Recent post by M.Toast (it rhymes) where she effectively came out as a jam addict made me take a look at my fridge.
Guilty, but there is a difference. With my shopping habits you can say I’ve been preparing for a financial crisis all my life. While M.Toast is paying big bucks at high-end stores and at the City Market, I get my fix at the Big Lots. Today’s trip netted some French concoctions (it’s French, so it must be delicious).
I am sure these run probably close to $5-6 at some fancy stores; Big Lots -$2.50. Inventory always changes. Couple of months ago, I picked up a couple of jars of the “Fantastico Fig Jam”.
I am still mad at myself for not picking up a whole case. Who knew fig jam would be so popular in Olathe.
If you are wondering about the item in a plastic tub in my fridge with Russian/Hebrew writing on it, it’s a hard-to-find fresh black currant ground up with sugar. It’s not exactly a jam, it’s preserved by exorbitant amounts of sugar so it doesn’t have to be cooked. We used to preserve raspberries this way. Fresh all winter. Locally found only in the Russian stores and is not very cheap but totally worth it. Make sure you are not buying similar-looking but heat-treated version of the same.
Even when the times are hard you can sweeten up your life a little with some money to spare for your other vices like prostitutes and drugs. You just have to know where to look.
I’ve been meaning to use the word maven on this blog for a long time, so here goes:
Local antiquing maven and dealer Susan let me scan some of these random old photos before she puts them up for sale. Susan’s antiques can be found on Etsy, her Twitter, Facebook and blog, as well as at the River Market Antique Mall booth 622, but she highly recommends visiting the other 621 booths as well.
Continuing from my previous post, more photos of 1938 Kansas City made by William Vandivert. Most or all of these are previously unpublished; I could not find a corresponding issue of the Life Magazine from 1938. At the end of the post there are a few vintage burlesque show photos, they are hardly NSFW but be careful scrolling all the way to the bottom if someone is looking over your shoulder.
Some production notes: this will conclude my ground–breakingseries on this subject. I received requests not to link self-respecting bloggers to posts of this nature, all I can say is some people don’t recognize greatness when they see it. I would also take requests for subjects you’d like me to cover in the future. The last installment will just tie up some loose ends. Enough with crappy puns, we are moving on to the subject of:
Public restrooms.
The one thing that stands out about public restrooms is that there weren’t that many. There were few maintained by the city in the parks and other public places and that was it. Public restrooms were just as dirty, nasty and smelly as you would imagine. But so were every dark corner and every hallway in apartment buildings that couldn’t be locked. Citizens who did not exercise total control over their bladders and bowel movements found other ways to express themselves. The stench was legendary. The problem was made worse by the fact that there was no fast food or other public places where a person could stop by in case of emergency. Even some popular comedies and jokes of that time depicted someone knocking on the random apartment door and offering money just to be able to use the restroom. Every soviet citizen got the joke. I myself was in a similar situation, although it didn’t seem that funny when I had to do it.
After the perestroikamany public bathrooms became privatized. Newly minted attendants collected a fee, dispersed toilet paper, cleaned and freshened the air. 20th century luxuries finally made it into the USSR but the country didn’t last very long after that. Maybe the whole foundation of the Soviet system was based on the toilet hardship.
Epilogue:
Long time ago I realized that my daughter cannot pee without a toilet. As a father I am not sure how to explain the process and describe what needs to be done. I tried to talk my (then) wife into teaching this necessary life skill to a child but all I got is a shrug. I am awaiting in horror when during one of our driving trips we would not be able to find a restroom. On one hand, I am glad the the restroom problem is solved here and my kid will not to have to use one of the smelly, nasty and slimy restrooms of my youth. On the other hand…
As always I am keeping up with the newest headgear looks. Today’s trip to Lawrence, KS brought me up to date.
Gene Hackman called from 1971, wants his hat back.
I wrote about cool hair before. Maybe my fascination with other people’s hair stems from a complete inability to fashion anything more then the look of a dead squirrel peacefully resting on the top of my head out of my own hair. So I present the biggest coolest Mohawk I’ve ever seen.
My previous champion might as well shave his pitiful hair.
The last installment will just tie up some loose ends. Enough with crappy puns, we are moving on to the subject of:
Citizens who did not exercise total control over their bladders and bowel movements found other ways to express themselves. The stench was legendary. The problem was made worse by the fact that there was no fast food or other public places where a person could stop by in case of emergency. Even some popular comedies and jokes of that time depicted someone knocking on the random apartment door and offering money just to be able to use the restroom. Every soviet citizen got the joke. I myself was in a similar situation, although it didn’t seem that funny when I had to do it.
