As mentioned before, it is always always the thought that counts. Even if someone got me any of these things in the past, I would always consider their thoughtfulness and appreciate them forever! However, there are some things just I guess just need to be said. Here is a list of some things you should know when approaching holiday shopping not only for me but people in general.

Stetson Cologne Box Set That Looks Like It Was Saved From a Flood
One year my grandmother on my Mom’s side (God bless her heart) gave me a Stetson cologne box set that was clearly marked down to .99 cents after it was the victim of the great flood of 1999. Half of the box looked brand new (for 1974) and the other half looked like it had black mold growing off of the soggy cardboard. On top of the fact that Stetson cologne reminds me of a drunk stepfather, or “what it means to be a man” this is basically a recipe for disaster. Thanks for thinking of me, but I may end up ‘forgetting’ about this gift and leaving it in my basement to grow penicillin.

Popcorn Tins
Popcorn upsets my stomach, so getting me a 10 pound tin with various stale flavors would actually be rude.

Unless the tin has kitties or Lady Gaga on it, please give it to an uncle or a neighbor.

Giant Fish Pillows
I will never forget one Christmas morning a few years ago when my aunt gave my Dad his present to open up, and it was a 5-foot long plush bass fish stuffed animal. The look of disgust, horror, and disappointment from my Dad had me rolling on the floor laughing for days and months on end. I also remember hoping that I would never have to open the same gift in my life.

However, now that I am sharing this story with you I am sure one of my good friends is going to go out of his or her way to make sure I open one this year.

Snuggie
I have a robe. And I wear it backwards. I’ve saved $20.

CNN says to watch out for the Dirty Secrets of Black Friday ‘Doorbusters’, saying that

of the hordes of pre-dawn shoppers who line up for hours outside stores on the day after Thanksgiving, most will not bag the best bargains that appear in merchants’ circulars.

That’s just wrong.

Shoopers need to be on the look-out for phrases like While supplies last, Minimum 2 per store, No rainchecks, and/or All items are available in limited quantities. If you see any of these limitations, be prepared to walk away from the store empty-handed.

Big-name stores are guilty of this practice. Sears, for example, is limiting its Black Friday special on an LCD HETV to “only while quantities last; minimum 3 per store; no rainchecks”. They also have a washer/dryer deal but they’ve limited that to 4 per store and no rainchecks.

This practice of short supply is patently unfair to consumers and can actually be physically dangerous as with last year’s WalMart stampede that saw a store employee killed.

Even if you do happen to luck into a store that still has inventory, you should know of another unfair practice. Some of the items on sale are not the standard models, but in fact cheaper derivatives. Consumers are not made aware of this important point, and often wind up getting less of a true bargain.

Trust is a crucial factor in establishing and maintaining any successful business, but especially one that’s solely online like mine. One of the main reasons I started this blog back in 2005 was to have a sort of “over-the-counter” connection between shop owner (yours truly) and customer.

I don’t impose false limits or create short supply. If you order a Borsalino fedora or a Stetson cowboy hat, that’s exactly what you get. Maybe honesty and good service aren’t slick and shiny slogans, but (in my old-fashioned opinion, anyway) there’s just no other way to run a business and succeed as a human being.

Thanks for reading,
Steve Singer
Shop Owner and
CEO Hartford York

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categories: straw hats summer hats panama hats straw fedora hats straw fedoras winter hats fedoras cowboy hats leather hats Kangol hats Borsalino hats Scala hats Stetson hats Wigens hats fur hats fall hats autumn hats hats for winter wool caps hats women’s hats men’s hats fashion humor

It was raining in Forth Worth, Texas on November 22, 1963. Despite the drizzle, John F. Kennedy spoke to thousands outside the Texas Hotel without a hat. While many Texans may have felt otherwise, this wasn’t unusual. Groups like the Hat Corporation of America and the United Hatters, Cap and Millinery Workers International Union had been lobbying and plying the presiden with hats for years, but no hat remained his custom.

The city of Fort Worth had their own custom. Every president, and most dignitaries and celebrities, who visited Fort Worth was given a Shady Oak Western hat by the publisher of the Forth Worth Star Telegram. The honoree would then place the hat on their head, the photogs would get their “hey, we’re in Texas!” shot and everyone was mostly happy.

Didn’t happen with Kennedy. Watching the History Channel’s excellent JFK: 3 Shots That Changed America I finally saw footage of that uncomfortable moment and, while he was jovial about his–by this time–legendary aversion to headwear, there was no way you were getting him to put that hat on. Seems like a pretty harmless little thing, but Kennedy was resolute. Here’s a screenshot:

The entire reason this was notable to me was because at first I thought the hat Kennedy had received was the famous Stetson Open Road. The Open Road was sort of a transitional hat, a gentlemen’s chapeau with a distinct Western flair from the cattleman’s crease and side dents. For whatever it’s worth, that hat is the definition of my personal aesthetic.

