Gal Friday
Hello World,
I guess this would be as good a time as any to remind everyone to beware of Friday the 13th, which has snuck up on us this month, but fortunately for the last time this year. I've been saying all along that 2009 has been a terrible year, what with even long-standing companies going under, and waves of demises among the celebrated and obscure alike, until we're all just about afraid to see what fresh new horror each morning may bring. (We're feeling particularly snake bit here, because the most invisible of all of our Invisible Cats, Captain Midnight, his own invisible self, just breathed his last, making him the third of the original invisible five that we've lost in this year alone.) I guess we should have realized right from the start that this would be one of the worst years ever, when we noticed that there would be not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR Friday the 13th's in 2009 -- February, March, August and November -- which requires a very specific alignment of months and days that probably hasn't happened in decades. I keep saying, apart from the Yankees, no one is going to remember 2009 fondly, and all the rest of us will be more than happy to see the tail-end of it in December, and not a moment too soon, as well as good riddance, and take your Friday the 13th's with you while you're at it.
Speaking of days, one good thing about the temporary return to Standard Time from Daylight Saving Time on November 1st was that my computer at work finally caught up with the rest of humanity, and I'm no longer living in two separate time zones at my desk. It had already "fallen back" from DST a week or so ahead of schedule, and there's no convincing Windows 2000NT that the switch-over to and from DST happens on a different time-table than it used to, back when the operating system was young and dewy fresh. It just makes up its own mind to change the system time, by golly, whether the rest of the world follows along or not, and you just have to wait it out until the time in the real world shifts so that it matches the time on the computer. At least that's one less area of confusion in my little world, where things are already bizarre enough, heaven knows. Of course, everyone knows that I always say that reality is a two-way street, and if reality wants to find me, it knows where I am, although it goes without saying that it shouldn't come unarmed. Or as they say in the old Westerns: "There's a train leaving town at three o'clock. Be under it."
Just when we thought our days of surprises were behind us, along comes a coupon in the mail, very carefully addressed to me, wishing me a happy birthday by name, and offering me $20 off my meal at The Melting Pot in White Plains. Now, I'm not one that normally looks a gift horse in the mouth, but since this is November, and my birthday is in March, I couldn't help but wonder what my close personal friends at The Melting Pot were thinking. It's true that this chain of fondue restaurants would not necessarily be our cup of tea, but I might have taken them up on their birthday offer after all, except that the coupon expires at the end of December, almost three months before my actual birthday in March, which is way too premature even for my tastes, and I'm usually the one who says any excuse for a party. But I'm afraid they'll have to fondue without me this time around, because as bad as 2009 has been, the last thing I need is two birthdays in one year, and that's a fact.
Last week in my incoming email, I noticed a message from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, announcing a protest against NASA for conducting experiments on primates, as well they should. The odd part was that right below that was a message from church about some religious controversy, entitled "Statement From The Primates Council," which is apparently what they call the group of Anglican bishops. To be fair, I admit that I know nothing about these Anglican bishops, so they might actually be monkeys after all. But I thought it was such a weird coincidence to have two messages in a row featuring the word "primates" in the subject line, and not only not related in any way, but using the term in two completely different and wildly divergent senses of the definition, at least that's my guess anyway. After all, it's been a long time since the infamous Scopes trial, where the anti-evolution contingent insisted: "You can't make a monkey out of me." Of course, it's possible that anything goes in the Anglican church nowadays, and Darwin might have the last laugh after all.
For anyone who thought that nothing good could come from a place saddled with the unappetizing name of Fishkill, have I got a news flash for you. Last weekend, we traveled there to meet friends from upstate, and stayed at the lovely Hotel Sierra, and found it very much to our liking in every way. (You can feel free to go ahead and visit their web site at www.hotel-sierra.com and see for yourself.) In our travels, we find many hotels that describe their rooms as "suites," but this one really lived up to the name, with actual doors separating the different areas of the room from each other. It includes a complete kitchen, with full-size refrigerator, stove, sink, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, and cabinets full of cooking utensils and serving pieces. There's a big television in the living room, along with a sofa and armchair, plus another one in the bedroom, which also has a full-length mirror that is a handy feature often lacking in hotels. The rooms have free Internet access, both wired and wireless, and we took it for a spin with both of our laptops with excellent results. Although the hotel is centrally located just off a main road, we found our room quiet and comfortable, and for once, we were so far from the elevators, ice dispensers and vending machines, that it was almost like we made the reservations under an assumed name. ("Why, those aren't the Dollisons at all! Don't put them next to that motorcycle gang!") They have a cozy lobby that looks like a rustic lodge with a fireplace, and behind that is a lovely and spacious gathering spot where they serve a breakfast buffet in the morning, and turns into their pub at night. For the price (around $100) we found the accommodations to be an exceptional value, and way above what we were expecting. Unfortunately, the indoor pool was closed for repairs during our stay, but that and the hot tub would have been just the cherry on top of a wonderful treat that was as welcome as it was unexpected.
