The days of the week seem to rush by, unfortunately so do the weekends. The snow that hit us on Friday is rapidly disappearing, providing moisture for a very parched and thirsty Terra Firma. I expect that very soon the tulip and daffodil bulbs will be pushing new green shoots up through soil.
Today is Sunday and this Sunday my wife and I went out for breakfast, followed by a leisurely stroll through the ARC Thrift Store next door. Breakfast at the Country Buffet has changed over the years, with its reduced selections and a patronage with expanding waist lines, it should market it self as a place to binge with abandon. I find it tough to restrain myself from eating too much, the words All You Can Eat echo in my head, a throw back to some primitive function when we were hunter gathers. I need to be reprogrammed so it says All You Should Eat. Luckily the real breakfast temptations have been removed from the morning menu all time favorites like, pecan pie, tapioca and chocolate puddings, New York Style Cheesecake, all gone! Don’t get me wrong there’s still plenty to choose from, I’m just saying it just is hard to call it breakfast without eleven different desserts to choose from. Extracting myself from the booth before it was too late, we went to the ARC next door.
Entering an ARC Store is stepping from the real world into The Land of Chachkas, so we can play the game we call, What The Hell Is That. Seventies classic Rock and Roll is piped over the PA system, actually I like that. To our right, shelf after shelf of long forgotten mementos evidence of family vacations to The Grand Canyon, Mount Rushmore, and Tombstone Arizona, when someone purchased an ashtray, that shot glass in the shape of a cowboy boot, or a commemorative plate, in some inane effort to remember the event. If that’s what it took to remember the trip maybe it wasn’t all that memorable.
I remember when I was a kid my grandmother used to write letters to our family on the paper place-mats from famous places.
We saw this today, Oh by the way the weather's fine!
‘Hello Art, (she always called me that, from her it was ok) I’m traveling with your Aunt Charlotte, today we saw stopped to see The Corn Palace on our way to see your Great Uncle Nick’. She would go on about how my father went there when he was a little boy and how the weather there was fine. (It’s some sort of family thing, my Dad still gives me a full weather report when ever we talk on the phone). The whole letter would be written around the perimeter of the place-mat so we could read about the interesting facts bulleted in the center of the illustration. The message would go on for several revolutions, ending with Wish you were here, Love all, Grandma Jo. Those letters written in the round, always brought a smile to my face, today it brings a bit more. I wish I still had some of those vacationing updates.
Moving from the Chachkas, we scavenge through boxes and boxes of kitchen wares; knives and spatulas, egg whisks and corn cob de-kernelers, most are identifiable, but there are those that warrant further scrutiny. These become props in the game we affectionately call the ‘What the Hell is That’ game. The object of the game is to find some item, preferably some thing used in the kitchen, that will stump the other participants in their effort to identify its purpose. It is cheap fun and we always get a giggle at some of the items. Todays winner, well… I don’t know “What the Hell It Was”
So while the weather has gotten warmer, it is still too cold to ride where I like to ride. I guess we’ll just have to continue to pick through the charitable cast offs from forgotten family vacations and unidentifiable kitchen gadgetry.
Talk to you later.
I know this little road. 