Again, No Politics

It was a cloudy day here in wee Bristol by the Bay. Had a few errands to run, saw a few things which struck my fancy. Didn't have the Canon so I had to use the cell phone camera. The Galaxy takes some pretty good pics, I am pleased with it.

In that first photo we see Hope Street. 'Tis here where the oldest Fourth of July parade in the United States takes place. (You can look that up!) If you look real close you might notice that the center line on this street is painted red, white and blue. It is hard to see, if you can't quite make it out, blame the photographer. But trust me, 'tis true.

To the right is the Post Office. Nice folks in there. However, the point of the photo, what caught my eye after posting a few bills (yes, I still use snail mail, I don't like paying bills on line, I'd prefer that the postal service folks keep their jobs) was that little tree with the golden leaves. Looks right pretty it does, I thought Old Glory snapping in the breeze was a nice touch. (Next time I bring the Canon. Gotta remember to trot out the big gun!)

An odd thing about Bristol is that we don't have a "Main" Street. We have Hope Street, which is the main street running through town, the folks back in the day named it that. No Main Street but we do have a High Street, which is the next street up to the left of Hope, heading south. It parallels Hope Street.

Uh, and my point is? In England the main street through a town was called the High Street, if I recollect correctly. I remember that because in some German villages the main street is called die Hochstraße, the High Street. Perhaps only I find that interesting but I figured I would share that with you today.

It's what I do, I share. (Stop laughing Nuke.)

Another Bristol thing is that the street running along the harbor is called Thames Street. But we don't pronounce it as they do in Britain. That "th" is pronounced like the "th" in "the" and not as "t" in "time" which is how our English cousins pronounce it.

Of course, it was, at one time, pronounced the same as in Britain. Then the Royal Navy shelled the town back in the '70s (the 1770s.) Angered a few people I guess, rather than change the signs, maps and so forth, they just pronounced it differently after the war. Cheaper that way. 'Tis a frugal folk we New Englanders are.

Bristol also has a few pieces of naval artillery kicking around. This one is next to a ball field which is older than me, dedicated in '52 I think it was. There are two more guns in front of the Veterans' Home and another down by the harbor. No, I don't think it's because the Royal Navy might come back to shell the town. They are our friends now. I hope they remain that way in spite of that putz in the White House. And his damn friends. (Sorry, I slipped into politics there. I just don't care for the man. Or his associates.)

So what was on the agenda today, errand-wise? I needed to mail those bills I mentioned before, I needed to stop by the grocery store and I needed to get a haircut. The picture of the ordnance was taken on the route from the Post Office to the store. (Okay, not the route, as there is more than one, but it was the route I took on Saturday.)

When I got to the store, I saw this.

Pretty golden leaves in a patch of forest which has pretty much divested itself of leaves. If you look close, you can see a squirrel's nest. No, I didn't see any squirrels, otherwise I might still be out there watching them.

At the store I bought the after-church snacks for, well of course, church on Sunday. It's our turn to do that. The Missus Herself made brownies. I love it when she does that. No, I don't get to quality check them the day before. More's the pity.

Funny story. Sort of. Last week, while sitting in church, by my lonesome (The Missus Herself was home in bed nursing a very nasty case of the Central Valley crud, a disease endemic to the Lemoore area, or so I'm told), when I get a text message from The WSO.

Now I don't ordinarily answer the phone in church, it is set to vibrate though and not ring. Of course, The Missus Herself says, "Why don't you just turn it off?" I answer that it's in case the kids call. Different time zones ya know, sometimes they forget.

Anyhoo. The WSO sends me a text asking for her grandmother's address (no, I don't know why she doesn't have that stored somewhere). Surreptitiously, I provide the information but indicate that I'm not positive about the zip code, suggesting she look it up. This exchange followed...

I did point out that Mom was at home and not in violation of the "no texting in church" commandment. Okay, that's not a commandment, just a guideline, a "good thing to avoid." Though I'm sure that if they had had cell phones back in Moses' day there would have been a lot of cell phone rules in Deuteronomy.

Anyhoo. How'd the haircut go, I'm sure you're all keen to know. Well, it was quick, I like quick in the haircut department. The last one I had took forever, I think the lady was cutting each individual hair after carefully considering its position and length in relation to all the other hairs on my head (which on top are quite few and far between, the top of my head being what Mal Reynolds might call "shiny"), at any rate, she took forever.

The lady who cut my hair Saturday was brisk and efficient. She asked me how I wanted it and I said short on the back and sides and do whatever you can about the top.

I was stunned when she didn't say, "The top? I'm a barber, not a magician." I would have.

Anyhoo, it looks okay. YMMV.

Yes, I know, I need a shave.