It's Fridge Emptying Time in Chez Barbara the location of this picture. Everything has to go out by the end of the week. This has been policy for a long time: last Friday of the month, everything must go. But this wasn't Friday. I guess it had been moved up. A Slack message was no doubt sent. I'm not a habitual Slack-checker.
Let's say there hasn't been a lot of stuff in the fridge for the last few years. But! There's a ton of stuff now. Frozen entrees, cake mixes, frozen soups, all heaped in the trash. Because people started coming in!
Annnd then they stopped.
There was one very nice Tupperware container in danger of getting binned, as the Brits say, so I removed it to clean it and set it aside. The owner might claim it. I wouldn't, because it's non-standard. I bought a group of fridge storage containers, and no others are allowed. Wow, what a control freak! Do you make everyone stand in the corner if they re-use a container that had, say, pico de gallo?
No. All such containers are sent to the storage room, where they will be used to give to guests who take leftovers. The reason I don't have a variety of leftover containers has to do with the lid issue: if you have three different types of containers, then you have three different types of lids. You can, of course, stack or otherwise arrange them by type, but this will last no more than two days. If you have one type of container, you will always have immediate access to the appropriate lid.
I am not wrong about any of this.
That said, I hope no one picks it up, because it's a nice one.
But how long can it sit in the public area before it's abandoned?
I thought I should wash it out and put it in the dish rack. Upon opening it I realized that the person who put it in the fridge did so on the first of the month, and perhaps has moved, quit, or died, and the salad in the container had embarked on an emotional journey of simpathetic putrefication, because Oh Gosh, look at that, the paint is peeling
This all happened after my own lunch, so the loss of appetite wasn't a big deal.
Well, I've more, but I'll save it for tomorrow, because I have, oh, six pieces due this week. Best get to it.
How do we get from this colorized nightmare . . .
To there?
A study of old newspaper movie ads always ends up with a startling realization: you don’t know half the movies the big stars made. You think you do, but there’s always something else with Bing or Bert or whoever, some big show they shoved out the door. And then there’s the couple-dozen other smaller films milling around on the page, waving their little arms to get your attention. And then there’s the movies that don’t get much of an ad at all - maybe one line in a small ad for a nabe.
Sometimes you have to rely on the reviews. This lady did not like this youth pic. Not, she did not like it at all.
Leave us gander upon these chickens and wolves, and see what anti-social incomprehensible social customs they are observing.
This hep jive really sends them!
Anyway. Back to the ads. The big papers also had plenty of ads for plays, each of which was a world unto itself.
The Overtons sounds like some hard-boiled thing, no? It was a "sex comedy," a fast-paced domestic romp where the wife thinks the husband was pitching whoopie at the worldly career gal who had come to stay for a weekend, or something. It was regarded as a retread of retreads.
The Tempest is what you think it is - but it was notable for casting a "Negro" as Caliban. Kiss Them for Me was reviewed as "More phony than funny." It had Judy Holliday as "a patriotic bimbo."
As for Seven Lively Arts, it seems to have been a critic-proof Billy Rose-produced musical.
Near the bottom of one of the pages, this small note:
That's the fellow you saw above at the start of the entry. A C-level Lord Haw-Haw. Rather pathetic fellow and a rather pathetic story. But it ends with this unsettling note:
No-one seems to know or care what happened to Gerald Percy Hewitt after he vanished into the British prison system.
There's a story. There's a play. There's the tale we'll never know.
We’re back in Springdale, the town that spiffed up its buildings quite nicely. More of the same?
The theater:
Cinematreasures said it ended its days as an X-rated house. Originally, a red-brick front. Now it’s a wedding venue.
A photo of the facade while it was being renovated gives no hints of what it would turn into.
Ah: I came here because of a motel. Here it is in 2019:
Alas. 2021.
The Chamber of Commerce, but . . .
. . . do you suspect it was something else, before? It has the cast of a post office.
That’s as good as you can expect. A round of applause for the caretakers of this one.
Hmm. Interesting windows; usually don’t see that arrangement in buildings of this era. It’s possible it was quite common, and we’re just not used to seeing it.
Again: nice!
And you have to love the teeeeeny tiny hat on top.
The International Style comes to small-town America. This part is clean, if a bit busy.
The other end of the building shows it’s in the early baroque stage of Modernism, with ornamentation that serves no purpose except to establish its contemporary bona fides.
Down the street, there’s . . . a place
Later, it was renovated and was also . . . a place
There it is: massive Buckaroo Revival overhang, bringing in that Hee Haw demo.
And then, in the Springdale way to which we have become accustomed:
A simple restoration.
Well, I wonder how they spiffed this one up.
Can't win them all.
Really, google? I don’t think so. On the contrary!
