Tea For Two

Hello World, Good morning, campers! This may seem an odd time of year to be thinking about camping out in the wilderness, but apparently Wading River has more to offer than just a week in the woods in July, as I do every summer. It seems that the New York State Parks folks put together the Wildwood Fall Festival out there every year, and this time around, we decided to take the plunge and check it out. It was last Saturday, and if you were in the local area at any point, you know what a glorious day that was – brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, and unseasonable temperatures in the 80’s on top of it all. You certainly couldn't ask for a better day, if you had any outdoor activities planned, and it was tailor-made for this, I can tell you that. And I don't mind saying, just where was this weather when we needed it for the pool party, thanks so much not. We hit the road early and picked up my sister on Long Island, stopping only long enough for a quick lunch at Denny’s in Centereach, to fuel up for our adventures ahead, and it did not disappoint, that’s for sure. From there, it’s just a short hop, skip, and a jump out to Wildwood, where we were surprised to see that they let everyone into the park with no admission or parking charge, but just come one and come all, and everybody is welcome. Whoever came up with that idea, it was certainly popular, and we all agreed that we had never seen the parking lot so over-stuffed with vehicles, from one end to the other, in all the years we had been going out there, since time immemorial or perhaps even earlier. (I seem to remember that they didn't build the parking lot until after Thak invented the wheel, although there might have been a place for dinosaur parking before that.) The festivities were not actually in the campground itself, but rather behind the Registration Building, in the field next to the basketball court, where they had plenty of room to spread out in. This turned out to be a good thing, not just for the crowds, but to accommodate the many vendor tents, pony rides, radio station truck, giant slide, bouncy castle, hay rides, scarecrow decorating competition, and guess-the-weight-of-the-pumpkin contest. There were other family-friendly activities like races and face painting, and you can believe me when I say that the families responded to this by coming out in force, from the tiniest of infants in arms, to the merely young-at-heart being pushed around in wheelchairs, and everything in between. You didn't need to be Druid to hop on board this autumnal equinox celebration, which is just as well, because the Stonehenge parking lot was all filled up. Our usual experience with events has more cohesiveness, where everything is tied together culturally (Scottish, Irish) or by topic (railroads, collectibles, chocolate) into one unified whole, more or less. We found the Fall Festival much more scattershot than we're used to, without a real unifying theme to rally around, and wound up feeling more like a giant block party than otherwise. There were plenty of vendors, but they were selling just about anything and everything – from toys and games, to jewelry, baby clothes, plaques and banners – like any old flea market that could be anywhere at any time. There was a notable lack of what we would have considered basic for a Fall Festival, namely local crafts and seasonal products like apples, wine, candles, micro brews, soap, maple syrup, kites, candy, wind chimes, or yummy home-made pies. I think it’s a very telling commentary that we perambulated the entire field and didn't buy one single solitary thing while we were there, when usually we find plenty of souvenirs to tickle our fancy, no matter where we go. Candied apples, anyone? The park itself is still open for camping until the middle of October, and there were apparently no restrictions on where people were allowed to wander off the beaten track, so we took a detour through the campground to see what there was to see. We introduced my sister to the new cabins that are under construction (she was the one who alerted me to their coming in the first place) and they do not fail to impress in person, compared to reading about them on the parks department web site. Alert readers on social media may have seen pictures of us at C-35, my regular campsite, and over in A Section, where they apparently stack up the picnic tables in the off-season. Lively bands of hardy campers were clustered around the center in B and D Sections, still enjoying the beautiful late summer weather, and certainly more of them than we would have expected for the post-Labor Day period. We even trekked down to the beach (which, truth to tell, is a lot easier when it’s not 100 degrees and you're carrying tons of chairs and towels, I can assure you) where there were no life guards on the job, but plenty of visitors making the most of sun, surf, and sand. Some of us even shed our shoes and socks, and waded into the beckoning water (which was uncharacteristically wavy for Wildwood) and which in July is bracingly frigid, but by September has warmed up considerably, so that any old sissy could jump right in, and I ought to know. We were surprised that with the hustle and bustle of the festival, and the thundering herd of tourists, that none of the concession