More or less just to displace that last downer from the top of the page. Yow! "Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb!", says Batman as he dashes about in search of a place to ditch the giant cannonball of a powder charge so as not to maim innocent passersby! It's true in the cinema fantastique, yes, and in real life too. So you just gotta give it a day or two, a month, maybe a year or longer and the lingering gunpowder smell will eventually dissipate to some extent.
Did a little toy scouting this weekend, found nary a one vintage plaything but bought a big old metal bedframe instead. Not too ornate and in need of some TLC but it'll serve it's purpose certainly. Saw a batch of cowboy goods at another antiques emporium, too princely priced for my empty wallet so I just took pictures which excited some members of the staff. Apparently they've had experience with some unscrupulous patrons who will snap a pic just to sell the item at a profit for themselves via electronic marketplace. Note to self: Ask before jauntily snapping pictures in the next antique store you visit. And order Wendy's burgers plain because, boy, do they squirt on the mustard. Aaauuughh!
Let's see, what else? Wyfe on another photo-finding mission in the family archives- a bunch of shoe boxes and mismatched containers under the bed -found a few more pics of the glory days of the Mustang and Van Halen hair. As she handed them over she made sure to add the proviso that should I start to think of recapturing that particular artifact- the car not the hair! -it would be at the expense of the toy collection, the guitars, the computer. Ouch! So much for the middle age car crazies! I'll post 'em to the Family album on day soon along with some guitar photos in that album.
Spent some time in a cemetary yesterday in Millersville. Coupla Lehrs, my grandaprents' name, interred therein, even a few McCues, a lot of familiar surnames but only one I knew personally. That I got around to see anyway, couldn't see each and every stone. I remember this fellow in my art classes at school, funny kid, a year, maybe two older than me. They had engraved a guitar, mandolin and banjo on the stone. I never knew he was musical but then that wouldn't have been so interesting to me back then. I don't recall what happened to him if I ever heard... We like to swing in on Sunday drives to graveyards we've never been to, check out the dates and names, see who we don't know and just consider the big picture; life, death, modern life vs. times past. Now that's 'bittersweet', baby. Always some tragically short lifespans represented, people almost certainly killed in wars. Moms and Dads, children. Gives one pause to appreciate every day, every breath, because, sad to say, somebody somewhere ain't enjoying that glorious pastime any more.
Hey! I gotta get movin'! I've got grass to mow- both my Mum's mowing job- I love it, Forrest Gump -and her own lawn since she's laid up with a Franken-foot, all stitched up and metal-pinned -and the forecast is for rain all week long with today the least chance of thunderstorms. Th-Whack!
See ya next time! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!
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