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Not Doing It Ourselves

Michael Leave a comment

As homeowners we are quite used to doing things ourselves.  If we didn’t we’d get very little done around our houses.  Our DIY projects save money, recycle material, and usually end up well done and proud to put on display.

We like to think we’re pretty diverse in our projects.  We’ll remodel a room, refinish a floor, decorate a front yard, and hang a sink or two.  Usually we get our ideas from home shows, newspaper articles, or an on-line post.  We’ve been known to lift ideas from advertisements though not necessarily for something we’re looking to buy.  When He of We was looking for inspiration for his very small bathroom he found it in an ad for an air freshener.

But one of our classic go-to sources, the magazine article, might be going away.  Yes, we still read hard copy magazines.  But we might be losing them as inspiration not because the genre is becoming obsolete but because the genre is pricing us out of their market. 

We both saw a great topic in one of our subscriptions this month, how to landscape a sloping yard.  Both of We have back yards that are anything but flat, level, and regular.  Thus most anything we ever read in a gardening magazine or learned at an adult education class is lost on our properties.   But here we thought we had something.  And to make it even more interesting, we each saw the headline separately, read the article separately, considered the information separately, and came to the same conclusion.  Forget about it!

If we were going to follow the advice of the “homeowner” who took this on we’d be the proud owners of back yards that cost more than the houses that front them.  It’s becoming a common problem.  The do it yourself magazines, the home decorating magazines, and the yard and garden magazines have all gone daft.  No more how to extend your deck to add room for outdoor seating and eating.  Now it’s how to turn your backyard into an outdoor kitchen complete with appliances, storage, and fine linen.  What used to be how to’s for a budget are now how to bust a budget.  The particular project we saw would have run about $75,000, without the furniture.  Of course we can only guess at the cost based on our own experiences because the source list listed everything but prices.

We may have to publish our own magazine for real do it yourselfers.  One that has real life do-it-yourself projects for do-it-yourself peoples.  One that prices out material.  One that illustrates varying grades of material.  One that includes time lines and maybe a couple of good drink recipes for the really challenging days.  Stuff a real do-it-yourselfer needs to really do it yourself.

Anybody know where we can learn how to do that ourselves?

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

UDNTSAY

Michael 5 Comments

For some people, a bumper sticker just isn’t enough.  They have to say it officially with their license plates.  That’s ok.  We like the creativity you see on the back of some cars.  And we like a good challenge.  With many customized license plates we have to figure it out how many words, where the breaks are, then what those words are, and what you mean by them, all at 60 miles per hour.  Just remember, no texting a mobile shout out for help.

Some people like to put their occupations on their license plates.  Usually it’s just a trio of initials and a recognized abbreviation, like ABC RN, or DEF MD.  Recently He of We was driving behind a basic American made sedan with CO PILOT on the plate.  He wondered who was actually driving.

Some plates add a bit of whimsy to the road.  INDULGE might mean the car’s owner indulged himself or herself on the purchase of the vehicle or maybe the car owner is also owns a boutique, or an ice cream stand, or a salon, and is trying to ply a bit of subliminal messaging.

There’s always a message to be delivered in plates.  The big pick-up truck that passed us on the highway had the plate DSL PWR which we figure to mean Diesel Power.  Sometimes between the delivering and the receiving, the message gets blurred.  Was he proud of his diesel because he was maximizing his fuel dollar in such a large pick-up?  Was he proud of his diesel because he had a pick-up truck worthy to be in the truck stop next to the big rig?  Or was he reminding whoever was behind him driving uphill on a cold morning that it might take a while?

Sometimes there is too much frankness on the road.  We recall seeing the plate ALIMONY.  Although it was on a fairly pricey vehicle it wasn’t on a true luxury car so maybe the owner could have worked out a still better deal.   An oft-spotted vehicle for She of We on her way to work is one heralding the owner as CONTESSA.  We wonder what kind of work she must be off to every morning.  And what might be a sign of total excess might have been on a top of the line Mercedes, convertible of course, with the plate EXPNSV, just in case there was any doubt.