stands were open, even in the picnic grounds, which were nothing but a surging sea of humanity in every direction, as far as the eye could see. It would have been a license to print money, as they say, and that's not just the SpongeBob SquarePants popsicles talking, believe me. The festival closed up shop at 4:00, so we toddled off towards town, to look in on The Shoppes at East Wind, which is a collection of boutiques next to the East Wind (wedding and catering) hotel, in a nearby retail location that has been under construction for at least the last 3 years, because I drive right past it every year on vacation. We noticed that a few of the little shoppes are now finally open, but most have yet to see the light of day, even at this late date. The whole area is bigger than it seems from the road, with many more stores than it looks like would be there, and features a stunning carousel right in the middle of it all, that would make even the most jaded world-weary traveler gasp in wonder. In fact, there was a wedding party in full flower while we were there, and they made a bee-line to the carousel in all of their finery, with wedding photographer in tow. We didn't find much about the shoppes to entice us inside (it seems like they are designed to sell over-priced trifles to a captive audience of wedding guests, relatives, and auxiliary staff) but we did stop in at You, Me, & Tea for a cool drink, and glad of it. Obviously it would take pizza to round out the rest of the day, and after dropping off my sister, we turned toward home with our happy memories (and a distinct lack of souvenirs, thanks not) from our excursion that was different and interesting in a lot of good ways. In fact, we were prepared on the spot to give it a try next year as well, although I can’t help but feel that in 2018, we would no doubt find ourselves down at the beach in 50 degree weather with pelting rain and gale-force winds, I shouldn’t wonder. Say, who let those Druids in here? Elle

Growing Pains

Hello World, Happy Jewish New Year! Once back-to-school is well and truly upon us, you know it will soon be time to break out the apples and honey, and don't spare the challah bread, my good man. I won't say that everyone turns Jewish for Rosh Hashanah (in the same way that everybody is Irish on St. Patrick's Day) but here in New York, it's any excuse for a party, and Jewish New Year is as good a reason as any, I dare say. It sounds like a jolly time, by all accounts, full of food, folks, and fun, and The Holiday Police notwithstanding, I say go ahead and jump right on that bandwagon, and there is no wrong way to celebrate. Also happening this week on Friday is the first day of Fall, and no matter where you are, you can't take 2 steps without tripping over somebody's Fall Festival, Harvest Fair, or Autumn Jamboree, by golly. A cornucopia of seasonal events is certainly out there for the picking, and in abundance, so I encourage everyone to get out there and hit every hayride, corn maze, or pumpkin patch you can find. Apple cider, anyone? Speaking of seasons, it's possible that no one was more surprised than me when the new fall TV season started, and I was checking out the program listings, only to find teams already playing ice hockey, of all things. (Keep in mind that the Stanley Cup isn't awarded to anybody until June - JUNE! - so that tells you something right there.) The regular season gets underway on October 4th, which is basically right around the corner, and entering that perilous time of year when fans in multi-sport cities can watch 3 of their teams lose on the same day, alas. And speaking of losers, after the (perhaps misguided) optimism of pre-season football, it came as a harsh dose of reality and bitter pill to swallow when both the Jets and Giants lost their first 2 games right out of the gate, thanks not. Of course, no one was expecting much out of the Gang Green camp to begin with, but the members of Big Blue were supposed to have their act together, and look like a contender right from the opening kickoff. So I guess it's back to the drawing board for these 2 clubs, and that's not just a bunch of Xs and Os, believe me. And while we're on the subject of football, we get this curious tidbit from the TV Listings Best Bets in our local newspaper: ========================== Sam Darnold and the USC Trojans have high expectations this season in the Pac-12. Darnold solidified himself last season when as a freshman, he led USC to a Rose Bowl victory. ========================== Excuse me??? I'm not exactly sure what the young man may have done to "solidify" himself, but then again, there are many things in this world that are better left unknown. Like "mystery meat" in schools, or unidentified toxic waste in landfills, there's a reason for Thomas Gray's venerable observation, "Ignorance is bliss," and I don't mind saying that I am unanimous (not to mention, solidified) in that. This next bit qualifies as a generational divide, which will only make sense to those people "of a certain age," so anyone out there in the wide world who wasn't born before 1960, you should probably skip this part. Yesterday after work, I found myself coming home behind a large white truck that was plastered with the word NIXON all over it, on every side, including the hood and side doors, for