But of course it wasn’t a Stetson, rather it was take on the popular style only more Texan, an eighth of an inch taller and wider. The hat was made and delivered by Tom Peters of Peters Bros. Hats. Less than three hours after receiving the hats, along with some boots, Kennedy was dead. The hat, much to the chagrin of the Peters family, still hasn’t been recovered. Should you be interested, and I very much am, you can now purchase the same Shady Oak hat today.

And, of course, the irony here is that the Open Road style hat would go on to become synonymous with Kennedy’s immediate successor, Lyndon B. Johnson and were ubiquitous in the footage from Dallas that comprised JFK: 3 Shots that Changed America.

I missed this two part series when it was originally showin in October, but I can’t say enough about how beautifully it was done. In a major departure from most historical documentaries, 3 Shots used only original footage. No voice over, no slowly panning over period photographs, just a lonely, black screen with a flip number clock that hauntingly counts the minutes and years leading up to and following the assasination followed by a treasure trove of footage from television and radio broadcasts.

I’ve never been a Kennedy fanatic, but being able to experience it as close to firsthand as I could get was an equally harrowing and fascinating experience. I’m eagerly awaiting the Mad Men series finale where, presumably, this season will end with the assassination. We’re only two episodes away and just hit Halloween so it seems like the natural, and expected, breaking point.

Maybe Connie Hilton’s Open Road will make another appearance.

Everyone has a favorite smell…fresh baked bread, new car, puppy breath, to name a few.  But what if those “favorite” smells invoke a different reaction in other people?

There are some scents that make me shudder and make my skin crawl.   I believe it has a lot to do with certain incidents in my childhood where a particular odor was present.

For instance…when I was a child, my siblings and I would sometimes play in a park in our hometown where there were a lot of Russian Olive trees.  Anyone growing up in our area of the country would easily recognize a Russian Olive as a twisty-trunked tree with small sage green leaves, usually found in farm windbreaks or along creeks and rivers. The trees bore small, hard olives that were not edible due to the large pit inside.  In the springtime, the Russian Olive tree would be covered with small white pungent blossoms you could smell from hundreds of feet away.  There are a lot of people who love the smell of Russian Olive blossoms; I am not one of them. Why? Because in the park where we played, when the Russian Olives were in bloom, my brother F told me that it was the smell of drunk people passed out in the bushes.  Where he got that idea, I have no clue.  But from that day on whenever I smell a Russian Olive blossom, I can almost see people lying in their own vomit under a tree, and it makes me gag.

The smell of potato chips gives me the shivers, as well.  Once when I was little our family went to a picnic sponsored by an organization my father belonged to.  I was probably 4 or 5 at the time.  There was a bowl of potato chips on a picnic table, and we were told that anyone could eat them. My problem was that there was a blind man sitting at the table right in front of the chips. A blind man who had no eyes, just empty sockets, and to this little girl, that was about as horrible as anything. Even worse, he was eating the potato chips, having no problem finding the bowl, without eyes to guide his hand.   Yes, with age comes experience and with experience comes knowledge and with knowledge comes acceptance. But for this little girl whose first experience with a blind person was accompanied by the smell of potato chips, I was scarred for life. Not toward handicapped persons, but toward the smell of potato chips.

Chanel #5. To me, it smells like Raid bug spray.

Stetson cologne makes me want to vomit.  I worked with a man once who would practically bathe in the stuff to hide the odor of booze on him when he came to work. You could smell him approaching even before he got out of his car.

Watermelon pickles. Marigolds. Curry powder. 7-up. All of these odors make my stomach roll and twist. Go figure.  But I’m sure there is some correlation with those odors and some unpleasant experience from my past.

Am I the only one?

Whilst still saddened to see summertime go, we must admit we’re rather excited to get boots back into our near-daily routine.

That being said, we scoured the web to bring you the best of the best for this season’s boots. Here are our favorites from each of the “it styles” for Fall”

The Day to Night Boot: Coach Aida Boot, $548

The Casual Riding Boot: Tory Burch Sawyer, $495

The Effortless Everyday Boot: Dolce Vita Wendall, $169

The Classic Bootie: Marc by Marc Jacobs, $485

The Nightime Bootie: L.A.M.B Rasta, $345

Want to see even more Booties we love? Look at our favs here!

The Cowboy Boot: Stetson, $240

The Motorcycle Boot: Tory Burch Stowe, $495

photos courtesy of Piperlime, Bloomingdale’s and Coach

This awesome hat is called the Gun Club hat and was made by Stetson in the 1950’s. The lining is my favorite with the flying ducks. This hat is made from beaver felt.

Recently I’ve been introduced to the wide world of country music, and who knew there was such a hat craze associated with it? So, in an effort to infuse a little country in my soul, I’m going to wrangle up some selections from hats.com to give you the low-down on the country music scene’s style.

