Nov. 4th, 2007

Wheeee!

Nov. 4th, 2007 08:25 am
vanillafluffy: (Polar bear tongue)
The morning I awoke---early, thanks to the time change, to find the temp's gone down to 64F/17.7C, which is downright brisk, since it's been hovering around 80F/26.6C for a month now. The thought of being able to break out some of my long-sleeved wardrobe leaves me giddy. Jackets! Blazers! My favorite waffle-textured shirt! Yay, flannel!

Wheeee!

Nov. 4th, 2007 08:25 am
vanillafluffy: (Polar bear tongue)
The morning I awoke---early, thanks to the time change, to find the temp's gone down to 64F/17.7C, which is downright brisk, since it's been hovering around 80F/26.6C for a month now. The thought of being able to break out some of my long-sleeved wardrobe leaves me giddy. Jackets! Blazers! My favorite waffle-textured shirt! Yay, flannel!
vanillafluffy: (Polar bear facepalm)
Kat declined to go to the flea market this afternoon, but I said WTF and went by my ownself. Whoa! It's gone downhill A LOT. At least half the booths were empty, there is, like 1.5 bookstores (the .5 has fewer books than I do, for fuck's sake) when there used to be several---anyway, it wasn't the Event it used to be.

On the way home, I took River Rd, which I haven't traveled from that end for QUITE a while. An appalling number of nouveau MacMansions have sprung up. The thing that really got me, though, was the folly out in front of am old, traditional farmhouse style structure. A gazebo. A gazebo with an onion-domed roof. (Wait for it....) A gazebo with an onion-domed roof and naked, peach caryatids holding up said roof. I nearly drove INTO the river, gawking at the dreadful, tacky, pretentiousness of it all.

I'll be the first to admit that my taste veers into kitsch territory from time to time, but that?! OMG. I wish, deeply and fervently, that my brother was still alive. It's the kind of thing he'd've gotten a good laugh from. Naked, peach...I need brain bleach.

***

PS, I saw a sign at the flea market that totally made me think of Bobby: "This property guarded by a shotgun three days a week. You guess which three days." Hee!
vanillafluffy: (Polar bear facepalm)
Kat declined to go to the flea market this afternoon, but I said WTF and went by my ownself. Whoa! It's gone downhill A LOT. At least half the booths were empty, there is, like 1.5 bookstores (the .5 has fewer books than I do, for fuck's sake) when there used to be several---anyway, it wasn't the Event it used to be.

On the way home, I took River Rd, which I haven't traveled from that end for QUITE a while. An appalling number of nouveau MacMansions have sprung up. The thing that really got me, though, was the folly out in front of am old, traditional farmhouse style structure. A gazebo. A gazebo with an onion-domed roof. (Wait for it....) A gazebo with an onion-domed roof and naked, peach caryatids holding up said roof. I nearly drove INTO the river, gawking at the dreadful, tacky, pretentiousness of it all.

I'll be the first to admit that my taste veers into kitsch territory from time to time, but that?! OMG. I wish, deeply and fervently, that my brother was still alive. It's the kind of thing he'd've gotten a good laugh from. Naked, peach...I need brain bleach.

***

PS, I saw a sign at the flea market that totally made me think of Bobby: "This property guarded by a shotgun three days a week. You guess which three days." Hee!

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