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Rowan of Leave
Sep. 16th, 2023 10:32 pmWe've spent the last two days rambling around town with Tron, who came to celebrate the Sparrowhawk's birthday. We eschewed the farmers market on Friday morning in favor of getting a few more things done--clean up the refrigerator, put sheets on the other guest bed so she could have her choice, and that kind of thing. She arrived in the early afternoon. We were all hungry and went to the bakery for lunch, and to buy a half-price piglet loaf and some pastries for this morning. After that, we headed over to the funky used book store. The Sparrowhawk had looked on ABE Books for another copy of East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and they said our local used book store had one in stock. Alas, when we got there, we learned that it's not on the shelf, but in their warehouse. But if he sends them an email, they can send him pictures and give him some idea what kind of shape it is in. The reason he wants another one is that ours is very old and he's afraid it will fall apart if read many more times.
From there, we went to visit ArtPrize. Tron found a perfect parking spot, and we ambled through the streets in search of Art. This year is not as exuberant and abundant as it was in its heyday, but still fun to look into various venues and find unexpected wit or beauty. We encountered some UAW strike picketers in front of the Blue Cross headquarters, and Tron took a selfie with their spokesman to send to the Lumberjack, who is a union organizer.
We tired out at just about the right time, and went out for tacos, the Sparrowhawk's choice. When we got home, we watched "The Philadelphia Story," also the Sparrowhawk's choice. This movie is charming, but also curiously disturbing in some respects--but I'll say no more, as Tron does not permit me to say a word against Cary Grant! The dialogue is terrific, and I have quite a lot of it memorized. Some phrases have entered the family lexicon, for instance:
Doubtless, without a doubt.
It was all pretty rooty-tooty!
Let's go in the talking room.
Champagne is a great leveler. It makes you my equal.
This is the Voice of Doom calling, to the seventh son of a seventh son.
The juice of a few flowers . . . .
This morning, I fried some bacon and dished up berries while Tron went out and brought us home some lattes. I put eleventy-one candles (you only need three in a line) in a cinnamon roll, and we sang the birthday song again. We gave Tron a couple of little gifts we'd accumulated since seeing them--a new supply of stickers for Tron, and an amazing pierogi cookbook and a chunk of frozen guanciale to take home to the Lumberjack. We went to the botanical garden for a walk around the wetlands, where we saw lots of turtles, herons, and egrets. And then it was time for her to drive home. She got there ahead of the football traffic, and all is well.
From there, we went to visit ArtPrize. Tron found a perfect parking spot, and we ambled through the streets in search of Art. This year is not as exuberant and abundant as it was in its heyday, but still fun to look into various venues and find unexpected wit or beauty. We encountered some UAW strike picketers in front of the Blue Cross headquarters, and Tron took a selfie with their spokesman to send to the Lumberjack, who is a union organizer.
We tired out at just about the right time, and went out for tacos, the Sparrowhawk's choice. When we got home, we watched "The Philadelphia Story," also the Sparrowhawk's choice. This movie is charming, but also curiously disturbing in some respects--but I'll say no more, as Tron does not permit me to say a word against Cary Grant! The dialogue is terrific, and I have quite a lot of it memorized. Some phrases have entered the family lexicon, for instance:
Doubtless, without a doubt.
It was all pretty rooty-tooty!
Let's go in the talking room.
Champagne is a great leveler. It makes you my equal.
This is the Voice of Doom calling, to the seventh son of a seventh son.
The juice of a few flowers . . . .
This morning, I fried some bacon and dished up berries while Tron went out and brought us home some lattes. I put eleventy-one candles (you only need three in a line) in a cinnamon roll, and we sang the birthday song again. We gave Tron a couple of little gifts we'd accumulated since seeing them--a new supply of stickers for Tron, and an amazing pierogi cookbook and a chunk of frozen guanciale to take home to the Lumberjack. We went to the botanical garden for a walk around the wetlands, where we saw lots of turtles, herons, and egrets. And then it was time for her to drive home. She got there ahead of the football traffic, and all is well.
