john julius norwich-A Christmas Cracker

Few Americans are aware of the erudite John Julius Norwich, 2ND Lord Norwich, only child of the British diplomat, notorious philanderer and war hero Duff Cooper and his wife, Lady Diana Cooper, the most desired hostess in between the wars England.

John has lived a fabled life, rich from exposure to most everyone of importance in the 20Th century, he's a well educated and enthusiastic raconteur, brought up since birth to provide "good value for money". Self described as "shallow", he is a most charming man.

Following Oxford he followed his father's career in the foreign service. Retired after a dozen years and took to writing, mostly histories, and editing. Later had an active television career, mostly in documentaries and is a well known speaker and preservationist in the UK.

For the past 40 years he has kept a journal of favorite little poems, odd definitions, strange anecdotes and curious correspondence. Since 1980, instead of sending Christmas cards, John has printed selections of his findings and mailed them to anxiously awaiting friends. Every 10 years they are collected and printed by Penguin.

My favorite are these two entries.

From Hoare's "Short Italian Dictionary, Cambridge, 1964
Baffona: f: Woman with not unpleasing moustache.

and this description of the Opera Carmen:(click photo to enlarge)


Toad

With Very Limited Appeal

Kansas Citians of a certain age will never forget the stories surrounding the kidnapping and murder of Bobby Greenlease. Although it occurred before my time, in the Kansas City of my youth, there was still a lingering curiosity surrounding the death of little Bobby.

Zero at the Bone, by John Heidenry provides an almost minute by minute account of the planning, kidnapping, murder, get away, ultimate capture and execution of the two culprits. The story is told in a stone cold, just the facts ma'am fashion. It's riveting. Names, addresses, phone numbers. It's all there.

The story fascinates on several levels. As a true crime novel its gruesome in its detailed account. As a mystery story, it closely follows the mystery of what happened to the stolen half of the ransom money. Something that the Saint Louis Police Department still won't talk about.

If it's your kinda thing, its worth the hour or two it takes to get through it.

Toad

Let the games begin

Nothing like a refreshing jolt of holiday Kool Aid, taken neat, first thing in the morning. Let the games begin!

I love Thanksgiving. It is the holiday I have the best memories of. The weather in Mayberry is still pretty good. Often Thanksgiving is 10+ degrees warmer and much sunnier than Halloween. Our first hard frost isn't for another week, and snow won't come until the week before Christmas. It's a good time of year.

My usual way of doing business includes waiting for the coldest weekend of the season to install the outdoor Christmas lights. Every year I study the weather channel to make certain it wouldn't be colder tomorrow, when I plan on lighting today. The last two years installations have been embarrassments to the good name of decorative lighting. It never got cold, so I was reduced to Christmas eve,eve. Never a good time to do a thorough job.

This year I thought maybe I'd try something different. I'd think the job through, in advance, and take advantage of the exceptionally nice November weather we've been having. And so I did. The job while far better than the last two years may not be up to Kansas City Plaza standards, but pretty good none the less. Now I'm having a quandary. Seemingly, I have some time coming up. Do I add more decorations?

We are going to have a fun weekend, beginning with Mr. Fox this afternoon. check in later and let me know how you're doing.

Toad

In Preparation

I promise to wake up in Thursday morning with a smile on my face, drink the Kool Aid and prepare for a holiday season full of warmth, brotherly love, and good will towards all if you will allow me this one indulgence.

In any way shape or form, does the term "Black Friday" entice you to want to leave your home at an unreasonable hour, credit card in hand, ready to lay waste to bargains galore? Do you get that warm, fuzzy, cuddly puppy, happy memory, free association when you consider the day?

It doesn't me. I'll take the retail employees view. It fills me with dread.

There are at least two urban legends as to how the term came to be. Neither reflects positively on mankind.

Don't buy into the madness. I recommend you sleep in, shop on line a bit, take the kids and grand kids to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox, and ease gently into the shopping season. It'll be there.

I promise that is my last unkind post about the holiday season...unless....

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving. If you'll be on the road be especially careful. I'll be waiting here for you.

Toad

book report day - My Three Fathers

Many of my favorite bloggers are fellow unabashed Anglophiles who periodically dip their toes into the heady mythology of upper class life, literature and mores of between the wars Britain. Today's recommendation has all that and spades. For added inducement, Mr. Patten offers a look at big time American WASP life with a bit of Washington/Georgetown politics thrown in for good measure.

If this is your cuppa tea let me suggest "My Three Fathers" by William Patten.

As the title suggests, the book is about his three fathers, but more importantly his mother, Susan Mart Alsop.

Father number 1 was Bill Patten, a minor American diplomat, New England WASP.

Father 2, his stepfather, Joseph Alsop, cousin of the Roosevelt's, long time syndicated political columnist.

Father 3, and unknown by the author until he was 40, his biological father, Duff Cooper, British war hero, Ambassador, legendary Lothario, and husband of Lady Diana Cooper, the most sought after hostess of her day.