Not far from Fishkill is scenic Cold Spring, which is locally famous for attracting tourists to its array of quaint and quirky shops, that run the gamut from dollar stores to the height of luxury, and everything in between. Since we were tourists, naturally we hurried on over there, and glad of it. (You are also welcome to go visit their web site at www.coldspringliving.com and see for yourself.) The main road in town has shops on both sides, and you could easily spend the entire day there and not see everything, because there are so many stores and they all have such interesting items that are collectible, curious, vintage, heirloom, or sometimes, all of them at once. Unlike Woodstock or Sugar Loaf, it isn't a haven for crafts, and you don't find artisans making their own soap or candles or kites or sculptures out of driftwood and seashells. Many of the shops describe themselves as antiques dealers, but their wares would remind you more of a gigantic flea market, than actual high-end antiques from centuries past. The sidewalks are crammed with benches for the weary, and there are also places to eat, so no one has to leave just because they're tired and hungry. The road slopes downhill toward the train station, and from the top, it's easy to see the majestic Hudson River just beyond the tracks, with graceful undulating hills in a sweeping vista on the other side. At first glance, it appears that the train tracks present an insurmountable obstacle to the riverside, but they've provided a handy tunnel that goes under the tracks and delivers you to a lovely esplanade along the water, complete with gazebo and cannon, and a view that is worth the walk. It was a lovely day, and we wouldn't have missed it for anything.
For dinner, we decided against eating at the hotel pub, and went to the nearby 84 Diner instead. Afterward is when it would have been nice to splash in the pool, but under the circumstances, we had to find other things to amuse ourselves with. During the repair process, the hotel had made arrangements for their guests to use the facilities at a local health club, but I'm afraid that the reputation of the six of us is not only well deserved, but precedes us everywhere we go, and turning us loose in a health club would be irresponsible, bordering on criminal negligence. We would not only get thrown out of the pool in record time, I'm sure, but the health club would probably ban all visits by hotel guests in the future, and that really wouldn't be fair to everyone else. So we had to be satisfied with some bad videos and then call it a night. In the morning, we availed ourselves of the breakfast buffet, which was hot and delicious, and included a wide variety of items, even omelets cooked to order. After that, the budget-conscious among us headed for the nearby Goodwill store, where we snapped up some bargains while doing our part for the local economy. We hadn't come up with a particular plan for Sunday afternoon, since we had already seen Cold Spring on Saturday, which was just as well, because it turned out that our friends had to meet with a contractor working on their house, so it ended up that the party broke up sooner than we expected. We bid a fond farewell to our friends, but it was such a lovely day that Bill and I decided to scout around for something else to do while we were there.
On our previous visit to the area in October, we did not have a chance to visit the locally famous Newburgh Mall, so we decided to check it out while we had some time on our hands. It was easy to find, and turned out to be a crackerjack mall, full of fine shops of every description, and handily located all on one level, for the escalator-challenged among us. We poked around window-shopping in the different retailers, and even bought some things that struck our fancy. By then it was late enough, and we were already in Newburgh, so we headed over to Denny's, which is one thing that always makes traveling so rewarding for us. We've been to this particular restaurant many times in our travels upstate, so it surprised us when it took the GPS two tries to find it, since her first attempt seemed to be luring us into some ominous-looking forest, like we had wandered into some chainsaw massacre movie by mistake. But we soon got that squared away, and glad for another chance to enjoy a treat denied to us at home, so we made the most of it. After that, the trip home was uneventful, and we stopped at the supermarket to pick up some sandwich fixings for a light supper, so we wouldn't have to think about cooking after a long weekend. The cats were supremely indifferent to our return, which is a good thing, because then we know that we haven't stumbled into the wrong house by mistake. We came home tired but happy, with just our memories and souvenirs, and plenty of them, to console ourselves with. So if you're ever in the area, I can heartily recommend the Hotel Sierra and Cold Spring as tourist destinations worthy of the name, and sure to please the most discriminating connoisseurs of fine living and sophisticated excursions. Unless it's Friday the 13th of course, and then all bets are off.