all the world to see. It obviously had no connection to the past president (for instance, it wasn't a tour bus ferrying around a curated exhibit from his library for the benefit of those outside of the Yorba Linda area) and I couldn't help but shake my head in wonder, and question why anybody would choose to pick that name for their business, after the way things turned out on that front. On the other hand, these people are apparently Nixon Uniform Services, providing a variety of textile products to the health care, food service, maintenance, and hospitality industries - and presumably doing this for generations of the same regrettably-named family, without a hint of scandal anywhere along the way. In fact, anyone who has driven behind one of their trucks can tell you that they are proud to announce "GROW WITH NIXON" in bold letters painted on several sides, and seemingly without irony of any sort. As a slogan, I would have to consider "Grow with Nixon" to be safe, if unimaginative, and I'm pretty sure we could all do better, most of us without even trying. Here's my suggestion: "I am not a smock." And speaking of textiles, alert readers will be relieved to hear that I did finally make some headway on my vast and smelly piles of old moldy camping laundry strewn about, 2 months later, until at last, every beach towel, every sock, every T-shirt, and every swimsuit has been washed clean of sand, salt water, smoke, and seaweed for another year. Unfortunately, even clean laundry lacks the capacity (or, in my personal conviction, the willingness) to climb the stairs and put itself away in the attic with my camping supplies, so that still remains to be done. No thanks to the fact that it's been in the 80's around here since we came back from our ill-fated pool party up north, and about the last place I feel like going is into the attic under those conditions, where the temperatures would rival those of the busiest blast furnaces in Pittsburgh, from the heyday of U.S. Steel, I don't mind saying. I was thinking of contacting Sam Darnold to trot the camping paraphernalia aloft to the upper reaches, but let's face it, after he went to so much trouble to solidify himself, far be it from me to have him smelted back down again. After all, I am not a CREEP. (Youngsters, please ask your grandparents about that one.) Watergate salad, anyone? Elle

Wait And See

Hello World, It's probably true that nobody ever said, "Beware the Ides of September!" but I have to admit that it seems impossible that we've already gotten to the mid-point of the month - and it goes without saying, nothing to show for it, by golly. In fact, it seems like only very recently I was still on vacation, and I can tell you that I still have the smelly piles of dirty camping laundry to prove it, thanks not. Oh well, things can always be worse, as I'm sure we've all long since learned, much to our consternation, no doubt. Last week at work, there was a particularly busy day in the tiny cramped parking lot outside of the garage, leaving me no place to stash my car for the interim, except for one last lone forlorn little space, which could only be accessed if I somehow managed to parallel park into it. (And once again, I think it goes without saying, thanks ever so much not.) Inasmuch as I probably haven't parallel parked since the purple Gremlin and I took our drivers test (this would have been in the period just after Thak invented the wheel, when the dinosaurs and I were roaming the vast unformed land masses in the primordial ooze) you can believe me when I say that this would not have been a pretty sight, and no doubt sending panic-stricken bystanders scurrying for cover. At least, I assume they were scurrying for cover anyway, because my eyes were closed. Speaking of things better left unseen, I was coming home from work earlier in the week, and found myself behind a Toyota Camry - which it is only fair to point out, is the quintessential definition of an automotive doorstop (in fact, I'm pretty sure if you look up "doorstop" in the dictionary, it would have a picture of a Camry) - with, yes, a bright red racing stripe, of all things. I'm surprised that they didn't just go ahead and paint flames on the hood while they were at it. The dinosaurs and I are only glad that poor Thak didn't live to see this day, or he probably wouldn't have invented the wheel in the first place. Racing stripe, indeed. In other local news, since our favorite Italian eatery changed hands right out from under us recently (BOO!) we decided to try our luck with one of the city's venerable establishments that has been a cornerstone of the downtown dining scene for decades. It was crowded and noisy when we were there on Friday, but we still hoped for the best, on the theory that the place could not possibly be so popular if it wasn't good. Admittedly, the menu selections did not inspire confidence, but we finally made our reluctant choices, and settled in to await the results. It turned out to be a long wait, and 45 minutes later, we had to wonder if they had sent someone out to grow the wheat that they were going to use in the flour to make our pasta. In fairness, we realized that it might not have been the kitchen at fault for the delay, but the wait staff, as we found the service so inattentive that at the hospital where