The Weekend

We had quite the little weekend in Smallville. It was the Down Home Carolina Smallville Blues Festival; at least, I think that was the title. I just know there was a lot of blues playing all over town for three days, and a lot of drunks walking through town for days. The Blues festival is one of the few times during the year that you are allowed to walk around town, from building to building, bar to bar, with a cup of liquor in your hands or an open container of some sort--usually beer--usually Bud Light.

Now, being first from California, then from Miami, this seems odd to me. I mean, here in Smallville, you cannot buy liquor from midnight on Saturday until Monday morning; Sunday is God's day and apparently the man, or woman, upstairs, doesn't like any of us having a nip on Sunday. Well, we can have us a nip, but we'd best make damn sure we buy it on Saturday before midnight.

Anywhore [thanks DD] we had crowds in the streets, crowds in the bars, crowds in the bookstore--yes, even the bookstore had a band--and crowds in the music store. There was a band playing at the Farmer's Market in town, too. But it's a fun weekend, and brings a lot of people into Smallville and boosts our wee economy so who am I to complain?

And the music was good. I heard Pop Ferguson, who is in his 80s and still going strong. Pop sings with his son [Son Ferguson?] and does all sorts of old blues from "Mister Boss Man" to "T'Ain't Nobody's Business." It was a good fun night, even fighting the crowds.

Sunday, the Mister and I decided to head up to Charlotte to go to Home Goods. I kept seeing this store advertised as having very good prices on, well, home goods, so I wanted to see for myself. We decided to take the back roads to Charlotte because it's nicer and quicker to get where we wanted to go. Carlos drives there; I drive back.

We're on these old country roads, two lanes twisting and turning through farmland, up hill and down. The speed limit is maybe 50, but Carlos, my dear sweet Carlos, who I sometimes refer to as Maria Andretti, decides it's okay to go sixty or more. He's careening up the hill and down down the other side and I'm feeling a bit Diana Ross in the car scene from Mahogany. I'm trying to look all pretty while I'm begging him to slow down.

And he does. Finally. And finally we arrive at Home Goods, and it is like nirvana. Cool stuff, low prices. We looked at lamps; I like sleek and contemporary, Carlos likes bases carved into the shape of animals. Any animal will do, but he especially likes the ones that resemble monkeys. It must be an Origin of Species thing for hiom, I do not know. So we hurry from the lamp section.

We look at rugs, and the prices are really great. I curse myself for not measuring the dining room in case we saw the perfect one. We look at artwork. Again, I go contemporary, Carlos spots the only piece of art with, yes, Monkeys. So, we hurry out of artwork.

Into towels. Carlos has a thing for towels and before you can say 'Bend over and pick up the soap', we have a shower curtain, new towels, two bathmats and a set of sheets in our hands. Now, of course, with the new towels and shower curtain, I will be painting the master bathroom next! Oy!

We looked at kitchen stuff; Carlos at the bakeware, me at the martini sets. Hey, we each have our priorities! There are cake plates and serving dishes and muffin tins; it's a queer dream come true.

But we leave before our shopping cart becomes a big teetering mass of stuff, and we head off to NODA--North Davidson Street in Charlotte which is supposed to be an artsy fartsy area of town with galleries and cafes and so on. It's a bit more fartsy than artsy, really, because it's a bit run down. it's one of those neighborhoods that's making a comeback with all sorts of new loft spaces and so on, but no one bothered to tell the old shops or old drunk men. But there was a cool, sort of arty vibe, and a little cafe called Cabo Fish Tacos.

We went in and I instantly thought back to being in Hawaii in some cool off-the-beaten-path bistro. Surfboards and metal sculptures on the walls; tequila behind the bar. it's a win-win.

Carlos gets steak tacos and nopalito salad and I get a tuna burrito and a Longboard beer. As we're eating and I'm thinking about Hawaii, Carlos says the place reminds him of something, too. A bar we'd gone into in Portland on a visit out there.

The bar where we had lunch? I ask.

Yes.

But that was a beautifully woodpaneled Irish bar that served a lot of corned beef.

Yes.

This is a fish taco place with an old tin ceiling and surfboards on the wall.

I know. They remind me of one another.

I order another beer.

To end, let me tell a quick Ricky-and-Lucy.

Last Saturday, Carlos announces he has to run to Lowes.

For what?

Tick oil.

Tick oil? I'm wondering if the dog has ticks, and why Lowes of all places would sell a pet remedy. But then Carlos is the one with the veterinary experience, so I defer to him.

I need it for the chairs.

The chairs? Which chairs? We have ticks in the chairs? Damn that dog for bringing ticks into my house!
The ones in the garage.

Oh.

The chairs for the deck. The teak chairs.

He needs teak oil.

Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy.