Month: October 2018

Tales from the Salon

Remember the film, Steel Magnolias, and how life for a group of women in a small southern town revolved around the goings on in a beauty parlor? If you’ve never seen the movie or the play, I highly recommend it. Or you could just come visit me and I’ll take you to the salon I patronize in Blountstown, Florida. You’d get the gist of the movie pretty quickly. I love this salon and the women who work there.

Blountstown took a big hit from Hurricane Michael, and I wasn’t sure G, the owner, would be open for business yet. I called the salon on Tuesday and one of the stylists assured me they were operating as usual. I drove the 40-something miles down Florida’s backroads noting how much more damage was evident the further south and west I got from Tallahassee. Way more trees were down and many more roofs were damaged. Several buildings were completely gone with only foundations remaining.

The salon was hopping when I arrived and I waited as G finished blow drying a customer’s hair. G is something of an artist and I love to watch her work. Of course most of the talk centered on what folks had experienced during the storms. One of the stylists, B, lost her home in the hurricane, while another, R, had very little damage to hers. G’s came through the storm fine, but there were some near misses at the salon.

All three of the ladies came back to work at the salon as soon as they could after Michael, shampooing hair for free for those who had no electricity at their homes. Now, that’s pure southern comfort.

When it was my turn in the chair we talked about the new version of “A Star is Born.” None of them had seen it, so I gave them my take on the movie. Actually we discussed Bradley Cooper and which of us were meant to be with him. I’m pretty sure I won that argument simply because I’m writing this post, and I get to be the heroine of my own story.

B said she’d prefer country singer Chris Stapleton anyway, because in her words, “He looks like he’d smell like diesel and dirt.” That should be the title of a country song, right?

Talk came back around to the storm and a day when the ladies were doing their free shampoos. R said, “There was a woman in here who said things had gotten so bad at her house during the hurricane that she’d sat in a corner with her Bible and her beads.”

B said, “And when my client heard that she whispered, ‘Does she mean anal beads?'”

I guffawed. B continued, “We don’t get a lot of Catholics ’round here!” Obviously not.

After G worked her magic, I paid, leaving feeling lighter than I had in days. And not just because of my haircut.

Peace, people!

Noppelgänger.

No, I didn’t misspell the word Doppelgänger, but I might have just invented a new word.

Noppelgänger (Nōp-ul-gäng-ur) n. a term used to describe someone who reminds you of someone else even if they look absolutely nothing like that person.

My dad was a bit over six feet tall, Caucasian, with sandy brown hair. So why did the 5’5″ tall, dark haired Asian man walking across a shopping center parking lot remind me so much of my daddy that I sat in my car and cried?

Was it the striped golf shirt he wore? Was it his sauntering walk? Was it the fond smile he offered a young family he passed on the sidewalk? Maybe all those things. Or maybe, I just missed my daddy.

Call your dad today if you can. Tell him you love him.

Peace, people.

Snapshots #224 and #225 and a Brief Rant

Early voting began yesterday in Florida. I had planned to be first in line at the polls, but I settled for being #22.

I call this one, “I Wore Blue to Vote Blue.”

And this closeup is called, “Feminists Vote Blue.”

Thanks to my friend Linda for the necklace. I wear it proudly.

Yes, I realize I wear my heart and my vote on my sleeve. Yes, I realize the odds of turning Florida blue are against us. But every vote counts and I have to keep on believing that we can make this a better place to raise children and care for our seniors.

Only the Democrats favor health care reform that doesn’t exclude people with pre-existing conditions from having access to affordable insurance. Only Democrats support salary increases for public school teachers. Only Democrats fight for social security, Medicaid, and Medicare. Only Democrats are standing up to the NRA in order to enact and enforce sensible gun ownership laws. Only Democrats fight for the rights of LGBTQ citizens. Only Democrats are working to stop the cruel separation of immigrant children and parents at our borders. Only Democrats support a woman’s right to choose.

