In A Pinch

Friends, Romans, Countrymen - Lend me your noses. I come not to sneeze on Caesar, but to cough on him. (And as Bill is always quick to remind us, "It's not the cough that carries you off, but the coffin they carry you off in.") The immortal Bard wasn't just whistling Dixie when he assailed the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and I had all of that and more, last week when I came down with a nasty case of the galloping cruds, with stacks of tissues piling up around me, missing time at work, and keeping Nyquil in business just so I could sleep at night. In my continuing efforts to avoid being even more of a hazard than usual to an unsuspecting public, alert readers may have noticed how I scrupulously refrained from depositing any messages in their Inbox last week, along with any hypothetical cooties that might have been associated with it. You're welcome. In other local news, we had a heartbreaking experience earlier in the month, when we went back to one of our favorite dining establishments, Lavilla Brick Oven Pizza & Restaurant, to enjoy their signature garlic bread and baked ziti, only to find they had inexplicably changed hands since our last visit, and everything was completely different - the decor, the service, and most disappointing of all, the menu. It seemed impossible to us, because we had just been there in the last several weeks, and there was no hint that anything was afoot - in fact, the place was always busy, even on weeknights. It was especially disturbing because there was no indication from the outside that anything had changed (for instance, "Under New Management" signs in the windows) so we had no way of knowing that we couldn't have our regular dinner choices, until we had already been seated and ordered drinks. We did try a couple of other entrées, and they begrudgingly made us a plate of garlic-like bread, but it was not even a pale imitation of the original, and certainly wouldn't entice us to go back. We thought it was such a shame, because we had only discovered them more or less by accident last year, and fell in love with them on the spot, so this punches a real hole in our dining out options from now on. So unfortunately, that was the end of an (all too short) era, alas and alack. Now here's something on the subject of food that really shouldn't be. In fact, it was in the bathroom that I noticed a bottle of Dr. Woods Raw Black Soap, which prides itself on being not only organic and environmentally friendly - but also announces in large type on its label that it is, yes, gluten-free. I'm going to let that sink in for a moment. Personally, I think that's taking the whole gluten-free mania several steps too far, but I suppose for anyone who was planning to drink Dr. Woods Raw Black Soap as a tonic for what ails them, I guess you could say that's one less thing for them to worry about. Although frankly, at that point, I think gluten would be the least of their problems, I dare say. And speaking of one less thing, the construction company where I'm working now has a garage where they keep their building supplies and tools. In amongst all of the variety of sheetrock, insulation, bags of cement, and assorted lumber, there is a plethora of carts, wheelbarrows, and dollies for ferrying materials in and out of trucks, as well as to and from job sites. I couldn't help but notice recently that one of the hand trucks very plainly exhibits numerous stencils all over that say "FedEx" for all the world to see, making no mistake as to its ownership in any way. I think it betrays no confidences to say that the company that I work for is not Federal Express, so what we're doing with one of their hand trucks is a mystery to me, I'm sure. Of course, the biggest news from the week was the solar eclipse, which put on a show all across the continental United States, and certainly lived up to the hype, from sea to shining sea, from California to the New York islands, from the redwood forests to the Gulfstream waters, for spacious skies and purple mountains majesty across the fruited plains, from the prairies to the mountains, to the oceans white with foam, and everywhere in between, by jingo. They say that "Silent Cal" Coolidge was President the last time this happened, and that was almost 100 years ago, so it was certainly nothing to be taken for granted. In fact, if media reports are to be believed, countless schools and businesses across the path of the totality were closed for the day, in order to give their employees and students the (perhaps once-in-a-lifetime) chance to get outside and experience it first hand - hopefully from the safety of the vast array of organized viewing events, and not just staring up at the sun like dumbstruck cavemen. The Internet was all agog with excitement as well, with NASA leading the way with its exhaustive coverage and interactive apps. Our little corner of the hemisphere was not in the totality zone, but still fairly close at about 75%, and starting around 2:45 PM on a gloriously sunny day. I had just gotten home from work at that time, and stayed outside to check it out. I don't know what I expected, but I guess I thought things would look different - possibly dimmer with odd shadows - but I was disappointed in that expectation, and was ready to chalk it up as a lost cause. But it turned out that I had my own little moment of magic with the eclipse, more or less out of the blue. After I went in the house, I noticed that it had clouded over outside, after there had been nothing but brilliant sunshine moments before. I hurried back outside to the driveway, and sure enough, just one small thin cloud had passed in front of the sun, apparently out of nowhere. It was just filmy enough to see through it, while still blocking the glaring brightness of the mid-day sun - and silhouetted starkly against it was the whole disk of the moon, clearly visible covering about 3/4 of the sun. It was fascinating to see, and I stood mesmerized watching it until the little cloud wafted away, exposing the full glare of the sun once again. So that was my own personal little eclipse miracle, and I'm not too proud to admit that I stood staring at it like the veriest dumbstruck caveman, and I ought to know. Meanwhile, what may be new and exciting (or conversely, old and shopworn) in the wonderful wide world of retailing, you may be wondering, and well may you wonder, indeed. Recently our local newspaper printed a front page story on consignment shops, which they insist are "the best kept secret for shoppers looking for fashionable bargains." I will be the first to admit that I am not a shopper looking for fashionable bargains, which perhaps explains why I gasped out loud when I spotted this caption under a picture of some jewelry on display in one of these shops: "A tanzanite diamond cross with pearls is on sale for $34,500.00 at The Penny Pincher." (!!!) Well, if that's their idea of a bargain, I can tell you that there is a wide divide between them and me when it comes to the definition of a bargain, believe me. And I certainly wouldn't lead with that particular item, if I wanted to attract shoppers to peruse my other fashionable bargains, presumably at less exorbitant prices than the extravagant cross in question. By golly, the dinosaurs and I can remember a time when people understood what irony was, and wouldn't dream of selling anything for many thousands of dollars at a place inaptly called The Penny Pincher, of all things. As a matter of fact, in honor of the former Treasury Secretary on the face of the $10,000 bill, I think they should call it The Salmon P. Chase Pincher instead. Penny Pincher, indeed. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking with it, or my name isn't - Marc Antony