I worked, it would have constituted job abandonment. At long last, our meals were delivered, and to say that we found them disappointing may have had more to do with the long wait, than how bad they actually were. Wanting to be well rid of the joint after a (very) long and frustrating visit, Bill waylaid the hostess for a request to send over our waitress with our check so we could leave, and I think it speaks volumes about our experience there, that even the hostess couldn't track down our errant server, wherever she had gotten to. So in the end, we were left with the inescapable fact that this iconic refectory was not going to be an acceptable substitute for our beloved LaVilla after all, and we would have to look elsewhere. Preferably some place where they don't provide the employees with cloaks of invisibility. And while we're on the topic of being out and about, it must be said that we have had some interesting travels lately, and not all of them bad, which is my favorite way to travel. When we went north to visit our friends for the Labor Day weekend, we made a point of going by way of the new Gov. Mario M. Cuomo Bridge (which is in the process of being built to replace the derelict old Tappan Zee Bridge over the Hudson River) which had only just opened to traffic on the northbound side, while construction is still continuing on the other side. (Alert readers may have noticed Bill's video of this inaugural crossing on Facebook as it happened, and well worth it, if I do say so myself.) Of course, the views over the majestic Hudson are outstanding, although perhaps marred only by the hulking remains of the ramshackle Tappan Zee Bridge tottering off to one side, its days of endangering intrepid motorists now thankfully very nearly a thing of the past. By contrast, the new bridge seems smooth and sturdy, and while it may not win any beauty contests, at least it has youth and vigor on its side in abundance. They've been working full-tilt on this new bridge for a while now, and expect it to be finished some time next year, and we look forward to our first south-bound excursion over its gleaming new surface when that banner day arrives, with all its bells and whistles. The thought of noisy travel reminds me of another somewhat odd twist on our holiday weekend journey, this time on the way home. We were happily humming along, without a care in the world, as it were, and no traffic to speak of, or any automotive concerns along the way. But we both noticed a quiet but persistent beeping noise, every so often, with no idea where it could be coming from, or why. Of course, modern people all have too many electronic devices to keep track of, any or all of which could be making unexplained beeping noises at any time, and in fact, apart from anything else already in the car, Bill and I were both carrying our new cell phones as well as our previous cell phones, so that complicated matters right there. Every time I picked up one of the phones and held it to my head, it sounded like that was the culprit, but the next time I tried that (at 10 minute intervals, since that was the time between each faint chirp) it sounded like something else entirely. We drove all the way home wondering what it could be coming from, and what it could be trying to tell us, without getting any closer to solving the mystery. It sounded like a "low battery" warning, but after digging all of our phones out of our luggage, none of them had low batteries, or reminders or messages of any sort. We were resigned to pulling apart all of our luggage, souvenirs, accessories, and whatnot, to get to the bottom of this, or know the reason why. Fortunately, once we got home, and our phones were all in different places, the culprit was quickly revealed without us even looking for it - because after 10 minutes, the obvious chirping noise came clearly from a bag of walkie-talkies that had been left in the car (probably since camping) with their batteries still in them, and sure enough, they were trying to tell us that the batteries were going dead. In fact, they had probably been trying to tell us that since vacation, but until we moved them out of the trunk and into the back seat, even their most heroic efforts would have been in vain, I dare say. So we had a good laugh over that, and glad to put that conundrum behind us, after puzzling us all the way home. I guess we should consider it a lucky thing that they didn't have a cloak of invisibility besides. Elle

Smarty Pants

Hello World, Splish splash! The time had come, as it surely must, when the summer winds down and we take advantage of the pleasant conditions to make the long trek into the northern regions to visit our friends around Albany for our annual pool party over the Labor Day weekend, so we can enjoy some of the warm weather activities the region has to offer, and not just fighting off the brutal chill of Old Man Winter when we go there in January. Not so fast! Alas, it was not to be, as the local weather managed to perversely turn cold just in time, thanks not, after it had been flirting with 90 degrees earlier in the week. So we packed our jackets and sweat pants instead, and headed out on Saturday morning, to miss the hordes of eager travelers leaving for the long weekend on Friday instead. That actually worked out, as the traffic