On the way to Afton this morning I stopped at a new little diner in Chelsea called the Prairie Rose. (Topix puts it in their "Fine Dining" category, but, well. . . that's an incredible miscategorization.). The omelet was marginal but the price was right. [By the way, for those who think my cholesterol must be sky high with all the eggs I consume. . . no. Kidney patients have to keep their albumen and protein levels up, so I'm encouraged to eat all the eggs I can put away.] Anyway, the waitress, one other customer at the counter, and I were the only people there. Lady Antebellum was blasting from the sound system, adding to the small town diner atmosphere, although not necessarily in a good way. Then as I was departing, leaving behind half the omelet, the music changed. Hotel California! One of my favorites! If I hear that song once a year, it haunts me for months.___________
I see from the Afton Station guest book that there were two visitors yesterday, a couple from Victor, New York. Apparently David was here to let them in. I didn't have any visitors today until after noon, when two gentlemen showed up. One has been there before, a collector of antique motorcycles from Miami, OK. During this visit, like the last time he was there, I tried to talk him into making a motorcycle museum in the building next to the Station. That would be so wonderful, to have another tourist attraction in our sad little town. He brought with him a friend from Tulsa who enjoyed the old cars and bought a small pile of merchandise.
I spent the rest of the day doing some writing. I really feel that tourism will start to pick up as soon as the super-cold weather breaks. That should happen soon. Today was another cold one, with a downright frigid wind chill. I wore my coat most of the day inside the Station. Spring, please PLEASE hurry up!
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