The Good, the Ugly, and the REALLY Ugly:P

Saturday night, we went out again. This is becoming something resembling Formerly Normal, as tomorrow night we will go out to a friend's art opening.

But this occasion was the release of a couple of poets' "chapbook" collections, and a reading by a third, a friend of both of ours, whose own book will be out soon.  We bought one of them, and made it only to the beginning of JB's reading because "poetry time" was an hour behind the scheduled 7 p.m. start and we hadn't eaten yet. Still, it was a fun stop, partly because of the infinite coolness of the venue: The Story Garage, a vintage furniture store in a mostly industrial part of Buffalo's Black Rock section.

Got lamps? Neil's got shades!

And if you're traveling, he's on the case!



"How much is that Ludwig in the window?" 
"What?!?"



It comes with instructions!



Everything for the fashion-conscious Centurienne!



Plus, all around, just plain weird: a full book of unredeemed S&H green stamps:



A leagueless table hockey game, featuring a Not Original Six set of cities, including New Orleans which has never been in the NHL:



And this loan (possibly with a mortgage?) and payoff letter from a downtown appliance store, confirming that a little old lady paid off her old Norge!





Finally, this tip, which won't work because how can you keep a place like this a secret?



We didn't buy any of it. So many opportunities, though....

Then we got home and ate late, but we had a so-called "extra hour" to enjoy overnight, right?

Bullcookies:P



I've managed to hold them off to almost their daylight-saving feeding time both yesterday and today, but there was no holding back Pepper from an earlier-than-usual trail walk.  Probably because she knew she was meeting a new fren:



This was Ellen's first trip out with us walking Natasha, their new pup. She's still a handful to keep on leash, but she and our pup got along fine:)

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Beautiful day outside that morning, but then we descended into the depths in the afternoon.




On my way home from the trail, a neighbor's Halloween leavings. Somehow I found these scarier than all the 30 foot high animatronic skeletons out there last weekend.  Then we made some mess of our own.

Eddie, our home’s original owner, put up metal kitchen cabinets in the laundry area which were ugly, still reek of ciggies and have long been mostly crapcatchers. Eleanor wants to build space along that wall for stuff I now store in the garage, so the first of the cabinets came down yesterday. Eddie held the thing up with nails that were impossible to get out without power tools. But this one is down, and I think Eleanor got the other one out while I was at work today. The first one's already been dragged out, looking very coffin-like:



And inside, note the hippie dippie Brady Bunch contact paper on the one shelf and the floor tiles on the other:



So that's done.

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For the really ugly, who may also be done, we finally turn to Da Bills.

They were supposed to roll over the Hapless Jaguars yesterday. Our potent offense and stifling defense were no match for a college coach's scrubeenies.

Or so we thought.  I didn't watch, but it was painful to listen to.  They have a defender named Josh Allen, who hit the quadfecta on our golden boy quarterback of the same name, by managing to tackle, sack, intercept and grab a fumble from him all in the same game.

The officiating wasn't any better, though Jacksonville didn't even need their help.  The refs called a penalty on a backup Bills quarterback who didn't even dress for the game, threw more flags on the field than you see during full-dress military colors, and at one point penalized a Bills defender for taunting an opposing player when the opposing player made a good play against us. They kept using that word, taunting; I do not think it means what they think it means.

Now it's on to where Jimmy Hoffa is buried next Sunday.  I'm not holding my breath. Why would I? Jimmy isn't holding his.