Wrapping up camp:
Conductor, in rehearsal, when the orchestra plays for another .25 seconds after the soprano cuts off her last note: “Never outsing the soprano. O. My. Lord.”
What is wrong with the algorithm at theweatherchannel.com that lists the day’s current temperature, i.e. 91˚, and the projected high at 86˚. Is there NOONE there who notices this and decides that perhaps the projected high should be projected higher?
And a question for all of you parents out there: Which is more stressful, being away from home for 3 weeks when you’ve left the house empty, or being away from home for 3 weeks when you’ve left the house in the “care” of the 18-year old?
I had completed all of my camp responsibilities by noon Saturday, so husband and I went into Traverse City to act like tourists. We had a delicious lunch at Amical, and then did a little shopping. At first we may have upset the balance of the universe when husband bought two pairs of shoes and I didn’t buy any, but I did have some fun taking pictures.
I call this the “Embarrassed” sandal. It knows it’s hideous, but it must sit on its shelf, in plain view, for all to see. It doesn’t even have hands to hide behind.
I call this the “Beautiful” sandal. I would like them in brown, as shown, and black, 8 1/2 W. Sigh.
I call this “The Why Shoe.” I believe the title is self-explanatory.
These are just beautiful. I would consider selling one of my children for them — a deal at any price, but yours for a mere $545 plus tax and shipping/handling. First Son only has one year left of college, and I would include his college fund balance as long as it’s actually paid to his college; Second Son may have just hit a car in a mall parking lot, but it only did $500 worth of damage, which he (or I) will take full financial responsibility for, and he has been let go from his summer job 3 weeks early, but I suspect that, rather than this being a direct fault of his, his manager is an asshole and had an opportunity to hire someone for the fall and took it. Only Daughter is not yet a teenager, so she is still, as they say in the Master Card commercials, priceless, and therefore, not (yet) available for purchase. It is, as they say, only a matter of time.
[In a kind-of related story, related to the cowboy boots, that is, we watched Brokeback Mountain last night — neither husband nor I had seen it yet — and we both think they did a good job with a story that could have become campy or self-conscious. I do wish Heath Ledger could have mumbled a little bit more articulatively, but there’s nothing wrong with a good lookin’ man in jeans and cowboy boots.
(Despite the fact that Husband posed for this photo, and he does actually know I have a tendency to “use” just about anything for my blog, he may insist that I take this photo down, so I hope many of you get to see it while it’s still here.)]
Anyway, back to Saturday.
When we were done at the shoe store, we investigated one of the galleries along Front Street.
This floating coffee table was kind of cool,
I thought it looked like it would maybe bounce a little, but I didn’t actually try.
I also liked these wood cuttings (sorry about the quality of the photos; I wasn’t sure how the woman in charge would feel about me taking pictures of stuff with my iPhone, so I was trying to be both quick AND surreptitious.)
I was NOT so crazy about the coffee table manufactured from the tailgate of a Ford pickup,
I’m not sure what this painting? collage? source of non-drug-induced freaky dreams?was called, so I called it Scary Alien Art.
I assume someone’s buying these, as there were at least a dozen on the walls, and the artist was featured, but really, really, thankyoubutno.
Now we’re home; laundry’s done, I’m about to make my second cappuccino of the morning, and it’s time to return to reality. I must say, three weeks living in a cabin make air conditioning, floors that can actually get clean, and a washer and dryer within the residence feel like real luxury. It’s probably good to lower that bar every year or so.