Of course the Men’s and Women’s Western styles are the first categories that I checked out on hats.com. There are a lot of great styles in there, but I think my favorite western hat for women would be the Eddy Bros Myrtle Beach Straw Western Hat. True to its name, it’s super cute for the beach but transitions well to the floor of a line dancing event. For men… the Stetson Monterey Bay Hat is pretty cool. During any comfortable tour into town or country, the Stetson® Monterey Bay Hat tells a visual story for all curious admirers. This wearable travelogue of sorts extends on the exciting and varied places you’ve been and the adventures that follow. Woven from 100% palm leaf and rounded off with a leather belt band with tassles for a rich yet rugged theme, this sightly Stetson standard nicely centers any sprawling western setting. A metallic Stetson medallion oversees the rustic scene in style.

Sugarland’s Live on the Inside concert, which aired on 6ABC on August 3^rd, was really interesting. The music was fun and catchy, but what really caught my attention was lead guitarist Kristian Merrill Bush’s hat of course!  The Bailey of Hollywood Luke Wool Felt Fedora Hat matches almost perfectly with Bush’s style.  Bailey of Hollywood Premium Wool Felt hats are made with the finest grade of 100% virgin wool fibers, denoting a distinction in finish and superiority of style. This is a real head-turning hat with a two-tone band and double bound two-tone brim edging.

Looking to follow your favorite country star’s personal style? I’m in love with Miley Cyrus’ two new purchases the examiner.com posted about.  She recently tweeted that she picked up one hat that looks really close to the Aegean Cotton Greek Fisherman Cap, but the Betmar Linen Button Cap offers the same shaps sans the extra flair. Cyrus’ other find, a knit trapper, is similar to the Ignite No. 1 Peru Hat and will definitely be a super cute addition to your winter wardrobe.

So hopefully your feeling a little more country, I know I am pretty excited to see what picks Miley will share with us next! With the Fall/Winter selections due to arrive on the site soon, be sure to check back to see the season’s latest country western trends!

…find my Stetson!

Long back, the story goes, a Texan working for an MNC was on a business trip. Being a Texan, he and his favourite Stetson were inseparable, perked jauntily on his head. On a particularly windy day, as he tried crossing a busy road, his hat flew off and was crushed under a car. He was disconsolate. Anyway, he went back to home-base and submitted an expense claim for his trip. It had many pages of expenses, details of trips, mileage, lodging, meals .. for it was a long trip. It came to more than a thousand dollars, USD 1097.37 to be precise. One of the items in the claim caught the eye of his manager; it was towards the purchase of a Stetson hat.
The manager called in the employee and asked him to remove the offending item; “we can’t pay for your hat, Bertie”. The Texan took back the claim without a word and came back an hour later with the revised claim. Now it still was 1097.37. “How’s the total claim still the same? Where’s the Stetson?” asked the manager. “Precisely”, said Bertie. “Now, find the Stetson!”.

Expense reports are always “interesting”. They often hide more than they show. In some distant past, I was signing off on a small 2-man remote office’s monthly running expenses, when suddenly the electricity charges seemed rather high; in fact, as high as our much bigger office. On investigations, it came out. My staff in the remote office, were actually living there; the beds were hidden under the sofas and tables during the day. The AC bills gave the game away.

Then, there was the advice given by my senior colleague, specifically assigned the task of house-training me in my first job. “Your daily auto-bill, should be enough to pay for your daily packet of cigarettes. Remember, from here to Janpath is always between Rs 15 to 17.”

Different companies have different policies. In one, we scrupulously followed, “the junior-most pays”; useful when the gang goes out for a drink and the boss signs off the expenses, especially if he is among the ones drinking. But, most MNCs follow: “the senior-most pays”, which is designed to curb exactly such practices!

Then, there is the matter of entitlements. A soft drink major, had a very simple travel policy for their salesmen: “just pick the most expensive hotel to stay in”. This was of course very useful , especially seeing that the only hotels that the sales guys were able to find in the interiors where they were traveling for 20 days in a month anyway, were unikely to have even clean bed-sheets, forget star ratings! I am also reminded of the time when my one-time employer implemented draconian limits on the amount we could spend on food per day while traveling but forgot to do so on the type of hotels. So, we were stuck staying in 5-stars where the price of breakfast was more than our entitlement for the day.

But, what if you were not traveling? Were there ways of getting your company to spend on your nourishment? Well offsite meetings (what the BJP calls Chintan Baithaks) were a godsend. The purpose was the same; after a particularly bad quarter, the senior managers: guys who screwed up, got paid to unwind in some nice resort (at least a 5-star hotel even if in the same city). And, I had a boss in a different city who was constantly monitoring outstation visitors who he could take out to lunch!

In more liberal times, it was permitted to take a colleague from another department out for lunch and legitimately claim “business lunch”. I do not know how much business got done, but, many romances have blossomed thus, subsidised by the company. Also, I wonder, now that we are thriftier (and wiser?), can I still claim “business lunch” if I am on a conference call while having my lunch, all alone?

