Yes, that is my car.

So,
Ever since I moved here I have had to put up with a lot of guff about our cars. And, well, "HE-MAN DON'T TAKE NO GUFF" (Gurr, grunt, feh)
So today I am back in the notary's office to pick up my plates. As I am filling out the paperwork, I mention that I have received this:

SUSPENSION ORDER

Section 318.1 of the New York State Vehicle and Traffic Law requires that all vehicles have NY liability insurance. Return this form with proof of insurance. please DO NOT WRITE OR USE 

 STAPLES IN THIS AREA.

He  looks at it and says "You better write a note here telling NYDMV you are returning the plates.  And Staple this to the plates when you send it back. Use a bunch of staples, you don't want them to loose this."

No kidding.

Now I have to go get the car inspected, which is sort of what started the whole thing. 

I go back to the garage, and tell the old gleep I am back for the inspection. He said all the guys are out to lunch and it might take a while. 

Fine. Whatever.

He looks out the window, and asks, "Is that your car? that Dodge over there?"

Yes.

Ok it passed. Here is your inspection sticker. Gimmie sixty bucks and sign here, please.

Done.

I feel like a free man, I can walk in the sun again. Except my car is legal, so I don't have to walk, I can drive.

But not until Dr. LaCroix says I can drive. 

He said he thought I was clinically insane, But that is a different story.

Oh, the 109

I forgot.
Last post I went on about staples, 109 in a sleeve of swingline ™ staples.

Today I received a letter from NYDMV  

SUSPENSION ORDER

Section 318.1 of the New York State Vehicle and Traffic Law requires that all vehicles have NY liability insurance. Return this form with proof of insurance. please DO NOT WRITE OR USE 

 STAPLES IN THIS AREA.

Oh.

Guess what is going to happen next. 

110

 

109

Back in the 90's I was a member of the Putnam County Fish and Game Association. Every month I had to mail a tri-fold letter, stapled shut, to 109 members.

A Swingline ™ Stapler holds one "sleeve" of staples from a box of staples. 
110 staples per sleeve, so when I was done, one staple left in the stapler.

One.

This information will be somewhat relevant if you read this further.


 Saturday I get a letter from NYDMV that informs me PA car insurance is not valid on a car registered in NY. I have 10 days to fix this.
According to NYDMV.
And they suspended my registration 10 days ago.

 So,
eventually I was able to  get to the PADMV to get a new driver's license.
Now, this is my third visit,  I have the required paperwork to prove I can drive a car.
Aaand, I get a new license.

Well that was easy. After three trips. So now I have to get new plates for the cars.

But. The PADMV does not issue license plates, you have to go to a Notary, and he will register your car with the state.
I find a Notary about 2 miles from Mary's office and pop by to take care of the plates.
When we were done (much easier than dealing with some state apparatchik) I decided to walk back to Mary's office.

So, there I am, walking down Broad street, in Hazelton, and I get to the corner of Broad and Green. At 11:30 am.

I just bought a coke and *sigh* a hoagie with extra Sriacha sauce.
As I wait for the light, this forty-ish Hispanic gentleman on a bicycle  pulls up and blocks me, shoves a fist in my chest, and says, youwannabag?"

I look down in his hand and see he is offering me about two ounces of marijuana.

First thought: Left hand, drop coke, punch throat, he falls over bike. Escape.
Second thought: Right hand, smash hoagie in his face, hope Sriacha sauce blinds him, he falls over bike. Escape.

Third thought: one and two leaves me without a coke or a hoagie. So,
I say " Well, thanks, but I don't want a bag just yet, but I will keep you in mind."

He mumbles something in spanish and peadles off on his bike.

Did I mention the West Hazelton Police Department was 1/2 a block away?

Welcome to the Freeland (flea) Market

So,
Freeland has a market. When we first moved here, we worked at the market selling T-Shirts for St. Mary's Church.

I had thought my capacity for fear had been strained to its utmost; yet a new horror was in store. The Freeland Market.

"We believe in supporting our local businesses and vendors and giving back to our community. That’s why we’ve invited dozens of artists, furniture craftsmen and women, bakers and more to join us at Freeland and showcase their best products and offerings, boasting one-of-a-kind memorabilia, collectibles and antiques at bargain prices..."

"Boasting" might not be the right word –


“admitted after extensive questioning without attorney present” might be better.

What the heck is this?

April 23.

Snow.

Again.

Still no word from Ed McMahon.

BOOM!

So,

We were sitting around and we hear sirens. Lots of sirens. And they stop right outside our front door.

I go and put on my shoes to step outside, and I see this:

I also see about half a dozen of my neighbors standing next to my front door.

And I smell gas.

A lot of gas.

