I don’t know why I never understood the concept of why time flies by for an adult and not a kid until yesterday. If you are five-years-old, a year is a fifth of your life, so it’s a huge part of your life and seems long. As you get older, the year becomes a smaller and smaller part of the time you have experienced so it seems to go by quicker.
Not only do I grind my teeth at night (I wear one of those night guards) but I grind and clench my teeth all day, especially when I’m deep in thought.
What a crazy ten days it’s been for Anthony Scaramucci: He got a job, had a baby, ended his marriage, and lost a job. But I guess he holds no hard feelings for his former boss, he dined at one of his hotels after losing his job.
On last night’s Colbert, Matthew McConaughey said his first three words on film were, as you would guess, “Alright, alright, alright” from Dazed and Confused. I wonder the last time McConaughey felt literally stressed, he always seems at ease, high or not.
“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” – Mark Twain
Today presidential history factoid – Andrew Johnson was buried with his body wrapped in an American flag and a copy of the Constitution placed under his head.
The 52-story downtown Dallas skyscraper formerly known as the First National Bank tower is getting a heck of a renovation.
Over the next year, the stone on the outside of the 52-year-old landmark will be taken down, shipped out of state and restored with a high-tech manufacturing process. Each of the inch or more thick marble slabs that cover the 1.5 million-square-foot high-rise will be sliced into two or more identical slabs, glued to a metal honeycomb backing and then replaced on the outside of the building.
Most of the stone panels from the outside of the Elm Street tower will be trucked to Florida to HyCOMB’s plant near Miami. A few curved panels will be shipped to China for a specialized reconstruction.
The Decline of the American Laundromat – The retreat of a longtime urban staple marks yet another way cities have changed after an influx of higher-earning residents.
“They’re distractions – the noise of [the bottles], they’re like toys almost, playing around with toys. [The lack of chairs, meanwhile] keeps you on your toes, literally.”
It’s as though Scorsese wants his set to exist outside of time and outside of the world, a vacuum but for creativity, which is allowed to bounce uninhibited.
I used to have to do the family laundry at the laundromat. Invariably one or more cheerleaders would pass through (they also had a dry cleaning business) to pick up/drop off uniforms. Usually as I was folding underwear. Good times.
I have to thank you, because I haven't thought about laundromats in years, but your mention of them today put a smile on my face. Growing up, I spent a great deal of time during the summer with my grandmother, who didn't have a washer/dryer. The closest laundromat was right next door to a comic book store. Every time we had to go wash clothes, she'd give me a couple of dollars to go next door and buy some new comics. This morning, for an instant, I was transported back to that time: sitting in the beat-up plastic chairs, smelling detergent, listening to the white noise of the machines, soaking up the cool air-conditioning on a hot summer day, hanging out with my favorite person in the whole world, and reading through a new comic. She's gone, but the memory is not. Thanks, Geeding.
I used to have to do the family laundry at the laundromat. Invariably one or more cheerleaders would pass through (they also had a dry cleaning business) to pick up/drop off uniforms. Usually as I was folding underwear. Good times.
Very Nice information thanks for sharing this type of blog with us.
I have to thank you, because I haven't thought about laundromats in years, but your mention of them today put a smile on my face. Growing up, I spent a great deal of time during the summer with my grandmother, who didn't have a washer/dryer. The closest laundromat was right next door to a comic book store. Every time we had to go wash clothes, she'd give me a couple of dollars to go next door and buy some new comics. This morning, for an instant, I was transported back to that time: sitting in the beat-up plastic chairs, smelling detergent, listening to the white noise of the machines, soaking up the cool air-conditioning on a hot summer day, hanging out with my favorite person in the whole world, and reading through a new comic. She's gone, but the memory is not. Thanks, Geeding.