Tuesday, November 23, 2010
T-Day: 2 Days to Trencherman's Feast
I've been very late on this year's Thanksgiving Day menu listing.
After 20 years of slaving over a hot antiquated stove, the Ever-Loving Wife and I decided to stimulate the economy this year and we upgraded from a barely-detect-the-flame stove to a heat spitting model. Gas, for sure, but a 5 burner special that should serve us well for a while. T-Day will be the Testo Supremo & we'll see if Consumer's Reports was accurate in their high judgement of the cooking instrument.
Milling around circling the table munching foods:
1) Pick salami (since Gavrilovic is not available)
2) Cheeses
3) Nuts & Berries & other bear-ameanable hand foods.
The start of the meal commences with a shot of Slivovica (n.b. NSFW!!), as it is necessary to clear one's throat and one's mind before setting forth on a solid meal of food, drink, and friends.
Roots, the vegetables not the Band and other introductory platings:
1) Ginger Carrot Soup
2) Lemony Brussels Sprout Slaw
3) Mushrooms Berkeley - the old Traditional
4) Mashed Russet and Golden potatoes made with goat's milk, sweet butter and crème fraiche because...well, it's time for deep sleep. A olive oil-garlic "sauce" is sprinkled on for those in need of sprinkling.
5) A mystery vegetable to be determined on the last pre-cooking shopping day. Color seems to be the chief desired quality, at this point.
De-Feathered Fare:
1) (You cut the Toikey without me) Turkey Breast, brined to within a feather of its ability to absorb flavor in a rosemary-garlic clove-peppercorn bath for a full 18 hours. The local favored purveyor of all things flightless has changed his supplier this year, so we will be rolling the dice on the Turkey this year.
2) Fried chicken a la Panko, cuz we want to eat Fried & Healthy (all served with a dollop of Self Delusion Sauce). And...some of us still enjoy the cluck more than the gobble.
Associates Vying for Munching Attention:
1) The Ever-Loving Wife's Homemade Bread, slices of which disappear off the table in ever-increasing temerarious style even before seats have been taken.
2) Cranberry sauce form scratch- The Ever-Loving Wife's secret recipe of which she is the sole living keeper thereof.
3) Wild Rice, Almond & Mushroom Stuffing/Pilaf (Your choice of ending words.....). This will simply be a side dish hopefully satisfying on its own merits and will not be stuffing since there's not a bird to stuff, simply the Turkey Breast...and stuffing seems false to me.
4)
Justified Desserts:
A slight twist here. In previous years, this pecan pie was the beginning course. It was always well-received and I may be tarred and feathered for going with
1) this version of the Pecan Pie this year. But....how can you resist the adjective "Deep" when placed in front of "Pie". I, unfortunately, could not. So, we shall see and we shall taste.
2) Pumpkin Pie or Apple Pie - The Ever-Loving Wife is keeping mum on which of these will be coming out of the oven.
3) Sorbets of the pallate-clearing sort.
4) Promised mystery desserts ferried in by dinner guests.... We will be checking papers.
In Vino give me that ol' Veritas:
With suggestions from the best wine store in the greater Philly-Wilmington area, IMHO, the following choices will be poured at various times.
1) Beaujolais-Villages Tracot Domaine Jean-Paul Dubost 2009
2) Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro Rive del Ciliegie Francesco Vezzelli 2008
3) Rheinhessen Beerenauslese Pius Weingut Keller 2009
Beer choices from Delaware's own will be in the ice bucket.
Finishing off will be assorted teas, nibbly chocolates, and Turkish coffee (or Americano).
I'm leaving all of the interesting conversation to the incredibly interesting guests that day. Doing the cooking makes it very easy for me to beg off on the opinionating and the story-telling. Which is good, because the cast of performers that day is quite impressive in experience, in age,& in wisdom. Plus, there are fine voices in the folks that will be sitting around the table so singing will be welcomed & encouraged.
...and on the stereo, set way down low, will be some Grant Green, Ella (in Hollywood), and Brad Mehldau.
Thanksgiving Day. Almost probably my favorite day of the year. I lift a stamful of Slivovica to you my gentle readers and wish you all of the best at whatever gathering you find yourself at on Thursday!!
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Food Issues, Holidays
Monday, December 28, 2009
A Gotta Have
The Carharrt J162 Waterproof Breathable Jacket
Why was I holding on to those hole-y jeans and shirts and flapping shoes? Because I was holding on to my self or, at least, my self-deluded semblance of self.
