Architectural Digest has composed a list those that they like - ranging all the way from the Randolph Street Market in Chicago to the longest - the Michigan to Alabama - 690 miles. It takes place from August 6 - 9.
Poor old Southern California's Pasadena Open Air Market never got a look-in. If it's on the East Coast, it gets respect. Not the West. Out here we don't seem to have to buy other people's cast-offs. Take THAT AD!
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Sunday, June 7, 2015
A Triple Crown Triumph
Traditionally, I have never won any of them - not the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness or the Belmont Stakes. Whether this is due to my penchant for ALWAYS betting the grey horse and in lieu of one, a name that appeals to me or just plain bad luck.
Yesterday was different. I bet the grey horse and he came in second, just where I'd put him. I put down $2 to Place; he did and the payback was $3.50.
Granted, this is not how great racing fortunes are built.
But American Pharoah went off at 5 to 3 and to a Degenerate Gambler, those odds are just as good as buying a house and only being allowed to use the front porch. Worthless, in short.
'Tis a small victory - I'd be the first to say it, but 'tis mine. God love ya, Frosted.
Yesterday was different. I bet the grey horse and he came in second, just where I'd put him. I put down $2 to Place; he did and the payback was $3.50.
Granted, this is not how great racing fortunes are built.
But American Pharoah went off at 5 to 3 and to a Degenerate Gambler, those odds are just as good as buying a house and only being allowed to use the front porch. Worthless, in short.
'Tis a small victory - I'd be the first to say it, but 'tis mine. God love ya, Frosted.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Vaguely Disrespectful
Today - June 6th - celebrates D-Day with its attendant massive loss of lives - and National Donut Day.
There is something unsettling about this to me. Donut Day is frivolous; D-Day is anything but.
A friend helped me out by doing some research and apparently the first Saturday in June is and always has been claimed by the donut people. I think it would have been tactful of the donut-ters to hold off for a day. But they didn't and here we are. I for one am not happy about it.
Mentally I pulled up all of the photos I've seen of cemeteries with row after row of graves, with plain white crosses, each surmounted with a small American flag, flittering in the breeze. Much more soothing than any donut could have been.
There is something unsettling about this to me. Donut Day is frivolous; D-Day is anything but.
A friend helped me out by doing some research and apparently the first Saturday in June is and always has been claimed by the donut people. I think it would have been tactful of the donut-ters to hold off for a day. But they didn't and here we are. I for one am not happy about it.
Mentally I pulled up all of the photos I've seen of cemeteries with row after row of graves, with plain white crosses, each surmounted with a small American flag, flittering in the breeze. Much more soothing than any donut could have been.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Politicians Perks
There was an editorial in this morning's Daily Breeze that at first reading, I couldn't believe it. The gist? The California Senate drunks don't have to be bothered to call a cab or Uber (and pay their own cash for them.)
Instead the Senate has a new perq for the knee-walking drunks-- a part time driver's job that pays $2,532 a month.
The Senate's legislate chief of staff remarked that it's an effort to curb legislators driving drunk. The article lists several of the major offenders. You might want to read it and if your legislator is on the list, perhaps re-think your vote.
I'd like to see something passed -anything - that mandated legislators paying for something themselves.
Instead the Senate has a new perq for the knee-walking drunks-- a part time driver's job that pays $2,532 a month.
The Senate's legislate chief of staff remarked that it's an effort to curb legislators driving drunk. The article lists several of the major offenders. You might want to read it and if your legislator is on the list, perhaps re-think your vote.
I'd like to see something passed -anything - that mandated legislators paying for something themselves.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Of Course It's All About Me!
But you knew that, right? A few trivial updates
I slid into raptures about the "waffle pillow" after a brief explanation as to what I was doing at the wound care clinic. Yesterday at an 11 a.m. appt. I was dismissed from further visits. The "superficial" pressure sore was gone.
Next was the lift-maker. Very often a broken hip causes a shortening of the attached leg. To avoid future back problems, you need a lift in that shoe.
Having had "orthotics" from a podiatrist MD I was rather dreading this not because it's painful in any way, but it takes a long time to measure it, more time to cast it to make a mold that is expressly designed for you and all at a cost of about $800 if I remember correctly; it was some time ago. And they've been lying on the floor of my closet since then.
This was totally different! The technician took my right shoe, disappeared for about five minutes and returned with the shoe and the prosthetic inside it. The device is a hard plastic which may account for the speed with which it was made.
Alert: Go for a "lift" and not an "orthotic" - you'll save a lot of money.
Best remark I've heard (so far) about Bruce to Caitlin was in the Comments section that followed an article:
"Well, at least she's perfectly positioned for the 2016 Olympics women's events."
I slid into raptures about the "waffle pillow" after a brief explanation as to what I was doing at the wound care clinic. Yesterday at an 11 a.m. appt. I was dismissed from further visits. The "superficial" pressure sore was gone.
Next was the lift-maker. Very often a broken hip causes a shortening of the attached leg. To avoid future back problems, you need a lift in that shoe.
Having had "orthotics" from a podiatrist MD I was rather dreading this not because it's painful in any way, but it takes a long time to measure it, more time to cast it to make a mold that is expressly designed for you and all at a cost of about $800 if I remember correctly; it was some time ago. And they've been lying on the floor of my closet since then.