One of the firemen said there is a gas leak somewhere in the Church across the street, or perhaps the rectory down the block.
I turn to my neighbors and say, 25 years we lived in Brewster and the fire trucks stopped once, when the house next door was on fire, but here, it has been four times in six...

Lisa, are you smoking a cigarette? Loyd, is that a stogie you got there? Don't you smell that? Didn't you hear him? When he said GAS LEAK?

I just went back inside and told everyone to stay away from the windows. In fact, why don't we go in to the kitchen, on the other side of the house.

Come to Freeland, they said.

It'll be nice, they said.
You'll enjoy the weather, they said.

And you will enjoy the weather, if you enjoy cold winds and being rained upon.

At first I was vaguely disgruntled by exactly how rainy and foggy it is here. But presently I became aware of the fact that it is not fog, we live in the clouds. Without the benefit/curse of having Lando Calrissian as a neighbor.

So,
I bake bread often. Keeps me occupied, and my mind off things. And it keeps me inside so I do not get rained upon.

Today I made this:

In a Dutch oven, there on the butcher block. Look at the lid:

Now look at the bread a little closer, (after I reverse the image in Photoshop):

Sometimes I crack myself up.




Eventually it might get warm outside and I will walk around Freeland and get some more photos of the highest town in all PA
or perhaps go to Danko's for a cold one and a game of sabacc with Lando. What do I have to loose?

Oh, If you have yeast, flour, Pam™ and parchment paper, the bread is:
1/2 cup warm water
5 tsp yeast
4 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons sugar
(let that sit for 5 minutes)
2.5 cups of milk
8 cups of flour
3 teaspoons of salt
3 tablespoons vinigar

Turn on the oven to 350° for 60 seconds, then turn it off and put the bread in a Pam™ coated bowl (or use oil) and put it in the oven (OFF) for about an hour, covered with a kitchen towel.

Spray the parchment paper with Pam™ and punch down the bread and put on the paper, in the Dutch oven. After another hour, take the dough and parchment paper out of the Dutch oven and put it in a pie plate (to keep the shape) and turn the oven on to 450° with the empty Dutch oven in it.

When it reaches 450° place the dough and parchment paper back in the Dutch oven and put the lid on. Set the timer for 17 minutes.
When it beeps, remove the lid of the Dutch oven, and reset the timer for another 17 minutes. Try real hard not to burn your hands.
When the top is browned nicely, remove the bread and set on a wire rack to cool.

Yield: Enough to go with dinner, Toast with breakfast, and PB&J's for the quick, 17 hours after cooling. Do not worry about stale bread, it will not last 18 hours.

Heven, Hell, God and Satan

So,

We went to a Conference today titled "The intense battle between Angels and Demons for the soul of America"
They served lunch.

I had

Roast beef
with lettuce
and mustard.


On rye.



As far as I am concerned,
Angels 1
Demons 0

My visit to the 7th level of hell

So,
Mary noticed that the inspection lapsed on the van.


Last October.

I call around and find a shop that will do the inspection. The guy asks me, "on the level, will your car pass?" I said it is a 2014 Dodge, it should pass.
I bring the car in and he asks for the insurance and registration, which I hand over. Here is where it starts to get fun.

He looks at the documents, squints, and says, why do you want a Pennsylvania inspection on a New York car. 

Well we just moved here, and I have not had time to re-register our cars.
Cars? You have more than one out-of-state, UN-inspected car?
Well, sure I have two.
He tells me he can not inspect cars until they have PA registration.
So for my convenience, the PADMV is open Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.

But.

The PADMV does not register automobiles, that is done by a licensed Notary.
But the Notary will not register cars unless you have a PA Drivers license.  
To get a license, the PADMV is open Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
So Saturday morning Mary takes Max to his piano lesson, and drops me off at the DMV to get a PA drivers' license.

I have with me
My credit card (useless, they do not take plastic)
My NY drivers license
My Phone bill
My Electric Bill
$60 in U.S. currency (useless, they do not take cash)
A debit card  (useless, they do not take plastic)

What I do not have is the original Birth Certificate issued to my mom when she checked out of the Hospital 53 years ago.
Or my Social Security Card.
So.
No drivers license for me.


 But on the bright side,
I start to walk back to the piano lesson and I find (most likely) one of the last Drive-in movie theaters still around. 

And then there is this PSA

Guess what we are going to do some Saturday night when they are not playing fast and furious 7

Oh, and how ever cool you think your drive-in is it will *never * be MIG-17, STEAM LOCOMOTIVE,  50's CAR COOL

Ever.

Happy Tax Day, the beer.

Well this is one way to file.

Get him soused, perhaps he gets a 10 year vacation in the Greybar Hotel for not being able to add.

If that doesn't work, you could always put a little something in his coffee. What was it you were growing in the garden last year, Foxglove, wasn't it?

