Admit It; A Blogger's Fantasy

Hello, is that KSV Woolfoot?

Uh, yes…well, uh, this is Kim.

Can I call you Kim, or would you prefer Ms. Velk or Woolfoot or something else? Say the word.

Uh, Kim is fine…

Well, Kim, I’m Sloane Abramson, from CAA?

OK. Hi. How are you?

Hi Kim. Fine. I’m fine. The question I really have is how are you today? I am so happy finally to have a chance to speak with you, Kim. Is it snowing up there yet?

Uh, Fine. No. To the snow I mean. It doesn’t generally snow in September, even here. Did you say Creative Artists Agency – like CAA?

Right, the LA office. Not Canadian Automobile Insurance Association. (Laughter). Kim, you might think that - living up on the Canadian border and all.

Well. I guess you must actually have dialed the right number.

Oh. Right. Well, sorry, Kim. Didn’t mean in the least to freak you out. It’s just, before we make these calls we do a little, hmm, light kind of background checking. Usually just stuff we can Google or get from your blog – no actual physical stalking or anything.

Oh. Well, that’s good to know.

Well and, Kim, it’s because of your blog that I am calling today.

Really?

Oh, we just love it here. Capital “L” L-0-V-E it. I was talking about it with Helen Mirren when she was in here the other day. You know, she was really taken with your post on her book. In fact, she was the one who put us onto you.

(beat)

I’m sorry. I dropped the phone.

Right, well, I am guessing that was a joke because you are so funny. Really, I read a lot of blogs and I have to say I have never seen one that shows more genuine talent, strength of personality, depth of knowledge and just plain interest than yours.

Wow. Well, that’s so nice and really, no offense, but impossible and untrue.

Really, Kim. No joke I am a Hollywood Agent and I want to represent you! You know we represent writers too, not just movie stars. Right?

(beat)

Well, Sloane, this is a joke right? You’re recording this, right? Give me your number and I’ll call you back.

(Laughter). I guess that’s the lawyer in you, Kim. No. Not joking. I guess you didn’t get my package?

Hmm. Nope, no package.

Damn, I mean, darn. I read your post on your two posts on St. Andrew and St. Paul’s and your Protestant churchgoing Grandma and everything - but then I saw you posted the Will Farrell video. I agreed that was a riot. Don't tell anyone but we're trying to get Will Ferrell to sign with us too. Not sure where you stand on the cursing issue – one of the things I just love about your blog. So hard to pin you down.

Oh I can curse like a drunken sailor. But the kids.

Right, Catholic school and all.

Let me call you back.

They said it would be there by 10. It’s 10 your time now, isn’t it, Kim?

Just about. Yeah. Oh. Wait. There’s the Fed Ex guy. Hold on. Hold on.

[…]

I have a box here, Sloane. A very big and heavy box.

Oh, great! Super! What timing. I think it’s a good omen. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if Fed Ex went up that far. It’s great. I had a friend from college from Vermont. But she was from Manchester. I guess that’s another world from North Troy, isn’t it Kim? I was going to visit her one summer but we went to Nantucket instead, where their summer place is.

Well, yes and no. North Troy is like Manchester minus rich people, restaurants, outlet shopping and prep schools. I am thinking of starting a Yacht Club here, though.

Funny, again.

I can’t get the, wait, this isn’t some Unabomber item is it?

Funny! No, Kim. See the Century City postmark. It’s from me. Open it up. I am so pleased to be on the line with you when you got this. I picked it out myself and really I am dying to know what you think.

Let me get a knife. Hold on. I, the tape...

Well….?

There’s lots of bubble wrap. I recycle this so I am trying not to rip it. Wait.

Been in Vermont a long time, then? The recycling, I mean. Since about 1993?

Oh my God.

(beat)

Where did you get all this?

You like it?

Well, yeah. I mean, it’s all MINTON in the PINK COCKATRICE pattern! AND , is it, yes, the Coffee Pot! Sure, how many place settings – like,

Only six; that’s all we could find. And believe me, my assistant tried everywhere on about three continents at least to get this. That pattern hasn’t been made in about 80 years. The woman we got this from said hers wasn’t for sale, at first anyway.