I'm having similar thoughts these days as regards a jacket I acquired back in early April, 2009. The weather in the Middle Atlantic states was measured in inches. Precipitation of all varieties and me with no jacket with water-proof qualities. Water-resistant, yes but the level of resistance was worn down quickly by the torrents of rain. So, with previous experience with Carhartt's products, I thought I'd give this jacket a try; the place I purchased it from had a generous return policy so risk was minimal (and the price wasn't bad ,$110 v $130 on Carharrt's own site).
It's December now and this jacket has been worn in the rain, the snow, the sleet, and even in those most vicious of conditions, the fashion standard capital, a.k.a. Paris. It came through with nary a scratch nor a leak nor a snear. Great stitiching, ample qty of pockets (all well-placed...though the jacket definitely leans toward right-handedness), taped seems, drawcorded hem, easy to clean fabric. Very important element was this jacket's design which made movement easy and unconstrained. I've worn this jacket most every day from April through May and then mid-September through December. The color and fabric condition have held up quite well; the black color gives the coat a "dressier" quality that broadens the scope of where you can wear the jacket.
And, as advertised, the jacket is most definitley water-proof.
So, I'm at a decision point. Do I buy another jacket as a backup, simply hanging it in the future wear closet? Or do I take my chances that this gem will not wear out or, if it does, the same model (and quality) is available? My "Click to Buy" finger is getting itchy; I'm reflecting on future happiness.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Effluvia, Manly Advice
Thursday, October 01, 2009
A Luddite - I've Had It With Modern "Conveniences"
I'm getting one of these. Soon. Soon, as in I-wish-I-had-it-2-Days-Ago soon. Call me a Luddite. Go ahead. I welcome the label. I'll go out and buy a t-shirt emblazoned with a large L and I'll wear that t-shirt proudly.I'm not what you'd call a leading edge kind of guy. Slavic sensibilities dictate that I stand on the sidewalk and watch the parade of fearless leading-edgers straggle by, all cut up, bleeding, and limb-less. Let these curious, daring, masochistic types soldier on, I say. Me, I'll wait until the fallout of new products has been cleaned up leaving items proven to work.
So, I thought it was safe a few years back to venture into the electronic memopads, the Palm Pilot world. I've had my Palm Pilot II for about 8 years now, generally pleased with the single purpose I'd used it for, namely replacing a compressed and tattered memo pad wadded up in various backpockets. But, the hiccups with the PP II were getting more unpleasant. The mysterious disappearance of entries, the total disappearance of all entries, the fast battery drain, the screen one couldn't read in any dim light.
Then, 2 days ago, a complete shutdown. Batteries zonked, data disappeared, on/off tab inconsistently working and, horror of horrors, I hadn't backed up the PP II in over 3 months as my barely-1-yr-old Dell, nicknamed Dreck, crashed. I was not a happy camper.
Streadily over the last 3-4 months, I have had it with the galaxy of electronica; I'm setting off into a different universe (how's this astronomy analogy holding up? Inaccurate, right?). I'm tired of backing up data. I'm tired of punching stuff in and than re-punching as my fingers clumsily spell out things differently than what my brain is telling them. I'm tired of loading batteries upon batteries into things that are alleged "life" support devices. What the heck's wrong with a manual operation? My handwriting's gone to hell from disuse. Penmanship was next to Godliness when I was a tyke; now it's totally jumblethwacked.
So, with hopes that my mind does remember some of those passwords, codes, and pseudonyms I've devised for my sites, my charge cards, my bank, my zen chants, I'll be jotting them down into this book. A book, which will be permanently chained to my body so that my manual auxiliary memory will be close to me.
Now, if I could only find a replacement for this, I'd be a smiling fool. Think this may work? I've got spools and spools of string somewhere down in the basement..
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Effluvia, Idiosyncracies, Life Decisions
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Thank You, the handwritten way
After going through this scorecard, I realized that I haven't been piling up any "Thank You" points. In fact, my non-actions have caused me to go into the negative column. I've bee the appreciative recipient of a few of these letters/ cards recently and can't quantify sufficiently how much a hand-written card in the mail means these days when the e-mail option's so easy. And e-cards? Frankly, I never even bother to open them as there's always some shrill music launched, "Pandora's Box"'s the tune's name, that seems to say, "You're so insignificant that I'll press enter and send you this swill".
So, this year, I shall do better. I shall order some fine Thank You stationary and do the proper deed. As a point of recommendation, my Ever Loving Wife has used the services of this card designer and has been quite happy.
