The Famous Dave’s restaurant in my mom’s neighborhood has a women’s room that’s thickly lined with vintage, borderline erotic paintings of “American Indian” women.
By contrast, the men’s room is full of pictures of hunting magazine covers and dogs. What the hell?
The former Burch Pharmacy building, being gutted, rebuilt, and expanded.
Rumor Control says it’ll be yet another restaurant. That would place it one block down from Rye and one up from the Lowry. Plus all the other restaurants within walking distance.
Sometimes my city exhibits all the imagination of an 80-year-old fruit vendor trying to break into marketing.
My scrapbook from SE Asia. Everywhere we went, I saved brochures, business cards, flyers, receipts, all sorts of printed things and tried to group them in more or less chronological order, with handwritten notes and captions, to tell another kind of story of our trip.
