Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Tulsa (Page 80 of 139)

In the Raw is cooking!

Cookin’ up a construction storm, that is…

Someday soon, you’ll be eating sushi where this dirt is. And when I say, “You’ll be eating sushi,” that is to say “I won’t be, but maybe I’ll watch you enjoy your meal.”

Nothing against the dish and certainly no ill-will toward In The Raw, which will be serving dinners to the public from the location in the accompanying image. I just don’t think I’m ready for raw fish. Oh, sure. A raw fish is fine when it’s dangling from your fishing hook and a raw fish is dandy just before it goes into the skillet.

I just need that cooking process to come between the raw portion of the meal – and my mouth.

They’ve made some progress in downtown Broken Arrow, although it is low to the ground. In the ground, actually. The foundation for their new building is set, and I’m sure things will be rising quickly from that solid planting.

It would be great if they could get their facility up and the restaurant readied by the time the Rose District project is completed. According to the paper this morning, that should be late October-early November, depending on what project is being discussed. They hope to have it all in place before the holiday shopping season rolls around.

In the meantime, those of us already in our buildings are trying to keep from wringing our hands and worrying. I’m not complaining about any of it, because it does no good fussing over it and – I’ve learned – time seems to be flying right along. I’ll turn around a couple of times and the whole thing will be finished.

The second image shows where the brick planters are nearing completion on the east side of Main, south of Commercial Street. (You can click it for a larger view…) I trotted down the block to snap a shot before the sun dropped below the edge of the rooftops. Workers were rolling up the bright orange construction fencing, but I couldn’t tell if they were removing it or simply relocating it.

As with any big remodel, the sidewalk supervisors among us have a variety of opinions. I believe about half of the folks mention that “it seems to be taking forever,” while the others are marveling at how “fast they are moving along.” Probably it is somewhere right in between those observations.

Here is a news flash: The images are courtesy of my just arrived replacement cell phone. Purchased on eBay: $20… Bluetooth photo transfer: Priceless.

The phone is the same model as the one I washed in the laundry. It felt comfortable in my hand as soon as I removed it from the mailer. In fact, it proved to be pretty painless to get the phone transferred to my phone number. Sent a text message already. Got one back. Checked the alarm function and camera. Battery recharging just fine.

This little beauty does it all – all except make a call.

The telephone function appears to be crippled unfortunately, and in the case of a phone that is something of a disappointment. Early diagnosis? The built-in speaker is kaput. No ringtones, no music, no internet-provided audio. No hear-y when people speak-y.

Other than that, I love it.

I’m going to try an earbud to see if it will pass along sound that way.

If not, my texting skills are bound to improve in a hurry.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK!

Gummed up, by Gum…

Remember getting your driver’s license? The test? That first driver’s license photograph? As noted here previously, times change.

I read somewhere that teenagers don’t aspire to drive cars like they used to. Don’t remember what the percentages were, but in my own case, I counted the days until the Big Sixteenth, which meant I could get my license.

In fact, I wanted to drive so badly that I did it anyway, with a secretly acquired key to that big-finned black Chevrolet. That was so long ago that my first driver’s license didn’t have my picture on it. They were made out of some kind of fuzzy thick paper that allowed for the easy changing of the year of birth. Not that I know anything about that. Can’t do it anymore, in this day and age, when things are different.

According to the item, the cost of gasoline was cited as one reason why an increasing number of teens are disinclined to become drivers. Lack of a car was another. Some just had a general malaise about the whole idea of getting behind the wheel.

It seemed like everyone wanted to drive when I was young. You’d dream about the car, and pick out a radio – or stereo, if you could afford one. You might sit out in the car after dinner, just listening to music and maybe wiping the dashboard down in case a speck of dust might have settled there.

Don’t think I was fanatical, really. But my friends joked that I changed jobs the way they changed cars and I kept cars like I was expecting a gold watch when I retired from my driving career. I’ve had the Firebird over a decade.

