Prairie Sherry Home from the Big City

The first rule of traveling with a 19 year-old is
to never take "selfies."  The 19 year-old will
 look great, and you will look like shit.

Well, Prairie Sherry is back on the prairie.  After seven days in the Big Apple (aka The Empire City, Gotham, The City That Never Sleeps...), the first thing I did this morning (after copious amounts of caffeine) was mow my lawn.  I felt I needed to get back to my pioneer roots, and a little small engine exhaust seemed to do the trick. 







I have been thinking about long and hard about how to best share my adventure, and photos and captions are probably the best way to go. So my dear Prairie Readers, here is "The City So Nice, They Named It Twice."

The is Prairie Sherry mastering the fine
art of the NYC subway system.  All went
well, but PS kept yelling, "Whoa Nelly," each
time she felt she was getting close to her stop.

Dang, them buildings made a gal feel like an ant
at a barn dance.

 

Instead of the General Store, folks around here
shop at a place called Saks on 5th Avenue.  I never found
the harnesses or the yard goods, let alone
the feed sacks they were advertising.

I made some new friends at Saks.  They
didn't say much, but they sure were
friendly.  They kept waving.

Even more expensive that Saks, were these shops.
No one even noticed the bonnet.

Another one of them there souvenir shops.  Don't get
excited.  They don't sell penny candy. 

In Greenwich Village these guys tried to give me some
fashion advice, but I usually don't wear white. Doesn't work
well in a sod house.

I didn't stay at the Waldorf Astoria, but that didn't stop me
from using their outhouse.  This isn't it.  It was bigger.

This is where I stayed.  Notice that my bonnet contrasts
nicely with my frock.  They had this guy called a doorman
who kept try to shoo me away.

Some of NYC's finest cuisine.  It tasted a lot like possum.  

This here is lobster.  It tasted a lot like possum, too.

Don't believe the sign.  I didn't find one Amish person in the
whole place.  My bonnet did make a stir here.

If you ever go to NYC, be sure to take
a daughter and two friends who don't
embarrass easily, and who are willing
to help you tie your bonnet.

 

Prairie Sherry

P.S.  In place of a Michael Landon photo for this week, here is a couple of ML factoids:  Michael's real name was Eugene Maurice Orowitz, and he was only 5'9".