In A Pinch

Friends, Romans, Countrymen - Lend me your noses. I come not to sneeze on Caesar, but to cough on him. (And as Bill is always quick to remind us, "It's not the cough that carries you off, but the coffin they carry you off in.") The immortal Bard wasn't just whistling Dixie when he assailed the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and I had all of that and more, last week when I came down with a nasty case of the galloping cruds, with stacks of tissues piling up around me, missing time at work, and keeping Nyquil in business just so I could sleep at night. In my continuing efforts to avoid being even more of a hazard than usual to an unsuspecting public, alert readers may have noticed how I scrupulously refrained from depositing any messages in their Inbox last week, along with any hypothetical cooties that might have been associated with it. You're welcome. In other local news, we had a heartbreaking experience earlier in the month, when we went back to one of our favorite dining establishments, Lavilla Brick Oven Pizza & Restaurant, to enjoy their signature garlic bread and baked ziti, only to find they had inexplicably changed hands since our last visit, and everything was completely different - the decor, the service, and most disappointing of all, the menu. It seemed impossible to us, because we had just been there in the last several weeks, and there was no hint that anything was afoot - in fact, the place was always busy, even on weeknights. It was especially disturbing because there was no indication from the outside that anything had changed (for instance, "Under New Management" signs in the windows) so we had no way of knowing that we couldn't have our regular dinner choices, until we had already been seated and ordered drinks. We did try a couple of other entrées, and they begrudgingly made us a plate of garlic-like bread, but it was not even a pale imitation of the original, and certainly wouldn't entice us to go back. We thought it was such a shame, because we had only discovered them more or less by accident last year, and fell in love with them on the spot, so this punches a real hole in our dining out options from now on. So unfortunately, that was the end of an (all too short) era, alas and alack. Now here's something on the subject of food that really shouldn't be. In fact, it was in the bathroom that I noticed a bottle of Dr. Woods Raw Black Soap, which prides itself on being not only organic and environmentally friendly - but also announces in large type on its label that it is, yes, gluten-free. I'm going to let that sink in for a moment. Personally, I think that's taking the whole gluten-free mania several steps too far, but I suppose for anyone who was planning to drink Dr. Woods Raw Black Soap as a tonic for what ails them, I guess you could say that's one less thing for them to worry about. Although frankly, at that point, I think gluten would be the least of their problems, I dare say. And speaking of one less thing, the construction company where I'm working now has a garage where they keep their building supplies and tools. In amongst all of the variety of sheetrock, insulation, bags of cement, and assorted lumber, there is a plethora of carts, wheelbarrows, and dollies for ferrying materials in and out of trucks, as well as to and from job sites. I couldn't help but notice recently that one of the hand trucks very plainly exhibits numerous stencils all over that say "FedEx" for all the world to see, making no mistake as to its ownership in any way. I think it betrays no confidences to say that the company that I work for is not Federal Express, so what we're doing with one of their hand trucks is a mystery to me, I'm sure. Of course, the biggest news from the week was the solar eclipse, which put on a show all across the continental United States, and certainly lived up to the hype, from sea to shining sea, from California to the New York islands, from the redwood forests to the Gulfstream waters, for spacious skies and purple mountains majesty across the fruited plains, from the prairies to the mountains, to the oceans white with foam, and everywhere in between, by jingo. They say that "Silent Cal" Coolidge was President the last time this happened, and that was almost 100 years ago, so it was certainly nothing to be taken for granted. In fact, if media reports are to be believed, countless schools and businesses across the path of the totality were closed for the day, in order to give their employees and students the (perhaps once-in-a-lifetime) chance to get outside and experience it first hand - hopefully from the safety of the vast array of organized viewing events, and not just staring up at the sun like dumbstruck cavemen. The Internet was all agog with excitement as well, with NASA leading the way with its exhaustive coverage and interactive apps. Our little corner of the hemisphere was not in the totality zone, but still fairly close at about 75%, and starting around 2:45 PM on a gloriously sunny day. I had just gotten home from work at that time, and stayed outside to check it out. I don't know what I expected, but I guess I thought things would look different - possibly dimmer with odd shadows - but I was disappointed in that expectation, and was ready to chalk it up as a lost cause. But it turned out that I had my own little moment of magic with the eclipse, more or less out of the blue. After I went in the house, I noticed that it had clouded over outside, after there had been nothing but brilliant sunshine moments before. I hurried back outside to the