Kander’s portraits of America’s 52 leading men and women make up a striking exhibition for anyone who needed reminding that Obama is now God. Oh, hadn’t you heard?

The photographic exhibition aims to depict the president’s movement towards a more inclusive, modern and diverse politics. As you enter Birmingham Gallery you can see the faces of the people destined to advise, support and assist in transforming America into the promised land, in photographs deliberately posed to woo the public into a glorious vision of the Obama future – a PR campaign carried out in the name of art – in a series of slick images, determined faces and Avon makeup.

The gallery walls explain: “Kander’s approach mirrors the intention behind the Obama team to bring together an eclectic body of individuals who believe that change is possible. They run across boundaries of race, gender, age and religion into a unified, intelligent, contemporary, engaging and yet formidable force which brings hope to the world.”

They might as well have written “John 3:16” at the end.

As if to prove Obama is the all-accepting, all-embracing saviour his campaigners have painted him as, each member of the president’s team seems to have been given a prop to highlight their own unique personality and strength within the team.

One wears a Stetson, another has a pencil posed behind his ear, several have novelty coloured ties or shirts. It is as if Kander is trying to find a member of Obama’s administration for every possible demographic to relate to – each with easily comprehensible personalities. Just like Barbie.

Over on the left we have Legal Barbie – with her serious suit and leather belt. On the right we see Flustered Assistant Mr Barbie – his multi coloured scarf slung across his broad shoulders, giving him the air of a hard working family man. Thirty-nine-year-old Mike Stratmanis is the president’s Intergovernmental Relations Barbie – he comes with his own sports cap, portable briefcase and expandable smile.

Obama’s associate 27-year-old Reggie Lowe had so many accessories I’m sure he could have competed with Barbie, Cindy and Ken combined. Kander has photographed him with blue-tooth headphones, sunglasses, a pager strapped to his belt, at least eight pens – you can never have too many pens – a casual jacket embroidered with his name and, oh yes, an American pin badge. That’s right – Reggie could be the number one girl’s Christmas gift this year – he is Obama’s Personal Assistant Barbie.

It takes no time at all for the viewer to realise that these are not the natural, character capturing shots advertised in the exhibition blurb – these are extremely posed pictures.

If this doesn’t convince you that art has become a little too involved with all the new American myth-making then the shrine-like alcove at the centre of the exhibit surely must. With a single, black and white photo of the great King himself, picked out in a halo of light, we are asked to swallow a new religion of America.

Can we take it with a pinch of salt?

Yes we can.

View Kander’s work here: http://www.obamaspeopleexhibition.com/about/

Obama’s People shows at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery until August 31. Admission is free.

I started a professional blog several weeks ago called, “LeaderTribe” for the purpose of documenting and sharing various ideas about business and human resources; sort of a professional thinking pad.

 However, a few of my friends remarked that they thought the blog was interesting, but, it really wasn’t what they liked to read.  So, I thought I’d start another blog with a little more personal information and insights from my almost 40 years on Earth.  

 Yet, undertaking this second blog is a little more challenging.  As an undergrad English major at Stetson University, I quickly learned that over 22 billion people have walked on this planet before I came along.  Therefore, what original ideas do I really have to offer the world?  Perhaps, none.  It is also likely that this blog will only periodically be read by a small hand full of people.  But, none the less, I thought I would start sharing and crafting my own narrative.  

 In my mind, I would like the blog to be written in a style that emulates Garrison Keillor and The Prairie Home Companion.  But, as another wise old English professor once told me, a person’s writing style is like their finger print and each voice is unique.  

 So, if you want to read a drier version of my writing head on over to LeaderTribe at http://leadertribe.wordpress.com, this site is for memories, reflections, and fun!

I offer to you a new feature. Every now and again I will be presenting an iconic image with a short caption from recent history according to what I have been influenced by on that day/week etc., be it on a world or perhaps more personal level. Enjoy.

1980, Texas, Deng Xiaoping dons a Stetson representing a step away from Chinese communism and a spiritual transmission towards western ideals.

Maybe it’s the heat wave. Maybe it’s because Smith & Hawken is closing. But we can’t help but contemplate the world of garden attire. We would like to introduce you to our latest Hardy Women’s Society Garden Catalog for 2009. We explore the highest of chic and the grittiest of gritty as we delve into the newest (and oldest) fashions in backyard clothing.

The modern woman, unlike Eve, has to go shopping in order to survive and thrive in the garden (unless you know how to sew). Let us introduce you to some of our timeless designs created to enhance your gardening experience. Both fashionable and practical, these outfits will help you blossom like a sunflower unfurled to the afternoon rays.

1950s Garden Party

1950s Garden Party (Catalog #s 3257 & 3258)

Gracious garden entertaining is only a few accessories away. Agnes lights up the backyard with a full crinkle skirt and puff-sleeve blouse while Penelope displays cool colors with the fashionable flair of a polka dot scarf. An hors d’oeuvre plate, whole pineapple, tiered grape platter and cranberry drinks say “summer!” These flexible designs go easily from weeding the vegetable garden right into cocktail hour. Cheers!

