Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign

The calories from the Halloween candy haven’t even been burned off yet and already there are Christmas decorations in the market place. Thanksgiving turkeys are still nibbling grass, blissfully unaware of their annual star status on the food chain. In other words, we are at the starting line of the holidaze, but we’re just getting warmed up, or cooled off in terms of weather.

‘Tis the season of dressing in layers, stoking fires, sipping tea, kicking leaves, planning parties, and donning our gay apparel, but the frenzy is still a few weeks away, so for this quiet lull between trick or treating and cranberry sauce, we thought we’d display a few signs from our travels.

The fog and storm images are self-explanatory and rather Novemberish, but the rest might require a little narration.

We’ve noticed that stores in other countries have a certain charm to their names. Perhaps tourists from other countries are also enchanted by what we name our shops. Yes, I imagine the lyrical sounds of K-Mart, Bi-Mart, and Walmart inspire much poetry and picture taking. On that subject, I just heard a great line, “If I keel over in Walmart, drag my body to Niemans!”

Who knows what “Mimi la Sardine” in Paris sells, or what could be found at “Funky Fish” in Naflion, but if it turned the contents of one’s stomach, beware of ever throwing paper down any toilet in Greece. “Twould be a faux pas of major proportions.

However, the soothing pepto bismal pinkness of the next three shops should sooth any upset tummy. “Piiiiiiiink…”

Mona and her enigmatic smile have fascinated peasant and nobility alike for over 500 years, so it should not come as any surprise that La Gioconda still woos the customers, whether she is hawking a sidewalk café in the City of Light, promoting “The Groovy Store” in The Peloponnese, giving out free pumpkin fudge samples in California, or representing Humboldt Carpet.

Speaking of celebrity endorsements, there are many ways to achieve Point Relax. In this sign, apparently Buddah is suggesting a cocktail. I’m getting mixed messages from Monsieur Van Gogh though. In one hand, he’s holding up a bottle of Absinthe, but he seems to be shaking his head back and forth in a dazed confusion. Does he want us to try the green fairy or is he warning us off her nasty sting?

Another way to achieve Point Relax is through retail therapy or, gasp! How did that sign get there? Honest Mom, it’s just a traffic sign, I had no idea.

Any helpful narration has come to an end, for the next few remain mysterious and they found their way into our cameras because of their baffling nature.

I’m super confused by NeOVADIAL. What’s it supposed to do? I mean, the poor woman is obviously in bad shape. She’s wearing some sort of brace or corset on her neck, and her hair stylist appears to have been in the throes of PMS or on an Absinthe trip gone awry. Come on, look at those butchered bangs and the gap of skin peeking out from her scalp above her ear. The cream cooked up in the Vichy Laboratoires has not eliminated the woman’s crow’s feet, yet she’s staring complacently as if she’s had a few of those Buddah cocktails.

As an aside, please remember that you can enlarge any of the photos by clicking on the images and then hitting the back arrow to return to the blog. For details, it helps muchly. I insert this handy dandy public service announcement here, so you can be sure to read the fine print at the bottom of the next one…

What? Persians for sale? Can we do that now? Again, confused. Are they new older Persians, or are they older new Persians? Regardless of their age they have been “examined by U.S. Customs and Border Patrol.” At least that’s what the green tape says. Attention attention - No more red tape, everybody’s going green.

Avast and ahoy, the head exams are free. Is this part of a kinder, gentler bureaucracy, the new health care plan, or a courtesy we now offer foreign tourists, otherwise known as homey land hospitality?

In New York hangs a sign with the words, “Fur and Furgery.” Oh, pray tell, what does that mean?! Perhaps I should give one of the Wanks a call and ask. Really, if you’re a wank, you’d hang out a shingle and advertise? Well, maybe the honesty’s refreshing. “Hello, Babe, I’m a wank, give me a call sometime.”

Ai yai yi. It’s all Greek to me. Anywho, see ya at Point Relax.

Shock a Body, Shock a Body Body...

Halloween is the apex of extremes, the blending of horror with beauty, juxtaposing Summer Winter Light Dark Good Evil Saints Ghosts Spirits Goblins Demons Angels

Fear Laughter Orange Black Tricks Treats Jack O’Lanterns Candles Skulls Fairies Ghouls

Spooky Scary Funny Magic Eerie Wicked Witches Spells Incantations Brooms Cauldrons Black Cats Skeletons

Cadavers The Undead Crypts Mummies Vampires Bats Coffins Dracula Frankenstein Cemeteries Cathedrals Doin’ the Monster Mash

Candy Apples Razor Blades Wearing-coats-over-costumes-because-it’s-often-cold-and-raining-outside Grave robbers Zombies Shrunken Heads Blood Stitches Spiders

Scarecrows Werewolves Nightmares The Macabre Boo! Moonlight Pumpkin pie Bobbing for Apples Haunted Houses

Damnation Salvation Torment Enchantment Pagan Christian Insulted Wiccans Day of the Dead Night of the Living…

Ah, the evocative images this time of year brings on its cloaked shoulders.

A chilling wind blows the thin veil between worlds as All Hollow’s Eve approaches. It is time for the prisoners of the underworld to fly their freak flags a little and party down before the solemn Holiday of All Saints Day arrives on November one.

