I saw this today and had to share. Did y’all even know these were called wet walls? I sure didn’t. But I’ve never worked in grocery, or retail at all. My years were spent serving folks cooked veggies on plates in restaurants, not organizing them so satisfyingly brilliantly.
Who knew radishes and chives harmonized so well?
This is better art than I’ve seen in overpriced coastal galleries. I’ll take this over a watercolor lighthouse any day.
BTW, it’s also called “wet rack,” but I wouldn’t Google that.
I know the starting pay at our local grocery store is $15/hr, way more than I make with my degree. But whoever did this needs to get a bonus. That’s thinking outside the box.
Except at first glance, it kind of looks tuna shoved in there …
Set down your coffee to read this one, folks. It doesn’t marry well with toilet bowl. I stumbled upon this image early this morning, perusing pics for a Facebook birthday post. I wondered why I had kept this Polaroid for nigh on 40 years. You can see the Polaroid edges, no? In it, the family cat of my tweens, Ran Tan, has decided to rehydrate from an exhaustive day of lounging and nibbling.
Did I keep it because I will always have a special place in my heart for her? No. She was a cat. She was not a dog. The special place is clearly filled with our dog.
But it speaks to a time where one did not have a camera in one’s pocket. If one had stumbled upon the cat mid-drink, one would never have time enough to go find the Polaroid and lug it to the water closet before said cat had vanished. I don’t recall the circumstances of how perchance the shot exists, or even who took it, though it’s been in my possession all these decades. It must have been happenstance.
It also speaks to growing up in a house with one potty for all to share. Patience was a virtue. My son grew up in a home where each bottom has its own toilet. Ah, luxury!
I imagine we sprinkled the bowl with Comet soon afterward. Note the stylish tiles, which, if original to the home, would be nearly 100 years old now. And how often do you see a black toilet seat? It complimented Ran Tan’s fur just fine.
Perhaps the point is the cliché seize the day, seize pleasure where you find it. Perhaps the point is to stay hydrated. Or perhaps the point is to save at least one picture of your family cat, even if it’s just the tail.
Sometimes when infatuation spills out of you so effusively that you can’t hold your dimples in, you just need your bestie to have your back, and go tell it on the mountain–or go tell the bestie of your crush that you think he’s the most.
Then he can relay the information. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Then it’s up to him to make the next move. Or bring his buddies with him as wingmen.
What is going on here? No one is rushing the stage. Folks are in their seats. No Zippos in the air. No bra straps showing. Petticoats are full, waists cinched nicely. It’s a remarkable expression of containment and decorum, when you know full well those girls are about to. lose. their. minds.
And there is Elvis, prostrate, barely legal to drink, full of chills that are multiplying and sending electric shocks up the spines of the mostly female audience. I would say he’s all shook up, but that won’t come out till next year, the year he buys Graceland and is drafted into the military.
Fortunately, Elvis lives to tour again and continues the theme of lying down during set lists, even as his age doubles from 21 to 42. Yes, the sideburns and jumpsuits (and karate moves) are new. But some things never change.
I do love pie (even chose it instead of wedding cake), but I must admit I’ve never consumed it whilst donning a bathing suit, as these lasses did on July 31, 1921 in the nation’s capital. Tidal Basin Bathing Beach had opened only three years prior, and then closed four years after this shot. Seize the moments while you can.