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Took a walk down from where I grew up. Some of the places from when I was a kid still exist, such as this.
Pénteken reggel elmentem az öltönyömért a helyi idős vegytisztítóhoz, egyúttal elvittem a fényképezőgépem, hogy megörökítsem a 100 éves műhely és üzlet berendezéseit... Az öreg mester 70 évesen még teljes munkaidőben viszi a nagyapja által indított boltot, de nyilván már nem sokáig.
Állványok a verandán a régi házban, ahol minden omladozik már. / Stands on the porch of the old house.
Friday morning I went to pick up my suit from the drycleaner and took my camera with me. I wanted to document the old equipment in this 100 year old shop in an old house in Hodmezovasarhely, Hungary - the shop was started by the grandfather of the current owner, who is also 70 years old and may not continue this business for long.
So things are going well in Portland. I'm happy, settled, interviewing for jobs,going on bad dates--you know, all normal stuff. I like to think that I am doing more grownup things, too (starting running again, eating fruits and vegetables, buying Kashi cereal.) So when, in my interview dance with a company in Beaverton, I got called in for a second interview, I figured that I had to iron a shirt.
A little background on me and irons: I've never owned one. My mom didn't believe in it; I think she thought in her feminist mind that her daughter would never NEED to iron her own stuff. Maybe men would do it. Maybe aliens would. I dunno. I asked her once why she didn't iron and she said that there were better things to do with one's time. Made sense to me. So she raised a literary, pleasant (most of the time), well-rounded, albeit wrinkly-clothed little girl.
So when I set out to iron my shirt for my second interview, I had to buy all the stuff. Check. Simple. I read the instruction manual--too easy! How hard could ironing be? After all, I reasoned, I (flat)iron my hair. Plus some people are kind of stupid, and they iron! I bet even developmentally disabled people can iron, perhaps as some sort of life skills training. It would NOT be hard. Why, I'd be an ironing expert!
No. NO. Ironing sucked. Ironing did not suck at first--it only started sucking when I realized that I was ironing wrinkles INTO the clothes. I couldn't isolate the armpit area, I couldn't figure out how to not wrinkle the other side of the sleeve, I just couldn't figure it out. I used all the settings, I steamed, I shot water on the shirt, I did everything but burn an iron-shaped hole into my brand-new shirt. I used to give Keith a lot of crap about ironing all the time. If you're reading this, Keith, sorry. It's actually a good skill to acquire. It's too bad I am apparently unable to acquire said skill.
So after swearing at the iron for awhile, and then realizing I was talking to myself way too much, I put a bunch of Febreze on the shirt and threw it in the dryer. It looked a little better. Then I put the suit jacket on and called it a day. Maybe someday I'll learn to iron. Maybe I will practice on other shirts. As of now, I can't figure out to fold the board back up, so it's sitting in my dining room, taunting me, reminding me that no matter how much Kashi cereal I buy or kale I steam, I'm not grown up quite yet.
P.S. The interview went great. And I have the number of my local drycleaner, as well. Extra starch, please. Anyone in Portland want to buy an iron?
Herrett_110921_0247
Jeeves Dry Cleaners sign logo, London, England
Copyright © Roberto Herrett. All rights reserved.
We went down to Rich Hill for their 4th of July parade / car show / quilt show.
I think someone forgot to tell these folks that they were in a parade. Or the drycleaner lost their uniforms. One of the two.
I was out and about today 10/21 and I still found a few nice trees especially in parts of Concord but in my neck of the woods we are past peak and they are predicting our first light snowfall tonight. This is Boscawen nearly 3 weeks ago now with some touching up on a cloudy day.