Sierra Madre Farmer's Market - dwindling sadly

The Sierra Madre Farmer's market is surely on its way out. Every week there are fewer vendors - less than half-a-block of space needed for all.  Distressing when I see the crowds at all the nearby communities on their market days - LaCanada, Pasadena, South Pasadena, Monrovia -

a visual blog

I have just discovered pinterest.  And, I am having fun with it.  As noted in the title of this post, pinterest is a visual blog.  I have enjoyed finding a variety of things to put on my boards. Just wondering how many will really take time to view them.  But, it is a good exercise in mental stimulation.

Post post script to last post

Every day - more telemarketing calls - so I have composed my version of the bugler song mentioned in my last post -

someday I’m going to murder the caller

someday you’re going to find him dead

I’ll stomp upon his telephone

eliminate his calling zone

and have a quiet home instead

Someday I'm going to murder the bugler

Several months ago I changed my telephone listing from unlisted to listed.  Bad idea. Since then I have received an unrelenting onslaught of telemarketing calls - mostly from construction companies wanting to remodel my home.  They are annoying, but especially because they are so ridiculously phony.

"Good morning, my name is **%%# - how are you today?  How's your day going?"
or "I hope your day is going well."

When I reply "what do you want?" or "Who is this?"  There is a pause as though the caller were offended by my direct approach.

I grew up during the Second World War.  A song whose lyrics have stayed in my memory was written during the First World War in tribute to the lowly doughboy - "Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning. Oh, how I'd love to remain in bed.  'You've got to get up, you've got to get out of bed.' Someday I'm going to murder the bugler. Someday you're going to find him dead.  I'll amputate his reveille, and step upon it heavily, and spend the rest of my days in bed."

I don't remember the exact wording, but the idea is the same.  I would like to reach across the telephone wires and strangle the caller - and spend the rest of my days answering the telephone confidently.  Yes, I do have Caller ID, but the clever callers are identified as Private Caller, and so are a few of my friends.  I have the choice - to answer, or not to answer -

I am registered on the Government's Do Not Call List -  not much help nowadays.

Pinterest - I'm on

I am in the 21st century - on pinterest  with my name Dorothy Raymond  Take a look at my Boards.

When I tried getting back to my blog this morning I was surprised to see that my last post was in 2011 -

Today is Friday, the 13th - and MaeRose has tummy troubles - she stole one and one half bagels yesterday - but that should not cause so much aftermath evidence - unless the plastic wrap is the problem.

Blogs are probably passé
 now that most people are tweeting and twirling and texting.

Ethnically incorrect artistic assumptions

I recently had an appraisal by a bank loan officer.  His name, given to me beforehand,  was recognizably Japanese.  So, in addition to trying to 'unclutter' every room and make sure the surroundings looked spacious as possible, I polished my three tansus, pulled out additional Japanese artifacts, and awaited favorable comment.  (I even stuffed several large dog beds into my car, front and back, because there was no other place to get them out of the way.)

Lesson learned.  After entering my "Japanese" bedroom, and getting no response.  I pointed out one of the tansus.  "Oh, I thought it might be Craftsman," was the reply.  I nodded at another tansu and the pottery tanuki on top, adding "they're vintage Japanese." All I got was a puzzled shrug.

Then my visitor told me all about a home he appraised in Pasadena which was electronically wired against intrusion because the owner had an entire wall of valuable Japanese paintings.  "They must have been old woodblock prints," I suggested.

Later, when he referred to "those block pictures," and told me that the Mexican food in Sedona was the best he had ever had, it became clear that a Japanese heritage does not mean either an appreciation of, or an interest in things decidedly "of a place."

The same must hold true of any culturally-specific artifact, or food, or clothing -  not necessarily appreciated nor recognized by someone from the culture.

More on Sierra Madre's new Farmer's Market

A few weeks ago I blogged in dismay about the reopening of the farmer's market in Sierra Madre.
Location much improved - tree-lined street, easy access.  But, only a four or five farms with produce, the rest - prepared foods, and predictable clothing.

Things have picked up.  More farms, fresh bread, baked goods, fresh fish, and variety of merchants.
Still a 'work in progress' but obvious improvement.

Fingers crossed that it survives, and thrives.