Sign Wrecks

(Backdated from Friday evening.)

I spent a healthy part of today on the train home from Williamsburg and then cleaning, so not much to talk about on that front, but yesterday I promised you some awful signs, and I intend to deliver.

For a couple of years now I've been a fan of Cake Wrecks, a blog devoted to searching out and gently ridiculing fouled-up professionally decorated cakes.  The idea of collecting odd permutations of the everyday appeals to me, but I've never come across a cake wreck (the few professional cakes in my life have been blessedly flawless), so I can't contribute to that particular theme.  However, my sojourn at the Williamsburg Pottery showed me the kind of wrecks I can collect - wrecked language!  There's quite an abundance of that, as we'll soon see, and as a literate person, I feel obligated to point out mistakes, even if it's out of my power to correct them (somewhere, Lynne Truss is smiling).  I wouldn't call any of these egregious, but these sorts of things entertain me, so without further ado, on to Sign Wrecks!

1.  The perfectly understandable

"Rennovation"

What, pray, is that?  It's "renovation," of course, and can you blame whoever was making this sign?  It sounds like it ought to have two n's, but it doesn't.  And if you were just sounding it out because you'd forgotten how it's supposed to be spelled, wouldn't you put in the extra n?   And since it's just a temporary sign in a remote corner of the linens building, I suppose it's not really that important. 





2.  The unpronounceable

"Straigt"

It's obvious what happened here - some one forgot the silent "h" in "straight."  But we can't give whoever wrote up this sign the passes we gave #1 (temporary sign and obscure location) - this is a permanent sign on the central aisle of the main building, and furthermore, sounding out "straight" does not get you "straigt."  It gets "strait" which, conveniently, is a extant word that has nothing to do with "straight."

But supposing that "straigt" were a word, what would it be?  First off, how would you pronounce it?  "Streygt" is the best I can come up, and as far as a definition, I'm stuck with a combination of stripping and death by hanging.  Erotic asphyxiation?  Perhaps we shouldn't go there.

3.  The Nitpicky

Take a moment to look at this one.  If you just casually glance, there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with it - no misspellings, egregious or otherwise, and the phrase makes sense.  But if you're picky like I am, this (it's an apron, by the way) is bothersome for two reasons:

a) Look carefully at this and you'll notice a sentence fragment there at the bottom.  "Don't You Understand" can't stand on its own as a sentence, but it's being forced to by those exclamation points after "yet."  Never mind that using more than one exclamation point at a time is obnoxious - those big, bad upside-down i's have orphaned that poor little clause!  "Don't You Understand" is all by itself at the bottom of the apron, trying and failing to stand on its own two feet!!  This is a travesty!!! Someone needs to do something!!!!  Like take away my ability to type exclamation points!!!!!

b) Ahem.  Sorry about that - on to problem #2, which is a bit picky.  But here it is: I always thought that "It's Not Ready Yet" was the phrase we use, so shouldn't all four of those words be the same color?  (Also that "of" shouldn't be capitalized.)  In other words, a corrected version - re-aligned, punctuated, and parsed - of this apron should read:

What Part of

IT'S NOT

READY YET

Don't You Understand?

There - isn't that better?  Good thing I didn't have a red marker with me. 

4.  The just plain weird

"LiNEN N PLUS"

This is the outside of the linens building (which, interestingly, is where three of these four sign wrecks came from), and apparently, it's called "LiNEN N PLUS."  Er, wut?

 

I think I know what happened here.  They decided to open a building where they could sell linens, kitchen things (aprons, placemats), bath rugs, and so on, and they were trying to come up with a name: 

"Well, gentlemen, we've got some linens, and we've got some other things, so why not call it "Linens and Things"?"

"Actually, sir, we can't do that - that name is already taken."

"It is?  Well $#!+.  What about shortening the "and" to "Linens 'N' Things"?"

"Probable lawsuit, sir."

"Well $#!+.  "Linens 'N'" something...well, we're adding a new building, so how about "plus"?  "Linens 'N' Plus" - it sounds good to me."

The decision-makers confer and agree that it sounds good to them too.