Elle
I guess this would be as good a time as any to remind everyone to beware of Friday the 13th, which has snuck up on us this month, but fortunately for the last time this year. I've been saying all along that 2009 has been a terrible year, what with even long-standing companies going under, and waves of demises among the celebrated and obscure alike, until we're all just about afraid to see what fresh new horror each morning may bring. (We're feeling particularly snake bit here, because the most invisible of all of our Invisible Cats, Captain Midnight, his own invisible self, just breathed his last, making him the third of the original invisible five that we've lost in this year alone.) I guess we should have realized right from the start that this would be one of the worst years ever, when we noticed that there would be not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR Friday the 13th's in 2009 -- February, March, August and November -- which requires a very specific alignment of months and days that probably hasn't happened in decades. I keep saying, apart from the Yankees, no one is going to remember 2009 fondly, and all the rest of us will be more than happy to see the tail-end of it in December, and not a moment too soon, as well as good riddance, and take your Friday the 13th's with you while you're at it.
Speaking of days, one good thing about the temporary return to Standard Time from Daylight Saving Time on November 1st was that my computer at work finally caught up with the rest of humanity, and I'm no longer living in two separate time zones at my desk. It had already "fallen back" from DST a week or so ahead of schedule, and there's no convincing Windows 2000NT that the switch-over to and from DST happens on a different time-table than it used to, back when the operating system was young and dewy fresh. It just makes up its own mind to change the system time, by golly, whether the rest of the world follows along or not, and you just have to wait it out until the time in the real world shifts so that it matches the time on the computer. At least that's one less area of confusion in my little world, where things are already bizarre enough, heaven knows. Of course, everyone knows that I always say that reality is a two-way street, and if reality wants to find me, it knows where I am, although it goes without saying that it shouldn't come unarmed. Or as they say in the old Westerns: "There's a train leaving town at three o'clock. Be under it."
Just when we thought our days of surprises were behind us, along comes a coupon in the mail, very carefully addressed to me, wishing me a happy birthday by name, and offering me $20 off my meal at The Melting Pot in White Plains. Now, I'm not one that normally looks a gift horse in the mouth, but since this is November, and my birthday is in March, I couldn't help but wonder what my close personal friends at The Melting Pot were thinking. It's true that this chain of fondue restaurants would not necessarily be our cup of tea, but I might have taken them up on their birthday offer after all, except that the coupon expires at the end of December, almost three months before my actual birthday in March, which is way too premature even for my tastes, and I'm usually the one who says any excuse for a party. But I'm afraid they'll have to fondue without me this time around, because as bad as 2009 has been, the last thing I need is two birthdays in one year, and that's a fact.
Last week in my incoming email, I noticed a message from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, announcing a protest against NASA for conducting experiments on primates, as well they should. The odd part was that right below that was a message from church about some religious controversy, entitled "Statement From The Primates Council," which is apparently what they call the group of Anglican bishops. To be fair, I admit that I know nothing about these Anglican bishops, so they might actually be monkeys after all. But I thought it was such a weird coincidence to have two messages in a row featuring the word "primates" in the subject line, and not only not related in any way, but using the term in two completely different and wildly divergent senses of the definition, at least that's my guess anyway. After all, it's been a long time since the infamous Scopes trial, where the anti-evolution contingent insisted: "You can't make a monkey out of me." Of course, it's possible that anything goes in the Anglican church nowadays, and Darwin might have the last laugh after all.
For anyone who thought that nothing good could come from a place saddled with the unappetizing name of Fishkill, have I got a news flash for you. Last weekend, we traveled there to meet friends from upstate, and stayed at the lovely Hotel Sierra, and found it very much to our liking in every way. (You can feel free to go ahead and visit their web site at www.hotel-sierra.com and see for yourself.) In our travels, we find many hotels that describe their rooms as "suites," but this one really lived up to the name, with actual doors separating the different areas of the room from each other. It includes a complete kitchen, with full-size refrigerator, stove, sink, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, and cabinets full of cooking utensils and serving pieces. There's a big television in the living room, along with a sofa and armchair, plus another one in the bedroom, which also has a full-length mirror that is a handy feature often lacking in hotels. The rooms have free Internet access, both wired and wireless, and we took it for a spin with both of our laptops with excellent results. Although the hotel is centrally located just off a main road, we found our room quiet and comfortable, and for once, we were so far from the elevators, ice dispensers and vending machines, that it was almost like we made the reservations under an assumed name. ("Why, those aren't the Dollisons at all! Don't put them next to that motorcycle gang!") They have a cozy lobby that looks like a rustic lodge with a fireplace, and behind that is a lovely and spacious gathering spot where they serve a breakfast buffet in the morning, and turns into their pub at night. For the price (around $100) we found the accommodations to be an exceptional value, and way above what we were expecting. Unfortunately, the indoor pool was closed for repairs during our stay, but that and the hot tub would have been just the cherry on top of a wonderful treat that was as welcome as it was unexpected.
