Monthly Archives: January 2013

Take tea and see.

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OK, true confession. Every once in a while, Dad would take a long sip of the iced tea Mavis and I had to make every night for dinner and then declare, “Ah, take tea and see!” I just thought he was being goofy, so I never thought anything about it.

Imagine my surprise to see the following as I began to read an article in the Times about Lipton going back to its roots with the basic black tea bags:

BACK in the “Mad Men” days, a trade organization known as the Tea Council of the U.S.A. celebrated the beverage its members sold with ads that carried the theme “Take tea and see.”

So THAT’S what he meant! And here’s the awesome commercial:

J’ever have a moment like that? Here it is, a hundred years later, and I finally get the punch line. Why didn’t I just ask?

Now THIS tea commercial I remember! Seems kind of dorky forty years later. OK, completely dorky.

Maybe I’ll go make some Lipton. Like, right now. One of these days, we’re going to have a big ol’ nostalgic remember that commercial? picnic here. And archive.org is probably the place to go for ammo. However, be warned: it’s one of those “Do NOT Go Here” sites, if yaknowwhatimean.

:-D

Hey, it’s Monkday, and there’s school to be taught. I’m happy today, even though none of “my” teams won in the playoffs this weekend. None. As in, not one.

Anyway, have a good one, fiends. I’m out.

All the news that’s…

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…fit to print on a Saturday morning.

At the get-go: I don’t think this self-imposed hiatus is going anywhere. All I did every morning this week was try not to write. I’m close to giving up the vacation. What does one learn from a failed experiment? That sometimes, experiments fail.

Next.

So, did you really think you’d escape reading about the latest Cleveland Shuffle? From the Browns front office: Shurmur’s out, Chud is in. Another experiment — try not to go anywhere near attempting to figure out what management was thinking in this situation. I just hope I’m ten kinds of wrong, and it works. Something has to this time, or the merry-go-round is just going to run out of steam and all the pretty little horses…

OK, enough with the metaphor. Time to get to work.

Busy weekend of recording for Joseph, getting grades in the grade book, and hopefully seeing some grandsons. Lars, Helen and Mr. A. are coming for lunch tomorrow; gotta try to plan out some time to see the Js.

But first: take an hour to start the final season of West Wing. I hate when I know a thing is coming to an end.

Happy weekend, fiends — let’s roll!

Temporary resolution

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…with a temporary solution.

My new resolution is — for the months of January and February only — to try to curb my addiction to blogging, so I can get other stuff done between the hours of 5 and 6 a.m. every weekday. Weekends are open.

It’s a difficult thing for me, since writing is a pastime I enjoy almost more than any other hobby; so much so, in fact, that I wish it wasn’t a hobby, if you get my drift.

Anyway.

I wonder if I could take a quick poll of interest (and yes, this will require lurkers to come out of the shadows, temporarily!). If you would like to be notified by email when there’s a new post here at RtB so you won’t have to constantly check out the homepage, please indicate your interest via commenting below. Here’s the deal:

  1. For anyone who comments — or has ever commented in the past — here, I already have your email address, as long as your posting name is the same.
  2. For those who have never commented, posting a comment below will give me your email address (but it won’t be shown in public, so only I will have it).
  3. Once I have your email address, I can notify you when I post new content here.

Would you be interested in something like that? I know everyone’s busy. If you’d rather just take your chances and be surprised (or better yet, dig into the archives and leave some cool comments for me to find next time I log in), no problem. I just want to make things more convenient for my 100 worldwide readers. :-)

As anyone who’s ever commented here already knows, I will never send you any kind of marketing email. See all the ads on this site? Oh, wait…

So. Tell me your articulate and compendious thoughts. Would you like to be notified over the next couple of months when I publish new drivel?

Ready, steady, comment.

Much love from the soon-to-be hairless Fink

Vieil ami

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Old friend indeed.

In 1970, my sister Mavis gave me an awesome gift — the Yamaha FG 180 “flat top” acoustic guitar that our parents bought and she no longer wanted. (I think her interests were redirecting to bigger and better areas, like, oh…boys :-D )

I immediately buried myself in my bedroom with it, along with a Mel Bay chord chart book and my record player. From that point until around high school graduation, those three items got an awful lot of use.

Over the last 42 years, it’s seen some interesting treatment: it was dropped on its head many times, spent a couple of years buried in a closet, survived several moves, played countless parties, school concerts, coffee house gigs and church services, and even went missing for a couple of months. We’ve seen some times together, this old thing and I.

Unbeknownst to my parents at the time, they purchased a fine instrument, which now, four decades later, is in considerably high demand. According to my research, the sound is likened to the Martin D18 — no slouch comparison. The FG 180 was Yamaha’s attempt in the late 60s to enter the “Western guitar” market in the US — a time when record numbers of young people were learning to play acoustic guitar, inspired by the many country-and-western artists making it big.

As you can see by the photos, it’s been through several mills over the years. And true to the conduct of a rebellious pre-teenager of the time, it even has my initials carved in it. Ha.

When Daddy visited in September, he did some work on the neck, which made a huge difference. Last night, son Lars came over and restrung it and polished it up for his mama. It’s still an old soul, just like me. I guess that’s why I’ll never give it up.

I’ll just pass it down.

Hope you’re relaxing this weekend, fiends. I think I’ll play me some git-tar.

When you die at the palace…

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…you really die at the palace. ;-)

Yep, bigtime fail on my part. Remember last spring, when I embarked on the holistic journey to rid myself of contact lenses and glasses once and for all? As a result of reading Jacob Lieberman’s book, Take Off Your Glasses and See, I noticed an almost-immediate improvement in my eyesight. What’s not to love, right?

Well, there are daily exercises to do, and you really have to buy into the fight, lock and stock. Like brushing your teeth, or keeping lost pounds off, it’s a date with daily maintenance destiny, or the magic wears off, at least initially. And true to my undisciplined nature on most things requiring discipline, I fell off the wagon and went back to my evil ways. Gradually, the glasses and contacts returned, and before I knew it, I was wearing them full time again. Have I mentioned I’m undisciplined? Is it too late for a New Year’s resolution?

And what did I get for my non-efforts? A checkup at the doctor last month that revealed that both my farsightedness and astigmatism have worsened. Blah.

So…what now? I think there comes a time when one must select one’s battles, and for the time being, I am not going to stress over this. Rather, I’m going to enjoy life wearing my new contact lenses, and the new John Lennons that are due to arrive any day now. I tried, I failed, now I move on. It’s all right.

Now see? That wasn’t hard, was it?

GAH!!

Happy Finkday, y’all – ’bout time, too.

Image: “Comical Critter” by Maria Dryfhout