Rock Music

Today I thought that I would treat myself to lunch and drove to a very pretty shopping center.

It is clear that a lot of thought was put into the design of the place because it is very colonial and in keeping with the overall tenor of the town.  It is quite nice with beautiful and well tended landscaping.  It was all so attractive that I practically skipped from my car in anticipation.

When I reached the sidewalk, I was quite startled to hear a man moaning at foot level, "Come back to me, oh oh." - then something about  a foreign movie. 

Thinking someone was intoxicated under the landscaping, I stopped and discovered the horrors of  fake-rock-garden-speakers. 

Discreetly placed behind a boxwood

The sound from this one assaults not only

passersby but this poor chrysanthemum

A well heeled lady, meaning that she had on a pair of Ferragamos, - noticed only because my attention was at foot level - stopped to ask what I was looking at.

I pointed out the fake-rock-garden-speaker.  We agreed that it was hideous.  Neither of us could identify the song, though the poor singer continued redundantly moan, "come back to me, oh oh."

So the question is, if fake-rock-garden-speakers must be placed in shopping centers, why can't they play sounds from nature instead of annoyingly bad songs?

 

 

 

 

 

Fancy Drinks and Short Orders

So last weekend I made a quick stop at the local flea market.  Sadly, many of the vendors display things that one does not want such as - really bad socks that look like they would incubate athlete's foot and scary looking robotic plastic toys. 

But still there are vendors who have what I call good stuff - old books, furniture that needs refinishing that I have no business haggling over, and boxes that contain a crazy assortment of stuff.  Of course, none of the stuff is marked with a price and the moment one picks anything up it is immediately worth a fortune.

That being said, I was digging in one of these boxes and found a little package of old matchbook covers.  I was able to buy them for one dollar.

There was this one.

Gee, I sure would like to "dance till !" to Lester Grant's Orchestra. 

 

Not entirely sure where the Bungalow is.  Did only cursory research and came up with this.

Love the names of the original owners, Milbert and Lilly, whose busiest day of the week during Prohibition was Sunday.  The secret room that was thought to "hide slot machines and moonshine" is intriguing. Still this place in MN is unlikely to be the one of my matchbook, since it was only named the Bungalow Inn in 1969...

Until I can do more research, the fancy drinks and short orders are fruit for the imagination.

 

Bat Aplomb = Great Hostess

 

So with a new job comes new social responsibilities.  Last Friday night I commandeered Mr. Weston and off we went to the home of the leader of my new institution.  I was giddy with anticipated delight.  What fun - more importantly, I did not have to cook.

We were having a delightful time sampling the hors d'oeuvres that were being passed around.  I was enjoying the baked Granny Smith apple slices with prosciutto skewered with brie in some kind of sauce - when a gigantic bat flew in.

I am not a bat expert, but I think that it had a terrifying 20 foot wing span.  This was discerned as it dived up and down amongst the guests.

It was one of those moments where people seemed to be frozen in time.  No screams, no panic. There was a stunned silence, a best behavior numbness.  Immediately our hostess, the institution's esteemed leader, put her skills into action and threw open the front door.  The uninvited guest soon exited.

No one dared to say anything.  Then, as if nothing had happened, our hostess exclaimed with a happy clap of her hands, "Now for something sparkling!"

Champagne for all!




 

Late Summer Mega Read

It seemed like I waited "a hundred summers" for this book when it finally came in at the library last week.  It is another mega summer read with a long wait list - which means definitely not renewable. 

No worries here.  I finished it last night. 

As I have mentioned, I don't normally read a lot of new fiction so my question is:  What is up with the trend of back and forth chapters?

This book, like the other work that I just read, goes back and forth from past to present by alternating chapters.  In this case:

Chapter 1:  1931
Chapter 2:  1938
Chapter 3:  1931
Chapter 4:  1938

I find this annoying.  By the end of Chapter 4, I went forward by only reading every other chapter then reading the chapters that I skipped.  This gave some order to the story. 

Then there was a boo boo.  Part of the story takes place at Smith College.  The characters go to a local breakfast place in Northampton.  The proprietress says,

           " Best pancakes in the Berkshires.  Ask anyone." 

Anyone here will tell you that Northampton is not in the Berkshires but in the Pioneer Valley.  Oopsie.

Then there are hysterical lines like: 

            "The waitress came in, a slaughtered lamb of a twenty-year old girl."

I pointed this bit of conversation out to Mr. Weston.  It was uttered by the male love interest: 

            "Where did you come from Lily?  You're a miracle."
            "Your miracle," Lily responds.

We have similar conversations daily.

Overall the book was entertaining enough and drama filled.  I did like the how the author's bio adroitly ended:

           "She lives with her husband and four young children in southwestern Connecticut,
            where she divides her time between writing and laundry."

The book concludes with the dreadful hurricane of 1938 where most of the characters we have come to dislike are conveniently swept off to sea.

At this point, I am heading back to the world of nonfiction. The author recommended "Sudden Sea: The Great Hurricane of 1938" which I have already ordered up.

 

The Day After the Fair

So we went to the fair yesterday.  Here are some photographs.

My favorite!
An erudite and white haired gentleman
had amassed a huge collection of milk bottles from
long defunct dairies -  when milk was actually delivered.
He was fascinating to talk to -
I took one of his cards to give to our Historical Society...

A sampling of the bounty of the county.

The winning gigantic pumpkin.
 

Preserves behind bars.
Apparently, a few years ago there was trouble -
not by misbehaving preserves but from fair patrons
handling them...
Too bad.

Hopefully the preserves had not been preserved in this kitchen.
Still, these old images were all around.

 

Another protected display.

Christmas tree vendors were advertising their wares.



Liked this fisherman's sweater in the craft hall.

Was impressed that someone actually had the talent to sew this!
Though one does not see any women
in our area wearing such things these days...

Great to look at - but oddly not locked up. 
Even better the recipes were posted.
 

Now speaking of food at the fair, I had a ton -  proudly all of it fried or sugary -  yet devilishly delicious!  There were chicken tenders in a crater of French fries, a fried oreo, a sundae, and something from a Cajun cart.  This was all washed down with a paper cup of really bad sangria in the beer garden.  I was grateful that I actually woke up this morning.

Historically speaking

 Visited with and petted lots of beautiful animals.  They were all locked up or confined.  Since they are not inanimate like the preserves, I always feel so badly for them and cannot bear to photograph them.

 

Meanwhile, thanks to Thomas Hardy for borrowing his title for this entry.