Not far from Fishkill is scenic Cold Spring, which is locally famous for attracting tourists to its array of quaint and quirky shops, that run the gamut from dollar stores to the height of luxury, and everything in between. Since we were tourists, naturally we hurried on over there, and glad of it. (You are also welcome to go visit their web site at www.coldspringliving.com and see for yourself.) The main road in town has shops on both sides, and you could easily spend the entire day there and not see everything, because there are so many stores and they all have such interesting items that are collectible, curious, vintage, heirloom, or sometimes, all of them at once. Unlike Woodstock or Sugar Loaf, it isn't a haven for crafts, and you don't find artisans making their own soap or candles or kites or sculptures out of driftwood and seashells. Many of the shops describe themselves as antiques dealers, but their wares would remind you more of a gigantic flea market, than actual high-end antiques from centuries past. The sidewalks are crammed with benches for the weary, and there are also places to eat, so no one has to leave just because they're tired and hungry. The road slopes downhill toward the train station, and from the top, it's easy to see the majestic Hudson River just beyond the tracks, with graceful undulating hills in a sweeping vista on the other side. At first glance, it appears that the train tracks present an insurmountable obstacle to the riverside, but they've provided a handy tunnel that goes under the tracks and delivers you to a lovely esplanade along the water, complete with gazebo and cannon, and a view that is worth the walk. It was a lovely day, and we wouldn't have missed it for anything.
For dinner, we decided against eating at the hotel pub, and went to the nearby 84 Diner instead. Afterward is when it would have been nice to splash in the pool, but under the circumstances, we had to find other things to amuse ourselves with. During the repair process, the hotel had made arrangements for their guests to use the facilities at a local health club, but I'm afraid that the reputation of the six of us is not only well deserved, but precedes us everywhere we go, and turning us loose in a health club would be irresponsible, bordering on criminal negligence. We would not only get thrown out of the pool in record time, I'm sure, but the health club would probably ban all visits by hotel guests in the future, and that really wouldn't be fair to everyone else. So we had to be satisfied with some bad videos and then call it a night. In the morning, we availed ourselves of the breakfast buffet, which was hot and delicious, and included a wide variety of items, even omelets cooked to order. After that, the budget-conscious among us headed for the nearby Goodwill store, where we snapped up some bargains while doing our part for the local economy. We hadn't come up with a particular plan for Sunday afternoon, since we had already seen Cold Spring on Saturday, which was just as well, because it turned out that our friends had to meet with a contractor working on their house, so it ended up that the party broke up sooner than we expected. We bid a fond farewell to our friends, but it was such a lovely day that Bill and I decided to scout around for something else to do while we were there.
On our previous visit to the area in October, we did not have a chance to visit the locally famous Newburgh Mall, so we decided to check it out while we had some time on our hands. It was easy to find, and turned out to be a crackerjack mall, full of fine shops of every description, and handily located all on one level, for the escalator-challenged among us. We poked around window-shopping in the different retailers, and even bought some things that struck our fancy. By then it was late enough, and we were already in Newburgh, so we headed over to Denny's, which is one thing that always makes traveling so rewarding for us. We've been to this particular restaurant many times in our travels upstate, so it surprised us when it took the GPS two tries to find it, since her first attempt seemed to be luring us into some ominous-looking forest, like we had wandered into some chainsaw massacre movie by mistake. But we soon got that squared away, and glad for another chance to enjoy a treat denied to us at home, so we made the most of it. After that, the trip home was uneventful, and we stopped at the supermarket to pick up some sandwich fixings for a light supper, so we wouldn't have to think about cooking after a long weekend. The cats were supremely indifferent to our return, which is a good thing, because then we know that we haven't stumbled into the wrong house by mistake. We came home tired but happy, with just our memories and souvenirs, and plenty of them, to console ourselves with. So if you're ever in the area, I can heartily recommend the Hotel Sierra and Cold Spring as tourist destinations worthy of the name, and sure to please the most discriminating connoisseurs of fine living and sophisticated excursions. Unless it's Friday the 13th of course, and then all bets are off.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:31 PM
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