Yes AI, that is exactly how ice cream is stored at an ice cream social, nailed it
Took Birch to the vet today for the heart worm test, and have the dog-doc take a look at his gammy leg. He’s been favoring it for a while, and his gait is noticeably off. He will run like mad after mailmen and rabbits; he’s always up for a walk. But it’s there. As usual, he was excited to go in the car, all wags and sniffs when we got out, eager to head to the door, and then . . . oh. Right. This place.
Best as the vet could tell, there’s a small infection in the paw pad. We could either apply a salve, which he would lick off, or soak his paw in a solution for five minutes, which he would no doubt refuse to do. Since he’s started nipping anyone who tries to cut his nails (bad experience at the groomer’s; I think they clipped the quick) we discussed having him put out for a while. Seems extreme, but they could clean his teeth at the same time. Our intermediary step, though, will be mild home sedatives. I am at present waiting for them to kick in so we can try the solution.
Hydrochloride ? You’re soaking in it!
A commercial that baffled me as a kid, because I didn’t know why women soaked their fingers. It was just one of those mysterious things Moms did when they went to the Beauty Salon. I think there was one at Northport Shopping Center by our house. I remember the big conical driers. Or at least I think I do.
I can name all the other stores: Super Valu, then the Carousel (nice gifts), then Johnson Drug, owned by Mr. Johnson who lived across the street, then the hardware store, Three Sisters (women’s clothes, a chain), then the great bounty and boon of Ben Franklin, where you could buy a record, pants, a toy, school supplies, and a parakeet. The pet department was in the back, on the left, and the smell of the turtle tanks and fish suffused the whole store.
For years that was all there was of Northport, but another wing was added at a perpendicular angle.
Not lighting up the retail scoreboard at the moment
On the left was the home of Northport Clothiers, where I went for a funeral suit and church shoes. Then, I think, the Beauty Salon. A barber’s at the end, and then a Texaco station to whom my dad sold TBA. (Tires, Batteries, and Accessories.)
You can tell it was a Texaco:
There’s an old Texaco in my neighborhood. It’s been a dentist’s office as long as I’ve lived here. They’re remodeling now and removing all the Faux Stone. How many still remain? No idea. It would take a lot of time to find out. You’d have to get a list of all the Texaco stations circa, say 1972, and use the Google. Could be done.
They’re called “Matawan-Style.” Why? Because Matawan, New Jersey was the location of the first one built in this distinctive design, in 1964. And now I’m wondering why I never went looking for it. Does it still exist?
Using newspapers.com, I found this:
That gave me the address. Today you’ll find this ugly thing.
But if you roll back to 2013 . . .
That could be it. There's arguments for and arguments again. And it's also irrelevant, because it's gone.
This was on a phone post.
No explanation.
But there is one.
The Time Trail is a set of codes and puzzles placed along the National Cycle Network (NCN), the national cycling route network of the United Kingdom. The NCN was established to encourage cycling throughout Britain. It was created by the charity Sustrans who were aided by a £42.5 million National Lottery grant.
The puzzle consists of a set of coded disks placed on one thousand “Millennium Mileposts” made from cast iron. These were funded by the Royal Bank of Scotland to mark the creation of the National Cycle Network, and are distributed along the NCN routes throughout the UK. They’re designed to mark the way rather like mediaeval stone crosses. There are 50 or so unique disks, and copies are placed in every region of the network.
But what does this mean?
Each disc contains a design that can be copied by making a pencil and paper rubbing to help you record your journey. There are over 60 different designs repeated around the Network divided into five sets. Each set of designs joins up like a three dimensional sculpture jigsaw to illustrate different aspects of Time. The five sets lead to a very rare 6 set - a final mystery to be solved and Treasure to be discovered.
The one you see above is attached to a ""Cockeral" type milepost, and it does not appear on Google Street View. But it does show up in a video I shot. The Green-and-Gold thing.
Now it gets peculiar. First of all, the lettering is in the Utopian, invented by Sir Thomas More. Someone decoded and compiled the information and found a poem in the symbols, with the first letter of every line spelling "Milennium."
The last two lines:
EVERY GAINED UTOPIAN GOAL MAKES US MANIFOLD TIME’S TREASURE
MAPPED OUT, AS ABOVE SO BELOW, NERGAL TICKS OFF TIME’S MEASURE
Nergal?
Nergal was a Mesopotamian god worshiped through all periods of Mesopotamian history, from Early Dynastic to Neo-Babylonian times. He was primarily associated with war, death, and disease, and has been described as the "god of inflicted death".
To be fair:
Nergal also had a large number of other names and epithets, according to Frans Wiggermann comparable only to a handful of other very popular deities, with around 50 known from the Old Babylonian period, and about twice as many from the later god list An = Anum, including many compounds with the word lugal, "lord".
For instance, he could be referred to as "Lugal-silimma", lord of peace. A few of Nergal's titles point at occasional association with vegetation and agriculture, namely, "lord (of the) poplar"; "Lord (of the) date palm"; "Lord (of the) tamarisk"; "Lord (of the) dates"
So he could be doing his Agriculture Dude routine in the poem. But I don't think so.
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