It's Happy Tax Day! BOHICA!

So,
we had to mail some important papers today. April 15th and all. Because my relationship with cars is like oil and water, we took it on the arches. I made number one and number two sons come with, if I have to walk to town they are not going to take it easy.

I figured you have not yet seen Freeland. Well here are a few photos from down town.

Smoke um if ya got um, as they said. When people could smoke.

If you are a bit peckish, you can always snack on a GIANT HOAGIE and get 12 cold ones to go.

Does St. Ann have a band? Yes she does. I just do not know how many trombones there are.

Well, rounding the corner, on our way home we saw this house.
This guy must like beer, because he has neon beer signs in his living-room windows. Either that, or he is every night lighting a beacon for Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

Oh, wait, he likes beer so much he opened a bar in his living-room.
Bet that goes over well with the little lady.

Sorry, boys the wife said we are closed. "But it is still lunchtime!"
Sorry. Sorry.

Well, more to come from Freeland as it is now almost warm enough to be outside, and take a few photos.

Doctor, doctor, give me the news

So,
the other day the saw-bones decided to re-shuffle the deck, perception-wise. You know, Blue pill, Red pill.

I do not get a choice, I get both.

I get home and things start to get a bit dicey.

I am not feeling all that great.

Mary notices my face and hands are starting to swell up.

A lot.

I start thinking about that guy in the Pink Floyd song, the hands feeling like balloons, except I am not comfortable, or numb. At All.

But the lyrics keep going through my mind:

Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die,
when all the birds are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
Pretty girls are everywhere.
Think of me and I'll be there.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time.

Pink Floyd, what a great, inspirational band.

Anyhow. Turns out the only thing in the world I am allergic to are the pills they want me to take to keep this sentimental, Pollyanna slush-pile I call a brain beeping.

 Lets see how the green pill works.

This post should have been labled:

It was late. I was tired.

Ya know that look you get when you ask them to hold the mayo

This is the original email that started this blog.
Just so you know.

And now you do.

So,

Kevin wanted to pick up his paycheck from the deli where he works. Mary said if we were in the area, could I bring her something to eat.

I was going to get a sandwich for her at the deli. 

This is how it went.

I went in and the woman asked "What can I get for you?"

Roast beef, lettuce and mustard on rye, please. Said I.

"Do you want me to make you a Hoagie?"

No. No thank you, just roast beef, lettuce and mustard on rye please.

We don't have rye.

What do you have?

Hoagie rolls. Do you want a hoagie?

*sigh* ok. Fine. A hoagie it is then.

Aaannd, what kind of hoagie do you want?

Roast.

Beef.

Lettuce.

Mustard.

No mayo?

No.

No mayo.

Roast.

Beef.

Lettuce.

Mustard.

So, are ya lactose intolerant?

What?

Are ya lactose intolerant? I mean ya don't want mayo on your hoagie.

Mayo is just eggs, oil and lemon juice, there are no dairy products in mayo. 

Well, it is white.

(to myself) Lord give me Your strength For I'm running on empty right now. All my dials are at zero

 Come shelter my mind in the storms where I'm confused, flood me with light

 Come shelter my heart in the storms where I'm weak come flood me with strength
 Just Roast beef, lettuce and mustard. On a hoagie roll. Please.

FREELAND. Can I get a HELL YEAH!

So,
Just south of town there is a "pond" fenced-in, with barbed wire on the top of the fence.

(click on any picture for a larger view, click off to return, if you want to)

(Note: I just noticed that the barbed wire is facing in, not out, normally it faces out to keep intruders out, and in to keep whatever is inside in.)


Several times I have seen people walking away from this "pond" carrying jugs of water.

Big jugs of water.

They are filling the jugs from a hole in a pipe that drains into the  "pond".

This hole.

Seriously.

But, where does the pipe come from?

Well a little shack in the woods of corse.

Lets take a walk and see.

Why would people drink water from a rusty pipe in the woods?
Well I don't know. Perhaps they think it is blessed or something.


What would make them think that? 

Well guess what we found in the woods.

What is this?

A closer look.

Yes that is a part of the Bible. Exodus I think

Someone colored in the eyes of one of the statues with a Sharpie

And, if you change your mind about taking "woods pipe water" home, someone left a trash can for your empties.

I am *really* hoping someone here tells me I am wrong and these Freeland folks are not drinking this stuff.
But, then again this is Freeland.


Sometimes, I say to myself, "My God, what have I done?"
and other times I just don't know.

Welcome. I guess.

I received an email yesterday from Geisinger Health Services asking me to take a  short survey about their services, and was I satisfied.

I answered that I was in fact satisfied.
I mean, I am still alive, so I guess they did an adequate job.
And I am able to answer their survey, so there is that.