driveway, and sure enough, just one small thin cloud had passed in front of the sun, apparently out of nowhere. It was just filmy enough to see through it, while still blocking the glaring brightness of the mid-day sun - and silhouetted starkly against it was the whole disk of the moon, clearly visible covering about 3/4 of the sun. It was fascinating to see, and I stood mesmerized watching it until the little cloud wafted away, exposing the full glare of the sun once again. So that was my own personal little eclipse miracle, and I'm not too proud to admit that I stood staring at it like the veriest dumbstruck caveman, and I ought to know. Meanwhile, what may be new and exciting (or conversely, old and shopworn) in the wonderful wide world of retailing, you may be wondering, and well may you wonder, indeed. Recently our local newspaper printed a front page story on consignment shops, which they insist are "the best kept secret for shoppers looking for fashionable bargains." I will be the first to admit that I am not a shopper looking for fashionable bargains, which perhaps explains why I gasped out loud when I spotted this caption under a picture of some jewelry on display in one of these shops: "A tanzanite diamond cross with pearls is on sale for $34,500.00 at The Penny Pincher." (!!!) Well, if that's their idea of a bargain, I can tell you that there is a wide divide between them and me when it comes to the definition of a bargain, believe me. And I certainly wouldn't lead with that particular item, if I wanted to attract shoppers to peruse my other fashionable bargains, presumably at less exorbitant prices than the extravagant cross in question. By golly, the dinosaurs and I can remember a time when people understood what irony was, and wouldn't dream of selling anything for many thousands of dollars at a place inaptly called The Penny Pincher, of all things. As a matter of fact, in honor of the former Treasury Secretary on the face of the $10,000 bill, I think they should call it The Salmon P. Chase Pincher instead. Penny Pincher, indeed. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking with it, or my name isn't - Marc Antony

Here Come Da Judge!

Hello World, Woof woof! Now that July is well and truly behind us, it's just about time for those infamous Dog Days of August to start nipping at our heels, as it were, and if history is any guide, it won't take long before they're really barking in earnest. Of course, the weather around here has been so ridiculously inconsistent all year, you really don't know what to expect next, from the cold and bleak to the torrid and stifling - and not to mention, raining frogs and plague of locusts might not be out of the question either. People may complain, but it must be said that the weeds are loving every minute of it, and that's not just the dandelion wine talking, believe me. Our pokeweed is already over my head, and the false asters have been going gangbusters all summer. Around town, the corn flowers and Queen Anne's lace are having a field day, and invasive vines are latching onto things that are still moving. The way things are going, I would be telling those hounds of August to watch their step. In other seasonal news, it seems that Major League Baseball is introducing an innovative event they call Players Weekend, presumably under the tutelage of the new and improved brain trust at the helm of the organization, since the beleaguered Bud Selig retired. One of the features of this new event is that all of the players get to wear specially-designed novelty jerseys (to be auctioned off later for charity) and instead of their same old names printed on the back, they can request whatever nickname or message that strikes their fancy. For instance, Mets ace Noah Syndergaard is widely known as "Thor," while Kyle Seager of the Seattle Mariners (whose talented sibling also plays for the team) opted to go with "Corey's Brother" for the occasion. On the pinstripe side of things, the mighty Yankees have a rookie phenom (currently leading the league in home runs) by the name of Aaron Judge, and his souvenir jersey will say "All Rise" on the back. (Get it?!) I thought that was so funny. Also on the local scene, a couple of weeks ago, we joined friends of ours atop the Glen Island drawbridge to watch New Rochelle's signature Lighted Boat Parade churn past in all of their glamour and glitz, and it was worth seeing, I can tell you that. We had caught this ragtag convoy a few years ago by accident, but apparently they do it every year, and this time, we were prepared for it beforehand. We fortified ourselves with dinner at the diner first, because after all, they can't get started until after it's dark, and us oldsters can't hold up late at night like we used to. Our patience was rewarded when a long string of vessels started heading towards us, all ablaze and horns blaring, and with their very own DJ providing background music and commentary along the way. These hardy old salts (I think it goes without saying that copious amounts of drinking may be involved here) take great pains to completely bedeck their ships with all manner of twinkling lights, as well as other decorative elements, such as flags, palm trees, flamingos, Christmas trees, and yes, even Santa Claus, his very own holly jolly (s)elf. There were a lot more boats involved than we remembered from the last time, and each one was a sight to behold on its own (and I have the dark and blurry pictures to prove it) but the whole gaudy armada together had a wow factor that would be hard to beat. In spite of many obstacles, Bill