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Show Page A12 Thursday, August 9, 1990 Park Record Amidl cd Hit (Bodcbs ooo CLEANERS BY TOM CLYDE PLAZA DRY 1 1 and 2U n orders ( on dry dean .3i,HfM 1 jrwf P""i pwf P"f p wi fel Bdl tt--:uJfl H, J fc-J It i ftl ft tr On-site dry cleaning, shirt laundry and alterations -k State of the art equipment Environmentally safe-EPA safe-EPA approved ir Same day service available at no extra cost Located In Park City's newest shopping center: Park City Plaza 'Friendly service and guaranteed quality" Locally owned and operated PLAZA DRY CLEANERS Hours: Monday-Friday 6:30 am to 6:30 pm, Sat. 9 am to 5 pm 1 890 Bonanza Drive 649-6664 Another day in paradise i Appearing at Sneakers JOE CAMMOM (back by popular demand) Friday Aug. 1 7th Call early for Dinner or Show Reservations 649-7742 Showtime 9:00 p.m. 649-7742 1200 Little Kate Road at the Park City Racquet Club Serving dinner 11:30 am-10:30 pm 1 1 :30 pm on weekends Air Conditioning Private club for the benefit of members '-.i fcA 4ttl fetfi MM' mi xM J rj a I I ! I I li u - AmA Mlt MM MMB ttfc ( W fc-Al IM WM-i Monday August IS Is (CTT BECECEM Apppeeiatiiii Pay! Farewell Party 8:00 p.m. at the Brew Pub All Welcome! Entertainment by the Garbage Gurus Beer & Barbeque on the deck! Proceeds to benefit Park City Recycling efforts. Scott has put so much work into our community, so don't miss this opportunity to show him your appreciation. Well, another Art Festival has come and gone. Twenty-one notches on the old picture frame, each one bigger and better than the one before. I've made eight in a row now, and probably have been to most of the rest. I'm not a big art fan, frankly, but for people-watching, there is nothing better. Any event where belly-dancers just kind of blend into the crowd is worth attending. Given the controversy this year over the alleged censorship of an artist's nude photographs, I checked over the art work more carefully than usual. As you recall, an artist displayed a couple of nude photos two years ago, and she is still steamed at being told that her entry was supposed to be Southern Utah landscapes, and that anything with pubic hair was not entered in the Festival. So I looked for smut this year. Aside from some slightly suggestive sand dune photos, it was a pretty tame show. I couldn't find any bare breasts on display, at least not on the art work. Some of the crowd was pretty well exposed, but the art work was the picture of decorum. This year I was working a pop stand in the middle mid-dle of the street. It was really too busy to get a lot of people-watching in, but there were some unusual characters. The most unusual drink order was a woman who wanted a cup that was three-quarters three-quarters Diet Coke and one-quarter Orange. Her daughter was next in line and ordered three-quarters three-quarters Orange, one-quarter Diet Coke, sneering at Mom the whole time. The daughter was giving an Academy Award winning performance as the contrary teenager. So much for parental bonding, quality time, and all that stuff. It's surprising that so many teenagers live to be adults. The assortment of body piercing was disappointing disappoin-ting this year. Men with earrings hardly stand out any more, unless there is a lot of unusual hardware hard-ware hanging from the old lobe. There was one guy with his whole tackle box tangled together and hooked on his ear, but his was the only large ear-mobile ear-mobile I remember, man or woman, and I really think it was the result of some kind of accident. Some artist kept running after him shouting, "Stop that guy! He's tangled in my exhibit!" And there was a woman with a couple of jewels bolted into her nose. That only made my hayfever worse. I still sneeze thinking about it. I guess if there was anything that really stood out this year, it was just the sheer number of people. peo-ple. The only way to have put more people on Main Street would have been to require smaller people. The only person with any breathing room around him was a fat guy with a cigar made of old roofing material. Somehow, people managed to give him some space. I watched him clear out several artist's ar-tist's booths with just a couple of puffs. , As a veteran of probably. too jnariy,:Art Festivals, I have a few suggestions: " 1. Any baby stroller with more wheels than a White Freightliner should be made to park out at the edge of town with the other construction equipment. equip-ment. I don't know why people feel like they need a baby stroller the size of a Kenworth to push a fifteen fif-teen pound baby around. My shins are black and blue from being hit by these fork lifts. And they get in free. ' 2. While we are on the subject of babies, it also wouldn't hurt to have somebody from the Humane Society, if not a local pediatrician, stopping parents at the gate and telling them that kids get broiled in about half the time it takes their tanned parents to begin to get a little pink. I saw one poor infant that was being poached in his own wet diaper while Mom and Dad were cool as can be under their big straw hats. 3. Generally speaking, the traffic circulation was smooth as can be. We managed to achieve grid lock on Highway 224 all the way out to Kimball Kim-ball Junction before noon. But I do have one suggestion sug-gestion for next year's traffic control. We should put a big sign out on the freeway that says "Art Festival," with an arrow pointing to Coalville. As crowded as Main Street got, you couldn't see the art work anyway, so I doubt most people would notice the difference. The businesses in Coalville would probably appreciate the traffic. 