Steampunk

Steampunk (Catalog #5411)

Today’s progressive gardener enjoys exploring the cutting edge of fashion. Borrowing ideas from the steampunk movement, Penelope shows off this steam-powered ensemble. Pairing an Asian-inspired top with a British cap and metal goggles, this outfit means business… gardening business. Don’t forget to accessorize with a Clarington Forge hand fork!

Neo-Western

Neo-Western (catalog #5873)

Whoa, nelly! Agnes spins back the clock with this updated Western attire. She’s the law in this garden. Comfortable for long days digging rows, this outfit comes complete with a hand fork, sheriff star, Stetson hat and a vintage Smith & Hawken & Wesson Slug Shooter. Those slugs will think twice about nibbling your bean stalks.

Victorian

Victorian (Catalog #3155)

Penelope is all grace and gumption with this Victorian-inspired design. A wide-brimmed straw hat keeps her cool while a bright floral print apron reflects the garden flowers. Must-have accessories include an English Haws watering can and French Le Chameau Wellington boots. Sorry, gals, the crane pot is not included.

The Victory Garden

Victory Garden (Catalog #4484)

Digging weeds, Agnes shines while putting her boot to the fork. Tiny flowers dance across this 1940s dress. Upturned sleeves and a patterned head scarf channel Rosie the Riveter. Accessorize with a Clarington Forge digging fork and a determined attitude. Prepare for victory!

The Real Nitty Gritty

The Real Nitty Gritty 1 (Catalog #3322)

Penelope models her never-washed blue jeans and Sweet Sunny South tank top for a chic, real-world gardening look. Be sure to accessorize with a unique Bulldog digging fork. This outfit can take you from the back yard to the front yard and back again. Try it inside on a Sunday morning, too!

The Real Nitty Gritty 2 (Catalog #3325)

The Cerberus-as-a-puppy tee is both cute and sassy. Few people know that Agnes is right-handed and left-handed – which comes in handy for double-digging. Purple West County gloves and a shapeable straw Western hat complete the look. Two English digging forks make the work go twice as fast!

Gisterenmiddag zat er in mijn mailbox op het werk een berichtje van onze gemeentesecretaris. Hij kondigde hierin officieel aan dat onze Uitdag (remember ‘blotevoetenpad’ en ‘afsluitende barbecue’) een vervolg krijgt in 2010. Wegens algemeen succes mogen we nu al vrijdag 11 juni 2010 vrijhouden in onze agenda’s.

Geen idee of het organisatiecomité al rond de tafel heeft gezeten om mogelijke activiteiten voor 2010 te bespreken. We vermoeden dat het daarvoor nog iets te vroeg is. Maar omdat meedenkende personeelsleden misschien een meerwaarde kunnen betekenen deden wij alvast het nodige denkwerk m.b.t. volgend jaar. Onze ideeën zijn vrij te gebruiken in hun oorspronkelijke uitwerking, we juichen zelfs nieuwgevormde realisaties die hieruit zouden kunnen voortvloeien toe. Zonder dank!

Activiteit 1 : dwergwerpen

Iets wat verboden is, is (soms) leuk. Deze activiteit zou clandestien moeten worden  uitgevoerd om eventuele klachten te voorkomen. Persoonlijk lijkt het mij het makkelijkst als men nu reeds de kleinste collega’s van alle diensten selecteert en opmeet. De kleinste man en de kleinste vrouw van elke dienst komen in aanmerking. Werpen maar!

Activiteit 2 : Nordic walking

Omdat de gemeente Zonhoven zichzelf graag profileert als hip én trendy is deze sport gewoon een must. Niet enkel geschikt voor getrainde wandelaars maar eveneens voor skiërs in tijden van sneeuwgebrek. Geef toe, het is gewoon geen zicht als je mensen ziet lopen met die stokjes, maar wat kan het jou nu schelen? Je beweegt, net als die ca. 1 miljoen Scandinaven die je al zijn voorgegaan.

Activiteit 3 : Linedance

Omdat we geen al té heftige overgang willen maken van de muziek die er op elk personeelsfeest wordt gedraaid naar de muziek op onze Uitdag hebben we geopteerd voor deze relatief aangename formatiedans. Deelnemers krijgen hun Stetson ter plekke, boots en/of holsters moet je van thuis meebrengen. Wie allergisch is voor slechte muziek (denk ‘country’ of Will Tura) brengt best oordopjes mee.

Activiteit 4 : grotbiken

Hierover kan ik eindelijk meepraten. Een aantal jaar geleden heb ik dit zelf gedaan met een hoop vrienden. In Valkenburg, diep onder de grond in één of andere mergelgroeve, leg je per fiets een parcours af. Grotbiken is het leukst voor kleine mensen én doe je best in nuchtere toestand. Ik deed het daags na de verjaardagsvaten van een kameraad. Met als gevolg dat ik die dag niet enkel een ‘houten kop’ had, maar ook hoofdpijn door het veelvuldig raken der rotswanden. Au!