Oh my God!

Yes! It’s amazing isn’t it?

(beat)

F*** How did you guys know about this?

Well, that “light bit of checking” I mentioned. We managed to track down that porcelain dealer on Portobelllo Road that you met in London this spring? He said the nicest things about you, and your daughter, “The Understudy,” I love that name by the way. I agree, way better than “Kid 1” and not so derivative of Dr. Seuss.

Sloane.

Yes, Kim?

What is this all about, really?

Well, Kim; I think I know the answer to this but I am not taking anything for granted. Have you ever thought about doing any screenwriting? Of course you’re not in the guild yet but we can take care of that…

If You Think Will Ferrell is Funny...

Stay tuned, because I think he is funny too and I am, mentally, working on a killer blog post that Will Ferrell will wish he had written, it's going to be that funny. Bill Murray and Tina Fey will wish they had written it, and David Sedaris will probably read it and be jealous. Gilda Radner, God Bless her Soul, will wish from heaven that she was around still so she could have written it. Only, I haven't actually written it, yet, so uhm, here's a sure thing from WF. If you haven't the "The Landlord" yet, see it here. Better go to the bathroom first, though.

See more Will Ferrell videos at Funny or Die

Upstate New York - Land of Enchantment and Proper Cheeseburger Deluxe

If you have been following along you know that I spent last weekend visiting my parents in my natal New York State. My roots are in the uncool part of New York: Upstate, as culturally distinct from New York City as Ohio (although they probably have more ethic diversity - descendants of Italians, Jews and Greeks mostly- in upstate New York than they do in the midwest - a little more on that in a minute). Last Sunday, as you also will know if you have been following along, we went to the Highland Games. On Monday, Labor Day, we had to get back Vermont, but before leaving I thought I would take the kids over to John Boyd Thacher State Park.


(The View from the Overlook at Thacher Park)

Thacher Park is a popular getaway for the million or so people who live around Albany and as a kid and as a 20-something, when I last lived in the area, we would get over there for a field-trip or a picnic once a year or so. It is really a beautiful place and just a hop, skip and a jump from the current home of Dad and Stepmom. Again, in fulfilling my little self-appointed mission of sharing the Good Things in Life, here's a little glimpse of the part of the Park that makes it most famous: the Indian Ladder.



There are no Indians, anymore at least, and, as I discovered to my disappointment at age 9 when I first visited, no ladders either. It's the name for a cliff-face trail once used by Indians that traverses a part of the Heldeberg Escarpment. It is a rough foot path but the New York taxpayer has outfitted it nicely with stairs, here and there, rails and ropes as necessary. You couldn't do it on crutches or in a wheelchair, but Shackleton, aged 7 and the Understudy, aged 10 and wearing only sandals since our walk was slightly impromptu, managed fine.



I thought, as walked along the cliff, past the trees and under the overhanging rocks; with their periodic fine-spray waterfalls and small pools, that if there was a place in America where you might find a Totoro, this might be it.







Well, that was nice. It being Labor Day, and back to school time, walking the path our sixth grade science teacher took us down in a vain attempt to teach us something about geology was sweet. Ahh. Middle school.

On our way out of town Dad and Stepmom treated us to another New York experience: lunch at a proper NY Diner.

Vermont is not a culturally diverse place. The natives are either old Yankees or descended from French Canadians. The non-natives tend to be hippies or transplants from California and the big east coast cities. None of these groups have, generally speaking, the wherewithal to run a proper diner: by which I mean a place with booths, cheeseburger deluxe, holy cards over the cash register, and a menu that measures at least 2 feet by 2 feet.

The one we went to on Monday is a bit of an ersatz re-creation, but it feels true to Greek Diner roots. The kids call it the Shiny Diner, since it is clad in chrome. I think it's real name is the Metro Route 20. It is on, you guessed it, Route 20.