was unremarkable the whole way there, and we made it in good time, in spite of stopping a couple of times along the way. We arrived just about at lunch time, and some of us were looking forward to a reviving lunch at the nearby 76 Diner, with hopes of scoring a dish of their signature fried ravioli appetizer, a special treat of our travels, not to be found elsewhere. Once again, not so fast! Our friends decided that they found another eatery that they liked better, so instead we found ourselves at Diner Time, new home of the former Circle Diner, for what I would consider an average lunch, and nothing very special about it at all. But since we were out and about anyway (and obviously with no plans for swimming, with the temperature not cooperating in any way) we headed for a local Army-Navy store, because I was on the prowl for a couple of replacement flags, flag poles, finials, and the like. Unfortunately, they couldn't help me on that score, but it was still an interesting place to browse, especially in their vintage military uniforms and accessories in the basement, and we did find some useful items to buy, so it was not a total loss. After that, we went back to their lovely home for a marathon show-and-tell session that included cat toys for their congenial kitties, small gifts, and many other items of a peculiar nature, that probably only we would find interesting. (Here, the possibility exists that our friends might not actually find these oddities interesting, but only their good manners make it seem that way.) Rather than staring forlornly at their covered-up pool in the backyard, we settled in around their big screen TV and watched goofy videos on YouTube to pass the time. Then I broke out my voluminous shopping lists, and we made the rounds of Oceans Job Lots and The Salvation Army to snap up some bargains, and provide a lift to the local economy that I hope did not go unnoticed. In fact, it was even more generous than I expected, since I realized later that we had paid for 4 lounge pants at the venerable thrift store, but somehow only came home with 3 of them - and as I pointed out later, let's face it, that's $2.50 we'll never get back again. After a busy afternoon, it was starting to get dark, and dinner time was upon us, so we picked up a couple of pizzas along the way, and made short work of them once we got back to the house. And on a positive note, I found a penny in our travels, so it turned out that we were only down $2.49 in the aggregate. We had brought along our own after-dinner entertainment, in the form of the 2005 romantic comedy "Just Like Heaven," with Reese Witherspoon, Mark Ruffalo, and Donal Logue - and for anyone who hasn't already seen it, Bill and I would be happy to recommend in unequivocally. It's sweet and funny, smart and tender, with just enough silliness to keep it bumping along, and winning performances all around. (Jon Heder from the occult bookstore is almost worth it all by himself.) Somehow even after a long and eventful day, we all managed to stay awake for the entire evening, and our hostess even found the time to assemble a stuffed French toast breakfast casserole that could be prepared ahead of time and enjoyed in the morning, so we trundled off to bed in their guest room with that to look forward to. I will say that we woke up on Sunday morning to glowering skies and pelting rain, but the breakfast casserole did not disappoint, and we had to content ourselves with that, as well as some delicious fresh fruit alongside. Thus fortified, it was back out into the wonderful wide world of retail - this time at Goodwill and one of our favorite dollar stores - to snap up more bargains, or know the reason why. I can tell you that we did not come back empty-handed, not by a long shot, and glad to nail down some very specific whatnots, like skirt pins and shoe horns, that you just can't find anywhere anymore, and I ought to know. Trekking the bargain-hunting trail can be thirsty work, so our next stop was at the locally famous Guptill's Coney Island Ice Cream for a snack. Since it was about 50 degrees and pouring rain at the time, we just about had the place to ourselves, unlike the usual throngs of dessert-seeking hordes, and we were soon on our way with our sweet treats clutched in our eager hands. On the theory that ice cream is brain food, we decided to play a game, and anyone who hasn't already tried Heads Up! from Ellen DeGeneres, I say, go round up some people and give it a try right now. It's an app that you download to your cell phone or tablet, where one player tries to guess the answer from clues given by the other players, from a variety of categories, such as popular songs, celebrities, movie titles, or animals. There are other categories where you have to guess foreign accents, or act out scenes like "changing a diaper" or "fixing a car" without words. Frankly, it didn't take long for us to figure out that ice cream is not brain food after all, since we were basically terrible at this game, both giving clues and guessing, although for us, that didn't diminish its entertainment value in any way, and in fact, might have enhanced it considerably. Finally, we had exhausted all of its categories, and as it was starting to get late, we reluctantly packed up to start heading back southward while the getting