I’m a reformed conservative, and I vote blue for all of the reasons stated above and more.

Snapshot #223

A few mums plus some perky pumpkins sitting pretty on a cool October day make for a nice little autumn scene. I’m calling this one, “Finally Fall.”

A Puzzle Solved?

A couple of days ago I wrote a piece about a mysterious antique I’d purchased at an estate sale in Dallas:

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2018/10/19/a-genuine-whatchamacallit/

When I published that post I was fairly certain I knew exactly what the antique’s purpose was, but I thought it would be fun to see what my readers thought.

Here’s the antique in question:

My readers had some great ideas:

I truly believed that this silver piece was a butter server. One would put ice in the bottom section, place butter on the round piece, and lay that atop the ice filled bowl. The dome could be raised to serve, or closed to cover the food. A small spreading knife could be placed in the attached holder at the bottom. All very elegant and old worldly. And when I googled “antique silver butter servers” I saw this:

It’s quite similar to my piece. But after I read Marty’s comment (below), I was no longer so certain.

Here’s what I found when I googled the holiday, Sukkot:

Again, similar to, but much smaller than my piece. If it weren’t for the Star of David I’d be all in on my butter server theory, but the religious symbol gives me reason to doubt.

Regardless of its purpose I’m fond of my estate sale find. And this morning as I was decorating my home for Halloween, I noticed someone else had taken an interest in this antique:

Maybe he can save me money on my car insurance.

Pumpkin Patch

On Saturday morning I went in search of pumpkins to place on the bench in front of Doright Manor. Several churches in Tallahassee set up pumpkin patches at this time of year, and finding a suitable patch was fairly simple.

I believe Christ Presbyterian Church on Bannerman Road has one of the nicest pumpkin patches.

There were lots of families with young children taking pictures on this beautiful fall day.

Soon I’d selected five pumpkins of various sizes to display on my bench. As of this writing they are all in the back of my car waiting for me to clean up the little courtyard where my bench sits. Picking out the pumpkins was way more fun than cleaning out a spot for them will be.

Peace, people!

A Genuine Whatchamacallit

When I was in Texas in early October my son, grandson, and I spent part of one morning scoping out estate sales in Dallas. Fortunately I was living out of a suitcase, otherwise there’s no telling what I’d have bought. Yes, I know I could’ve gone to a pack and mail place and have purchases delivered to Doright Manor, but I didn’t want to spend money on postage.

Early in the day I bought a nice tennis bracelet, and it looked like that would be it for me. I looked at some nicely priced, nearly new designer bags, but honestly, my cup (and my closet) runneth over when it comes to purses and such.

At the final sale we went to I found this intriguing silver piece, and my son bought it for me as a birthday gift:

Here it is with the dome up:

And with the little plate removed:

Finally, a close up of an attached holder. That was what gave away this whatchamacallit, in my book.

Well, that and the assistance of an informed collector. It needs a good polishing, but its beauty shines through.

What do you think it is? I probably won’t laugh at any guesses. No promises.

Peace, people!

Fake Accents and Bad Jokes

Note: Some of this might have happened exactly as described. 😉

Yesterday during my volunteering stint I launched into a bad British accent and couldn’t get rid of it. Is it any wonder that the team leader sent me to the edge of the site to clean out the Cambros? For the uninformed, Cambro is the brand name for a line of containers that keep foods hot. The ones I was sent to sanitize because I couldn’t stop sounding like Eliza Doolittle pre-transformation, were styrofoam boxes on steroids.

I became fairly efficient at the task while prattling on about scones and tea to no one in particular. When a couple of other volunteers joined me I welcomed them and showed them the ropes.

“So, are you a Brit?” asked one of the women.

“No,” I said, in bad cockney. “But I play one on the telly, luv.”

https://youtu.be/uVmU3iANbgk

Peace, people, and always remember the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain, and all that Jazz.