Then there are some that defy explanation.  Just this past weekend Both of We walked passed a car in a parking lot with the state issued plate proclaiming BEETLUV.  A perfectly great plate to put on a VW Beetle.  But it wasn’t.  So the only thing we could think was that particular Jeep owner loved beets.  We didn’t try to guess if they were pickled, boiled, or roasted.  A few days ago He of We was passed by a sub-compact bearing the plate DDAY.  The driver wasn’t old enough to have been in military service on the famous June 6.  Nor did he look like the world’s oldest fraternity brother of Animal House fame.  What was he saying?  We’ll probably never know.  Nor will we know the meaning of GRMLIN1.  If it was on a 40 year old American Motors compact we’d think the owner proud of his or her very well preserved car but it wasn’t and we already went down that road with the beet lover.

Sometimes the owner wants you to know where he or she is from.  We think TRACI CA must be from California even though the plate isn’t.  Is the 412 in FROM 412 the owner’s area code?  Or maybe street address?  Apartment number?  Rural route?  Maybe they aren’t always clear.

So do we have vanity plates on our vehicles?  Nope.  Thought of, yes.  And perhaps someday.  Till then we’ll stick to the bumper stickers, window decals, tire covers, and magnets to express our likes and not so hidden messages.  Besides, the best one has already been taken.

Seen on an older, but well-kept every day driver.  PAID 4.  That’s a classy plate.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Entitlement Program

Michael 2 Comments

We were talking the other day, at what age do you get to say, “Screw it, I’m old, I’m entitled.”

Please keep this in mind.  Neither of us is wild about people who are selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, or anything else that screams, “Me first!”  But we’re ok with our older neighbors taking what is really their due for a lifetime of putting up with the younger crowd.  Even us.

If we were pinned down we think we’d say the magic number is 80.  By the time someone gets to be 80 there isn’t much more you’re going to be able to teach them, show them, expect of them or that they’ll want to be taught, shown, or expect of you other than respect from you. 

Today’s eighty-somethings have seen all the wars anybody can invent.  An 80 year old today saw nuclear tests, nuclear threats, nuclear bombs, nuclear disarmament, and now nuclear rearmament.  They’ve seen Europeans invade other Europeans, Asians invade other Asians, Africans fighting among themselves, and Middle Easterners drop a pair of skyscrapers on 2,700 innocent bystanders.

Today’s eighty-somethings have seen all the inventions we really need.  They went from transportation by foot, by train, by car, by plane.  They’ve seen air travel go from something special for the very few to something else for the very rude.  They’ve seen entertainment go from the stage to the theater to the radio to the television back to the theater and back to the stage.  They’ve seen communication go from telegraphs sent letter by letter, to telephones, to party lines, to private lines, to wireless phones, to cell phones, to texts sent letter by letter. 

Today’s eighty-somethings are politically correct.  Anything they have to say comes from experience, not from experts on television.  If they want to call the President a bleeding heart or a fascist, a do-gooder or a no-gooder, a boom or a bust, they’ve seen them all and know exactly what he is.  They don’t need to, nor should have to mince words.  They don’t have time to be sugar coating anything but their breakfast cereal.

Today’s eighty-somethings have done it all with more class than their elders did because they had to and with more class than their youngers will because they can.  And that’s real class.

No doubt about it.  You find us a couple of eighty year olds and we’ll join them in telling the world, “Screw it, he’s entitled. And so is she.”  It’s an entitlement program we can get behind.  Even us.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Liberty and Justice for All

Michael 1 Comment

They are at it again.  It’s that time.  Easter is around the corner and a Michigan based organization of atheists of all people cannot let a religious holiday go by without a celebration.  Now they seem to think that the Ten Commandments are unfit for American consumption. 

This startling report comes after a child is shot and killed in the name of a neighborhood watch.  After a bonded security guard kills his partner and makes off with $2 million.  After five people were found so gruesomely murdered investigators can’t even figure out how they were killed.   Yes, the last thing we need in this country is a moral compass, a set of rules, directions on how to tell the difference between right and wrong. 

If you haven’t had a chance to read our special post, “We Hold These Truths” (January 13, 2012), please do.  It’s long.  It’s far from politically correct.  It has the words “Church” and “Constitution” in the same paragraph.  We think it makes a world of sense.   

We won’t repeat the discussion on the Constitution and the Bill of Rights that we presented in January.  We do want to repeat that regardless of what some dolts in Michigan say, the authors of the Bill of Rights don’t say anything about building an atheistic society under the guise of an oft-claimed separation of church and state.     

