382 Noted in passing at the Lake

On Rt. 4 just south of the intersection with Rt. 2, someone, a woman I hope, has a snazzy pickup truck. It is bright fuscia pink with a lavender hood and grill.

At the coffee shop, the deli-mail continues as two customers leave notes for each other on the receipts and attach to a paper cup:

“Your girl friend will have to let you out more & earlier.”

“She don’t send me out after milk and bread anymore.”

We’ve moved the cedar chest out of the bedroom on to the porch, thanks to a neighbor’s help. He will get the wooden box we had in that spot for his grandchildren’s toys. Both came with the house--as did the helpful neighbor--when we bought it in 1988. I estimate the cedar chest is from the 1920s or 1930s, but the box may be much older. The previous owner covered it with contact paper, and restoring the box looked like too much work to me. We’re trying to make room for both of us to be able to paint without tying up the kitchen table. 750 sq. ft. is not a large house.

John McCutcheon performed his popular and up-dated folk singing and humor. He was born in Wisconsin, educated in Minnesota and now lives in Virginia. He tells funny stories--and he is often the butt of the joke. He played banjo, guitar, dulcimer and for an encore, played his body by slapping. Some of his songs are pointed and political--although he was careful, it being Lakeside. I did see a few people get up and leave after his nasty Ashcroft song, but some loved it. I did manage to stay for the entire performance.