Interwoven is his mother, noted Washington hostess, and novelist Susan Mary Alsop, descendant of the Jay family of American jurists, ambassadors, statesmen. Susan Mary had a gift for knowing everyone, and everything, and keeping it all under her hat.

You know the thrill of picking up a book, reading the blurb on the inside front cover, and saying to yourself, if this guy can write, I'll be up all night. This guy can write, I was up all night.

It is a fascinating family memoir, warts and all of his extraordinary family, an insight into post WW II history and strongly recommended.

Toad

Katy Day

Firstborns do not come with instruction manuals.

Too young couples are left to their own devices to figure out how to make the best of their new situations. We hadn't a clue.

Mercifully, infants are hearty and resilient souls and our daughter Katy not only rolled but prospered. From the moment of her birth she was queen bee. First child, first grandchild, first daughter in my family for many years. Later, as the only girl in a house of boys, she continuously made it clear she was no body's mouseburger.

While it often doesn't seem so at the time, children grow up too quickly.

In honor of her birthday today I present this photo extravaganza. Many of these photos I remember like yesterday.










Mercifully, she is on a beach somewhere on holiday and won't see this post for several days. Time enough for me to make my escape.

Happy Birthday Dahlink.

Toad

Shoe Queen

To quote the inimitable Governor of the great state of California, "I am a shoe queen." Second or third class in my case, but one none the less.

For fall and winter I favor chucka boots. Gotta be suede, gotta be hard soled. Brothel creepers are for spring and summer.

After about a minutes hesitation I picked up a pair of Bass Binghamptons yesterday. The color is browner than the photo shows, almost a snuff. After a strong coat of Scotch Guard they'll stand up to whatever winter throws my way.

Great shoes? No way, but they fit well and go with everything in my wardrobe. Who can ask for anything more?

Toad

Decadence

I am longing for a road trip, although none is in the offing anytime soon.

One of my life's greatest decadent pleasures while traveling is stopping for breakfast in a small town, far from home. To you it may be a simple pleasure, but for me it is an entire reason to hop into the car, and head off to parts far away.

I love the ambiance of small town cafes, being the unknown outsider in a place where everyone knows each other, listening to the farm report and local gossip. Lingering over a newspaper filled with stories from place names I have never heard of, and people I'll never hear of again.

Best of all who can wreck breakfast? I've only had one bad one. In a pinch I landed in a Waffle House, late Sunday morning near Asheville. I knew better, I did it anyway, I paid the price.

Always, if made in the back, you need to order a slice of pie to end your meal.

Toad

WW II in HD

I have been watching WW II in HD on the History Channel the past several evenings.

If you haven't been watching, it is much like the wars shows when we were kids, Victory at Sea, World at War and the like, only unsanitized and in color.

Using narrated letters home to personalize the combatants, the film is moving in its purity and ugliness.

My point today is not to shill for a television program, but to suggest that if you know one, talk to a veteran this Thanksgiving. My father and uncles served in WW II and when prodded wouldn't (couldn't) talk about their time in uniform. I feel I missed a lot.

Our brothers, sisters and cousins who have served in conflicts since have stories that deserve hearing. We owe it to them to listen.

Toad

This years project

Each year Mrs. T hosts a Christmas Eve dinner party for family and friends. We plan for about 50 people, get a pre-party head count well below that number, and somehow 50 show up. It's become a tradition.

Another tradition is that sometime around now, one of us will think up a new house project that just has to be concluded before the big event. Last year was a fairly insignificant crown moulding installation. Drum roll please, this year I am proud to announce our holiday project is hallway wainscoting.

I blame nerd girl, Mrs. Blandings for this years project. Her new stair runner photo set off a chain of events which can only mean several napless days and sleepless nights.

I spent most of the afternoon measuring and blocking projected panel sizes and locations. I was having trouble on the stairway until I remembered stair panels are not truly rectangular.

Hopefully, we shall be completed in time. We always are, but the added anxiety always makes for holiday fun.

Toad

History is written by the winners

While you are preparing for your traditional Thanksgiving school pageant its good to remember a little American History.

Americans tend to believe that the first European settlers to hit what is now the continental US were those dastardly, witch baiting Pilgrims who arrived near Plymouth Rock, Mass. Not true. Tidewater Virginians duel over less slanderous allegations.

Englishmen hit Jamestown settlement, in what is now Virginia in May, 1607, a good 13 years before Pilgrims came to our shores. In one of the great coincidences in history, the Jamestown settlers were met by English speaking natives. The natives learned English during the time of the earlier lost Roanoke settlement. One of the natives first questions was "Did you bring beer?" True story.

Those in the west often take a longer view of history than those in the east. Plymouth Rock and all their shenanigans is a long way from the Pacific. Westerners have a completely different dynamic than Virginians or Mass Bay colonists.

Those west of Denver know the Spanish were there first. Spanish explorers came to America 40 years ahead of the English. So successful were their explorations that Sante Fe,New Mexico had a large and growing population when in 1607, several months prior to the Jamestown landing, it was named capital of the Spanish New Mexico territory,

Easterners have a truly tough time wrapping that idea around their brains.