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

If you don’t recognize it, that is the Famous First Amendment.  The whole thing.  Every word of it.  That’s the one in which Congress says it won’t say how you will worship, and that nobody in the government can stop you from worshipping.  It doesn’t say that you are not allowed to worship, not even in public.  It says that Congress will not prohibit the free exercise of religion, not that Congress will prohibit religion. 

If we had a choice we’d tell the atheists to go to hell.  The only reason we don’t is they probably don’t believe in hell either.  Where do you send a dolt to spend all eternity in despair?  Should we send them to the courtrooms to listen to the testimony of those trying to wiggle out of murder charges?  Maybe we should send them to the crime scenes where real dead bodies lie from the hands of those who didn’t understand “thou shalt not kill.”  Or perhaps they should see their life savings disappear to the charlatan “brokers” who amassed fortunes by stealing from retirement plans and savings accounts.  But whatever you do, don’t send them to church to pray for innocent children who die while left behind to fend for themselves.

Sorry, not so funny today.  But there’s nothing funny about some dolts worried that there is a plaque of The Ten Commandments outside a school.  They should be more worried if people ever stop teaching The Ten Commandments to the children. 

To heck with it.  Hey!  Any atheists out there who are so stuck on this separation of church and state thing that you can’t see how good you have it here, why don’t you just go to hell.  You’ll find your way easily enough.  The signs are all around you.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Be It Further Resolved

Michael 2 Comments

If you were reading us at the beginning of the year you know we didn’t make our New Year’s Resolutions on the turn of the New Year.  (Be It Resolved, January 2, 2012)  We contended that to try to make life changes while still reeling from weeks’ worth of parties, presents, and way too much food is just plain goofy.  “Ask us to set goals when Mother Nature is setting some of hers,” we said.  And now, we can.

We live in the right part of the country for Spring Resolutions.  Just a couple of days into Spring and we are in the midst of a potential record breaking string of 70+ degree days.  Trees are budding, flowers are blooming, and what rain we’ve gotten has been warm and overnight, leaving the days washed bright and sunny.  It’s the perfect time to collaborate with Mother Nature on this year’s goals.

Back in January, She of We was concerned about her television watching.  She had talked then that television had become too much a part of her routine and when she was watching she wasn’t doing anything else.  Back then her resolution would have been to stop watching so much television.  Not terribly positive.  If it had been a goal on a self-appraisal it would have been rejected for sure.  But after a few weeks of getting out of the holiday routine and back into a more normal “rest of the year” routine she found what she was missing was reading.  Her books had become orphans.  So now She of We can say the she wants to increase her reading time and the time to do it will be in the evening which previously had been time watching television.

He of We had complained for the entire holiday season that he wasn’t getting enough activity, neither physical nor mental.  Other than carrying boxes of decorations up and down steps there was no exercise in his life.  The most thought he’d put into anything was whether the plastic cocoon covering a new flashlight was trash or recyclable.  Had a resolution been made on January 1 it might have been to exercise more.  It might have made it to January 2.  But now in the warm morning sun it’s a comfortable walk to the nearby high school football field where he can circle it for a few laps in solitude and thought.  He of We now can say that he’s going to spend at least 30 minutes a day reflecting on what he can do to be more positive to others and as long as his mind is occupied for those 30 minutes, how about occupying the body too.

So we managed to keep our one resolution that we did make back in January.  We resolved then to make our resolutions this Spring.  Spring is here and it’s time we live up to our words.  You’ve heard two of them and we’re pretty certain that we can say we’ll continue those at least until the next snowfall.  That’s usually how long resolutions last anyway.  In January the next snow fall could be only minutes away.  Now we should have some 6 or 7 snow-free months to work on these.  By then, they may not be resolutions.  They might be good habits instead. 

We’ll get back to you and let you know.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Hey! Here’s something else we think.  Today we upload our 50th post!  There was a time we weren’t certain if we’d ever get to our first.  We’ve had fun, we’ve been reflective, we’ve ranted a little, we’ve enjoyed a lot.  It’s our way of celebrating reality. Real reality. Because if you aren’t real, you aren’t. 
And that’s what we think.  Really.

