At age 52, I am just now understanding the utility of non-chlorine bleach. That, I think, is called “growth.”
That was a nice birthday. It started with a nice dinner at the farm with my dear old dad and rebel girl mom, with bumpka stew as the meal, and it was delicious. The next day, I made the 3-hour drive to my own little Star’s Hollow for a visit with mom and my lake. As previously noted, they are doing this thing decorating street signs that’s pretty neat. Next week is some sort of arts even there, and the artists will stand by their works throughout lakeside for a little tour. I told you this place is like Star’s Hollow.
A lot of weird tech things happened while I was there. The local network at the house was interrupted, so we had to reset the Tivo and replace the remote batteries. I set up mom’s classic JVC tuner downstairs so she can blast her Norah Jones CDs. I cannot begin to tell you how beautiful this equipment is. I’ve harangued her for years after she once casually mentioned that maybe she’d be getting rid of this beautiful-sounding tuner. “Don’t you dare,” I’d bark. “That tuner is my true inheritance.” Now, it can provide tunes at the lakehouse. A good use for it indeed.
I also got my oil changed and cleaned up the sidebar of this blog. Much tidier ===>
I had to reset the smart plug, an hour of work just so I can tell Alexa to turn off a light. Worth it.
And, Apple Music on my Mac stopped recognizing my iPad. That one took me the better part of the day before I finally concluded it was a trust issue that could be addressed in the “location” area in the finder sidebar. I am pleased to not have to call Apple help for the first time in my life.
Other challenges of this trip: Can’t hug Mom. Can’t really go out to do much. Can’t eat at restaurants. Despite these, the trip was refreshing and, I think, necessary. I have brought a bit of lake air back with me. I can still smell it; I can still feel it. And it lightens me a little.
Here in Edinboro, Pa., when I was a kid, street signs were these four-foot-tall white concrete monoliths with the street names in black lettering. I reckon they thought that was a rustic little touch to Lakeside. At some point, though, this borough had to put up real street signs, probably at the behest of PENNDOT or some other crazy liberal big-government nonsense.
These days though when you’re walking around Lakeside, you notice that these posts seem a bit more colorful. It seems the fad now is to paint the things. Here’s one I made a picture of yesterday while Mom and I were out for a typical lake walk.
Of course it is dog-themed. I think Edinboro has more dogs than people.
Anyway, here’s the scoop on all the post painting. Edinboro is like that, community-minded and crafty. I noticed as we walked yesterday that it’s also a good excuse for neighbors to have some new conversations.
This, of course, while maintaining a healthy six-foot distance.
It feels pretty good after six months in maintaining a comfort bubble within Monroe County, New York, to bust out and finally send a little time at my lake. I am right now this morning watching the most screamy children I’ve ever witnessed play at the playground across the street. Beyond that in my eyeshot is the pretty, spring-fed lake that draws people here, a little choppy this morning. Mom and I are having a nice, albeit socially distanced, visit. I had to have her watch my favorite new whodunnit Knives Out last night, and I think it was a hit. I liked it better the second time around; that is a good movie.
There is even less to do here than usual. Many antique shops are open by appointment only, the campus is sparsely populated, and we are still not as lulled as a Trump fan that sidling up to the bar at the Edinboro Hotel is a great idea. But it sure is pretty. And we have these new decorated posts to look at.
- Trump’s destruction of America started with Ronald Reagan (Salon)
It is, as I had anticipated, a pleasure to be able to hike for .22 miles with an over-sized bag and hike back with a satchel full of victuals.
I first went Friday at the Grand Opening. I was too late to catch Mayor Warren, who was apparently present for the ribbon cutting. I went in first and walked around and even put a six pack of beer in my cart. However, I had a problem.
I hadn’t yet eaten.
Not eating can have several effects on me, one of which is to render me utterly unable to make any decisions.
I put the beer back, walked up the street to Matthews, and had a wonderful BLT club sandwich. Then I went back to Hart’s, got a cart, and put the beer back into the cart.
Then, a few other things fell into my basket.
Mushrooms. A couple of nice cube steaks. Broccoli. Some russet potatoes.
Day one at Hart’s was rather successful. It’s a lovely market, though I will continue to pine for the opening of the CityGate Costco (there is a BJs in the area, but why renew that membership when a Costco is approaching?) As it’s trying to be of the downtown/upscale variety, you will not find Totino’s Party Pizzas here, nor even Stouffer’s French Bread pizza, nor much in the way of frozen zza at all. There are a few flatbreads, but not much else. One would still have to drive to Top’s if, say, one wanted to stock up on those.
But it is a quality grocery. The meat is good. They have fresh fish, and many items ready to mange on right there (they have a bit of cafe seating) or for take-out. Hart’s is also emphasizing local items, so you can pick up Pittsford Dairy milk, Ithaca Farms ogret (which is DELICIOUS), Flour City Pasta, etc…
Yes, I am certainly glad Hart’s is here. What it does for a downtown rat like myself is to make it possible to have an entire weekend at home without ever getting in the car, without having to plan out an entire menu ahead.
Day two, Hart’s:
(Did I mention their ground beef is excellent?)
Note to self: Immersion blender does not work properly unless it is, you know, immersed. Otherwise it is just a messy blender.
Also managed to solve another problem this weekend. Most of my vinyl was living in a cardboard box! Am surprised the Record Album ad Litem hasn’t been knocking. Sokay boff! My records have a home now.
(“Easy to assmeble” my ass. 24 screws! Drat!)