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famous enough
Saturday, July 18 2009
Early this morning Penny and David picked me up and we went yard saling in the greater Woodstock area. Yesterday's rain had been replaced with clear blue skies, perfect conditions for both yard saler and yard salee alike. I didn't have much of an appetite by the time we made it to Bread Alone, our normal yard saling pitstop, so I just ordered a lemon poppyseed muffin and a cup of coffee. The former was a little stale and the latter, well, I always forget how surprisingly bad Bread Alone coffee is. Behind us in line was the ubiquitous Anδy Glιck, the professional vegan who is unavoidable in Woodstock night life. Then again, Anδy Glιck has at least one dopplegänger, making it possible for "him" to be in two places at once.
We ate our food out in Bread Alone's little outdoor eating area, which might be a new thing. Penny kept saying that I had to be pretty comfortable with my masculinity to be seen eating a muffin in public, to which I dredged up a series of Ærosmith lyrics:
Backstroke lover always hidin' 'neath the covers
Till I talked to your daddy, he say
He said "you ain't seen nothin' till you're down on a muffin
Then you're sure to be a-changin' your ways"
I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder
Oh, the times I could reminisce...
(this muffin reference doesn't seem all that gay.)
We hit an especially dreary "estate sale" off Tannery Brook, where musty-smelling rooms full of worthless porcelain knick knacks were on display and there were old ladies with desks and cash boxes stationed at each door. "Good luck!" a woman had shouted at us as we'd gone in, and now we could tell this had been sarcastic.
The best yard sales are out in the country on side roads and held in large shaded grassy fields. One such yard sale was on Sickler Road near Lakehill and featured (as Penny and David quickly recognized) the kind of upscale schwag that accumulates in the possession of someone working in publishing. There wasn't anything for me (and, indeed, I didn't end up buying anything today), but Penny found some great clothes and David got a chance to turn on the youngish woman running the sale, who was a writer, to his web syndication site.
For some reason we drove all the way out to Phoenecia before doubling back and heading east on 28A (along the south shore of the Ashokan Reservoir). Along the way we encountered an obviously-lost large yellow dog walking along the road. We tried to catch him so we could perhaps find his people or get him a good home, but he wanted nothing to do with us, slipping through a fence into DEP property. At least this got him away from the road and its light 35 mph traffic.
As we drove, we were talking about Wikipedia, and David happened to mention that he has a Wikipedia entry. That's actually kind of impressive; you have to meet a certain standard of fame for Jimmy Wales and the boys to let your entry stand. Later we were talking about the idea of unfamous people sleeping with famous people just because they're famous and I mentioned that Gretchen is a total fame whore, and I wondered jokingly (mostly to myself) whether, with his Wikipedia entry, David is famous enough.
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