A couple of days ago, LZP sent me this Entertaining Video and I have sent it on to others . . . and then I thought I’d gather the folks at the PBC&R and we’d watch it on the big screen. Click on it if you want to join us.
Is not this about me?
Look at the title of this blog. Is not the word cow in it? Am I not a cow? Yet all this talk is about the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse – that weather-worn old place where all those kooks gather, AmeliaJake, the ringleader kook and, now, that darn Foo Bar.
Well, I want to know when it is going to be spring and when I am going to be contented and to announce I personally have never been tipped in my life. Okay, I’m hanging, but that’s not the point.
For Sydney – Oh, it turned out to be so great
Der Bingle sent this for Sydney, saying it was something about extreme sheep herding. Since he and I were outside doing yard work, we waited to come in and look at it. And when we did, we saw that he had sent the embedded code as opposed to the address, so we are flying by the seat of our pants on this one, flying blind . . . Heck, we’re probably taxi-ing. Whoa, if we get this one landed okay, I guess we’ll have to head into the Foo Bar to calm our nerves so we can make our foldover in the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.
Am I sounding like Lucy Ricardo? Don’t answer that.
Well, here goes:
WOW!! It is so great. The Foo Bar is cheering and folks from the PBC&R are coming in and Foo is saying, “There’s goes the neighborhood.”
Foo Bar
One of our friends here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse has decided we need a special place for insider parties and cabal meetings. She is getting all sorts of advice about the decor of this place, including palm leaf shaped fans that go back and forth on the ceiling like those at The Elephant Bar.
So far they are keeping me pretty much in the dark, but I hear hammering and I just saw some nicely polished teak along with a bevy of carpenters go past the window. Hmmm. I wonder just what this little innovator is doing. Here’s a picture of her – her name is Foo
And she tells me that the name of the additon will be the Foo Bar. Belly up for some sasparilla . . .
WE ARE ADDING THIS: It looks like Foo’s budget is going to have find a new cooling option – but one that still has ambiance. Probably this:
And Foo also tells me that she thinks the bar will be very popular because she says when Der Bingle was flying in B-52’s “in the day”, that a lot of the guys would refer to things being FUBAR. So, she thinks there is already some name recognition out there. Got to go . . . she has me looking for the brass fan we should have somewhere – she says that will give the place some class.
ONE MORE THING: The elephant came from Bangkok and Der Bingle says it was quite a sight when he and friends wrestled it into the back of a taxi. It is really, really heavy. ‘Course that was back in his flyboy days. If they tried it today . . . Oh, I don’t want to think about it.
Because my daughter-in-law does not read this blog
I am going to tell this – with a pleased little smile on my face. Today I was with Alison and then she left to go somewhere and later a man asked me if my “sister” would be returning. YES!
I was wearing red and my mother used to say that was my color – maybe I’ll go out and buy some more red things. Or get a good sunburn. Maybe the facial exercises are working.
Oh, what if that man had vision problems? Nah, I am going to keep feeling upbeat about this. I suppose it’s petty, but hey, it feels good.
The remains of winter
Not that winter is over, mind you, but today was spring-like enough to get me to take another stab at the beginning of cleaning up after a winter that was snow and ice and wind and more snow and ice and wind and a lot of really cold temperatures – the kind that make you say to heck with everything else, just do your task and get back inside.
This is our little pile of stick when we started; we’ll use them for kindling when it gets cold again. It is now a big pile, but I forgot to take a picture.
This is a broken bough that wound up by the woodpile by the door.
And this . . . this is the old pioneer beam that fell off of the two big rocks on which it was balanced.
Oh, and here’s the woodpile by the hedge that was three rows deep and did the little avalanche thing while covered with ice and snow. It was an adventure to climb up and chisel some logs loose.
And here is Sydney, thinking “So much work” and lamenting the fact that the squirrel that split the cone on the driveway is long gone.
And, finally, the blue spruce with some branches in front of it that just might be getting ready to bud.
This guy . . .
I was working outside today at my own pace; it was warm and the breeze caused strands of hair to flutter across my eyes and dry leaves to scatter along the driveway. It’s times like that I get to thinking and today I was thinking of this guy:
“He looks like he’s going to cry.” That’s what my dad said when he saw the picture one of the times he and Mother came to West Chester. I can see my dad now, sitting at the end of the trestle table, eating a sandwich and chuckling at the picture. Sometime I will post my school picture when I was that age – I looked like I was going to chew nails and spit them out. Kind of my usual expression.
Has a year passed already?
Yes, it is my buddies, the Muppet Trio, not to be confused with The Irish Tenors. The folks here aren’t too Irish but some customers like to spice up their drinks with a wee bit of the spirits. Instead of dyeing the drinkables green, I paint the glasses . . . No, I don’t – but no one would be surprised if I did.
Pussy willows . . . I have no fondness for them
When I was in early grade school, February and March were times of drawing pussy willows, of putting them in vases, of looking at their greyness. They were dull months. One positive factor, though, was that since I am not a good drawer, pussy willows were within my scope. Draw a line and put little blobbie things alternately on the sides. The bare trees of winter were easily done as well, but they were also dull. I have one that I drew from back then. It was on a calendar I made for my father for Christmas – the teacher gave us little a very small pad of the months to glue on the bottom of the drawing. My mother found it in my dad’s desk after he died. All those years – he kept that dull, unattractive drawing on purplish paper. When I first saw it, I wanted to tell him I was so sorry I drew so badly.
I don’t think of pussy willows or winter trees too often, but I saw a picture of a pussy willow today and I don’t like them even when they are really well photographed in their glory. I suppose they have some admirers – probably minimalists. But then maybe minimalists only look at them a minimal amount of time.
A Northern Indiana Outsiding
Yes, I stuck my head out the door today and decided to grasp the rake and approach the hedge. This is a big step for someone who is not a gardener, a goal-driven twenty or thirty-something, nor a person who looks much beyond herself. But there I was, thinking, “Let’s make this place look good.” It is quite possible that spending the day drinking iced tea and then Diet Coke with a splash of Coke has caused an out-of-mind experience for me.
Nevertheless, I raked and saw some myrtle spreading out from the hedge onto an area plagued with shade and faltering grass and decided to rake those leaves right back over that greenery to protect if from a really cold snap or a blizzard. Yes, well I remember the St. Patrick’s Day Blizzard we had here about 35 years ago. And just a few years back, Quentin and I drove to Indianapolis between two ice storms in April.
I puttered on over to the spot where I had run over a section of fence that had been leaning against one of the woodpiles and slid to the ground during the windy spell before being covered with snow. We have since moved the remainder of the fence, but there were a could of splintered boards I picked up. I am actually thinking of patching the pieces back together and putting a fresh coat of paint on the section and sticking it someplace for vines to grow on. It occurs to me that the infamous thought – Let’s make this place look good – could be overwhelming.
Then I picked up some errant logs, dropped while scurrying inside from getting wood for the fireplace. And, then, wait for it, I thought, “I don’t want to tire myself out.”
So I went inside. I came out later and did a little more. Easy does it, dontcha know.