So, pen to paper and only a minimum of words to let the someones out there know that handwriting is not dead and that all of the stuff piled in your mailbox is not pre-addressed nor immediately chuckable.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Links to Posts, Reviews
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sign of the Times
In a bizarre twist on "Take your Daughter to Work" Day, a woman decides to eliminate the need for a baby-sitter while offering some on-the-job training.
Labels: Delaware, Domestic Burdens
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Accounting & Godot
The last 3 months or so have seen a dramatic change to home life. While we have not welcomed a baby into the house, we have taken in and been enthralled with a young creature exhibiting human baby-like behaviour and, oh yeah, walking. All young creatures in a house go through their waste process practices with quite a bit of help from the parental representatives. Human babies are relatively easy (messy, but easy) as their mobility is limited to shaking and squirming. They are incapable of any major movement until they are at least 5-6 month along. Nature was kind to the humans by not allowing ambulation of their newly born until the parents have recovered from the birth. Yes, there is all that noise in pitches not heard since Robert Plant still screeched for Led Zeppelin, but the noise came from a non-moving source. One could step away to recover one's aural capabilities and nerves.A dog offers no such respite from care; it is a digitgrade mammal, moving almost from its initial birth. As anyone knows who's raised puppies, the food and water processing timetable for these delightful creatures is based on minutes or, if not that frequent, days. A caretaker is perpetually Waiting for Poop, as the requirement for walking one's dog may occur, like, RIGHT NOW, or possibly the next day. This perpetual waiting
I see pictures of people walking their dogs and I wonder if that could be me one day. Nicely dressed, showered, hair arranged.
I doubt it. I'm lucky if I'm not mistaken for a terrorist when I go walk our dog. Sloppy t-shirt, hair issues, sleep-deprived scowl. It's not a pretty sight. Luckily, there are quite a few people in our neighborhood that have a similar problem and a similar look, so the corrective inducement of shame hasn't poked its "tsk-tsk" in our pusses. We nod at each other as we walk by. We do not congregate together like dog-owners of more mature, more in-control canines as we don't want to be mistaken as a cabal. As I schlump through our neighborhood, I stare, with envy, at the porch stoops where a cat lies, staring at my little expeditionary party while its owner, nicely dressed and coiffed for sure, lays on his/her couch eating bon-bons.
I've been assured by friends-with-Fidos that this period will pass....pass like in 8 months. They ask me if he's gone through "the numbers" and I reply that his A/P's (Accounts Poo-able and Accounts Pee-able) are duly being debited. And if they're not, I'm out there in the heat of summer, making dunning calls with all of the other humans and their pickup bags.
Is Barko the best dog ever? You bet! Is my blood pressure down? My hair growing back? My physique returning to 1970's form? My smile glistening less of sardonicism? Well, yes on some of those things. My TV-watching is down considerable; my book-reading up. All good things. But...the feeling that what little control I thought I had of my life is slowly slipping, as Barko pleads with me just one more time to play with him, is strong. Come December/January, we'll see how this dog thing settles out. There's hope he'll be full trained and be using the toilet and flushing each time (not just once in a while) after he's done his thing(s). I mean, all those bars with their separate Pointers and Setters stalls give me the courage to see his waste facility training to the end! There is a bathroom light at the end of this walking tunnel, right?
Maybe the trick is to get a second dog. Not a puppy, though. A dog with some self-control would do.
n.b.:My kwetching here is done to hide the fact that the Ever Loving Wife takes care of this "issue" 80% of the time to my measly 20%. While I moan and groan about the walking thing, she notes that she's met quite a lot of nice folks who have interesting tales to relate both of their dog and of themselves. It seems that we did not exist in our neighborhood, according to some of these folks, until we were out there scooping the poop. Shit is truly happening.
Labels: Domestic Burdens
Monday, June 16, 2008
A Call Out
The daughter, ever sly and humorous will be picking up a dog, a Westy to wit, shortly. The pup comes from a litter of 4, he being the 3rd one sold. The breeder sounds like a real character, a retired gentleman in northeastern PA who has a rambling old house that is the domain of 14 of these little energetic flashes of white fur. The last time we had pets in our dinky (Sub-Saharan word for "tight, small space") house was 15 years ago or so. A caged rat named Nicodemus, an animal whose name took longer to say than the poor animal lived. When the Ever-Loving wife and I first took up shared residence, I brought a Maine Coon-ish cat into our connubial bliss situation. He, poor guy, didn't last too much longer as his abundant hair, or rather, his abundant hair loss was a source of allergic reactions for our kids. In a cruel trick of timing, he was neutered the same day that our first-born arrived. Cats being such intelligent creatures, he always looked at my son with a scowlish look, convinced that his emasculation and my son's arrival was more than mere coincidence. So, off he went to another owner blessed with no aversion to cat dander.So, we haven't had an animal in our house in quite a while. We haven't been tied down by four legged beasts that would put a crimp in our imagined spontaneous & exciting lives. The kids are grown and we...have opted to burden ourselves with a wet-nosed tail-wagging bundle of joy. Who says you get smarter as you get older?