Just spent half an hour and nearly ten bucks trying to high-pressure wash the black dots of tree sap from the red paint. Sweetgum tree. Not so sweet to park under. Honestly, I should have done the wash-off a couple of weekends ago, but didn’t. Now, it’s baked on. My pants legs are soaked and my shoes are squishy with water from the overspray at the car wash. Still wouldn’t come clean. At least it was a nice evening for a washjob, especially considering the time of year. In fact, there was a nice cooling breeze as I blasted the water around and I was surprised to see a hot air balloon drifting over BA as I drove to the auto parts store.

O’Reilly’s has an aerosol-spray bug and tar cleaner – on sale, thankfully – which also promised to remove tree sap, that I grabbed for another go at it tomorrow.

Who’d a thought? When I visit the shopping centers, I park the car at the far end of the north forty so I don’t get a door ding, and then all but ruin the paint by leaving it under the tree beside the driveway.

Back in the day (which means about a lifetime ago) I used to enjoy washing the car. Not an everyday kind of thing, but more of a non-chore that needed to be done somewhat regularly. Back then it was inside and out. Today? Not so much. There are lots of things I’d rather be doing with my time.

But – by gum – I’ll be washing again tomorrow. By sweetgum, that is.

The street should be reopened by Monday, and all the dinosaur-looking yellow machines should be parked somewhere besides right in front of the shop door… so – Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Nyuk Nyuk. A funny thing happened…

Humor.

It’s a funny thing. And I mean that literally, but not completely. That’s because what one person sees as a real knee-slapper another person might find annoying.

Keystone cops. Three Stooges. Legends. Sure, but I don’t think I ever laughed once. Slapstick just isn’t my thing. I hear people laughing (probably pre-taped and added in post-production) on the Funny Home Videos show, but I usually just cringe. I feel horrible for those people who tumble off the stage, ride their skateboards into the sides of parked cars, or slide down the snow-covered hill into a crotch-killing signpost.

Why don’t I see the humor in that?

Same reason a comedian named Steven Wright bombed in Tulsa years ago. I’d seen him on the Tonight Show and laughed out loud. Rare stuff for me. He followed a manic, frantic, prop-using funnyman on stage. Steven Wright’s brand of humor was a little more cerebral. Not brainiac stuff, really. But his droll delivery combined with his off-the-wall observations worked for me. When I saw him, he looked just like he does in the accompanying image.

Example (delivered in a deadpan, straight-face): Went home last night. Accidentally put my car key in the door lock. Turned it and the house started. So… I took it for a drive around the block.

The club was called Jokers. I was one of the only ones in the audience that night that laughed out loud. A few minutes after his set, I glanced to the side and saw Mr. Wright standing next to me. I apologized for the crowd, and admitted that I thought he was hilarious. He thanked me for the support. He had heard my laugh in the otherwise private-conversation-invested audience.

The humor-spectrum is the reason that so many different types of comedians can find success. There are that many people who find the various routines hilarious.

Tonight, I laughed out loud. The television is on in the office while I do some bookwork. (Book store, bookwork: get it? Yuk-yuk-yuk! Puns… the humor genre universally considered unfunny.) The CBS program Elementary is showing and Sherlock Holmes (I can only watch television based on literary fiction. –Joking) responded to a question posed by his assistant Watson.

Holmes, describing a remodeled wall in a home: …and the decomposing body caused a concave bulge in the wallboard.

Watson: You’re sure his body was hidden behind the wall?

Holmes, looking hesitant: Pretty sure.

The camera jumps to the interior of the house, where a gaping hole has been punched in the sheetrock and a body-shaped black-plastic-wrapped package is clearly visible. And it’s clear that the answer Holmes gave was purposely-driven, perfectly-timed:

Understatement.

I laughed out loud.

Realized immediately, that – just like the Steven Wright portion of that night at the comedy club – I was probably not in the majority in enjoying that humor.

So, I’m sitting here thinking: It’s funny how humor is so funny. And its just as funny how some humor is not-so-funny.

Some serious thoughts, there.

Makes me laugh.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK!

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