Back from Out of Town

When away, the New York City newspapers are bypassed for the local ones. Only those, and of course the Daily Racing Form, are actually paid for and left with. But a well-stocked Cumberland Farms, or Stewarts, will always have all downstate papers ready to be scanned, or purchased. Thus, I didn't miss viewing one single New York Post headline.

Certainly the one, "Break Point..." about the U.S. Open tennis umpire who clunked her husband so sufficiently hard on the head with a coffee mug that she rendered him lifeless caught my eye, and tickled my mind.

Cups and saucers are not found in much use anymore. It's a mug, or a take-out container that delivers the tea or coffee to the lips. But I was confident that if mugs hadn't become so popular the New York Post would have easily been able to claim that the woman killed her husband with a Loving Cup.
Life goes on.

Obituaries. Left town not too long after Gore Vidal had passed away. Then, while away, I saw and read, even locally, that Phyllis Diller had passed away. All we need now is for Joan Rivers to stretch out lifeless and we will have a triumvirate of comedians who appeared on the 'Tonight Show's' couch with Johnny Carson who have now left us. Things come in threes. Even while in surgery, Joan might be found by the Grim Reaper to complete the trifecta. As always, choose your surgeon wisely.

Sa-ra-to-ga, that lovely span of a's is noted for many things, the spring water and spas being some of them. The spring water is potable, but way too nasty tasting for me to consider even brushing my teeth with. It is so full of metal and minerals that I suspect a mouthful of it would cause the Transportation and Safety Board to pull you of of line and examine you further for explosives.

And then there's Poopie's, the East Glens Falls breakfast and lunch place that we will look forward to going back to until we die.  Located in a plain residential part of town, Poopie's has been serving the public well since 1954. There is a Mamma Leone-type picture near the cash register of the owner's decreased mother.

The owner does all the cooking, and the three members of the all female waitstaff hustle the floor and counter so well and so fast you'd think the coffee pots were an extension of their hands. After a few visits it occurred to this customer that they coordinated the color of their tops to be different each day.

After observing this trend it was asked what color would appear the following day. I guessed orange and two of the three said orange would be good. Try and as I might to match, I had already won my two near-orange shirts. Even though the next day I was out of uniform we still got the same speedy service.

On leaving the last day I offered that now given the knowledge that the coffee jockeys appeared in different colors, I would be better prepared next year to match. After the first trip in I would still have enough clean clothes that matching at least once for the rest of the week shouldn't be a problem. I can even do burgundy.

Of course I brought home a sack of dirty laundry. I'm not sure if my wife loves me, or just loves to do laundry. Perhaps both. I always have clean clothes.

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