Activiteit 5 : dropping

Onze gemeentesecretaris is een man van de jeugdbeweging, de scouts met name. De organisatie van dit spel zou dus wel eens een kolfje naar zijn hand kunnen zijn. Bij voorkeur meer iets voor de mannelijke personeelsleden onder ons, als tenminste het cliché klopt dat vrouwen niet zouden kunnen kaartlezen. Ze kunnen wél multitasken, maar daar hadden we het niet over!

Activiteit 6 : Voettocht naar Scherpenheuvel

Santiago de Compostella is misschien wat te hoog gegrepen, maar de bedevaarders-wandelaars onder ons zullen dit vast en zeker zien zitten. Ik heb twee keer het genoegen gehad om dit te verwezenlijken, dus ik zou me meteen opnieuw kandidaat stellen. Gesteld dat we wat cafeetjes doen onderweg en de kapelletjes zoveel mogelijk links laten liggen. Afsluiten kan ter plaatse in de basiliek maar is facultatief.

Activiteit 7 : kaarttornooi

De rustigste activiteit van dit jaar, bowling, kan zonder al te grote problemen worden vervangen door een kaarttornooi. Absoluut niet vermoeiend en met minder dan een basisconditie ook zeer haalbaar. Bovendien zit je alweer overdekt (dus geen last van de weergoden) en je maakt tijdens het kaarten meteen drie nieuwe vriendjes. Qua sociaal verbroederen is dit sowieso een regelrechte voltreffer.

Activiteit 8 : waterskiën

Enkel voor wie kan aantonen dat ie de nodige zwembrevetten heeft gehaald. Hou er terdege rekening mee dat je niet alleen nat zal worden, maar tevens het risico loopt om onderweg water te happen of om slecht neer te komen. We zwijgen dan nog over de pijnlijke armspieren die je daags nadien pas voelt. Nu nog iemand zoeken met een boot én het benodigde vaarbewijs!

Activiteit 9 : paintball

Klassieker die ongetwijfeld kan rekenen op de nodige geïnteresseerden. Geniet van het spel, de bosrijke omgeving, het parcours, de camouflagepakjes, de langszoevende verfpatronen, de hits in je kruis en elders, de pijn, de blauwe plekken, … Het hele scala van gevoelens rondom het paintballgebeuren m.a.w. Een clash tussen het leidinggevend personeel en het zogenaamde voetvolk lijkt me wel aardig. Weten de diensthoofden onmiddellijk of ze graag gezien worden of dat het slechts schijn is!

Activiteit 10 : midgetgolf

Het opzet is vrij simpel of misschien ook niet: een heel klein kloteballetje door een al even klein kloteopeningetje mikken om tot slot in één of ander juiste gaatje te vallen. Ideaal voor gepensioneerden, kinderen, mensen zonder conditie, spelers met balgevoel of een combinatie van de reeds genoemde kenmerken. Je kan het ook zo bekijken: ‘Hoe kleiner de ballen, hoe vervelender de sport’.

Vielen helaas om één of meerdere redenen uit de boot: waterpijp roken (té sociaal of een beetje ongezond), paaldansen (te denigrerend t.o.v. de vrouwen), bungeejumpen (niet gedekt door de familiale verzekering), karaoke (so 90’s, alleen de Japanners doen het nog), muurklimmen (slechts twee petanquebanen aanwezig in de evenementenhal) en skeeleren (te veel bronstige mannen als er hotpants aan te pas komen). Ik kijk alvast uit naar 11 juni! Jullie toch ook?

Its Sunday, and I’m recovering from a fun night out.  Its gay pride weekend here in the Twin Cities, so what better way to celebrate than with some photos of pottery?  Am I right?

I love this great Stetson serving plate.  Anything in that retro blue color immediately catched my eye.

On a related note, the above large bowl is from Royal China, and features a similar black-and-blue color theme.  Nice!

And last but not least, 2 great old Pyrex mixing bowls.  I don’t usually go for the pyrex, but the colors on these were good.  There was almost certainly a few more bowls in this set, maybe I’l get to reunite them someday…

Rafael Nadal’s hopes of winning a record fifth consecutive French Open title hit a wall this past weekend when he was defeated by Swedish player Robin Soderling, but if all indications prove correct, the world’s number-one ranked tennis player should have a lucrative side career to help him get over the sting of his loss. The photogenic Nadal is building a media following that enjoys plastering his Spanish matinee-idol looks, often shirtless, on the covers of magazines. This attention, combined with his status as the current tennis wunderkind, sets the stage for the juicy endorsement deals that are the domain of top athletes who sport a sexy swagger. It’s a no brainer that star athletes will rake in the big endorsement deals, but whether they opt to front a sexy campaign depends on genetic destiny and a willingness to bare more than a winning grin.