With a little more work on behalf of the Spanish, we might be enjoying tacos and dramas about Coronado instead of turkey and Pilgrims.

Toad

Harumph

You may have suspected that I'm something of a traditionalist. Not necessarily inflexible, just respectful of what came before.

That is why the weeks before Thanksgiving have truly begun to grate.

I'm sympathetic to the need of retailers to have a successful selling season, but I am uncertain why that requires Mrs. T's favorite radio station to begin with the Christmas tunes the day after Halloween. Or why the television networks have already begun airing Christmas specials.

Really, couldn't some things wait until Thanksgiving?

One of the downsides of moving Christmas from late December to mid November is that a sentient adult simply becomes sick of it, long before they hit the stores. I'm going back to my cave now.

On a completly different subject, have you seen Lonny Magazine? Lonny is an online bi-monthly design magazine founded by several escapees from Domino. Frankly, I find reading magazines on-line rather tedious, but it appears to be the future.

Toad

More questions

When, or more importantly why, did it become necessary to tell a man to remove his hat once he was inside a restaurant, or in a home, or at the table? Is this a regional thing somewhere? Where, I want to avoid going there?

My sainted mother would have knocked me into next week if I ever tried it. I know, in my heart of hearts, she would gladly and quickly rise from her grave today just to kick my backside if I pulled a stunt like that.

2. I suspect women are smarter than this, but I have been re-reading a number of old magazines lately. Ancient issues of Esquire, GQ, stuff that passed for gospel in my 20's and 30's.

I suspect the management of most magazines figure they have a reader for 3 or 4 years, before they outgrow it and move on. Recycling stories is mothers milk for them. Re-reading them has been a true revelation. Was I really that vapid?

I suspect women's magazines are just as bad. Imagine if you will, taking advice today from one of the mags for new moms. Stuff you believed was vital then, you wouldn't give a second look at today. You know better.

Oddly, old shelter magazines are rather fun.

3. I'm dating myself here, but where did all the Pink Elephants of days gone by go, and cukoo clocks?

Toad

Another Character Flaw

Of all the flaws in my character I am most appreciative of my disdain for spectator sports. I don't particularly care if you want to watch sports all weekend, but leave me out. Please. No football, no baseball, nothing on ice. I'm just not interested.

This past weekend was filled with "The Big Games" in NOLA, and I had much sport with the overserved fans from LSU Saturday night.

Late in the evening I got to talking with an older couple in matching LSU sweatshirts. Remember, if you ignore suckers when God sends them to you, she won't send them anymore, so ya gotta make hay, so to speak.

We were in a saloon, and I inquired if the L or the S was silent in the LSU. I couldn't make head nor tale out of the word. Slowly, as if speaking to an idiot (or Yankee) she told me the whole story of Louisiana State University.

"Are you coming from work?" I asked.

"No, we are here for the big game", this time he was allowed to slur.

Seem a little old to be students, aren't you?

No, we came to support our team.

Do you watch a lotta minor league sports? I inquired.

Then comes the whole championship story, blah blah blah.

Ya, but isn't the premier football league in the US the NLF?

Ya

Then everything else is second rate, right?

With that they left.

Sophmoric? You bet, but a lot of fun at the time.

Toad

What do you do?

Prior to moving to The Park, Mrs. T and I lived across the street from this house. (Best seen by clicking on the photo) It is owned by our favorite neighbors, a family of 4 who moved in a year or two before we moved out.


It is a lovely neighborhood, of basic suburban homes, on large lots, in a quiet suburb of Mayberry. Several days before Halloween, our friends had a fire.

My point today is not to dwell on a personal family tragedy, but to pose a morality tale, or more importantly an insurance dilemma.

The neighborhood isn't worth what it once was (we moved out). Our friends bought near the peak of housing prices and spent a boatload of cash customizing their home to their taste and lifestyle. Fire or no, financially they were going to get hurt if they had to move anytime soon.

Obviously, the land has value, but at current construction costs rebuilding this house to "before the fire" status would price it well beyond their neighbor's or even market value. Neighborhood indentures limit the minimium home size, and this was close, so they can't build smaller.

What do you do?

Toad

NOLA

Honest to god, my wife was raised amongst wolves.

For reasons still unclear, immediately after finalizing our plans to go to New Orleans, she invited her parents to tag along. They are each near 80, and each within 6 weeks of having had major surgery. Sure they would love to go.

Then her parents invited friends. The friends invited friends. The AARP couldn't have drawn a larger crowd.

Somehow, I was the designated tour director. As designated tour director my duties included making reservations at the better restaurants in town, arranging the car service to transport everyone the 6 blocks to lunch or dinner and best of all to meet their final demand.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE WAS ANY MALE WEARING A TIE OR A JACKET TO LUNCH OR DINNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In fact, the oldsters made certain that I understood they felt put upon wearing long pants.

