Trad Week Random Review

All in my world will in a few more days, be right again. Even though I’m not with LFG every day of every week, it’s comforting to know that she’s twenty minutes away. But this week she remains at Ponte Vedra with friends and I’ve had no live phone time with her. So I’ve been slightly off center this week, awaiting her return.

Then I get this email on Tuesday early evening. The paucity of words seem inversely proportionate to the way this little missive made me feel. LFG is just now entering the email realm and this was kinda like manna for me. I now know what parents mean when they talk about the comfort they feel when a child taps in with them via text or email.

From: L___ G____[mailto:___@gmail.com] Sent: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 6:31 PM To: D___G____ Subject: hey

i miss you

I miss you too my little Monkey and can’t wait to see you. 

Now I don’t remember squat about Kindergarten. It remains a cannabis hazed foggy recollection for the most part. But I do remember the day we smushed our little hands in plaster. Being the capricious little fella that I was, I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t take it home to my mom the same day we did the smushing. A couple of days later, I gifted the little plaster-hand to my mom. A few years ago she gifted it back to me. Now it shares space with LFG’s hand.

LFG is growing up and I’m fighting it every step of the way. She’s a gift of immeasurable value and I love the little woman that she’s becoming. But in no way will I refrain from pouting about and lamenting the fact that she’s not that cuddly little thing anymore. Shut up.

Ok, on to a pile of random drivel…..

Someone emailed me and asked about the “rugs outside”. Here’s the deal…yes they remain outside year ‘round. They are old and in no way valuable. Only in rare instances will rain or snow make its way to these old rags but sunshine does routinely. So they are dirty and patinated and faded and gnarly…just like me.

I have two old rugs that I bought at a neighbor’s yard sale when I was about twenty five years old. They aren’t valuable either but they have sentimental value. They’ve travelled with me to various destinations and have accommodated my treading them during times prosperous and times painful. This old Bokhara greets you at one door.

And if you’re one of the lucky, this Pakistani (I think) prayer rug will greet your feet in the ADG bedchamber. It accommodated for a few years, the predictable patter of little LFG feet as she climbed in my bed at around three each morning.

Ok, a thanks is in order…and long overdue actually. MegTown from PigTown Design sent us a neat little string of flags to announce to the world that cocktails were served on the ADG veranda. She also sent me a Titanic-Iceberg ice tray. She knows my sense of humour. Thanks again for the flags Meg. At first glance they look like a bikini top for a dairy cow. Shut up.

Ok, let’s talk cars for a moment. I didn’t get to attend the Concours at Pebble Beach but I was the grateful recipient of consolation gifts. A program and a baseball hat arrived in solace.

I’m gonna be off on these numbers a little bit. However, twelve is an exact number and that’s the number of the Jaguar racing XKs assembled at Pebble Beach last week. This will probably never occur again in my lifetime…due mainly to the fact that less than twenty of these works of God remain in the world today. Damn.

I don’t collect cars…other than little replica ones…but I do collect other things. And I share with you evidence that lets one know they have too much stuff. I was thumbing through Forty Years of Spy…the autobiography of Sir Leslie Ward… “Spy” of Vanity Fair fame. I’ve long since read it cover to cover but refer back to it from time to time. It’s a must for any serious Vanity Fair caricature collector.

I’m looking at the above illustration in Ward’s book and thinking…“I’ve seen that watercolour somewhere before…damn it looks familiar!” So I think a little more and then traipse down the hall.

I own the original watercolour sketch by Ward and I didn’t even remember it. I suppose that happens to Ralph and his cars from time to time or Steve Wynn and one of his Picassos.

I finally got around to framing my Richard Merkin New Yorker covers. Expensive green-deco frames consistent with Merkin’s pop-art-ish covers. Michaels craft store and a can of spray paint…thirty bucks total. 

Wouldn't be a random trad post without a Belgian shoe comment. It’s about time to send these back for their rubbers. I’ll do a post later next week explaining the process.

I did give the Belgians a break one day this past week. Ralph cordo tassels filled in.

Thoughts on these?

And help me out on this one please. Dry vermouth…I haven’t had to buy a bottle in ten years. I like ‘em dry over here. When did Martini & Rossi change their bottle? I much preferred the traditional label. No worries…I bought Noilly Prat anyway.

I like them dry and I enjoy a traditional martini glass. And…I’m completely hooked on olives stuffed with jalapeno pepper shards. I’m going through a jar a week. Spare a liver anyone?

I don’t like even well-made martinis in some kind of aberrant glass. It negatively influences the taste.

And margaritas in martini glasses confuse me as well. Kinda like that dairy-cow bikini top.

Let me close this drivel out with a remark about the stuffiness of shirt collars…pinned or not. Sometimes it’s nice to just throw on an old Sero button down and a knit tie. Classic…classic…classic.

Onward.

ADG

Oh and Ps … it may not be cold enough to swath yourself to this degree just yet. However, it’s time to store the seersucker and madras. One more week and the linen stuff has to go as well. I don’t like the transitional months.