He says: “Hon, the guys and I will be out in the garage tuning in to the Red Sox game on the radio.”
She says: “Looks like a nice radio. Made by Royal London. Huh. Where’d you get that?”
He says: “Oh, from somewhere. And if we can’t get the Sox game we can always tune in to the police or marine stations.”
It’s also much smaller than me!
It’s a Wolverine, made in the USA in the ’50s.
Yes, I have to take back what I said about the Golden Nugget Flea Market being on its last legs. On Memorial Day weekend it looked like a throwback to twenty years ago. Every single dealer table was taken. Parking was impossible. The place was buzzing with excitement.
Some amazing things were for sale.
“Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man.” What do you think of this Jesuit motto? Is it true?
I don’t have to go any further than my dining room to see where my childhood and present intersect.
I got my first piece of furniture–a china cabinet–when I was only three years old. My father built it from knotty pine and scraps of Formica counter top. I distinctly remember wanting to be tall enough to see what was on the top shelf. (Now it barely reaches up to my elbows!)
Chickens have been jumping out at me all over the place lately.
Not the real kind! Though I do work at a farm, all the boys in the poultry house (this year we have only roosters) are well-behaved.
I mean all sorts of chicken-y vintage things.
So, rather than buck-buck this observation, I’m just going to pluck up my courage and peck around here for a whole bunch of eggscellent poultry posts in the next couple of days.
Sorry if you hate bad puns! Don’t get your feathers all ruffled about it.