 

Walls O’ Wisdom

Michael 4 Comments

Friends of ours have a plaque hanging above the entrance to their house’s center hallway.  One has to pass it on the way to almost any room in the house.  Every seat in their favorite gathering spot has a clear view of it.  It holds the wisdom of centuries, the hope of generations, and the fear of all who read it.  “What if the hokey pokey is what it’s all about?”

Years ago we took philosophy classes in college to ask the unanswerable, to earn motives, to seek fulfillment, to learn the wisdom of the ages.  Today we just need a good craft show and a vendor with access to the Internet.  All the hard work has been done.  The answers are there.  Along with some questions that we never even thought to ask.

And so we thought of it one day last week.  It came while He of We was standing at the kitchen sink at She of We’s.  There sits a piece of ceramic tile.  Painted on it the thought we all have many times a day but won’t, or can’t verbalize.  “I can only compensate so much for your stupidity.”  Admit it.  You too have wanted to tell your boss just that very thing.  You can’t, or won’t.  You head home knowing something isn’t right.  You can feel it but you aren’t sure what it is that is making you “not right.”  If you were She of We when you get home, you’d know as soon as you stood before your sink what it is that you are feeling.  That one little phrase puts you back on top and sets all right for the rest of the evening.

What are some of the other great wisdoms our walls share with us?  A quick scan at our offices, dens, kitchens, hallways, foyers, even bathrooms provides us with so much enlightenment that we will forever be at inner peace. 

                Half of the people in the world have below average intelligence.

                Behind every great man is an enormous amount of caffeine.

                Don’t believe everything I think.

                If at first you don’t succeed, redefine success.

                Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.

And so it goes.  Maybe they aren’t the world’s greatest pearls of wisdom but they make us smile.  Sometimes they even make us think.  Now wasn’t that the goal of freshman philosophy.  Not to answer questions, or define our motives, or to become fulfilled.  It was to make us think.  Maybe after all the years that have gone by we still need that reminder that not only don’t we have all the answers, we still aren’t sure what the questions are.  Maybe it’s time to slow down and think.  To recognize that success doesn’t equal fulfillment.

We like our walls of wisdom.  So yes, we still need to be reminded that we shouldn’t work so hard at making a living that we forget to make a life.  But we also need to be reminded that nobody gets in to see the wizard, and that somewhere, the hokey pokey really is what it’s all about.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Dirty Words

Michael Leave a comment

A while ago former First Lady Barbara Bush said at a conference, “I hate that people think compromise is a dirty word.”  And as we looked at recent politics and campaigns, she is on to something.  Nobody compromises anything.  There are times when you really don’t want to compromise, perhaps with your virtue, but most of what this country has and has become, has been through compromise.  Even the Declaration of Independence had words added, removed, and changed as a result of compromise.    

It got us to thinking, what are the other new dirty words out there?

Speed limit:  Everywhere we go people are speeding.  You can piggy back onto this word “conservation.”  It wasn’t long ago we talked about gas going to $4 a gallon but nobody really doing anything about it. (Paper or Plastic, Feb. 23, 2012, from Life’s Questions)  No need to.  We aren’t spending real money and our cars are very efficient.  Um, no, they aren’t.  Not at 70 miles per hour.  When we talked about how people were outraged about gas prices thirty years ago we didn’t mention that one of the strategies to conserve gas was the national 55mph speed limit.  It probably wouldn’t go over very big today.

Thank you:  We’ve posted quite a few times about how nobody says thank you.  (Most recently, Terms of Appreciation, Jan. 23, 2012 from Etiquette) They say just about everything else – there you go, have a good one, ya’ll come back now (we just made that one up).  Probably nobody says “thank you” because it’s a dirty word and they don’t want to get fired for swearing at the customers.

Conservative:  We were at an event recently and one of the local papers had a booth erected.  It was the more conservative of the two major papers.  While we, and others were there, a man walked by with his wife and child (probably his child but we didn’t confirm that with the wife; probably his wife but we didn’t confirm that either) and shouted “Too F——- Conservative” and kept on going.  But as we think of this, maybe “conservative” isn’t the bad word.  Perhaps it’s “liberal.” We’re pretty sure if something like that happened at the other major paper’s booth (had there been one), there would have been shouting and punching with those defending the honor of the paper like one would if a young lady were the object of obscenities. 