This was totally different! The technician took my right shoe, disappeared for about five minutes and returned with the shoe and the prosthetic inside it. The device is a hard plastic which may account for the speed with which it was made.
Alert: Go for a "lift" and not an "orthotic" - you'll save a lot of money.
Best remark I've heard (so far) about Bruce to Caitlin was in the Comments section that followed an article:
"Well, at least she's perfectly positioned for the 2016 Olympics women's events."
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Everything Old is New Again?
Can the trendies only find things that existed long, long ago? Is copying the only thing they're good for?
I'm referring to a new word/phrase in our American lexicon and that word is "shaming" as in "fat shaming" (and subsequent law suits.) How do you "shame" a fat person anyhow? Every time you spot a morbidly or clinically obese person start singing, "Fatty, fatty two by four; couldn't get through the kitchen door?"
Pointing out the obvious hardly seems "shaming" Presumably they buy their own clothing (size 22) and have seen themselves in mirrors.
What amuses me is that public shaming has existed since medieval days when a person who was caught redhanded at a minor sin was punished by being put in stocks in the public square or market entrance for a predetermined length of time. The villagers were free to stand in front of the prisoner and lecture and/or jeer - "How could you have been so stupid!" as much as they wanted. And if you remember, stocks held that person very adequately. Once put in them, they weren't going anywhere until they were freed.
Today the insulters take to online media. This is hardly effective and not nearly as much fun (presumably) as standing in front of the malcontent, looking them straight in the eye and castigating them at length.
All I can say is "New, huh? I don't think so."
I'm referring to a new word/phrase in our American lexicon and that word is "shaming" as in "fat shaming" (and subsequent law suits.) How do you "shame" a fat person anyhow? Every time you spot a morbidly or clinically obese person start singing, "Fatty, fatty two by four; couldn't get through the kitchen door?"
Pointing out the obvious hardly seems "shaming" Presumably they buy their own clothing (size 22) and have seen themselves in mirrors.
What amuses me is that public shaming has existed since medieval days when a person who was caught redhanded at a minor sin was punished by being put in stocks in the public square or market entrance for a predetermined length of time. The villagers were free to stand in front of the prisoner and lecture and/or jeer - "How could you have been so stupid!" as much as they wanted. And if you remember, stocks held that person very adequately. Once put in them, they weren't going anywhere until they were freed.
Today the insulters take to online media. This is hardly effective and not nearly as much fun (presumably) as standing in front of the malcontent, looking them straight in the eye and castigating them at length.
All I can say is "New, huh? I don't think so."
Monday, June 1, 2015
Mourning the Thud of Horses Galloping
Hollywood Park Race Track's stands are gone. They were imploded at 6 a.m. the other morning. But the track did have something of a run from 1938 when it was built to 2013 when it closed. They only got around to final destruction today.
I haven't been there since the '70s and '80s so I really shouldn't be donning my black crepe. Some nerve, eh?
But I do have only pleasant memories of attending. In the '70s, I was buddies with a guy named Van, who was the advertising VP for Vogue magazine. He, in turn, was tight with a bunch that referred to themselves as "degenerate gamblers," a group of about eight guys. Among them was the actor who portrayed Dr. Ben Casey (the only "famous" one of the bunch.
We all hooked up on the Clubhouse level. The guys (I was the only woman present) all made fun of my traditional bed - $2 to Place - but when I began winning (paltry sums to be sure) they began to sidle over and ask what I thought about the next race. Meanwhile, they were betting $100 a pop or more. They were fond of trifectas, etc. all of which confounded me.
I learned an interesting thing - degenerate gamblers don't have checking accounts. They put their money in safe deposit boxes and visit on an as-needed basis.
I also learned a sad fact - it was not unusual for one of them to get mugged. Canny robbers only had to keep an observant eye on the $50 and $100 windows.
We often went to Chez Jay, Santa Monica, for dinner - the day's big winner bought - and it became a satellite clubhouse.
They were good days and upon reflection, I can miss them. RIP Hollywood Race Track.
I haven't been there since the '70s and '80s so I really shouldn't be donning my black crepe. Some nerve, eh?
But I do have only pleasant memories of attending. In the '70s, I was buddies with a guy named Van, who was the advertising VP for Vogue magazine. He, in turn, was tight with a bunch that referred to themselves as "degenerate gamblers," a group of about eight guys. Among them was the actor who portrayed Dr. Ben Casey (the only "famous" one of the bunch.
We all hooked up on the Clubhouse level. The guys (I was the only woman present) all made fun of my traditional bed - $2 to Place - but when I began winning (paltry sums to be sure) they began to sidle over and ask what I thought about the next race. Meanwhile, they were betting $100 a pop or more. They were fond of trifectas, etc. all of which confounded me.
I learned an interesting thing - degenerate gamblers don't have checking accounts. They put their money in safe deposit boxes and visit on an as-needed basis.
I also learned a sad fact - it was not unusual for one of them to get mugged. Canny robbers only had to keep an observant eye on the $50 and $100 windows.
We often went to Chez Jay, Santa Monica, for dinner - the day's big winner bought - and it became a satellite clubhouse.
They were good days and upon reflection, I can miss them. RIP Hollywood Race Track.
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