A few things worked in my favor. Even major restaurants are feeling the pain. If you call to make reservations for 10 people, outlining their restrictions and are willing to dine at 5pm, in or near the kitchen, all is well. My charges went to bed at 8, so 5 was no problemo.

What was especially funny, was watching the $60/head dinner check getting passed around nightly. Prices have risen in the 40 years since their last visit. I made certain they tipped well.

The next hassle while predicted, arrived as planned.

Ever watch old people competitively eating? 80 year olds, with a straight face, telling the wait staff how they love Cajun spices. Make it hotter, dad gummit. Spices they c(w)ouldn't have eaten 40 years ago were wolfed down ravenously. Most of the codgers made it to their rooms before being overcome by near death experiences. Breakfasts were missed. Brunches were replaced by Tums and ice cream. They never missed dinner though, cocktails began promptly at 5pm, when it all started anew.

Toad

Ellie did it!!!!!

Those with long memories may recall I made some minor effort to convince my buddy and favorite bow tie maker Ellie Stager to create a patch tweed winter scarf. My timing was initially poor, since Ellie did not care to make such a heavy item while it was still summer in her little corner of South Carolina.

None the less she eventually came around, and sent the following photo for my consideration.





Immediately I jumped at the opportunity and commissioned my first bespoke scarf.

A week later it arrived. Mrs. T immediately claimed it as hers. Ellie says it was a one off, so my search continues.



Toad

So here is where we left off

Let's play catch up.

For Gail in Northern California. Bunky left Colorado the day before Denver was deluged with snow. It is my understanding that he was happier than a convict after a successful parole hearing in leaving. Sadly, for him, I left him with a car in need of a heater and defroster (you don't need those in Portland do you?) so the first several days of his return to Oregon was cold and unpleasant. He was not a campy hamper when I spoke with him mid week.

The Pool House: Inertia, lousy weather, and higher commitments kept the pool house from being painted thus far. We have agreed on a color, but now the pool house is being used as storage, it is going to be spring before it is completed.

The Drive: I can't say a great deal about it. A law suit is forthcoming. What I can say say is that we allege the work was done poorly, in a unworkmanlike manner and have the Fire Marshall on our side. I hate this kind of thing.

The flu: touch wood Mrs. T and I have avoided it. Many around us have enjoyed it. If you have had it, you have my sympathy. I understand it is awful. Now that I have cursed myself....

The Awakening: The second casting of the Seward Johnson sculpture "The Awakening" was unveiled on time, October 10. The weather was beastly. I'm disappointed in it.

Stuck in a suburban office park, it doesn't have the grandeur of its beautiful Washington setting. I'll have pictures later.

Anything else?

Toad

Lost and Found?

Friends: If anyone, for reasons known only to themselves printed a copy of Maxminimus's tribute to Richard Merkin would you please get in touch with him.


The piece was sublime, but is now lost. For starters check your readers if you look at it infrequently. Would have been mid to late September or so.

Toad

Perhaps an explanation is in order

In a word I freaked. I looked up summer was over, and I had spent too much time in front of a keyboard, and too little time doing what needed doing. I needed a break and didn't know it.


Many years ago, an advice columnist in Esquire recommended that you spend more time with your dog than your ISP. I took his teachings to heart. One Saturday night I told myself that we have had a good run, but its over. I erased the blog, erased my favorite blog file from my bookmarks turned off the computer and didn't turn it on again for two weeks. I was startled to find I had two extra hours of daylight per day.


Eventually, like a Christian in Lent I allowed myself to peek at the computer on Sunday afternoons. I didn't read blogs but I did a bit of shopping. To those who sent emails, I apologize. At the time I didn't really understand why I had to stop, and was reluctant to face your questions and disappointment.


What I eventually came to discover, was how much I missed being with you each day. I know my limitations as a writer, but I can and do, enjoy sharing our stories.


I've you have read this far blame Maxminimus. He spearheaded the campaign for my return. I will be in his debt for a long time.


Surprisingly, I still haven't read more than a blog entry or two in the past 6 weeks so I have some catching up to do. Thank goodness for Reader.


Thank you for your support, and for hanging around. I'll try not to disappoint, although it may take a couple of days to get back to normal. I've discovered that if I'm online at night I have still have lots of daylight per day.


In the mean time, Mrs. T and I are going to NOLA. We have been looking forward to and dreading this trip for several months. NOLA is a dangerous place to dread going to. I'll share the story next week.


See ya next Tuesday.


Toad

Mark your calendar. I'll be back November 10. Need a little vacation first.



Toad

THE haircut

I was at the barber earlier this week. Long time readers may recall the woman who cuts my hair is gorgeous, and barely street legal. As a reminder that I'm older than her father, I generally wear something, or drive something to my appointment older than she.

This week, in the next chair ( do they call them that in salons?) was a young woman getting THE haircut.

The guys know what I mean. It comes without warning or discussion. We're presented with a fait acompli, and our lives are changed, forever. Most never see it coming.

The women know exactly what I mean. It's the haircut that comes shortly after, if not the first, then certainly the birth of her second child.

