I was out and about this morning finishing up some deliveries for the news magazine, The Sustainable Times in Madison, Wisconsin. Not that I was wearing those gorgeous vintage stockings and or blue pumps even tho I do wish I had the courage to do so! I am going to be so mad when I die and didn't do that among a few other creative yet off ideas. I come upon the delivery to an old neighborhood building called The Washington Hotel. Doesn't that remind you of a huge red brick Hotel from the 50's with black fire escapes, alley's and a few drunks there and about? Well it did me. Probably because my Grandmother Gillie used to manage one of those old jobbers in Rockford, Illinois. Had the old elevator along with the elevator operator and big brass gate holding us safely to the next floor. Mother would never allow me to go too far for fear of something I didn't know what? I do now! Back to The old Washington Hotel... In reality it is two story, on the lake with a gorgeous view of the Capital and the Monona Terrace Center. Our mini Australian Opera doo daa day in the Bay. Sorry I forgot what its called but I do know. Somewhere in my brain is the name of that Bird Billed Architectural "thingy." God all these college words, cant hardly take it. OK, back to the point. I usually park directly in front of The Washington Hotel, take my bundle of magazines inside, place them on the rack, cut the bands and leave. Today no parking available in front so I park across the Railroad Tracks in an empty lot. This would be a dreadful place if it were darktime! But it wasn't so I stifled the GAD that tries to keep me locked up in my house forever. (General Anxiety Disorder) Grabbed my bundle, and headed for the weed surrounded tracks. Suddenly I remembered all the old movies I saw as child where the good guy/gal gets their shoe/foot caught in the tracks (I have never figured out how that is possible) and of course the train is coming fast blowing its terrifying whistle. Back to reality? Rarely! I crossed the tracks looking both ways as if I would miss the huge hunk of metal should it be even remotely close. duh. Took a few seconds to survey the tracks to see if my foot could get stuck.....There would be no saving me if so. No hero around the corner, no
"Clean Cut Cowboy" to rush in and save the distressed damsel. That never happens anymore by the way. Not even in the movies I don't think... I MADE IT and on my own even. Crossed those tracks, delivered my mags....crossed 'em again with not so much as a smidgen of drama... That's why I have to make up my own. I love my drama. It seems so real sometimes. By the way the picture of Nell isn't me either. I found that on google. She does have a neat little blog tho.
http://www.littlenellvintage.blogspot.com/ She is also at
http://www.flickr.com/ I am home now, sitting in my jeans and sweatshirt dreaming of some other dangerous interesting little skit I can put myself in. I am good at it! Maybe I'll write a book. I already am.
I was out and about this morning finishing up some deliveries for the news magazine, The Sustainable Times in Madison, Wisconsin. Not that I was wearing those gorgeous vintage stockings and or blue pumps even tho I do wish I had the courage to do so! I am going to be so mad when I die and didn't do that among a few other creative yet off ideas. I come upon the delivery to an old neighborhood building called The Washington Hotel. Doesn't that remind you of a huge red brick Hotel from the 50's with black fire escapes, alley's and a few drunks there and about? Well it did me. Probably because my Grandmother Gillie used to manage one of those old jobbers in Rockford, Illinois. Had the old elevator along with the elevator operator and big brass gate holding us safely to the next floor. Mother would never allow me to go too far for fear of something I didn't know what? I do now! Back to The old Washington Hotel... In reality it is two story, on the lake with a gorgeous view of the Capital and the Monona Terrace Center. Our mini Australian Opera doo daa day in the Bay. Sorry I forgot what its called but I do know. Somewhere in my brain is the name of that Bird Billed Architectural "thingy." God all these college words, cant hardly take it. OK, back to the point. I usually park directly in front of The Washington Hotel, take my bundle of magazines inside, place them on the rack, cut the bands and leave. Today no parking available in front so I park across the Railroad Tracks in an empty lot. This would be a dreadful place if it were darktime! But it wasn't so I stifled the GAD that tries to keep me locked up in my house forever. (General Anxiety Disorder) Grabbed my bundle, and headed for the weed surrounded tracks. Suddenly I remembered all the old movies I saw as child where the good guy/gal gets their shoe/foot caught in the tracks (I have never figured out how that is possible) and of course the train is coming fast blowing its terrifying whistle. Back to reality? Rarely! I crossed the tracks looking both ways as if I would miss the huge hunk of metal should it be even remotely close. duh. Took a few seconds to survey the tracks to see if my foot could get stuck.....There would be no saving me if so. No hero around the corner, no "Clean Cut Cowboy" to rush in and save the distressed damsel. That never happens anymore by the way. Not even in the movies I don't think... I MADE IT and on my own even. Crossed those tracks, delivered my mags....crossed 'em again with not so much as a smidgen of drama... That's why I have to make up my own. I love my drama. It seems so real sometimes. By the way the picture of Nell isn't me either. I found that on google. She does have a neat little blog tho. http://www.littlenellvintage.blogspot.com/ She is also at http://www.flickr.com/ I am home now, sitting in my jeans and sweatshirt dreaming of some other dangerous interesting little skit I can put myself in. I am good at it! Maybe I'll write a book. I already am.