"All right, sir, let's royally screw up the capitalization to be edgy and capture the youth demographic, drop the apostrophes because they cost extra, and make the N a different color to be arty - I think we've got a winner!"

And thus was born LiNEN N PLUS.  May the grammar god help us all.

-     -      -     -     -     -     -

So you see, there's quite a bit of fun to be had looking for grammatical mistakes in the world all around you.  Alas, it's the same sort of fun that an elementary school friend of mine derived from raking his nails across the blackboard and watching everyone else cringe as he did so - even thinking back on it, I involuntarily wince.  And looking at the these signs again I not only wince, but I wish for a large, red marker...

The Williamsburg Pottery

(Backdated from Friday evening.)

One of the family traditions when we visit our relatives in Williamsburg, Virginia, is to venture out to Williamsburg Pottery, which bills itself as "The World's Largest Bizarre Bazaar."  I have photographic evidence:

The Pottery was founded in the thirties by a entrepreneur with a roadside stand selling Williamsburg's distinctive salt-glaze pottery.  The business was successful, and he turned Williamsburg Pottery into a large-scale outlet retail operation dedicated to cutting out the middle man and passing the savings onto the customer.  Eventually he married a Chinese woman who worked in the fake flower section; she took over the business upon his death and has since injected lots of East Asian goods into the mix.  Needless to say, "bizarre bazaar" is a perfectly accurate statement, and although I can't confirm the veracity of its claim the be the largest such bizarre - err, bazaar...sorry - it's pretty large nonetheless.

How large?  Well, does this give you any idea?  This is a shot down an aisle in the Solar Building, the largest of the several enormous warehouses that make up the complex (of which you can see an aerial picture here).  I took this in the fake flower section, which goes on for what seems like miles.  It's even odder for someone like me, who wouldn't buy fake flowers in a million years, to go roaming through aisle upon aisle of things I have no desire to even consider purchasing.  This, it turns out, is the best way to approach a retail operation of this size - with clearly designated preferences.  Skip what you aren't interested in and go find whatever it is you came for (in my case, things for me apartment, which I promise to introduce to you all soon).

Of course, periodically you'll stumble across something which you would never contemplate buying, but which is so odd, unique, bizarre, or fascinating that you can't help but stop for a moment and examine it.  It is this sort of thing that I dedicate this post to - I'll have another for some of the odd signs I saw around the Pottery tomorrow.

First off, something one might potentially have use for: a fake Christmas tree.  As an apartment-dweller who enjoys the decorative trappings of the Christmas season, I imagine I'll needs to invest in a fake tree eventually.  Just not this one:

That's right - it's purple.  In fact, it's approximately the same color as the purple accent wall in my living room.  I intend to paint that wall over the weekend, so obviously I don't want this particular tree.

Now, I was never one of the hip kids who toyed with the Eastern religions in college, so I'm not quite certain which religion this next curiosity pertains to:

Whatever religion it belongs to, I imagine that this would go well in the makeshift temple in your backyard, don't you think?  (Incidentally, this is one of a pair.  I don't know if it's buy-one-get-one though.)

Speaking of the backyard, I understand that it occasionally comes to pass that you just want a drink.  A very large one, just for you.  Understandably, you feel guilty pouring yourself glass after glass of wine - you look like a drunkard in one of those badly-acted anti-alcoholism videos they showed us in health class in high school during freshman year (remember?  And then the sympathetic character always ended up dying in an alcohol-related car crash).  But thanks to Williamsburg Pottery, there's a tactful solution to your needs.  You want a drink but don't want to pour glass after glass?  Then limit yourself a single glass of wine:

Did I say pour yourself a single glass?  I did?  My bad - I meant bottle.

Now I've saved the best for last, and this item is unique, because it is one of the very few pieces at the Pottery which isn't for sale.  Nevertheless it is exquisite, so I'll blow up the picture:

I'm not certain what the material is - I'd like to think it's ivory from an aesthetic point of view, but my inner conservationist cringes at the idea of how many tusks it would take to carve something this large (it's as long as I am tall - nearly six feet, and by the way, there's some of the Williamsburg salt glaze pottery in the background).  But whatever it's made of, I found it fascinating.  The details are impeccable:

This is a close-up of the center-piece of this sculpture (click to see it full size).  The ribbing on the roof, the pagoda in the background, each individual figure carved to perfection, and that gateway is actually supported by the four pillar you can see - no cheating that I could detect.  It's not something you would expect to see in the world's largest bargain basement (except above-ground).  Of course, this is the world's largest "bizarre bazaar," so I guess we should expect things like this.  Still, I could go for a lot more of this and a lot less of the fake flowers.

