Well, I have been officially birthdayed for the year and while I approached it with a less celebratory spirit than usual, it was made ever-so-much better by treats and experiences shared with friends and loved ones. A Thor birthday card, drawn in crayon! Pencil drawn Sixers birthday card! A video of ThreeorFour and Five singing the classic birthday song; a small Gonzo in courdoroy and sweater vest; a ticket to go see RUFUS WAINWRIGHT*, which I can only contemplate in short bursts; viewings of short documentaries at 5 PM and a brutal feature-length at midnight; cocktails and sumptuous dinner, oh my!
*Please perform in gold lame, or a Mummers costume, or a Las Vegas showgirls costume. Pretty please. For lo, I have never seen you before.
But first, to start the day off, I listened to the usual Saturday morning shows. Buddy Guy told Bob Edwards, "My playing is like I went outside to find a dime and came back with a quarter." I slugged back a little coffee and descended to the basement to carve a bit. Finished one block! Have been carving every day and making good progress!
Opened a package from home while I was on the phone with Mom, so we could talk about each little thing, the day. She finally got around to reading Cinderella and a few other tales. "Do you remember! The stepsisters cut off parts of their feet!" I did, indeed remember that, but the years had long ago glossed that away for her. So this led to the oft-revisited My God-Grimms-Are-Grim! chat, which nicely segued into an idle discussion about whether violence and aggression levels really fluctuate that much within human nature, across time. "We think we're so civilized~~" She tossed the face-eating incident from Florida into the ring. We didn't do much with it, other than grimace and cringe at either end of our cellphones. I mean, that's certainly not indicative of a trend, it's just a sensationalist fluke of an event (with no disrespect to the victim involved).
After that, it was time for a niff about town. Just a little walk-about*. Care to join? Sure, why not?
*...in a suburbanite, non-spiritual, non-life changing way
|Parking lot behind Downtown Home & Garden/Mark's Carts. Does anyone know if this will be part of the Beer Garden?|
|As usual, children led the way to verify that construction was proceeding to plan|
|Look to the side|
|Now look up.|
|Farther up! But don't lose your balance.|
|Time for a brief history lesson by the Courthouse|
|First time I stopped at this glass panel. Embezzlement!|
|Glazier Building, House of (Financial) Ill Repute.|
|And here, the actual reason I brought my camera. Your mail, only wolfier!|
|Which leg feels better? Right side more gregarious and devil-may-care.|
Thus unencumbered, I wandered down to Treasure Mart, a place of horrifying junky clutter and wonderful potential. In any given direction, your gaze will land on something that reminds you of something else, for good or ill. It's a great consumerist meditation on the life of objects. As with any such place, some objects feel ripe with experience, while others seem to convey an air of rejection, being passed by. Or just tacky. First up, the kitchen nook:
|I feel like I'm always doing at least one of these. Don't you?|
|At what point does it cease to count as "still in the original packaging"? More importantly, can we really trust that her Cabbage Patch adoption certificate remains inside?|
|The Island of Lost Toys. Incidentally, a term also applied by a friend-of-a-friend, to dating within a certain age range. Hmm. Moving right along!|
|On the street where I grew up, there were a number of houses which featured religious statuary in the pebbled gardens of their front yards. At one house, a man spent several months carefully laying bricks for a small grotto for his Mary statue, which Dad later referred to as, "you know, the concrete Jesus."|
|Not a Hummel, but brings to mind another neighbor who kept her glass cabinets of Hummels carefully dusted.|
|Thankfully, this bear basket reminds me of nothing.|
|Harriet Beecher Stowe, of Tom's Cabin fame...from 1872.|
|I expect it's horrible, but what a funny opening!|
|What life has this little purse had, before getting a new blue lining? Who did the cross-stitch, who carried it around?|
|The Upper Level is Tchotchke Central.|
|The first floor features higher quality furniture and china. Plus, on Saturday, a coyote.|
|I turned around, yelped and almost tripped over him.|
|Directly opposite was a handsome old photo of an immigrant family. Dark, with beautiful touches of hand-coloring. Wish I could have gotten a better detail.|
|One final shot -- nice old metal horse for a pretty pretty princess.|