Your girlfriend, lover, wife, mother of your children, is shorn of her beautiful locks. The tresses you've known forever. Gone!

Intellectually, we understand. She's busier now. Doesn't have time for such frippery as her hair. Tresses tugged at by infants. Grubby little hands smeared with oatmeal, baby food or worse.

It's the first public display that you've slipped a notch.

Gents, it will happen to you. When it does, there is only one response. YOU LOVE IT!!!!!!

Mourn quietly, alone.

Toad

Remember what happened to Howard Beale

I don't care to have that happen to me!

Friends, I have thought about this long and hard for the past several weeks, and I have finally come to the correct decision. It's time to go. I'm not looking back.

Thank you for the time you have spent here. You have enriched my life. In return, I hope I brought a smile to yours.

So, remove me from your reader, lighten your blog roll. I've been honored to be there.

I'll miss you, terribly.

Toad

Strassenfest

Much of my misspent youth was centered around River City and its environs. If you took a generous view of what constituted a suburb, many of the local suburban Illinois communities were founded by German immigrants in the mid 1800's. The good Germans brought many of their traditions including drunken September street fairs.

For many years, the town of Columbia held the fair. Eventually times changed and instead of watching dad in his liederhosen, dancing the polka, the fun turned decidedly towards beer swilling and wurst sampling. The burghers of Columbia said, " we want these drunken kids here why?" And put the kibosh to the fun.

Next, the city of Saint Louis found a guy who was a great organizer, and who was leaving town sooner than he planned, and told him to throw the Strassenfest on main street. After a year or two of deadly street fights, drunken mobs, and more crime than the city dare report to the FBI crime stat bureau, even the polka king refused to show up. A couple of years later, after the cops said they would no longer patrol, the City gave up the ghost. The fest had to move on.

So what did they do? You're not gonna believe this.

They moved the fest to Mayberry.

Word is, we had a German tourist here once, so the town fathers, who wouldn't for love nor money have visited the city fair, decided why not have a German street fair as a remembrance. There needed to be conditions though.

This is where it becomes interesting.

1. No beer! No drinking and driving, no endangering the locals, no putting local girls at risk from underage/overage imbibers.

2. No public transportation. Buses need to be re routed. God knows they don't want that element.

3. No nearby parking. ALL attendees shall be bused to and from the fun.

Sounds like a whale of a good time doesn't it. Octoberfest without beer. Cuts down on the number of port a potties.

It's this weekend if you no other plans.

Toad

You know those days...

Those days you can't wait to get everyone out of the house? Or look forward to a half hour alone in the car? Those days you just want to wallow in your own misery and self pity?

Do you allow background music? If so, what music do you play? Is there something you save for just those days? Something tried and true?

Barry Manilow has always done it for me. On those days even his upbeat stuff makes me weep, copiously.

Any other day he makes my teeth ache.

After an afternoon of Barry, I'll be back in full fettle tomorrow.

Toad

After the whites, before the tweeds

I had begun this post several days ago. Then things turned ugly crazy around here, and I stopped, picked it up again, stopped, and decided to either do it or forget it. I find if I am having trouble with a piece I am either unprepared or just not that interested and should drop it.

We'll see. I'm interested. No idea how prepared I am.

Then, I read The Elegantologist's piece this morning on a similar topic, twisted in only the ways he can. His life is much grander than mine, so often I live vicariously through his posts. I'm certain he wouldn't approve of what's coming next. I hope he forgives me, I love him anyway.

I've noticed that every year around this time, when the whites, seersucker and colors have been put away for the season, local gentlemen tend to go overboard towards the khaki, shooting sports, and tan poplin side of the spectrum.

September first opens dove hunting season, and today is opening day of archery season for deer.

Although I don't hunt, I find my wardrobe reflects local tastes. The weather will stay comfortable until near Halloween. Khaki pants, a cotton shirt and light jacket will do for the next month or so.

I find myself reaching for this jacket for around the yard, or trips to the hardware/feed store. It has a sort of "you might be one of us" look, so important when hob nobbing with the Range Rover crowd. It's a classic shooting jacket modeled after a safari jacket without the cumbersome belt.

I am amazed by the things I pull out of the pockets at the end of the day. Whatever I can't find I look here for it first.

My next go piece of kit is this photographers vest.

I've had this longer than the shooting jacket, and although its rather heavy, it molded to fit me. Again too many pockets by half.

As I mentioned last week my closet is full, and I am trying to keep from filling it further with stuff. However, last week I received my annual Kevin's catalog from the quail hunt country in southern Georgia. I'm captivated by this jacket.

It has a number of nice touches and is fairly priced. Mercifully, the size that fits my chest leaves the sleeves dragging on the ground. The tailor could fix that, but..... That's the trouble with off the rack SML sizing.

Around the same time the weekly Orvis catalog arrived. It's filled with temping odd vests. Ignore the listed prices, they are cheaper on line. I'm hoping for even cheaper holiday sales.

Last fall, I searched high and low for an affordable gray shawl collared cardigan sweater. This isn't gray, but it is a shawl. I have several already, this being an Orvis staple. Each year they change the color and the price. I'm holding out. Should you find one let me know.

