Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.

 Contact me at theyoungfamily (at) earthlink (dot) net

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» Saturday, August 29, 2015
"Tell Me Where It Says I Can't Keep Dreaming..."

So this morning I woke up with James, who was off to work so he can have next Friday for DragonCon. The delivery person would be at the house between eight and ten, so I had to be up and dressed by eight. I took Tucker down the street rather than up so that we could see if a truck showed up from the lower cul-de-sac, but we got through the walk unscathed except for being chased by mosquitoes down by the retaining pond.

I had time for breakfast and to put Tucker out on the deck and was actually working on a writing project when the guy arrived at 9:15. He came in a pickup, not a delivery truck, and I heard him before he rang the doorbell because it was cool enough to have the front window open, at least this morning. (It stayed mostly cloudy all day, but it was dreadfully humid.) I had everything out of the way for him, and he got right to taking that nasty old Frigidaire out of its spot and carrying it down the stairs like a big package. I was really a bit wary of what he was going to find back there, especially after having the invasion of the roaches in 2007 after the wild bird seed purchase from Fred's discount store. Scott from Northwest Exterminating put down so much dust I thought there would be masses of it back there, and even little dead bodies, but there was mostly sawdust from the build, along with onion skins, a few shreds of plastic wrapper, and one salad fork. I cleaned that up and he had the new Bosch installed by 9:45.

I'm glad we picked the black. It looks like it belongs with the black counters. Maybe when I get done paying for it we can consider a new stove for James. He ought to have something decent to cook on, and we want a convection oven.

We want to go to BJs' tomorrow, but James wanted some stuff from Trader Joe's, so when the dishwasher was in I fetched Tucker from the deck, blocked him in the dining room, and headed out. I stopped at the Farmer's Market first; didn't even bother looking for a close parking space, but just parked in the municipal lot behind Johnnie McCracken's pub and walked the two blocks. Bought cucumber, some apple brown sugar pound cake, boiled peanuts for James, a loaf of fresh-baked French bread, and more "Big Daddy" cookies for Tucker. There were a ton of dogs out today; he would have loved it—even a huge St. Bernard so mellow he looked like a huge stuffed toy.

The Corner Shop was open, so I bought myself a treat (a Fry's bar) and also something to tuck in a gift and the first book in a series about two children who travel back in time to Blitz-era London. The older proprietor and I were discussing some ladies' propensity for shoes, and also talking about going to DragonCon.

It was cool enough when I got back to the car that I cranked the windows down and opened the sunroof (James would have preferred the air conditioning, but I like the wind in my face, and hate being hermetically sealed up under A/C all summer, even though it's the only way to survive, not to speak of breathe normally), and then headed out to East Cobb blaring "The Rupert Holmes Songbook" as loud as I could stand it. Had it on shuffle, and got one of my favorites, "Blackjack" (which I think of as Scott Sherwood's song), and also "Tell Me Where It Says I Can't Keep Dreaming."

Stopped at the new East Cobb Michael's before hitting the groceries. As much as I love this store—it has more stock than most Michael's stores and lots of room—I can't forget it's in the location of the old Borders store, and I always shed a little tear before getting it under control. There are several stores I'm never going to get over, like Woolworth's and the Paperback Bookstore in downtown Providence, and Borders is one of them. I picked up a new visor and some decorations for it for DragonCon, since I lost my owl visor last year, and a little autumn garland on discount.

It was only 12:30 by the time I reached Trader Joe's, so it wasn't too busy. I picked up fruit bars and edamame crackers for James, and stocking up on a bunch of things on account of DragonCon, and we have salad greens for tomorrow's dinner and a few desserts.

On the way back from Trader Joe's someone beeped at me. They were looking at one of my bumper stickers, which says "Where am I going? And why am I in this handbasket?" and asked what a handbasket was! I was so flabbergasted by the question that I could barely answer, "Well, it's a basket you hold in your hands!" before the light changed. (I call that one my "unofficial Ask the Manager bumper sticker" because every time the show used to get out of hand—which in ATM's case was frequently!—Dan Berkery used to complain it was "going to hell in a handbasket." Yes, and we loved it best that way!)

And I got gasoline: 2.389 at the RaceTrak!

I made a short stop at Walmart on the way back and was well ignored by the male employees, who were too busy watching two of the bunch trying to get a big television on a wall mount. Thank you to the female employee who helped me!

Once home I had lunch from Trader Joe's (pork dumplings) along with some of the French bread with butter, and started rewatching Strange Report for the combined masculine goodness of Anthony Quayle and Kaz Garas. (Plus you get Anneke Wills, fresh from her role as Polly on Doctor Who. Now that I've seen her as Polly, I think Evie is a much better character.) Later I trotted Tucker outside and fetched the mail, taking up the newest historical "American Girl" books and reading about Maryellen Larkin in 1954. (I found the stories so-so. I don't like the new format, with no color illustrations, and no six-page historical "A Peek into the Past" after each of the six stories. Now the stories are bundled three "books" to a volume and there is only a two-page historical view at the end of each of the two volumes, with no accompanying historical illustrations. Disappointing. Maryellen herself is okay, maybe a bit dull.)

We had supper at Uncle Maddio's Pizza Joint with full intentions of stopping at Publix afterwards, but I was so tired we just skipped it. We can stop on the way home from BJs tomorrow.

And then it was back to watching Strange Report and another perambulation of the puppy.

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