managed to take some excellent pictures of the procession, and the colorful reflections on the gentle waves were especially artistic. It was a fun night out, and we were glad not to miss it, even though it did keep us old folks up past our bedtime. (Yawn!) Meanwhile, stepping into the murky waters of Internet commerce (one supposes) alert readers may recall an item from a couple of weeks back, about our friends at Agile LIVE and their incomprehensible advertisement on the AOL Welcome screen that begged more questions than it answered, and that's putting it mildly. They followed up that opening salvo with this next gambit - ========================== SAFe 4.5 with VersionOne Accelerate delivery with the scaled Agile framework ========================== which, if anything, somehow manages to make even less sense than the original, if that could even be remotely possible. (Personally, I highly doubt it, but as they say in a punch line from a completely different joke altogether, "They're doing some remarkable things with transplants these days.") Never one to be daunted, our resident tech maven Bill tracked them down on the web (and you can please feel free to go right ahead and visit their site at http://www.agilenutshell.com and see for yourself) where they are all too eager to announce: "Agile is a time boxed, iterative approach to software delivery." Once again, like the horoscope computer, we are confronted with a series of valid English words, that combined in this arrangement, have no meaning whatsoever. Fortunately, our diligent friends at wikipedia succeeded in slicing through the gibberish, which Bill handily summarized as follows: "The whole idea is to deliver the software in chunks, as they write it, rather than waiting until the whole thing is done, and each chunk is supposed to stand on its own until the next chunk is added to the package." It seems to me that a person of even the meanest intelligence would be able to convey that concept in an ad, without resorting to the horoscope computer to obfuscate and bewilder instead. On the other hand, they obviously don't care what the rest of us think, since they're apparently winning awards for whatever it is they're doing - or at least, that's what I think this next message is trying to tell me: ==================== VersionOne named a leader Gartner 2017 Magic Quadrant for enterprise Agile planning tools ==================== My favorite part is the button you can click on the ad that encourages you to "Read the Report," as if that's somehow going to shed any more light on the subject than they've already managed to completely obscure with their idiotic jargon to start with, thanks not. (Or, in the words of a different punch line to an entirely different joke, "Watch out for that first step, it's a doozy!" and I ought to know.) Now, it may be all too true that these folks are content to rest on their laurels - well deserved or otherwise - but frankly, I have no time to shilly-shally. My plan is to go to the MLB web site and bid on the Players Weekend jersey that says Gartner 2017 Magic Quadrant on the back, before they've all been snapped up. Elle

Where The Action Is

Hello World, Happy August! It seems hard to believe that we've already kicked July to the curb (and I don't mind saying, good riddance, in many ways) and here we are, suddenly in the last month of summer before we close the book on those lazy, hazy, crazy days at Labor Day weekend, the unofficial end of the season, alas. Everyone may consider this their fair warning and wake-up call to get out there and grab for the gusto of whatever summer still has to offer, while there's still time for watermelon, fireworks, hammocks, and plenty of fun in the sun, by golly. That reminds me of driving to work earlier in the week, past a cute little park in Tuckahoe, where they had sent some of their DPW team for a little bit of a sprucing up around the place, one supposes. It's easy to tell when they do something like this, because with the new OSHA regulations nowadays, they make outdoor workers wear screaming high-visibility neon yellow safety vests, so they don't get run over by inattentive drivers, thanks not. This is how it was clearly obvious to me, even from 2 blocks away, that the workers - far from pulling out weeds or picking up trash - were all enjoying themselves hugely on the swings instead, with their bright yellow vests flapping in the breeze and giving themselves away. At 7:30 in the morning, it was pretty funny, believe me. In other seasonal news, alert readers may be wondering (and well may they wonder, indeed) if my vacation has already come and gone, whatever became of the venerable Round Hill Highland Games, where we usually meet our Connecticut friends, and go mad for plaid? For some perverse reason known only to themselves, this year they decided to hold the event on the last Sunday in June, rather than the first Saturday in July before my vacation, as I expected. That Sunday wasn't good for any of us, so I asked our friends about other attractions we could try instead, and they came up with 2 winners right off the bat. The first was the Thimble Island Cruise aboard The Sea Mist, launching out of scenic Stony Creek, into the placid waters of Long Island Sound. It was a perfect day for this sort of excursion, because while it was a sweltering 95 degrees with wilting humidity in town, on the cruise ship it was cool and breezy the whole way. It takes about 45 minutes to circumnavigate the archipelago of 30 islands, some no more than tiny rock outcroppings, and others more substantial, complete