Finally, there is this vest. It's hemp (linen).

I have no idea how long you could get away with wearing this into the fall, but I like the look. Alas, not for me this year.

Toad

Any thoughts?

I know, my closet is full, but I have this suede shoe thing.

The shoes are on EBAY, my size, and I am selling two things whose auctions close soon. they are alleged to be off white. Presumably they are sitting on a white cloth, so they can't be that white can they? Are the fall-able?

G, I need your help.

Toad

Advice to young fathers, and a reminder to others

Gentlemen: My father in law, Oscar the Grouch, generally begins these sorts of lectures with, " Free advice is worth what you pay for it, so ... I think that..."

This is one of those lectures. I get off sharing this with you, because I'm older than you and care about your well being.

My friends, your wife, the mother of your children, wears many hats throughout her life. She wears them proudly, and with as little complaint as necessary. She's wife, lover, daughter, sister, mother, friend... besides what her chosen career may require.

The gods willing, you two will live to have 80 years of wedded bliss. However long you have, if you remember this one thing, know this in your heart to be true, your life will be happy. Ignore this at your peril.

Of all the hats your wife will ever wear, truly, deeply, to the bottom of her soul, the only one that really matters to her is MOTHER.

No matter how old you are, no matter how long you're married, you will never rank higher in her love than 1 place below the number of children she has. Competing for better is predestined to failure.

To know this, and accept this, is to be a happy husband.

Toad

Carla Bruni

Ladies, please work with me here.

It's Friday, late afternoon. You've had a tough week. Your beloved, who has thoughtfully sent the kids to the grandparents for the night, greets you at the door with a glass of wine. You kick off your shoes, settle onto the sofa, where a foot rub and nibbles await, while you regale him with the trials and tribulations of your day.

He's listens raptly, focused on your every word.

Then it's his turn to speak.

He suggests that for this season (for he thinks of your life together as a televison series) that you pretend not to live in Utah. He says he wants to introduce a new character to the show. Thinks life would be better together if you had a sister wife.

He's thinking Carla Bruni for our series. She's Italian, so may know her way around a pasta machine. She's also French. Married to the French president, but that might not matter. Probably has a pretty good head for wine and cheese. May have some contacts at the better vinyards.

Speaks English better than most natives, sings well, not offensive to the eye, and has her own pocket change.

Seems perfect to me, but I'll be dashed if I can sell it. The head of programming forcefully says NO!

Toad, still the happiest married man ever.

The Patch Tweed Scarf

This is another great idea that has a thousand fathers, and whose fate may depend upon you and one very creative woman.

For the past couple of years I have been toying with the notion of patch tweed and/or patch tartan winter scarves. I want it long, say 6 foot, and appropriately wide.

The plaid, on plaid on plaid on plaid outfits in the photos below are the inspiration. I love how the the plaids are all different, yet when worn together make for a cohesive whole.



To bring my idea to fruition I asked bow tie creator extraordinaire, Ellie LaVeer Stager, if she may be interested in taking on the project. I got a firm maybe.

I don't intend to speak for her, but I believe her hesitation was sourcing a suitable selection of tweed and tartan jackets at various yard and thrift sales to make this worthwhile. Tartan jackets may be a real pain to locate.

My plan was to use a basic wool, or other winterish fabric. Seems more readily available to me. I however am not the doer, I'm just the idea guy.


So, what do you think? I have no details about the three c's, cost, color or cut, but if the past is any guide I believe the product will not only be beautiful but affordable.

If there is a suitable level of interest Ellie just might be persuaded to put together a batch. Not soon, but in time. Anyone want in? I get mine first.

Toad

My apologies to the photographers. If anyone knows where these snaps came from, will you please let me know so I may credit the artist.

Lower photo, The Sartorialist

Location, Location, Location

Mrs. T's TIVO never, ever shuts off. It can be infuriating at 1:30 Am to try to watch a program only to find TIVO is already recording 2 programs. To counter that we have developed a routine.

TIVO lives in Mrs. T's office (our bedroom). For years, just as we turn out the lights we watch a couple of minutes of HGTV's House Hunters, or on a good night House Hunters International. We've seen them all, but never remember which they choose, so its always new to us. Who can focus at 2 AM?

Last night, we're watching Pierre shop for a pied a terre in Paris. He's only willing to spend 500K Euro's, so by Parisian standards he's looking for a large closet. He's happily content looking at 650 square feet. Remember we're talking at a grand a foot here.

Finally, the agent takes him to a palace. 800 square feet, and he's undaunted by the 550k Euro price tag. Moderately out of the way, but he can have a bed and a table in these palatial digs. If he picks a small bed, perhaps there is even room for a plant. The floors were gorgeous though.

As we're becoming excited for Pierre, out of the blue Mrs. T announces, Pierre's spending $700,000 for property the size of our swimming pool!! Ruined my night's sleep.