Parenting:  Go through your local paper’s archives for the past six months.  How many stories can you find about children still being left in cars while parents shop, eat, drink, or gamble?  How many stories can you find about a child hurt or killed when left alone with a fireplace, matches, large dog, big television perched precariously on small stand, or drug crazed boyfriend?  Read the story carefully.  Somebody will speculate that the time alone was brief, that the child was secure in a seat, or that the dog was trained or the boyfriend contrite.  Nobody will say the parents were selfish, clueless, reckless, bad decision makers, or all of the above.

Gluten:  We don’t know how many people even know what gluten is but we know everybody says it’s bad for you.  Gluten is the irritant in one of the most painful medical conditions people suffering from autoimmune diseases can face.  There are very few treatment options and less successful ones.  For a whole generation to decide they have a predisposition to this mocks the poor true victims and makes it even harder for them to be accepted with such a debilitating disease.  So if you think you have some horrible disease magically treated by not eating bread, don’t eat the bread.  And then keep your suffering to yourself.  That way we can hear and help those who truly suffer from Celiac Disease.

Date:  Sometimes it seems the only people we know who are dating are us.  Nobody goes on dates any more.  As the parents of 20-somethings we get to hear of going out but in packs.  Packs of young adults are going to bars and coffee shops, to bowling alleys and amusement parks.  Never a couple.  Always a group.  Safety in numbers?  Maybe.  Comfort in groups?  Perhaps.  Scared of dating?  Might be.

So those are our seven words you can’t say on TV.  Hmm, that makes us wonder.  What about those other more famous seven words?  They’re probably ok now.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

The Love Boat That Wasn’t

Michael 1 Comment

Over forty years ago a ship was built that would change the world.  The Queen Mary?  Nope.  The QE2?  No, but she came to her rescue once.  The Nina? Pinta? Santa Maria?  No, no, no.  It was the Pacific Princess, better known as television’s Love Boat.

Cheesy, campy, fluffy, goofy.  All apt adjectives for this show.  But it managed to stay on the air for ten years and for all of them the opening credits featured Princess Cruise Line’s Pacific Princess.  How the show stayed afloat for 10 years is easy to answer.  It was a feel good, don’t have to think about it, everybody lives happily ever after fantasy.  How the ship stayed afloat for so long isn’t that hard to figure out either.  She was built as a boat that happened to entertain people.  Not as a skyscraping hotel that wanted to get its feet wet.

The ship built in 1971 for Flagship Cruises to sail the Bermuda cruise circuit as the Sea Venture was sold to Princess in 1975.  In 1977 she landed the title role in “The Love Boat.”  She continued to sail for Princess Cruises until 2003.  Again rechristened as the Pacific, she sailed for Pullmantur Cruises until sold to Quail Cruises of Spain.  In 2009 the ship was seized by the Italian Coast Guard in Genoa after the owner failed to pay for repairs.  Recently this former television star was sold for scrap.  

That’s a forty year history on the seas for a ship that topped the scales fully loaded at 19,000 ton and hosted only 600 passengers.  Compare that to the other ship still making headlines in Italy, the Costa Concordia.  Weighing in at over 114,000 tons and able to transport over 3,700 passengers, the 950 foot boat is still on its side and may itself end up sold for scrap.  What’s the difference between these two boats?  About 35 years, 10 decks, and 20 million pounds (that’s weight, not English money).

The former Pacific Princess looks like a boat.  A big boat, but a boat.  She measures 550 feet overall and four of her eight decks rise from the center of the ship.  The Costa Concordia looks like a small apartment building, 950 feet long overall with 14 decks, almost all of them spanning most of 900 feet.  And cruise ships are getting even bigger.  Disney’s two newest ships, the Fantasy and the Dream measure 1,120 feet long and hold 4,000 passengers on 14 of their 16 decks.

We seem to recall as children playing with boats and things that float in bath tubs and swimming pools, the more you had above the water the sooner the whole kit and caboodle was going to be under water.  Height plus weight plus waves equal instability.  And not just in the ship’s captain.  Did somebody change the laws of physics over that past forty years?  You can try this experiment at home.  Take a plastic cube or wooden block.  A frustration causing Rubik’s Cube will work.  Load 3,500 very tiny people on it.  If you don’t have that many small people you can use ants, rice, dust particles, or nothing at all.  Toss cube in bathtub.  Remove cube, fill bath tub with water.  Now toss cube in bathtub.  Come back in 15 minutes to rescue survivors.

