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We no longer have 12 chairs! (See yesterday's post.) We pawned off 6 of them (the ones to the matching defunct table) at a consignment shop. We also ran a few other errands, buying a couple of ceiling fans and a shoe rack so we don't have trip over Marty's massive shoe collection.

After the work, we went for felafel and to see Midnight in Paris. If you are an English or an art lover or degree-holder, you will love this film. It's old-style Woody Allen, but he uses so many references to writers and artists, I don't know if the film would appeal to non-readers. Sorry to be snooty--I'm sure I didn't get every reference--but I want to save you money. Kathy Bates is perfect as Gertrude Stein. I wish T.S. Eliot didn't have such a cameo role. Woody's message: don't be a Miniver Cheevy.

The 12 Chairs

The 4 new chairs.

3 old chairs.

Adopted chair with junk.

We have a lot of chairs. The photo on top shows our new dining room set which isn't a set at all, but an old pine trestle table with four new folding chairs. It's quite petite and really opens up our living area.

The second photo shows just a few of the chairs we have in the second bedroom/office. We could really get a good game of musical chairs going.

The third is the modernistic chair I found abandoned near the service area. I felt so bad for it, I brought it up to my apartment, scrubbed it all up and buried it under Mark's stuff from college.

There are a lot of chairs in Jeffersonville, too, about 18. The 6 from my old dinette set (shown in second photo, and matched to the ill-fated table)) are going to join those 18 and we will open a small theater.

Popcorn, anyone?

Spending Time with My Sons

Mark spent three days alone in our country house. He wanted to see how it feels to be without human companionship, someone to make him food and shaping a day how he wanted it. This wasn't the wilderness of course. He had Internet, an X-box and his phone, which had no reception at the house but could get a few bars if you went up the hill. He survived on cereal, Harry Potter and taking walks. He even cooked himself some pasta and made omelets. He does a good job cleaning up, too.

Harry and I arrived Wednesday afternoon. I went into Mom mode, cooking dinner and washing dishes. The boys happily played on the X-box, just like in the old days. I was industrious; they were slugs. Big, hungry slugs. If I asked them to help me do something, they gladly obliged, but that was the extent of their activity. They did go on a run together, more to check their messages than anything else.

While they read and snoozed, I weeded an area of the garden and planted perennials. I re-did the mulch pile which keep getting attacked by animals. Now it's an open pile and seems to be mostly untouched. I guess the critters like their challenges, too. I ran, I went to yoga and I did a fair amount of shopping. I bought a summer outfit for $25 and shoes to match for $45. Embarrassing. I saw a sign for a huge garage sale to benefit the rebuilding of the Briscoe Dam. This place is amazing. I bought a Hudson Bay blanket for $10, a picture frame for $2, a white deck chair for $5, and odds an ends for 25-50 cents. It's going on all summer and gets its donations from estate sales, and folks just wanted to get rid of stuff. I'm going back to look for furniture. I thought about buying a Captain's Table but I thought too long. Someone else bought it while I was looking at a cheese slicer.

We had dinner at a great Thai restaurant, an oddity in a small town like Jeffersonville. A Thai woman does all the cooking and as I've said before, makes the best pad thai I've ever had. Even Mark liked the food, and he was hesitant about going there. As it was Friday night, I had a martini, which I've trained the bartender how to make. This time, it was perfect except warm. She came to the table and asked if it was as I liked it, and I said it was great except it wasn't cold enough could she bring me some ice? Mark and Harry were deeply embarrassed by this, thinking I should've had a warm martini. They will learn that when you get to be my age, anything less than perfect is unacceptable.

We drove back to NYC to celebrate Fathers Day. Mariel is coming and taking Marty to see Wicked. Then we'll all have dinner together. Mark started talking about marriage, how it's really dumb to get divorced because you spend so much money on the wedding and then you spend more on the divorce. Harry suggested it might be better not to marry, especially since it would be impossible to spend all your waking hours with one person. This is where I chimed in and said that couples spend lots of time apart, and can choose to have different friends and pursue different interests, and that this was healthy for most marriages. Then I thanked them for spending time with me because I mainly interact with people my own age, not college students.

We listened to Mark's ipod all the way home.

Table in the Woods

We really and truly wanted to legally dispose of our dining room table. A few bites on craigslist, lukewarm interest from a consignment shop, but still the table sat in our apartment, filling most of the living area with its hugeness and making it impossible to complete our move because we don't know how we'll lay out the room.