Toad

Final Bill

Mrs. T well understands that if bill paying fell under my area of responsibility we would be homeless in several months. For better or worse this area of our domestic relations fall under her bailiwick, and I know better than to question or comment.

That's why I got the hairy eyeball yesterday when I opened the small envelope that arrived from the sewer company in yesterday's post.

Each of us has bills they have to grit their teeth to pay. For some its the cable, for others the phone bill. For Mrs. T it's the sewer bill. Why? It's a simple, but ugly story.

We are not sewer company customers. We use septic, our rain runoff drains into our lake, which overflows onto our creek to the neighbors lake. Sewer Company customers we are not. Yet we get a bill.

The sewer company, in a most ingenious and highly recommended, if you can pull it off, scheme, decided they could raise revenue exponentially by billing people who were not their customers, for services that they had not provided. The rationale went like this. Although you don't use our services, you benefit from them, so send us $10 per month, subject to late fees and future rate increases. The moral equivalent of my billing you $120 per year, in mutual hope my grand daughter becomes a doctor and saves your sorry self some day.

We bitched and screamed and eventually a class action lawsuit was filed. Yesterday we received this letter.

Think we'll ever live to see a refund?

Toad

Tailgate Mel

I am uncertain whether Mel of I Pick Pretty will remember this shoot. Taken at a UT football tailgate party.

One can tell it's Texas by the boots and funny hats they wear there.

Toad

A Wedding Question please

Mrs. T and I were discussing the upcoming wedding of the daughter of friends and a question arose neither of us could answer. I look to you for guidance.

Collectively, we have been to probably a hundred weddings in Churches of most every denomination, but have never attended a Jewish wedding in a Temple/Synagogue. Are weddings not done in the Jewish faith?

Toad

Ted's bad night

It's tough being owned by the world's dumbest dog. When he understood that the universe revolves around him, and that humans are only there to further his aims, the game was lost.

Ted the Wonder Dog hasn't left the porch, or driveway in a week. The ground has been wet, and he fears getting his dainty paws muddy, he's been sleeping like a cat. Can't say that I much blame him, but after a while, a dog has to go out and stay out for a while.

Just as we were getting ready for bed last night he decided he was going out. Heaven only knows who he was meeting, but he was going out come hell or high water. So I let him out and went to bed. Usually when he wants in he'll let us know.

In the morning I opened the door, expecting to see his sorry self asleep in his favorite spot on the porch. Only a semblance of him was there.

The savage beast must have spent the night chasing wild critters far and wide. He was covered in burrs so badly he couldn't open his eyes, and he wasn't at all happy about his inability to see. I spent my first hour picking burrs, thorns, sticks and grass from his wooly self, but he wouldn't let me anywhere near his face.

I was genuinely worried for him. The noise he made trying to free the burrs from his eyes was heart wrenching. Ever try to locate a vet on a holiday? It isn't easy. In desperation we called the groomer, bring him right over, she says. Within 10 minutes she had one eye uncovered, but felt the other required the clippers.

So shaved he got. The poor dog. Every time I look at him I laugh. His self esteem is shattered. Ever since he came home he has been curled up in a ball on his rug.

Betcha he doesn't leave his porch for weeks.

Toad

Peter Beard - Cool Guy

I've been taking a ramble through post WW 1 Africa lately. Idina Sackville's biography, Out of Africa by, and West Through the Night by Berle Markam. The three women were contemporaries, didn't necessarily like each other, but each shared lovers.

Coincidently, the Sundance Channel has been showing a biography of photographer, artist, activist, Peter Beard which I watched recently. If you haven't seen it I recommend it,with this warning. If you are watching with adolescent boys bare in mind, many of the models forgot to bring clothes.

Passed on without comment

I am not so naive to suspect that I am the only male blogger to receive this email. If you are interested in photography and especially the details of men's clothing give this guy a look. Very well done.

Dear Toad,

Thank you very much for your blog - so many interesting things.

I am artist http://kunstdk.dk/kunstner/sergei_sviatchenko and director of gallery Senko Studio, Denmark, www.senko.dk

I will be glad to introduce you my new project www.closeupandprivate.com

highlighting men's style in a personal manner.

Maybe for your blog info?

Here is press release

CLOSE UP AND PRIVATE is an on-going project which looks to capture the spirit of modern style, as seen through the subtle shades of the individual.

Through these details a complex discourse between clothing, fashion and image takes form, offering new perspectives on contemporary fashion and identity in a personal manner.

CLOSE UP AND PRIVATE is dedicated to the visual language of men's style – celebrating classic details and contemporary looks

through unique photographic documentary.

Kind regards Sergei

www.sviatchenko.dk

Sergei Sviatchenko
Senko Studio Office
Sct. Mogensgade 12
8800 Viborg
Denmark
+45 40627154
www.senko.dk
www.sviatchenko.dk
www.closeupandprivate.com

My Old Notebook

Off and on for many years I've kept a notebook of pithy sayings, ads that caught my eye, cartoons, notable quotes and generally good ideas. Sadly, I haven't done it for a while, as I've traded my PC for paper.