4. We need more noisy art. This year, there were only the wooden boxes that sound like xylophones and the flutes. I guess there were the usual wind chimes, but there wasn't enough breeze to get them clanking. As long as there are that many people crammed together, we might as well have some stuff that produces really annoying noises (besides the teenagers, I mean). What happened to the guy who made those great animal shaped whistles? A couple of hundred kids blasting away on those up and down the street would really liven things up. 5. Make locals attend. Use force if necessary. In the time I was there, I only saw about five local -faces aside from the people working at the Festival, and four of them claimed they were just on the way home from the Post Office, with the UP&L bill in hand to prove it. Even numbered houses should attend on Saturday, odd numbers on Sunday. I saw one noted local octogenarian leaving leav-ing town with a wind surfer tied to the roof of her Oldsmobile. 6. Launder the money. The earring vendor next to me kept running out of $l's, so I'd trade her for a $20 every half hour or so. Then she'd give the $l's out in change, and they would come back to me. By the time it had circulated across the Coke-syrup Coke-syrup coated counter, then been dragged through somebody's ice cream cone, then through the pizza piz-za sauce and back across the Coke counter, the money was sticky as fly paper. I was in the bank Monday morning when a couple of merchants , c.ame .in with bjg,bags of money to depositJ One of them complained of being mugged by a gang of ants on the way to the bank. Yep, there's no doubt about it. The Art Festival would be just about twice as much fun if it was only on-ly half as big. ttn5ke sn Velum BY TERI OUR A wild, but not so wild, week WASATCH BREW PUB I KHM KM 00 -MOHBC lOWCM UK I i --'C' V"N f ilk No one who knows me would never accuse me of being the outdoorsy type and I'm not but I had a terrific time in the semi-wild last week and I'm still not sure why. The cabin had electricity but no running water and not enough electricity yet to hook-up the stove or a fridge. Still, it is nestled amid the aspens up on Guardsman and the hardwood floors and knotty knot-ty pines walls are nicer than my home. There are windows everywhere that let the late afternoon sun warm the spacious rooms and at night, this past week, also let in the moonbeams. Barbequing on the deck didn't feel like a real hardship. The first day I got to the cabin I discovered everything I forgot a pocket knife, an electric burner, paper towels, a candle, those essentials camper people know instinctively. I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to drive right up to the door of the cabin and so I packed, as I usually do, like a gypsy. This meant several bags of books and magazines, my typewriter, the big old cooler, a huge duffel bag with enough clothes to go directly from the cabin to a month in Europe should my plans change. But after 47 trips to unload the car I settled in and did what every good vacationer does I poured myself a cool drink, got out a good book to read and fell promptly asleep in the sun. When I woke up, hours later, there was a sparrow flying around in the living room who had let himself in through the kitchen window. We chatted and he went back to his buddies while I laid out salami and cheese and crackers for a little snack. Out on the deck I watched Mr. Sparrow check out the nest on the railing and then I saw him fly and join half a dozen other little birdies on the tree. It was a nice way to wake up. After I finished the cheese and crackers I got ready to fix dinner and that's when I discovered not only did the stove not work there were no briquettes bri-quettes for the barbeque. It occurred to me I had just eaten dinner. Also, I was aware nature was calling and while I tried tc figure out a call forwarding forwar-ding plan I knew it was time for the outdoors and I to become one. I swear the squirrels on the woodpile wood-pile were laughing at the sight. Back in the cabin I read for while, quite unaware of time, but very aware of place. And then with a few cookies and couple of strawberries for dessert I went upstairs to crawl into bed. Nobody had mentioned there were no linens here either. Luckily I remembered there was a big blanket in the trunk of my car. I rolled up my sweats for a pillow and I felt so incredibly pioneer and resourceful. Also mildly stupid I had not asked ask-ed what I should bring. Since the cabin is only about a 20 minute drive to town I snuck into the city in the early morning light, told my pets to pretend they didn't see me, I really wasn't home, and jumped into the shower. I got back up to the cabin after running a few errands er-rands for provisions (more cookies, peppermint tea, new trashy magazines) and the squirrels apparently ap-parently hadn't even missed me. In fact, I ate lunch on the deck and I became aware a number of critters seemed resigned to me sharing their place in the sun. The sparrows and the squirrels chatted and a couple of potguts chased each other and two giant butterflies landed on my chair. By the late afternoon it was time for a walk to the pond and I saw evidence of beavers from the chipped off aspens. I was still, for what seemed like a long time, when I heard something come crashing in the bushes behind me. My heart pounded. I was some distance from the cabin, further fur-ther still from my car. I was armed only with a two rye crackers and a hunk of cheddar cheese. I turned around sharply and I don't know who had the more startled look me or the six-point deer. Once we determined neither of us was a danger we went our separate ways. ; ; The week just progressed at the same pace, well, maybe even slower. - 1 I did bring up a burner so I could make tea and I did buy briquettes so I could barbeque potatoes and stuff, but mostly I just camped out, without a phone or television or drop-in company, other than the animals. And it strikes a vein with me it takes time to appreciate ap-preciate the quiet. Time to be comfotable with being be-ing alone. Time to relax and reflex and regenerate. There really wasn't much to my week in the woods. And that was the very best thing about it... |