Since I had been tromping for an hour or two on the rocky path at Indian Ladder I felt justified in having cheeseburger deluxe, and a milkshake.

Two Cool 3-Speeds; Juliet Mills Where Are You Now?

Aren't these so Nanny and the Professor? The Raleigh came from the local flea market this last weekend. Tires good, gears, as yet unknown. Seat, or "saddle" a positive shredder - utterly unsittable. The bag is present but all the leather bits on it, that is the loops, have been destroyed. The vinyl is still good.

You can date these bikes by the dates on their Sturmey-Archer gear hubs and this one is a survivor from 1969. My mom had this exact bike in dark green, maybe a year or two newer, when I was a kid. We weren't allowed to ride it at first but after a few years it became fair game. That's probably why we don't have it anymore. I think it is a beauty. "Sturmey Archer" how often did I read that name on my handle bars and wonder what the hell it was about?

The Raleigh Ladies Sport of 1969





The other bike is a flea market find from two years ago. It's a 1972 BSA (short for "Birmingham Small Arms" - they retooled for bikes afer the market for rifles flagged). Raleigh bought them out in the 50s, I beleive, so I think it's a Raleigh in all but name. We test rode this a wee bit when we bought it and the gears were good, the seat is good, but I am not sure the tires hold air.



The BSA has a comfy seat



And A Decal to Die For



I am posting these photos and this info. here partly because I have signed up over at the Bike Forums wiki for advice on restoring them and I am directing any potential experts from there to here.

My hope is that the Understudy will have one ready for college (she's 10 now and I need to get started). I was also hoping I might be able to get a bike mechanic to fix one in exchange for keeping one, but maybe that's a stupid idea. Maybe it's stupid because no mechanic would agree or maybe it's stupid because I would be giving away a good bike that wouldn't take much to fix. Keep in mind that I am nearly completely non-mechanical.

I have looked at the cost of replacing the saddle on the Raleigh and it, alone, is prohibitive. (But it could be beautiful, check this one out) In the $100 range for something decent; ditto the bag. (Also beautiful). My thought is that one bike might be able to be cannibalized for the other, but perhaps that is also a stupid idea. Comments anyone?

The Raleigh had the assembly instructions and Guide to Cycling and Warranty card in the bag. Pretty good for $5, no? The BSA was $10, by the way. If I come out of this with one beautifully restored old 3 speed it will be a good day's work.

Away An Bile Yer Heid!

Kids and I decided on the spur of the moment on Saturday afternoon to depart the Green Mountain State and descend on my Dad and Stepmom. They live in a new house on the outskirts of an old village near Albany, New York. The weather was great and, truth to tell, we had nothing on our Labor Day Weekend social calendar. Also, it is always a treat for us to visit them, with their multiple bathrooms, central air conditioning and profligate number of electrial outlets. Whusband had the lawn to cut. We were off.

As luck would have it, the Capital District Highland games were on, over in the Highlands of Altamont, New York - another small village near Albany.

Ma heid's birlin wi all these uncanny ties to Scotland!

These are simply cold facts: Robert Burns and I were both born on January 25, (albeit a couple of centuries apart). I have a great-grandmother on my mother's side named Ella Macomber. Maisy, our dog, was fostered by a breeder of Cairn Terriers. Maisy's middle name is, hand to heart, "McTavish". Kids and I frequently quote Groundskeeper Willie. If pressed, I could use "bonnie" in a sentence. How could I miss a chance to hang around with a lot of Americans looking for an excuse to wear their kilts in a straight, non-Goth sort of atmosphere. We could find Maisy's tartan! If there was anything there with Groundskeeper Willie's picture on it, I could buy it.

As an aside, and by another spooky coincidence, I had recently been researching the Scots' reaction to Groundskeeper Willie. Everytime he comes on The Simpsons, I wonder what the people in Scotland - not the Americans with Scottish last names but actual Scottish people -think of Willie. I was surprised to learn that GW is the best known Scot in America. Based on the on-line comments I read (the Times [London] ran a story lamenting the depth of American ignorance of Scotland and that attracted lots of commentary), the Scots seemed to take this in stride and with a good sense of humor. They seemed to like Willie themselves, (shut yer geggy, Times) as well they should. So, off our little mongrel clan of German-English-Dutch-Irish-Polish-Irish-etc. selves went for a proper Scots-American wallow.

