“Oceanic, that’s it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My wife asked me about the full name of the seafood place over in East Hartford – it’s Mickey’s Oceanic.”
“I don’t like it when you guys come in here talking about other restaurants.”
“Don’t mind my young friend, Cheryl, he’s having a senior moment. Besides, Mickey’s doesn’t have a liquor license.”
“Well we do, but you guys aren’t taking advantage of it.”
“I’ll have a glass of red wine, Cheryl.”
“Yo, Dan. Yuengling? Brooklyn, Corona?”
“Just a sec’ Cheryl, I have to text my wife.”
“OooKay – Brooklyn, it is.”
“So, how come you didn’t mention the Woodworking Show last week?”
“I hadn’t gone yet, we actually didn’t go until Sunday.”
“Oh, so that’s why I had to find out about it by reading your blog.”
“Here’s your beer, and here’s your wine.”
“…your seltzer and a glass…
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As we tour downtown in Glens Falls, New York in the Southeastern Adirondacks, we come across the Chapman House. This is part of the Historical Museum and resides in a classic house in Glens Falls that originally belonged to Zopher DeLong. It houses many historical exhibits and rotating exhibits of local history. This is a view of the external of the house:
It was a matter of time before I wrote a transport post, and I’m sure there will be more to come. But here are some initial observations on how people get around over here, and how the experience differs from back home.
Trains in and around Sydney are operated, by the imaginatively-named Sydney Trains, a division of Transport for New South Wales. Most transport in Australia is controlled at the state level and the modus operandi varies – for example both the trains and trams in Melbourne are privately run on a franchised basis similar to in the UK. But enough of that – I’m just getting my work brain going after my first week!
The Sydney rail network isn’t nearly as wide as the London tube or suburban rail (it has 178 stations) due, I’m sure, to much lower population density. A lot of investment has recently been…
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“Slippery, sliding icicles
never slowing down,
always pinging windshields.
Teeny, tiny pellets freezing dots
upon clear glass landscape
crackling ears; yet not loud.
Just pings ~
(written 1/12/18 in pleasant
reaction to wet, snowy sleet)