No Speedos for Mark Sanchez in his swimwear spread for GQ.

Tom Brady is Stetson's modern idea of the iconic cowboy.

Mark Sanchez, the 22-year-old Mexican-American quarterback recently drafted by the New York Jets, shares Nadal’s latin lover vibe, which is clearly in play in a sexy photo spread in the June issue of GQ.  Sanchez, who models ‘70s-style swimsuits alongside Estee Lauder supermodel (and rumored new gal pal) Hilary Rhoda, could become football’s hot new star, displacing Tom Brady, who has reached the pinnacle of jock star glory with three Super Bowl wins for the New England Patriots and his recent marriage to Brazilian supermodel Gisele Bundchen. Brady, whose rugged yet clean-cut looks helped Stetson update its classic cowboy campaign, may have topped out, leaving room for a fresh boy on the block. Sanchez would follow in the footsteps of the original jock star — and legendary Jets quarterback — “Broadway” Joe Namath, who in the 1970s famously posed in pantyhose for a Beauty Mist TV commercial and got lathered up in Noxzema shave cream by a young Farrah Fawcett. Namath, who reportedly will be played by Jake Gyllenhaal in an upcoming movie, dated models and actresses, did some acting and set the template for the media-bating behavior followed by the celebrity sports stars to come.

Joe Namath's infamous pantyhose ad.

Joe gets lathered by Farrah for Noxzema in the 70s.

In the ‘80s, Baltimore Orioles pitcher Jim Palmer lent his wholesome Midwestern appeal to a string of ads for Jockey underwear, creating a new category of athlete endorsement updated in recent years by designer skivvies brand 2(X)ist with a racy campaign featuring New York Giants cornerback Jason Sehorn and more recently Emporio Armani’s underwear ads starring international soccer star David Beckham. Sanchez did not wear Speedos in the GQ spread, which may indicate he has his limits, so underwear ads may not be in his future. He and Nadal may opt for a more conservative campaign like Andy Roddick’s preppy shots for Lacoste. It would, however, be a sad waste of highly marketable abs.

Jim Palmer pioneers beefcake athlete campaigns with Jockey in the '80s.

Jason Sehorn updated the approach for 2(X)ist.

Soccer star David Beckham flaunts Emporio Armani's tighty whities.

Let’s see how the Ellie Edition of FCF goes this week…

Like to cook? Here’s a free download of Down Home Healthy Cooking.

Here’s a sample of Garnier Nutritioniste Ultra-lift Pro Deep Wrinkle Cream.

For the Adventurous, Rugged, Masculine man in your life- grab some Stetson All American cologne.

And women, we all know that Aunt Flo’s visits are inevitable so be prepared! Here’s a Kotex sample.

Summer’s almost here so if you need to help keep your children entertained, TakeLessons is offering a download of music lessons!

Coldplay is thanking their fans by offering up a free download of their album LeftRightLeftRightLeft.

Have a young child? Parenting The Early Years is a very helpful magazine. StartSampling is offering a free subscription to the digital download of it!

For those traveling this summer, those little bottles of shampoo can really add up in price so instead- sign up for a sample of Head & Shoulders.

For those guitar players out there (the actual guitars, not the Guitar Hero/Rock Band guitars!), grab yourself a free pick holder & picks!

Ok, now that those are all posted- let’s play a game! It’s called “See if Ellie made any mistakes”! Here’s how you play- check out all the links & if I’ve made a mistake post it in a comment! I’ll fix it as fast as I can! Enjoy!

Before beginning this post I offer the following quote in defense of my babbling on interminably about myself—it’s by a writer who, for many years, has been one of my favorites:

“I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well.” Walden—Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

This posting is extracted from the plethora of memories I’ve retained of my mother’s second marriage and of the stepfather she allowed to enter my life. I relive those events frequently in my memories, and I feel that many, or at least some, may strike a chord in the memories of any viewers who might stumble on my blog. Some of the memories are pleasant but others are painful—whether pleasant or painful, they’re my memories and I’m stuck with them. By relating and passing them on to others, perhaps I can enhance some of the pleasant memories and diminish some of the hurtful ones.

I must say, as always in the interests of full disclosure, that viewers will need to accept the accuracy of my memories as I relate them—none remain to support or deny them, and none is left who can, with any certainty, diminish or embellish them.

All are gone.

They exist only in my memories.

I am the last one standing.

When I was born, “I came into this world cold, naked, wet and hungry, and things have been downhill ever since.” I would cheerfully attribute that lament to the comic who said it, but I don’t remember who it was.

My birth occurred soon after my mother (Mama) divorced my father—at any rate that’s how the story goes. I accept that because I have no way of disputing it. I have documentary proof of my birth-date, when and where and to whom I was born, but I have no way of knowing when, or even if, the marriage was officially dissolved.