with houses and other structures. There is a lively commentary along the way, so you can find out all about their history (Europeans discovered them in 1614, courtesy of Adrian Block, who Block Island is named after) as well as more current details. (Apparently each tiny island is privately owned, presumably by eccentric millionaires, and in fact, one of them is on the market right now, and you can snap it up for a cool $35,000,000.00 or so.) The Sea Mist is very handsomely appointed, with comfortable seating on 2 levels, bathroom, bar, souvenirs, and snack shop. The views are unobstructed on all sides, and because the Sound is so smooth, it's easy to take pictures of everything as you glide by. It was a perfect day for sailing the high seas, and we were sorry to rejoin the land-lubbers again on terra firma when it was all over. Continuing our adventures, our next stop was the historic Shore Line Trolley Museum in East Haven, which constituted the "turf" segment of our "surf-and-turf" escapades, if you will. Their countless dedicated volunteers have lovingly restored vintage trolley cars to run on their short section of track, in what is described by the National Historic District listing as "the oldest continually operated suburban trolley line in the United States," beginning all the way back in 1900. They have 2 trolleys running throughout the day, and your ticket entitles you to ride them as much as you care to, back and forth. This is no cable-car system, that grabs onto an underground pulley, to be yanked through busy city streets, in the quaint version of mass transit from 100 years ago. These trolleys run under their own power on railroad tracks, and this one seems to start in the middle of nowhere, and skirt past an unspoiled salt marsh before reaching the end of the line. The salt marsh had several nesting platforms that were just bursting with ospreys (and I can assure you that I have the blurry pictures to prove it, and not afraid to use them!) but there's also plenty of egrets, herons, ducks, and geese besides. The trolley stops at the car barns, where the hard-working volunteers are busily restoring dozens of elegantly decorated antique cars from many different places, and different eras, each one more dazzling than the last. It is truly a sight to behold, believe me. After the car barns, the tracks suddenly stop abruptly at the edge of a weedy wilderness, and since there is no place to turn the trolley around, the conductor gets out and adjusts the electric connection to power the trolley in the other direction, back to the station. The ride is comfortable and leisurely, in fact, you could easily walk it faster than riding - and on Saturday, we saw a jogger alongside who lapped us at least twice as we were chugging along. But it's all wonderfully relaxing, with plenty of cool breezes, and the salt marsh is a thing of beauty all on its own. The museum itself is small, but full of interesting exhibits and memorabilia from a bygone era, as well as hands-on displays for the kiddies to play with. In the lobby is an old sign board with the names of old trolley stops, and 2 of the place names (Glen Island and Hudson Park) are from our very own Queen City on the Sound, so we had to have our pictures taken with that, naturally. They operate every day in June-July-August, and weekends at other times, plus special events for Easter, Christmas, Halloween, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, plus spring and fall bird migrations. This turned out to be another fun idea for a very hot day, and we were glad to hop aboard, Casey Jones. Just when you would think that things couldn't possibly get any better, we wrapped it all up with a visit to Denny's in West Haven, and it did not disappoint, I can tell you that. After a long and busy day in the great outdoors, we were glad to head toward home, with our happy memories to keep us company along the way. And although there wasn't a kilt or bagpipe anywhere in sight, truth to tell, we didn't miss them a bit, and glad for something different as a change of pace. Speaking of which, I noticed on Thursday that they were playing pre-season football (I'll say!) on television, when let's face it, that was only just August 3rd, of all things. Now, this is normally where I would be saying something like, it's nice for them to come back and make a fresh start of things, gearing up for the fall, but between the combines and the mini camps, heck, it doesn't seem like they really ever did stop playing at any time, since the Super Bowl in February, for heaven's sake. But speaking of getting a fresh start, when I came back from vacation, I couldn't wait to get the poor bedraggled Chevy to the car wash and have it cleaned and detailed, and finally give the boot to all of the sticks and stones, sand and leaves that had taken up residence along the way, thanks not. Only this time, I was one step ahead of the guys with their spray bottles, and wasn't afraid to turn them loose on the interior and do their worst. The car came out on the other side, all bright and shiny on the outside, and spic-and-span (and slippery) on the inside, but that didn't worry me this time. I had already gotten a brand new snazzy steering wheel cover, and once I popped it on the wheel, it made no difference how slick it was underneath, I still had a firm grip on it, without having to wear my rubber garden gloves to keep hold of it. After all, I'm thinking that I'll probably want my garden gloves for the next time around, so I can join the Tuckahoe DPW staff on the swings, and no excuses. Tally ho! Elle