THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRACKS

This is a true story.

I take Beau over to the tracks under Morgan Ford to let him run. On this particular early spring day a train came chugging down the tracks. Beau was on one side of the train, I was on the other. Panicked that he would get hit, I tried to cross to his side. The train guys saw us and stopped the train so I could cross!

Then this guy mildly scolded me for being on private property.



This area was once a spur to the main tracks, the rails have been removed. Now it's a dumping area and a trail that I walk with Beau.


Beau's native name is Running Cloud.



This is a rural area in the heart of the Tower Grove South neighborhood that is progressively becoming one massive dump.


I stopped counting at fifty tires.




Looking west towards Kingshighway. Home Depot is on the left.



Looking east to the Morgan Ford Bridge.



Tree growing in retaining wall.
Just try to stop nature!



Graffiti is everywhere and sometimes with mysterious messages. Accompanying the uninspired graffiti, hundreds of empty paint cans.



Beaver.
Say this word and every adolescent boy giggles, grown men become focused and feminists scowl.



Stale horse


St Louis is just like Compton.
(Sure, cause no one changes their style of graffiti lettering)



My favorite:
Revenge. I know 2 much.






The red arrow points to a huge open field that is seldom used yet mowed. Sometimes I see people playing soft ball there. I'm guessing it's five acres.


Pumice rocks scored from along the tracks. Photo'd on a railroad tie.


Decades ago, quartz rocks were dumped along the tracks. I still find them under the newer granite and pumice (lighter to haul) that gets dumped.



I took these photos primarily for my friend Marti Frumhoff before her untimely death.

THRIFT STORE FINDS

There's never anything decent in the thrift stores in STL so once a week I high tail it over to the nether parts of IL where I can avoid the other dealers and pickers.

Scored last week - this signed Raymor box which unfortunately has a chip on the corner. DAMN. In mint condition it would sell for 150-200 clams on Ebay.

I paid 69 cents for it.




At first glance from six feet away I thought, Oh good, a box for Bruk!
Second glance from three feet, Vintage Italian!
Then I turned it over and saw the signature. Whoopee! Even with the chip it should sell.


I also found two framed prints by Jessie Arms Butke of cockatoo's and hibiscus. Too bad it wasn't an original canvas, I could retire.

I may have to keep them.


And this fabulous piece of prison art made of matchsticks (of course).


And a hefty piece of Scheurich pottery.

HOLE IN THE WALL - FIXED!

A few weeks ago I wrote about a car crashing into the foundation of a building. I stopped by today to take a look at Mark's work.

I'm betting it was easy to tell which side the stones faced, they still show the dark purple color of the car that hit it. What a puzzle it must have been trying to ascertain which stone went where. Rather excellent placement. In Chess this is called 'good sight of the board.'



Of course I regret the absence of the original mortar mix...

CSB records back online

Dear Ms. Herman,

Thank you for your email received in the Mayor's Office and forwarded
to me for reply.

I apologize for the inconvenience of the CSB records being temporarily
removed from public view. The records are again available to you.
The records were removed while we reviewed our public records laws, as
I wanted to be sure nothing was being made available that should be
considered a closed record.

Again I apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you for all that you
and your neighbors do to assist the City in resolving neighborhood
issues and for making use of the service provided by CSB and Geo St.
Louis.

Sincerely,

Cindy Riordan
Citizens' Service Bureau
Customer Service Manager
1200 Market, City Hall Room 234
St. Louis, MO 63103
Ph: 622-4668
Fax: 622-4310
riordanc@stlouiscity.com

SPEAKING OF THE RARE BLUE GLAZED BRICK...

I pass this building located in BPW at least three times a week. Yesterday I got out to take a closer look at the curved brick porch when LO!


Glazed blue bricks, what a treat!
Cool dyed pink mortar too.

An odd location for them, tucked from street view inside the wall of the porch.

JEN'S GANGWAY

How I met Jen.

It started with taking Beau to the Mann school yard at night to let him run. Jen lives across from the school with her pup Peanut. Peanut would hear Beau playing and would bark and wave to us. Eventually Jen came down and Beau and Peanut fell in love.

Sometimes I drop things off at her door: a blanket, some gloves, a scarf and I get to walk this fascinating gangway.

This does not apply to me.


Old elevator loading gates and a drain.



Jen's gangway garden.

Iron grill over window.


Nails in the rotting wood....that'll keep them out.



Interesting place for shutters.


The shutter hinges rock!


Beau and Peanut making out. It's constant, they're in love.


Jen and Peanut come to visit.

GLAZED SPECKLE BRICK

I am completely charmed by the elegance of this rare glazed and speckled brick. Colors: sand with black and not a glossy glaze but a matter, so subtle I almost didn't recognize them as glazed. Complimented with a rosy Tiny Pebble mortar.

Guess where these bricks are located and win a prize.
Hint: Not TGS/H.

PROGNOSIS NEGATIVE

FINALLY!
The damn lab called with the results: Negative.
WHEW.