Scotland the Reinterpreted

This Clydesdale, and two sheep, stood in for the special animals of Scotland. The horse was sort of like the Highland Games version of the greeter at WalMart; the first thing you saw, blinking at passersby. Laconic, like a true Scot. Kid 2, who shall henceforth be known as "Shackleton", (more on that coming soon) can always be persuaded to stand near a horse and have his picture taken. Doesn't this just scream "Scotland?"



Of course, we had to beat our way through the crowds to the tent featuring odd Scots and English brands of foods. Is there a reason these items are not available on the shelves of your local Price Chopper? Like, they are unpleasant to the taste? Actually, HP sauce is consumed by one or two Canadians I have met.



There was not as great clamor for oat-based products as you might have expected. Stepmom only modeled the oatcakes. We were saving our money for some other scaffy Scots swag (a key chain for Shackleton and Claddagh Ring for Kid 1 - henceforth, "the Understudy." Yeah, Claddagh rings are Irish, I know, but this is America and as the Times will tell you people here have trouble telling Scotland and Ireland apart).





Toffee - doesn't it make you think of a hairy cow?



Plaid all over the place. The Crocodile Dundee figure here is mirrored by a kind of evil twin, the woman in the plaid shorts and tank top with bra strap.



Look it's Maisy's middlename! Well, sort of. We spell it McTavish.




Close your eyes and it was like you were there. Note the traditional Scots Tevas.



I must say I was impressed by the gentlemen manning the Scots Military History tent. It's amazing how manly they are in their skirts and hats with the pom poms. I really mean that too.





Ladies?






Perhaps security concerns prevented the crowds from coming within 50 feet of these wee lassies.



Shackleton wandered over to the pavilion of The British Shop. The proprietress was from that British outpost, Buffalo, New York. She looked daggers at me and poor little Shackleton as I pushed her $80 hat on his head.



There was tent where contemporary Gaelic rock blared for hours. There were massed bands (bagpipes drums, what have you). There was a caber toss. Only one guy got the caber, which is another way to say "log", to go end over end, which is the object of the event. Some women were throwing a sack of hay over a pole in a kind of hay-toss high jump. When is that going to be an Olympic event? But can you believe, not one image of Willie anywhere in sight? I liked this though:

How it Was Made - 1930s Wedgwood etc.

Just a quick post here to share a web discovery I just made over at the Potteries website: I'll post a link over on my favorites list.

Being that I come home a couple of times a month with a bag full of old pottery, and that lots of this stuff is English, I am frequently over at The Potteries website doing a little research. It's a great resource chock-a-block with free info. about the famous potteries of North Staffordshire. I am not sure how the site is funded but they are doing a great job informing the public about one of England's seminal industries and still one of its most important. Next time someone puts an old plate in front of you, maybe at Thanksgiving, you might want to flip it over and check out the mark. If you can remember anything about it next time you are at your computer, take that scrap of information to their website and you might find out some fascinating bit of history about your dinnerware (or not, but why not try).

One fabulous aspect of the site is that it includes among its riches some period publications on how the pottery was made. Remember poor Charles Dickens at the glue factory? No children in evidence by the time we get to the 1930s but look at the circles around the eyes of the Einstein figure:



Looking through the 22 cards that show Wedgwood manufacture, probably in the 1920s, maybe the '30s, you get a glimpse right back into the industrial revolution. Ditto the brochure from the Parrot &Co. factory of 1936. No wonder the early 20th century involved that huge and cataclysmic divide between bosses



and workers.



Smile everyone, smile - hold still...

Don't these pictures tell a tale of a vanished world? (good riddance too). Check out the state of the window by our lady transferring a print to a plate. I don't think Dickens got a window, so I guess it probably represented a general improvement in conditions.