I suppose that since I was born out of wedlock, I came into the world, at least technically, as a little bastard (according to the accounts of some, I still am). In fact, during the early years there were various times when I disobeyed Mama and engaged (and got caught) in some forbidden enterprise, and she would sometimes exclaim in exasperation, “Oh, you little bastard—even if I must say such a word!” The exclamation was forcibly voiced, but always stemmed from pure love and was voiced with pure love, with humor lurking in the background.

Mama was 44 when she married her second husband. He was 48, a big man with a big stomach which significantly preceded him. He usually dressed in khaki pants and long-sleeved khaki shirts, with a black or brown tie held in place with a western-motif tie clip. The ensemble was grounded by western-style boots and topped with a broad-brimmed Stetson hat. He was 6-feet tall without the boots and Stetson—with them he presented a formidable appearance and took up a lot of space. He was born and grew up in Alabama, so his affinity for western garb probably stemmed from having lived and worked for several years in Texas, a state to which he would return a few years later with his new family.

A special note: The photo above shows Mama and my stepfather in later life, shortly before his death in 1970. I took this picture in 1969 during a visit I made prior to starting a combat tour in Viet Nam. Their on-and-off marriage spanned 28 years, from 1942 until 1970. That 28-year span included several lengthy separations, plus one divorce and one remarriage, all of which are excellent subjects for more postings. Apparently their relationship was one of “can’t live with and can’t live without.” In 1980 Mama died, having lived “without” for another 10 years.

My stepfather had bushy eyebrows, piercing dark eyes, almost black, and an ample nose under which, in permanent residence, was a broad black mustache. He always carried a heavy knob-handled wooden cane—not for support but to use as a pointer, to give directions to someone, for example. If necessary it could be used as a weapon, either for defense or offense. I witnessed its various uses as the years passed, and I noticed early-on that people tended to step aside as he neared them on sidewalks or in hallways, regardless of width.

When Mama’s second husband entered our lives I was nine years old and living in Columbus, Mississippi with my mother and two older sisters. The younger sister was just 18 months older than I—another sister (the eldest of three living sisters) was older and worked outside the home. The third sister was married and living with her husband in south Alabama. Mama’s first marriage yielded a total of seven children—five girls and two boys. One of the girls died at birth or shortly after she was born, and another died under the wheels of an auto driven by a drunk—I have no memories of either child, nor of the auto incident. And finally, there was a brother who would figure prominently in my life at a later date. He was little more than a shadowy figure at the time—I hardly knew him. When Mama remarried, my brother was overseas on duty with the US Navy, continuing a six-year enlistment which began in 1940.

My stepfather’s name was John, but during his brief courtship of my mother he insisted that my sisters and I call him “Uncle” John. My younger sister and I readily acquiesced to the name (there had been other “uncles”), but the elder sisters called him “Mister” (not Mister John, just Mister). They had numerous other names for him which they frequently used in the presence of others, but never in his. After the marriage he told everyone to call him “Papa John,” or “Papa.” I had no problem with the terms but my sisters, except for the youngest one, never used them—they continued to use the term “Mister.” The youngest sister resisted strongly, initially refusing to use any title, but finally became resigned to using “Papa.”

The couple married in summer, at the end of the school term. Soon after the brief civil ceremony, with the required minimum number of people present, the newlywed couple departed on what was, ostensibly, a honeymoon. If I ever knew where they went and how long they stayed I must have forgotten it, but I clearly remember where I went. I was shipped off to a sister who lived with her husband in Pritchard, Alabama, a small town near Mobile. I was told that the visit was my “summer vacation” and I believed it, although I wondered at the time why it was necessary for me to take all my clothing.

I would learn years later that my sister had agreed to accept me in her family in order to relieve my mother’s new husband of that responsibility. He had insisted on disposal of the two minor children, in one fashion or another, as a provision of the marriage—a prenuptial, so to speak, and one to which my mother apparently agreed.

Bummer.

So I was off to Pritchard and my sister, the other minor child to be disposed of, was similarly banished but not quite as far away—her “vacation” trip was to Vernon, Alabama, a small town 30 miles east of Columbus, to live with an aunt, one of my mother’s sisters who had made the same agreement with the newly-weds. Neither my sister nor I had any inkling that we had just been cast away, discarded, left on the side of the road like a couple of unwanted pets.

Our bogus vacations began when our school terms ended, but that status was reversed three months later. Shortly before the next school term began, we traveled to Long Beach, Mississippi, a small town near Gulfport, to join our mother and our new step-father. We thought the move was simply the end of our vacation, but we learned many years later that our mother had violated her “prenuptial agreement” to have us reared by relatives. She insisted that she had to have her children with her—I never knew what promises or threats she used, but they were successful. Her new husband relented and allowed us into the family.

Our travels and travails began in 1942 and would continue until 1949, the year that my youngest sister married and I enlisted in the military.

I’ll get back to you later with more details.