It is with mixed emotions that I must report that my usual source of free internet service here at our vacation place in Vermont seems to have dried up this year. On the one hand, it means I can’t keep up with what’s going on in the world, making it difficult for me to blog. On the other hand, it means I can’t keep up with what’s going on in the world, giving me the perfect excuse not to blog. If and when this entry gets posted it is because I have made the trek to Java Baba’s in Ludlow, where I must pay through the nose for internet access, drastically reducing the time I can spend browsing and keeping up with the news.
Since at the moment I have nothing much to say, I am going to do another of my infrequent restaurant reviews.
We went to the Wagon Wheel in Gill, Massachusetts (about 2 miles from 91 taking Route 2 east)for breakfast on Saturday, on the recommendation of a friend, and I highly recommend it. The food was great, with an emphasis on locally grown and produced foods. But it was the decor that was unique. There are four tables for inside dining in an alcove in this fifties style roadside eatery. Of the three walls, one was covered with paint-by-the-numbers art; the other two by State commemorative plates. Interspersed with the plates were a host of schlocky clocks. Truly a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. Individually, each piece was tasteless kitsch, but collectively they worked together brilliantly. The woman who created this display of Americana told us that she was particularly proud of the two paint by the numbers clown faces, which truly were archetypal examples of the form. The only thing lacking, she said, was a paint-by-the-numbers kitten, for which she is still searching. She had found the perfect setting for her collections of down scale Americana, and she displayed it with the skill of a curator.
I regret to say that I didn’t have my camera with me, or I’d be inflicting pictures on my readers. It’s well worth a stop at breakfast or lunchtime if you’re on your way to Vermont.
By the way, between the time I penned the first paragraph and the last, I started picking up a signal from the system whose signals I traditionally purloin. Hence, this post.
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