Category: Lopsided Observations

Everything is going brown and then grey but the the subtly of those browns and greys is astounding. The deer know this. We’re just figuring it out. Click photo to enlarge.

We found good homes for as much of Peggi’s mom’s stuff as we could but there was a whole lot lot over. The clothes all went to the battered women shelter and we donated a couple tvs, a microwave, and other furniture to the living center next door to her apartment. And an antique dealer that Dick Storm’s recommended picked the place clean of stuff he can put in an upcoming household sale. You didn’t think the stuff in those sales actually came from the house where the sale is did you? And then we worked our way down the food chain by offering some stuff to a consignment shop in Winton Place and on the last day Mary Kaye from a place on Titus Avenue took what was left for her shop. We managed to get our garage cleaned out this summer just in time to fill it up with boxes of old photos and knick knacks, baubles, bibelots, curios, curiosities, doodads, gewgaws, novelties, ornamentals, trinkets and tchotchkes. If we had more traffic on our street I’d put a “free” sign out by the road and give this stuff away.

We made some sort of a deal with a consignment shop to sell Peggi’s mom’s furniture. We split delivery to their shop and they decide what price they’re gonna put on it and if the stuff sells, we get fifty per cent. It only makes sense in this new economy.

Paladino’s got pretty catchy campaign gimmick but I think we’re mad about different things.

Ken’s bass amp crapped out last night so he played without it. We got a little quieter and it was all for the better. Paul Perri came up to chat as we were packing up. We went to grade school together at St. John’s on Humboldt Street. He says he has a picture of our third grade class at home and he promised to email it. Talk immediately turned to Catholic School, wacky nuns, alter boy shenanigans, war stories. Paul left and a small group of us were still talking about religion.

When my parent’s house was broken into we wound up spending a considerable amount of time over there with the police, a locksmith and theinsurance agents. We were still in bed when we got the call so we hadn’t eaten anything and at some point I found myself rumaging through their cupboards where I found some Kebler Honey Grahams. There was some pulp heavy Tropicana in the fridge so I anxoiusly tore open the wax paper package on the crackers, excited at the prospect of dunking them in a tall glass of OJ. I hadn’t had this treat since I left home as a teenager.

I would habitually try to split the crackers along the vertical center line so I would get something like a six by one inch long cracker to dip in the glass. I’d hold the cracker in there as long as possible so it would soak in the juice and then try to get the cracker out of the glass and into my mouth before it turned into mush in the glass. My parents used to buy the Nabisco Graham Crackers in the red box and then Honey Grahams came along. I think they were made by Kebler at first so we switched brands. I remember one being better than the other but I can’t remember know which one I preferred. I put a whole package down (one third of a box) and stopped there althoiugh I could have continued. That was limit back then and I stuck to it.

As I mentioned a few days ago I took Peggi to the hospital so they could stop her bloody nose. It was our most pleasent emergency room experience. The receptionist asked if I was a Dodd. I said I was Paul and she said, “Oh my god!”. She lived across the street from me and I used to babysit for her and her siblings. We each ran down the whereabouts of our respective big family members and we noticed that she was particularilly interested in my youngest brother’s status. I’ll have to pass this info on to him when I see him. Anyway I think she fast tracked us and gave us an especially nice doctor.

She was the second former babysitting victim that I have run into this year. I remember how tense it was dealing with the parents and then how easy it was to babysit once they left the house. I loved every minute of it and when I finally got the kids to bed I’d go through the food cupboards just like I did at my parent’s house.

Something someone said or something we read recently prompted us to add “The Conversation” to our Netflix cue. We hadn’t seen it since 1974 but we both remembered loving it. Directed by Francis Ford Copola right after his first Godfather smash, this movie plays like an obsessive art film about an obsessive, sax playing professional surveillance expert. Mundane conversation is pieced together and played over and over, analyzed while we revel in it all, geeky, even going to a convention of professional eves droppers. Electronic sounds are interwoven through the dialog until we can’t be sure if we’re hearing things or imagining them. Gene Hackman gives a killer performance and blows away co-stars and some of my favorite actors (Robert Duval, Harrison Ford and John Cazale). We kept the movie an extra night to watch it again.

The Hungerford building on East Main was happening last night. We had a hard time finding a place to park but eventually found a spot in back along the tracks. Hungerford made the syrup in A&W Root Beer before the complex of warehouse space was divided up for small businesses and squatters. The gallery on the ground floor was packed with earth conscious vendors suppling free samples of local produced food stuff. We would have hung around if the art (photos in this case) was more interesting. The 2nd floor had the coolest vide with lots of energy. I photographed the post it note piece there and the fourth floor was way sleepy. We headed over to RoCo where Andy Gilmore had some beautiful trippy geometric prints. We chatted with Joe Tunis and headed home.

We’re heading across the street in a few minutes to see/hear Guy Davis. He’s appearing at a house concert in our neighbor’s living room. I lent Rick a mic and some cables and I helped with the sound check and then I snapped this picture. Guy is Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis’s son and he sounds pretty bluesy. I’ve never heard any of his recordings. I’l report back.

We rode our bikes down to Sea Breeze. I say “down” even though it is due north because it is all downhill, otherwise we’d be underwater. We walked out on the Army Corps’ pier saying hi to the fishermen while we watched the parade of boats coming and going in the channel, more fishermen, beer drinkers, jet skis, a few sail boats and this wanker.

We studied the historical placard detailing the British Army Encampment that set up shop here in 1759 on their way to the Fort Niagara siege. It’s a beautiful spot except for the people who feed cheap white bread by the loaf to the invasive species of geese. Speaking of invasive species, we did our best to resist the grilled food odors from Vic & Irv’s and even rode by Cheri’s Thai place on our way back.