Just an old sign I liked. In New Richmond, Wisconsin.
Showing posts with label bowling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bowling. Show all posts
If you're traveling in the north country...
... where Highway 63 meets Route 2... there is a café... Casablanca Traders...
... where the nice lady kept the place open for an extra 15 minutes so that Meade could have a smoothie and I could have a peppermint tea with a shot of internet. We were the only customers, and Meade said you must do very well in wintertime, and she said that's what she, a transplanted San Diegan, thought when she moved up here and opened the place. But the truth is, no one comes in the winter. The customers come on the sunny warm days (which are few, up north).
In winter, where does everyone go? Don't they want to be somewhere cozy? We drove quite a ways in the Chequamegon Forest. And what we saw were bars, bars, bars. Bars and bowling alleys. The culture up north isn't so much about coffee and WiFi. It's more about beer and bowling. That was my observation, as I drove by....
... with my vision admittedly blurred... by speed, not beer. I was on peppermint tea...
... and to-go chocolate cake, leftover from lunch.
... where the nice lady kept the place open for an extra 15 minutes so that Meade could have a smoothie and I could have a peppermint tea with a shot of internet. We were the only customers, and Meade said you must do very well in wintertime, and she said that's what she, a transplanted San Diegan, thought when she moved up here and opened the place. But the truth is, no one comes in the winter. The customers come on the sunny warm days (which are few, up north).
In winter, where does everyone go? Don't they want to be somewhere cozy? We drove quite a ways in the Chequamegon Forest. And what we saw were bars, bars, bars. Bars and bowling alleys. The culture up north isn't so much about coffee and WiFi. It's more about beer and bowling. That was my observation, as I drove by....
... with my vision admittedly blurred... by speed, not beer. I was on peppermint tea...
... and to-go chocolate cake, leftover from lunch.
"I can't seem to get a strike to save my soul..."
"... but, fortunately, the salvation of my soul doesn't depend on my getting a strike."
Recognize the artist?
Recognize the artist?
What if hippies had money... and good taste?
A photo-walk around Madison's East Side got me thinking. There's a hippie aesthetic, but it's not well-developed enough, and there isn't enough money to run with it, which could be a disaster if there isn't good taste — and it's hard to have good taste and hippie taste at the same time.
But when it all comes together, it's really cool:
Wouldn't it be fabulous if, taking this house as the exemplar...
...the whole neighborhood could bloom with hippie aesthetic?
(I have no idea whether the people who did this to their house are actually hippies or how they would verbalize their aesthetic, but whoever they are, I salute them.)
But when it all comes together, it's really cool:
Wouldn't it be fabulous if, taking this house as the exemplar...
...the whole neighborhood could bloom with hippie aesthetic?
(I have no idea whether the people who did this to their house are actually hippies or how they would verbalize their aesthetic, but whoever they are, I salute them.)
I'm now set free...
... by Henry.
Whew! It was getting hard to breathe.
UPDATE: Via Twitter:
Whew! It was getting hard to breathe.
UPDATE: Via Twitter:
You could do eight posts and then go bowling. Because that would be Henry the eight and Ann Bowlin'. Don't lose your head!
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