And what a copywriter! Who'd have thunk of dishmaking as involving any "plunging" or "attacking"? Not I, until now.

What a lot of sweat, dirt and labor went into making pretty dishes.

Not That You Asked, But Here's What I Did Today - Check Out the World's Coolest Teapot

Back to the Stowe Rec Path this AM. I know, I know, you've seen one path winding through the woods you've seen 'em all. Move on. Yawn. Sorry, by every time I get there for a walk I am struck again by how beautiful it is and snap, snap, snap. I must photograph it. I'll post these few and then we'll have a moratorium on bike path pictures for a bit.



This charming little edifice is one of the nice little surprises of the path. It's a memorial to somebody. I think I would prefer this to a tombstone for my own self when the time comes.



Onto each beautiful bike path a substation must fall.



Remember what I said about some of the local maple trees rushing into their fall colors? It was true.


It was not a work day for me today but in an uncharacteristic show of effort, I went to the office anyway. Mostly I went in to fill out a time sheet and an expense report but I also checked email and phone messages. Oh, and on the way out of town, it occurred to me that I had just time enough before it was time for my son's dental appointment to stop by my favorite antique store, M. Lewis of Waterbury.

Talk about Aladdin's Cave! "M" stands for Martha and she and I had a nice chat over my purchase of the most beautiful teacup in the world back in April. She wasn't there today; the store is usually manned (resist snide comment here) by her helper. While he was wrapping up my teapot and plate (coming up in just a moment) he told me that Martha's weakness, the one that eventually led her into the antiques trade and this store, was for teacups and teapots. I sensed she was a kindred soul...



This is just one of several tea cup displays in her shop. It's like a kind of pornography for me.



My grandparents had this same bit of needlework on the wall of their dining room for as long as they had a dining room. My mother and her twin sister bought it for them when they were little girls. I am tempted each time I go in the shop to buy it. I always think, well, that's pretty good, isn't it? Is more ambition than that necessary or even desirable? Dime store profundity. Sign me up. Except now that this is out of Woolworth's and in an antique store it costs 35 dollars. I'll make do with the picture...


And, at last, today's purchases. Yes, another plate. Didn't I ask someone to stop me before I bought another plate? Of course, none of you few dear readers was around to stay my grasp. This lovely old "flow brown" platter just called to me and I answered the call. I don't know if there is such a thing as "flow brown" but the blurring of the image makes me think it isn't transfer ware or that it is some particular flowy kind of transfer ware. It has a great horking crack in it to, which accounts for it's thirty dollar price tag (undamaged it would have been a lot more). I got them to knock three dollars off the price in combo with the teapot, which also got a three dollar discount off its 20 dollar price;




et enfin, the teapot. I defy anyone to say that this is not a super cool teapot that could have been owned by Gladys Peto (see the sidebar) or Buck Rogers or someone similarly fabulous and or fictional. It is English, no doubt dating from the 20s and 30s. It is crazed and stained and has a little scrape on the lid, but the shape, oh the shape. Watch out! It may take flight at any moment.



This teapot, maybe with a better picture, is going to have to find a place in the sidebar, it is just that wonderful.

Here, by way of a postscript, is a poor little picture of the Made in Japan bookends I picked up at that other little antique shop I wrote about recently. That place is basically a junk shop without pretensions to being anything else and the prices reflect that sensibility. These were, some of you may recall, 2 dollars.



And last, but not least, this is the book I have been reading, page by page, for the last several weeks. You know how I am about Handsome Books. Isn't this a beauty? It may have more detail about Alfred than we care to know (all those "Ethels", i.e., Ethelbald, Ethelred, Ethelbert, Ethelswith, Ethelthis, Ethelthat); but it is actually very well written by a lady Oxford scholar. It is ex at least two libraries; the Craftsbury Academy Library and the Bolton Public Library. I bought it at the book sale at the Stowe Library, though I don't think it was in their collection. Another 2 dollars well spent.