So one ship now docked in Italy, that many say is responsible for increasing interest in ocean cruises and sparking the cruise industry, its maiden voyage in May of 1971, will soon make its last trip, towed behind a tug to the big boat version of a cutting torch.  Another ship, also in Italian waters, that many say is responsible for the cruise industry’s most sluggish summer since the Love Boat was on TV, its maiden voyage in July 2006, isn’t going anywhere soon.

Our advice to the cruise curious.  The former Pacific Princess sister ship, the Island Princess, which on occasion acted as stand-in for the Pacific on the Love Boat, is still in operation as the Discovery, sailing for England’s Voyages of Discovery alongside their other small ship, the Voyager.  Could there still be another run?

          Love, exciting and new
          Come Aboard. We’re expecting you.
          Love, life’s sweetest reward.
          Let it flow, it floats back to you.

          The Love Boat soon will be making another run
          The Love Boat promises something for everyone
          Set a course for adventure,
          Your mind on a new romance. *

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

(By the way, we’ve in no way been compensated to say anything nice about Voyages of Discovery or to entice you to sail with them.  However, if they’d like to show their appreciation in any way we’d be happy to talk about it.  Have your people call our people.) 

(We have people?)

* The Love Boat theme written by Paul Williams and Charles Fox, 1977

 

I went to a home show and all I bought were nacho chips

Michael 1 Comment

We don’t know exactly how big it is, but we know that the home and garden show business across the country is definitely big.  Our town has multiple varieties of the “everything for your home under one roof” extravaganza with more suburban varieties popping up every year in advance of the big one in town.

It’s a spectacle that we’ve been a part of for years.  Every year it seems to get busier with more people crowding the aisles between the wind chimes and the garage door installers.  We’ve gotten lots of stuff over the years from this show of shows. Everything from plants to hot tubs.  From art to hang on our walls to decks to hang on our houses.  We’ve never walked away from a home show empty handed.  Empty walleted, yes.  Empty handed, no.

This year it was almost hard to buy anything.  Although every installer, builder, and artisan has his or her “show special,” it seems that prices at these events are always higher than on the outside.   But there are things you’ll never see on the outside so you don’t really know.

This year we came across the $29 dog brush, a $22 garlic peeler, a $49 hose nozzle, and (our favorite) the essential $100 iron.  It was at the iron display that the pitchman steadfastly refused to reveal the price until the demonstration was over.  It looked like a good deal, and maybe worth a few extra dollars just for the long cord.  When he quoted the “low price of only ninety-nine, ninety-nine” someone (ok, it might have been us – in unison) exclaimed, “That’s a hundred dollars!  For an Iron!” and a couple other observations about it.  “But it’s the last iron you’ll ever buy,” came the seller’s justification.  We compared our iron history.  Between the two of us we’re on our third iron.  It could have been the second except He of We lost his first iron in an appliance custody settlement.  The most expensive of those was $17.

We don’t know why events like this have to inflate prices so much.  Twenty years ago you at least got some entertainment out of it with the classic pitchmen and the cleaners and tools you couldn’t get anywhere else.  On the main stage the local PBS affiliate would have cooking and home improvement demonstrations.  We remember when they would make enough at the cooking demos that everyone in the audience actually got to eat.  Now two hotdogs and a soft drink eat up three quarters of a twenty dollar bill. 

But we’ll still go every year.  Whether we need anything or not we’ll find something or other.  And it’s always an opportunity to re-visit with truly talented artists and craftsmen.  At our last stop we stayed for a while and chatted with an artist whose work graces walls in both of our houses.  He is a very pleasant man who actually makes a living from his paintings.  Someone who has turned his dream into his dream job.  Someone who makes you feel good that you stopped to say hello.

 And a good thing we did or else the only things we would have bought this year would have been three bags of tortilla chips and a newspaper subscription. 

Hey, when it comes to something of other, you can never have too much of it.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

If Only the ER Served Magaritas

Michael 1 Comment

We almost expected to hear Anthony Edwards, aka E. R. Dr. Mark Greene, shout “Clear!” and apply the defibrillator paddles to the piece of meat in front of him, grilling it to the perfect fajita filling.  The hustle and the bustle far exceeded that of most inner city emergency rooms on a Saturday night after the local team won its first (pick your favorite season) championship in over 50 years.

