Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Remember the Alamo

I love how when I am out of state, my art director slacks off. Howard has posted only one picture on my blog since I left. He is working round the clock on Big Blue. He is making hay while the sun shines.

[Editor's note: Ok. I added a few pictures.]

Rather than jumping out of a window when MKG left town, I decided to rehab this one with a nice view of City Hall

I went down to the "parts department" coal ash pile to see what I could find that may be useful.


I also found this cool milk bottle that says "Buffalo".

I always wear my coal mining headlight when I dig through the "parts department".

The neon sign visible from my workshop is the New Era Cap entrance.

I hastily mix home-made historic paint formula as the Dulski's can be seen making progress on their project across the street. Mrs. Dulski must be out of town too.


The finished sashes. The white-wall effect is my home-brew glazing compound made from chalk power, mineral oil, and boiled linseed oil. The wooden sashes are sealed in linseed oil.


The finished window. Who will get all of their glass up first?

Now we can keep an eye on City Hall.

Jackie Jocko took this picture of me at the after-party.

Well, Howard, heads up, because as of tonight, the Wife is back.

In a couple of minutes I have to go return my rental car. My company this time around was Alamo. I forgot to book my car until the last minute before I left, and to my horror, my old standby -- Enterprise -- was all out of vehicles. How insulting! After Enterprise had sent me my Preferred Customer card and everything! So I wound up going with Alamo. I will never do that again.

One thing I get a kick out of about Enterprise is that their employees are all about 20 years old and very chirpy. The guys, too, I am talking about. They walk you around the lot and let you choose your car. That kills me. If you don't like one, fine, they give you another. Meanwhile they chat with you, asking what you're doing here, where you are heading. The employees at the airport Enterprise location have heard a lot about Leonard Pennario, believe me. They let me talk about him, which I love.

I will never forget the first time I went to the San Diego airport Enterprise, which was on Halloween last year. All the attendants were in costume and I was walked around the lot by a cute pirate. Seeing that I had not slept in 48 hours this seemed perfectly natural to me. I was here to spend three months with a brilliant, complicated piano virtuoso I had only just met, why wouldn't I be welcomed by a pirate? We chose my car and the pirate handed over the keys and chatted with me about what I would be doing in the San Diego area. Then the pirate gave me a map. Then -- this is the part that's really memorable -- he gave me specific directions to a nude beach he said was really cool. Wow, I thought happily as I drove away in my fog. I have been here what, an hour? And already a pirate has given me directions to a nude beach.

Every time I go that Enterprise I remember that day affectionately.

But this time around, no Enterprise! And Alamo, what a dump. Everyone was mean to me. First they wouldn't take my Entertainment coupons, which Enterprise accepts without question. Next they offered me no opportunity to talk about Leonard Pennario. Then to top things off I didn't like the car. I had shelled out for a full-size car, which Howard insists on for my safety. This is life with a neurotic Jewish husband. And when I got out to the car -- and Alamo didn't even send anyone with me, booooo -- it was this cheesy little Volvo. What would I be doing in this Volvo? What did they think I was, some kind of liberal? Plus it had only half a tank of gas. And when I turned the key, a sign flashed saying, "Needs Routine Maintenance."

I stalked back into the office. I began bitching like the New Yorker I am. In situations like this Buffalonians have every right to call ourselves New Yorkers. We are from New York State. We can use that term and we can live up to it, too. The upshot of the prolonged fight that resulted was that I got this .... this ... Avalon, is it? All I know is it's a dark red. A monsignor car, to quote one of my friends. And it's full-sized, at least it seems to be. It is not some recyclable little piece of trash like that first number they tried to hand me.

It is an adventure, traveling!

Now it's time to pack up the laptop.



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