And how about this shot below, of the cave?  Whatever artist or artists were responsible for this oeuvre actually carved things inside the cave too - that beautiful ornamental screen in the background, servants off to the sides, dancing girls in front, and an ornate

balustrade separating the entertainers from their audience on the dais...I imagine it's probably chintzy more than anything else (which is generally my reaction to cheap East Asian trinkets), but every time we've been to the Pottery we find this sculpture and stop for a moment to admire it.  A lot changes between our visits, but this is always in the same place, and we always stop to marvel.

Although this sculpture never changes, other things at the Pottery do. Perhaps it's because I had a camera with me, or because I was kind of looking for blog-worthy things while roaming around, but one of the changes I noticed the most was the signs.  Specifically, the bad signs.  This post is quite long enough, but tomorrow I'll put together my pictures of odd and awful signs for you to peruse and giggle over.  Think of it as Cake Wrecks for signage...

Pictures from Williamsburg

(Backdated from Tuesday evening.)

Today we spent the day in lovely Colonial Williamsburg, one of my favorite examples of historic preservation in the US (and I've been to quite a few).  It was a hot, dry day, and the historic quarter was pretty quiet, most likely because this is the awkward period after vacations have ended for most people but before school has been in session long enough for school trips to have happened.  Rather than blather, though, I'll let a few of my pictures speak for themselves.

This sort of house is everywhere in the historic district.  Modest and unassuming, they are nevertheless charming in their simplicity.  Most buildings here are owned by the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, which staffs them with historical interpreters, but some houses are owned by private individuals.  Can you imagine living here?

The monumental Governor's Palace, which was the seat of the English governor of Virginia colony prior to the revolution, is located at the north end of a long green and is one of the first major buildings visitors see when they come in from the visitors' center in the east.  One must buy a pass to get inside the historic buildings like this one, which we've done before, so we didn't bother this time, but the palace gardens are exquisite, and include a small lake.  Inside is a working summer kitchen, a ballroom, bedrooms, and so on, all decorated as hey would have been in colonial times.  It's worth noting that when we think "governor" we think of an elected politician, but British colonial governors were appointed and served at the pleasure of the king.  In this sense they could be considered viceroys, and thinking of the Governor's Palace as viceregal gives a good sense of the degree of lavishness, especially in comparison to the rest of the city.

In keeping with how things were back in 1776, which is the historical moment Colonial Williamsburg relives every day, many of the houses have accompanying gardens, either formal and ornamental like this one or rough and practical.  The ornamental gardens are divided into patterns by paths and planted with flowers and aromatic shrubs, often bordered by stiff boxwood hedges.  Those non-brick paths which look like gravel are actually crushed oyster shells, which could be had in great abundance since Williamsburg is just up the James  River from the ocean.

This is one of the pragmatic gardens - call it a kitchen garden, since it's devoted to food.  As you can see, it's much rougher than the formal garden.  In the middle of the bed in the midground are leeks and (I think) peppers, and the spiky bushes in the background are rosemary.  Off on the right edge of the picture was a patch of very sad (dehydrated) squash.  In the foreground you can see rhubarb and marigolds.

This is the Bruton Parish Church, which has been in operation since it was built during the colonial era.  As one would expect, it is Episcopal (descended, obviously, from the Church of England) and is still a functioning parish community.  Beyond the church is a graveyard, some of whose occupants are older than this country.  They say it's haunted, but what isn't in a place as old as this one?

I leave you with one of the odder signs which hangs outside the white clapboard buildings.  Presumably this is for a pub, but I'm at a loss as to what the pub must have been named, since there's a buck's head, a well, and pear trees on it.  Then again, it probably made for some unique branding...