Marty always liked this table. Even after a toilet overflowed above it and covered the top with water for hours, Marty nursed it back to health with a rag and lemon oil. I never liked the table and it hated me. When we moved to Rhode Island, we had to get a table because our shipment of household goods wouldn't arrive for a month. We went to a nearby furniture store, looked around for an hour and settled for the dining set that has been giving me so much agita. Several weeks after we purchased it, I went to sit on one of the commodious and sturdy-looking chairs only to have it collapse. I fell to the floor, unharmed and thankful it hadn't been a guest who'd taken the tumble.

We moved the set to our first New York City apartment where it took up space but seemed to work with the room's layout. When we moved to our current apartment, we realized it didn't fit very well. We saw a perfect drop-leaf table with four chairs one night at a thrift shop but when I returned the next day it was marked sold. I spent a lot of time in thrift stores the next few weeks looking for the perfect answer to the dining table blues. Antique stores would set me back $4000. Thrift stores carried furniture from the 60's paid for with S&H green stamps--remember those?

There is a store in Jeffersonville that has odd orange chairs around a table in the entryway. They are quite ugly but good conversation starters. They look like Gumby. They look like something on a Star Trek set. They will never sell but they'll sell everything else in the store because these bizarre chairs draw people in and start conversations. It was in this shop that I found my table. It was small, narrow and dark, a "harvest" table which would be more apropos in our farmhouse than our apartment. I put a deposit on it and brought Marty back the next day to see it. He was underwhelmed. We couldn't take this table until we removed the other one, so I spent the next week scouring shops in New York for similar ones, perhaps with "matching" chairs.

Last week, Marty took the legs off the table, and on Friday loaded it on the roof of our car. Two blankets and a tangle of bungee cords seemed to secure the table top. We discovered that driving faster than 50 miles per hour was a no-no. The trip took a little longer than usual due to the slow speed and stopping a few times to check on slippage. We were about 20 minutes from our house when it happened.

Words can’t do this justice. A car came to an abrupt stop in front of ours. Marty hit the brakes and the sound of moving furniture and then the sight of it flying off the roof and crashing on the road was jaw-dropping. The car in front escaped damage. I wonder if the driver even saw it. Marty and Mark jumped out to check the mangled table. The aprons were cracked, although the top looked okay. Our car had a few scratches and a windshield wiper looked funny, much like a broken arm. The table was now worthless unless you’re a fabulous carpenter. Marty, looking helpless, asked what he should do. I told him to chuck it into the woods along with the legs. We can’t do that. Oh yes we can.

The deed done, Marty and Mark climbed back into the car and we drove away. I burst out laughing. This was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Marty was less sanguine. We’d forgotten to toss the nuts and bolts to attach the legs, but it seemed like a moot point.

We’re still going to try to sell the chairs, which are huge. We’re going to have a yard sale in Jeffersonville this summer. We’ll sell them for a song, but first we have to safely transport them to the country. In the meantime, we went to the shop where our new table awaited. It is small, kind of chunky and 150 years old. A maximum of four people can sit at this table, uncomfortably. Marty and I, however, will be comfy and cozy. Last night, we had dinner with Harry and there was plenty of room.

Beware of flying tables and other hazardous objects, especially if you're headed to the Catskills and driving anywhere near our Subaru.

Odd Sightings in Jville

You think that the little town of Jeffersonville would be all about Mom and apple pie. Marty and I have been observing some strange, quaint and ingenious happenings.

I have to mention the Poker Run, which we still don't understand. Motorcyclists from near and far wearing all their regalia come to eat donuts and coffee, play poker and then have a big BBQ. There were bikes and trikes and a sea of tattoos. Do-rags ruled the day. Marty observed there were no young bikers. Obviously it's an old man's sport. You need bucks to buy one of those machines.

Throughout the weekend we repeatedly saw a very large black man (not too many in this town) strolling around talking to himself and wearing a purple wide-brimmed hat. Harry had a a hat just like it when he decided to be a pimp for Halloween. This dude must have said hi to us a dozen times.

Marty saw a couple of teenage girls driving around on a golf cart watering the plants on Main Street. Next weekend is the Chalk Art Event in which anyone who wants to can draw on the sidewalks with chalk. Actual artists are involved and they sell their works on the street. This should be a fun event.

Just like NYC, only much much smaller.