ONE OF MY DOCTOR'S IS A COMEDIAN

I googled my Doctor's name yesterday looking for her phone number and inadvertently discovered she had made a 2,000 donation to G. W. Bush's campaign fund a few years ago.

Damn.
I was all set to like her.

However...
Two weeks later and no biopsy results? TWO WEEKS?

Then there's the matter of her receptionist who is not only rude but stupid.
Why are you here today?
I have an appointment to have stitches removed and another excision.
For today?
Uh, yeah.
We don't have you on the books.

I yanked the appointment card out of my wallet and handed it over.
OK, have a seat.

I will never be dismissed and will never have a seat. I remained standing, clutching the counter with my finger nails while brewing escalating blood pressure. I've attitude coming off me like torpedoes and can turn into a crew of wet bitches within five seconds.

I want to know the results of the biopsy and I want you to either call the lab or give me the number so I can call.

Within 30 seconds I was escorted to a room, heard apologies about the lab running behind (oh give me a freaking break) and watched as the tech cut and pulled nylon cord out of my breast.

Then Doc made her appearance wielding a knife and needle and told me I was just getting a local. Oh goodie, we can chat.

What's up with this donation to Bush, I asked.
She paled. How do you know about that?
I explained the google info and she confided her former husband must have made the donation. Sure.

Besides, she said, What does politics have to do with medicine?

I waited and when she didn't join my laughter, I guffawed.

She looked peeved.
You're joking, right? Have you seen SICKO?
She quickly changed the subject when I made a comment about the rude and stupid receptionist, Miss Personality.
I'm firing her soon, she said, she just isn't nice.

That sort of made up for no lab report but then she said:
The lab may have found something and they want to do more stains.

Guess who else is getting fired?

------------------------------------
Here's the two week old incision. Red arrows indicate my allergy to adhesive which is always insult to injury. Latex free bandages make no difference. Add to: allergies to narcotic pain pills (most distressing) and all known antibiotics.
Whoopee!


I exit to the hallway where I spot an ironic EXIT sign.

I'm relived I don't find signs in the Doc's bathroom portentous.



On the way back I marveled at the rosy dusk settling in TG Park.
HOME. All better.

REMEMBERING MARTI FRUMHOFF

I've partnered with Christopher Thiemet http://saintlouiscity.com/mls.html to raise funds and create a lasting memorial garden for our friend, Marti Frumhoff who died suddenly last May. Marti was a community activists' activist.

You can see the plans for the garden here http://www.martifrumhoffmemorial.org/

The site is also set up to accept doations via pay pal and has information about where to send a check.

Need some gifts for the holidays? Here's my online fundraiser for the Marti Frumhoff memorial garden. http://gems4agarden.blogspot.com/

And here's some photos of what you'll see on the site:

BRATTY CATS!

Check out the cats on this vintage psychedelic blouse I'm selling on Ebay. Sinister grin, cartoon cats tripping across the blouse on acid. From an era when women weren't afraid to wear outrageous clothing.

Now mass marketed fashion is about blending in and wearing beige and khaki military camo neutrals from the Gap.

That's what happens when Republicans are in office.

SPELLBOUND

When I was five years old, I thought that the mica flecks in sidewalks was god and no one else could see it. I became mesmerized in its dazzling presence. Sometimes tethered to my Mom's hand, I would refuse to budge. I'd clap my hands to express delight with the light bouncing beneath my feet. It inspired me to take up tap dancing, hopscotch, and smoking.

I still feel this way. Except for the god part.
By age twelve I was an atheist and refused to attend mass at Holy Family.

I put my foot down and refused to budge.

This led to a brief conversation with my father.
Why aren't you going to church?
I don't believe that stuff.
How do you think you got here?
I suppose you had something to do with that!

I took this pix of the sparkling ramp a few nights ago on Juniata and Bent. While smoking a cigarette, I managed a soft shoe shuffle and clapped my hands in delight.

HOLE IN THE WALL

I heard about the hole in the wall from neighbors, forgot about it until I drove by today and WHOA! The report was a purple Saturn had plowed into the wall.

I meandered over to talk to the two hilarious guy working on it and quickly realized I'd met one of them before: Mark, a stone mason and one extraordinary character.

He told me about talking with the woman who lived in the apartment above the hole. She heard a car revving loudly (it was heading west on 38 Wyoming) with foot to the pedal and flying. By the time she got out of bed and looked out the window it was in the process of flying across Gustine and into her building. Talk about stroke material!

My conclusion: suicide attempt. (UPDATE: An email from 3rd District Capt Hoobs said that the driver lost control of the car and survived the impact).
Haven't heard a word about the driver but the car had to be towed out.


Mark

The building was hit so hard that foundation stones flew over nine feet into the basement.



I've heard that the foundations of our homes were two feet thick. I measured. They are.

See those strings running over the hole in the wall? That is the only way to lay brick or rebuild a stone wall to make it flush.

There was a point in the conversation with Mark that he took a closer look at me and asked if I was a stone mason also.

I've never been more flattered.