As disguises are carefully selected, they reveal more than they hide. Groom and I have made our appearance, can you spot us?

Lastly, while on the subject of various body parts, here’s a little season appropriate snippet from Willie the Bard.

"Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,

Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,--

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble."

-Macbeth

And speaking of Groom, he discovered this Malt Liquor pitcher of rubber noses and has judiciously decided to call it, “A Snoot Full.”

On the Road Again

Seven days ago, before buckling up for our last out-of-town show for the 2009 season, I imagined this week’s photo blog would be all about Half Moon Bay. After all, the coastal town 20 some odd miles and four hours (ha ha) south of the Bay area is charming enough to showcase all by itself.

However, after having experienced the road trip, it’s more accurate to call this week’s entry The Medford Jacksonville Mt. Shasta San Francisco Half Moon Bay Madera Fresno expedition edition. Fresno? Yes, that’s exactly what I thought, but I’ll tell you more about that later.

First stop, Medford and what iconic image better represents the old Middleford of yore than the scary Monster Bird? And while on the subject of yore, these next three shots were taken in and around the old mining town of Jacksonville.

Goat Mama (not to be confused with Llama Mama coming up shortly), from a few episodes back is the friend we stay with in the Rogue Valley and she’s been a professional photographer for about 456 months now and seems able to speak camera. She uses fancy words like aperture, exposure, F-stop, shutter speed and edge lighting while I know words like lens cap and button.

After spending the day taking photos with her, we left early enough the next morning to capture this sunrise over Mt. Shasta, which we’re calling Fire and Ice.

That put us going through San Francisco via the Bay Bridge during lunch hour. I was awfully tempted to ask Groom for a side-trip pilgrimage to the oft-dreamt about John Fluevog Shoe store, but I behaved myself and kept a self-imposed vow of silence. I’m sure I would have had much more fun buying two good shoes than being a goody two-shoes. Oh well...

We finally made it to Half Moon Bay, named for its crescent shaped beach. The weather was stunning and we enjoyed a leisurely Friday watching the waves roll in and perusing the upscale shops in this affluent community, contented to be ignored by Llama Mama for the third consecutive year. She’s got attitude and ain’t afraid to show it.

For the weekend and the purpose of our trip, we anticipated the feeding frenzy of the purported 250,00 eager shoppers that would clog every arterial and vein from the surrounding areas, and a day and a half into the two-day Pumpkin Festival we were still anticipating…

Now this is the part that perplexes me. Hordes of people risked life and limb to traverse the steep windy roads into town, crowding bumper-to-bumper, and then paying $10 to park once they arrived, only to walk right past the art booths, staring straight ahead, their only view the back of the person in front of them.

Disappointment leaked into the next day as we coaxed our exhausted selves from bed at 2:45am by the promise of coffee and the desire to get on the road ahead of the commuters, heading toward Fresno to spend the day with my cousin.

If you don’t drink coffee, what happened next will not impact you, for you will not be able to relate to the loss. But for those of you with the caffeine gene, you’ll understand and commiserate.

While I was checking out of our hotel (you would weep from the bill), my travel mug mysteriously overturned and my precious liquid gold spilled all over the floor of the van. The vehicle wasn’t even moving, the mug has a flat bottom and a lid, and yet when I climbed in, the carpet was soaked and my mug was empty.

I looked at Groom with his full, steaming cup and he shrugged. No coffee shop was open at pre-four in the morning, we had just turned over our card keys and I knew it would be hours before I would have another chance for chemically enhanced wide-awakeness.

I was in a foul mood. What occurred next did not help matters at all. Two hours into the drive, we pulled over for gas and a powder room. I saw a neon sign advertising what I was jonesing for, so Groom had barely rolled to a stop before I was out and heading for the golden door of coffee land.

Until I saw it. A giant rat with an even longer tail skittered across the floor, it’s unmanicured nails making that haunting clicking sound as it scurried from view. Not that you would have been able to hear it over my girly screeching sounds anyway. The attendant looked at the rat running away and then at me squealing and simply shrugged.

What is it with men and their shrugs??!!

I sulked for the next hour as we drove along in the dark, but the mood lightened when I saw a highway sign for “Los Banos.” Isn’t that Spanish for toilet? I’d heard Fresno called the armpit of California, but I didn’t know it was located so near the toilet of California.

At 6:01am I was in line for coffee in Los Banos. Never mind the translation, the coffee was good. By this time, however, as the joke goes, I was ready to order a café mocha vodka Valium latte to go.

By 7am we were at my cousin’s doorstep in Madera. She welcomed us in her lovely home and we spent the day toodling around the area. I had no idea The Armpit had such edgy and lovely art and architecture.

Notice the Gothic lettering of the Iron Bird Lofts, and what’s with Fresno’s fascination with bees, nipples and rosebud figleafs?? I’ve heard of bee-stung lips, but… ouch!

If exploding hearts and nipple honey isn’t your thang, then avert your eyes and look across the street. A full scale Amazing Grace at thy fingertips.

But my very favorite I’ve saved for last. Click to enlarge so you can take in all the details. Do you see the crow sitting on the statue’s head?

I know, I know, while surrounded by so much beauty, don’t cry over spilt coffee.