chair so that I wouldn't have to make yet another coffee-related decision.

The master bedroom, where I will be forced to try to sleep on the comfy king-sized bed.

The upstairs bathroom, where I must look at nature as I brush my teeth. I don't know how I will survive these conditions.

Tori, my brave daughter, offered to spend the two weeks ensconced in the downstairs living room, to guard against unwanted visitors like zombies, bears, moose, and chipmunks.

I explained to her that that was what the high wooden gates out front were for, and sent her back home with Kerri and Alex so they wouldn't need to suffer with me.

After we arrived and settled in a bit, I was greeted by Birdie and Margaret, who took us on a tour of the lovely town of Waterville Valley.

If that weren't enough  for one man to endure, I then attended a dinner with the Board of Directors of The Rey Center. There was delicious food, lovely wine (which did not even come out of a box, like the wine I am accustomed to), and sparkling conversation with a really nice group of people. And all of it took place in the beautiful home of my hosts, Chris and Len.

This house, in case you have forgotten.

I will be posting on my blog daily so that I can continue to warn all my artist friends about the  conditions I am being subjected to. Please, my friends, heed my warning: Don't apply for this residency next year, using this link right here:

http://thereycenter.org/artist-residency.html

Let me do it, so that you won't have to go through what I am going through. That's how much I care about you, my friends. That's how much I care.