was good. Fortunately the rain tapered off as we drove, and a savory meal at Denny's on the way home was just the antidote we needed to take the sting out of our ostensible pool party weekend, where we never got near the pool. The trip home on Sunday night was blissfully uneventful, and the cats greeted our return with their customary disdain, and indignation over being abandoned in the interim. In a particularly perverse twist of fate, it went back to being sunny and 90 degrees again as soon as we got home, and once again, thanks ever so much not. Having Monday off from work was a welcome respite before rejoining the rat race on Tuesday, with special thanks to The Flag Brigade for running up the colors on Monday for all the world to see. The rest of the week was a typical blur of a short week, and I told them at the construction office not to be surprised to see me come in on Saturday, since I obviously had no idea what day it was after Monday off. But it was a fun weekend seeing our friends again, even without the pool, and you can't put a price tag on that. Although I have to admit, the amount of $2.49 does spring to mind. Elle

Wolf Pack

Hello World, Happy Labor Day weekend! Although it's unavoidably true that this milestone does signal the unofficial end of the summer season, in reality there's still plenty of nice weather still ahead of us, and no reason to give up on outdoor fun just yet. On the other hand, anyone in the local area can tell you that the weather has been so ridiculous this year that you really don't know what to expect from one day to the next. Earlier in the week, which was still supposedly in the Dog Days of August, it had gotten so cool overnight that the heat came on in our house, thanks not. So presumably, there will still be nice weather ahead of us even after this watershed weekend, but whether that actually holds up or not, at this point, is basically a crap shoot. Of course, Labor Day weekend also used to mark the more or less official start of the new school year, as we all trooped off to class en masse from all corners of suburban neighborhoods, festooned with new book bags and lunch boxes, and girded with new pencils and protractors at the ready. Now back-to-school can be sooner or later, based on when certain nearby holidays fall (such as Rosh Hashanah, for instance) and in fact, some local schools have already started, which I can tell just by driving past them on my way to and from work. I don't mind saying that the dinosaurs and I would have considered it a dirty trick to make us go back to school before Labor Day, but I'm sure that everyone realizes by now that there are no standards anymore, heaven knows. Also in the local area, I was driving home from work last week when I spotted a highly colorful van stopped in an intersection, boldly identifying itself as a "Lycamobile" for all the world to see, and no question about it. Frankly, I don't know what they do at Lycamobile, but I can't help but notice an unfortunate resemblance between their name and Lycan, better known as werewolves - and apparently unlike our friends at Lycamobile, I would find the connotations extremely disturbing (please see note above re: there are no standards anymore, heaven knows) and avoid the similarity at all costs. On the other hand, I suppose it's entirely possible that they could actually be a company that travels about rounding up errant werewolves, or perhaps even catering to werewolves as clients of a woefully under-represented demographic, for all I know, and the company's name might be perfectly appropriate, with no hint of irony whatsoever. Say, who let Lon Chaney in here? Speaking of company names, it reminds me of when I was on vacation, and happened upon one of those self-storage places where people can safely harbor all of their excess belongings, and which seem to be cropping up just about everywhere nowadays. (There's a message in here about conspicuous consumption run amok, and that's not just a bunch of gimcracks, gewgaws, and doodads, believe me.) In any case, this particular storage establishment was calling itself The Space Station (get it?!) and I thought that was so funny. Also on the subject of names, it reminds me of one of those typically goofy things that periodically make the rounds in cyberspace, this one being everyone posting their stripper name on Facebook. This follows the pattern of fabricated monikers everywhere, such as Your Porn Name (the block you grew up on and the name of your first pet) or Your Movie Star Name (suggestions are your middle name and your mother's maiden name) or my personal favorite, Your Mafia Name. (Here, you have to do a little bit of work yourself, starting with a cool nickname like Frenchie or Tiny, adding in anything with "the," like The Mouth or The Enforcer, and wrapping up with any Italian word like lasagna or capodimente.) Anyway, the stripper name was a new one on me, and apparently is a combination of the color of your underwear, and whatever you ate last. So if anyone is looking for me, just have the management page me at "Polka Dot Pizza," and please bring plenty of singles. Now I see that Lon Chaney is back, along with porn star Rinnie Blackstone, so I'd better wrap this up, because I have some "family" business to attend to. Sweet Lou "The Babe" Pasticciotto