I find I've missed it, so Friday I decided it was time to go back to paper. I picked up a Moleskine which I'm not yet happy with. It's too new, perhaps the wrong size and cumbersome. My fault, I should have paid more attention while shopping, but eventually I'll come to appreciate my new version.

Completely unexpectedly, I uncovered an older notebook Saturday afternoon. The day was cold rainy and generally miserable, so I spent an unplanned afternoon reviewing the past. Most of the entries date from the mid 90's, and I thought I'd show how the more things change the more my tastes remain the same.

Consciously, I couldn't have told you what was in here. As soon as I dove into the pages I was flooded with old and mostly very fond memories.

This was the cover page, stolen from The HitchHikers Guide to the Universe

Perhaps one time wished for , but never, ever happened in real life.

I'm not a scotch drinker, but have always loved Calder. Four years or so ago, Mrs. T and I went to Madrid. Late on a wet, cold Sunday afternoon we were both getting a little homesick and walked into the Museo Riena Sophia to get out of the weather. Hidden in the back was a Calder exhibit which just took my breath away. That Sunday made the whole trip worthwhile.

This was my life, 24/7.

The linen suit obsession festered for a very long time.

Hidden within those pages was my daily exercise routine too. I better get back to it.

Toad

The Bolter

Last weekend, Melissa recommended the Bryant and May mysteries of Christopher Fowler. I prefer reading series from beginning to end, but the local library only had a few so I picked up The Water Room. I'm thinking I missed a lot coming in at the middle, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The White Corridor is sitting on my nightstand. If you are into British modern mysteries give them a try.

Remember Nancy Mitford's classic, The pursuit of Love, and Love in A Cold Climate? If you do, you'll remember the narrator, the niece of Uncle Davy. Her claim to fame, and shame was that she was the daughter of The Bolter. One day mom just ran off. Left husband and 3 children behind to take off with a man she hardly knew.

The character, The Bolter, was based upon the real exploits of Idina Sackville, cousin of Vita. Her father was the 8th Earl of De La Warr. Family as old as England. One of the earliest Earls was Royal Governor of Virginia, and later gave name to Delaware.

Idina was young, rich, beautiful and knew everyone. Hers is a fabulous tale. A morality tale gone wrong.

Written by her great granddaughter, the story is told with all the warts. Don't pick it up, late at night. You'll never get to sleep.

Toad

The Doctor's Challenge

Thursday was strange at The Park.

We went to bed late. As I was about to turn out the lights, I noticed a bat flying around our ceiling fan. Visions of Mrs. Blandings and her battle of the bats in the attic. Flying bats in the bellfry are harder to ignore than mice. Trust me on this one.

Fortunately, it wanted gone as much as I wanted it gone, and after opening a few windows and doors it escaped fairly quickly.

A restless nights sleep ensued, and at 9 I was cooling my heels in the waiting room of my long time GP. Time for my semi-annual chastising.

I am fairly healthy for a fat man. Blood pressure 100 over 70. Total Cholesterol 140. All the tests were quite fine thank you.

When I go to the sawbones, I expect to hear 3 things. Lose some weight, lay off the cigars, get some exercise. I've been hearing 2 of those for 20 years or more. Sound advice I'm sure, but we both know he's chirping to the wall.

So after having his way with me, he stands me to a challenge. At face it's so simple, I can't wait to see how it turns out. Here is what he said.

Make an appointment for 6 months out. In the mean time lose 1 ounce per day. If you do it, next year is on me. If not pay double.

One ounce per day? Sounds easy, put like that, doesn't it?

I'll let you know just how easy it is.

Toad

Your opinions please

Friends, ADG asked over the weekend what my new blog, In High Cotton was about. I have neither the skills or attention span to write more than one blog, so IHC was created as a test bed for layout and template changes I have been considering.

Frankly, I'm torn. I like the current set up. I am used to it. I know it. However it may be time for a change.

Teach an old dog...

So I solicit your opinions. Click on the link. Take a look see, and let me know what you think. It needs some tweaking, but it may be viable.

To the Manner Born

I await your broadsides, and thank you once again.

Toad

Waistcoats

It may occasionally be easier being male.  I have finally reached the point in my life where my clothes closet is full. I have a lifetime worth of shirts and shoes and can probably with judicious weight loss and gain outlast most of my wardrobe.  Style is more my thing than fashion.  I'm never fashionable.

Other than a few accessories I may be done.  Or so I thought.

The photo above is from Scott Schuman's book, "The Sartorialist".

Looking at the above photo, I realized I'm short on waistcoats.  I generally avoid three piece suits, and have consequently not given much thought to vests.  What I didn't consider was the option of the odd vest

I have been scouring the fall catalogs for available styles.  I am thus far suitably unimpressed by fabric and cost, but I have been fabric shopping. Moleskin and tweed.  Something complimentary to go with tweeds in the closet.

My favorite Polish tailor is visiting the old country until mid October.  By then I may have some clever ideas for him. If you have a great source drop me a line.

Toad