Ok, let’s catch you up so you can enjoy this tale also.  Last weekend we paid a visit to one of our favorite local eateries.  A very small authentic Mexican restaurant with no designs of growing larger.  On a lucky Saturday night we’ll be led to a quiet table for two tucked into a corner as far from the hostess stand as one can get in a room the size of a generous living room.  Here we’re treated to the basic three courses where we relish in the opportunity to be served by trained, professional waitpersons in our favorite quietly comfortable restaurant.  Good food.  Good service.  Good company.  Good time.

Last Saturday we headed to our dining quarry figuring to have a drink in the bar before dinner.  We’ve ventured into the bar, considerably smaller in scale to the rest of the operation just as another couple was called to their table.  We settled into their vacated seats at the far side of the square cornered horseshoe and decided that we were so comfortable, and since we never had there before, we would have dinner right there at the bar.

Eating at the bar is nothing unusual for us.  We do so quite often.  We’re low enough maintenance that the bartenders aren’t unduly burdened by having to play waitperson while already performing in the role of barperson.  Many of the places we’ve come to call home for dinner out have the bar in the middle of the room and thus in the middle of the action.  The ideal seat for people watching.  So with our history of bar dining and a new opportunity in front of us, we embarked on our first such supper at our favorite comfortably quiet restaurant.  Boy were we in for a shock!

“Clear!”  Well, how about “Smith!  Party of 4!  Jones!  Party of 2!”  Every 15 minutes or so the hostess, a little bitty thing, stood in the doorway of the smallish space and bellowed out a prospective diner like a conductor crying the stops of the local commuter train with a voice that would fill all outdoors.  “Behind you! Cold ice!” the bar back routinely called out with as much frequency as the people search.  And the people kept on coming.

They packed themselves in like they were filing into the afternoon rush hour subway.  Parties of 2, 4, 8.  Eyes slightly glazed after a long day of shopping? housework? painting?  We don’t know what the Saturday afternoon activities but whatever they were those activities led to a need for an adult beverage.  And soon.  Drinks were called for from the second row behind the stools. 

“Ford! Party of 6!”  “Margarita! No Salt!”  “Lincoln! Party of 4!”  “Dos Equis! Draft! Make it two!”  At one time we counted 38 people in the little room.  The fire marshal generously rated the space for occupancy by 50 people.  The designer squeezed 14 stools around the counter.  There wasn’t a time that the other 36 hadn’t conveyed their desperate need to soothe the fever that responded only to the medicine served in a chilled glass.   Ice when it wasn’t being poured into the holder 20 pounds at a time was transferred into quart sized mason jars then filled with tequila and the other makings for their specialty margarita and attached to the industrial blender that sounded like a second cousin to a turboprop airplane.  When at last their names were call, parties would leave for the dining room, clutching their chilled glasses like the secret remedy from the healer of the high desert. 

Standees took their vacated seats, new patients crowded in from the outer room.  “Nachos with queso!”  “Frozen or on the rocks!” “Heinz! Party of 6!” “More chips please!” “Rocks! No Salt!”  “More Ice!” “French! Party of 2!”

All around the conversations bubbled to the top, mixed with the televisions (two, about 20 feet apart, on different channels) and stirred into the bustling chatter of the staff, creating a confused sound track.  “Temperatures will be higher than…the upstairs really need to be…ordered last week and now they say…it’s the third meeting between them…when I said…do you want another…chilly night before…rebounding and that has to get better than… dark blue with gray trim.” 

One of our regular waiters spotted us from the service area waiting for his orders.  “Trying something new?” he shouted across the room.  “You know us, we have to try it all!” we answered.  Our attention divided between the bartenders going through tequila, ice, and chilled mason jars and the patrons going through tequila, ice, and chilled mason jars.  The bar persons whirling into high gear, resembling the blades spinning in the drink mixer.  The bar crowd shifting into lower gears as the cactus juice mellowed them in preparation for dinner.  Eventually.

And so they came, dazed, confused, smarting from spring cleaning, comatose from too much Saturday television, sore and achy, looking for healing in the emergency rooms of bars.  And a margarita.  Rocks.  No salt.  No glass.  Just a mason jar and one really big straw.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?