Oh, yeah. The name. I had mentioned the slyness of my daughter, right? She opted for the Nom du Chien of Barko. Yes, Barko, which coincidentally rhymes with Darko. Wonder who'll be coming when he's called?
Note Bene: My apologies in advance for sappy puppy photos that will most probably appear on this blog. I will provide advance warnings of these treacly pics whenever possible.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Manly Advice, Self-Therapy
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Quick on One’s Financial Toes
On a recent foray into Philly with my daughter, I unfortunately drove into a situation involving two seperate expenditures of cash and depletion of my goodwill toward men. Expenditure and Goodwill Erosion #1
In search of scant parking spaces around the TLA, I was approaching an intersecting street crossing South Street, the main drag of the “Alt/Cool” section of the City of Bro-Love. The light was turning quickly from yellow with tinges of a red dawn already shining my way. On the corner were four of Philly’s finest in riding shorts, strapped pistols, and straddling pitch-black mountain bikes. On my car’s backside was a cellphone in hand motor-mouthing, SUV-driving, not-paying attention driver.
What to do?
A) Slam on the brakes to obey the signal and prevent the occifers from writing me up for running a red light, while almost guaranteeing a solid hit to my Camry by the aforementioned $&^*^*# driver?
B) Continue on through the now turning red light, but at a reduced rate of speed while looking up South Street to ensure I’d get through without being broadsided?
C) Press the ejection seat buttons and propel my daughter and myself through the sunroff my car doesn’t have?
D) Veer off to the left and plow into innocent pedestrians?
Surmising the consequences of safety and eventual financial layout, I opted for choice B.
It wasn’t but a matter of a minute or so when I glanced in my side mirror and saw three dark bicycles struggling and bouncing up the street in my general direction (Note: Philly’s streets are well-known for their debilitating potholes). One rider passed me and pulled over the car in front of me (who had driven through a completely yellow light…poor sucker.). Another shallow-breathing guy rapped on my window and asked for the usuals. As I was digging through the glove compartment for my insurance card and registration, I heard him yell to the cop who’d stopped the cart in front of me (with a touch too much of glee, I’d say), “Hey, this is a first. Two cars, one light. You bet your ass, we’re going to ticket both of them.”
His delight was a balloon I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to deflate or prick. So, to the cost of the concert tix, processing fees, indulgement fee, sight fee, I’ll just add on the cost of a traffic ticket. I’ll discuss my parking woes on this fine night in another post.
Well, at least I won't have to fret about auto body repair bills or having to file a claim for damage to my car as I wasn't rear-ended. More importantly, my daughter and I were able to walk away form the ticket sans a scratch. I mentioned this little bit to the officer as he handed me his excrutiatingly penned script, to which he opined, “Guess I saved you a bundle, bub.”
Bub, indeed.
A bub and his money were soon parted.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Philly, Trips
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Out of Operation
To my devoted readers and occassional flyovers,
Folks,
I truly am not dogging it. Received my new (well, actually "Refurbished") HP Pavlion PC last Wed., complete with "Premium" Vista service...whatever the hell that means. Plugged it in. Turned it on and awaited connectivity. Initial turn-on was supposed to top out @ 20 minutes. After 40 minutes, I came back to the box to see that it had locked/seized up.
Turned it off and repeated.
Four times.
Called HP service, located in one of the caves in Afghanistan that hasn't been bombed.
No luck.
So, the "Refurbished" is being sent back to its point of shipping origin, PCMall (in my case PCMal) and attempt another choice.
Oh, for a few shekels more for a real personal computer.......
I'll be back as soon as the FedEx/UPS guy comes a calling.
Folks,
I truly am not dogging it. Received my new (well, actually "Refurbished") HP Pavlion PC last Wed., complete with "Premium" Vista service...whatever the hell that means. Plugged it in. Turned it on and awaited connectivity. Initial turn-on was supposed to top out @ 20 minutes. After 40 minutes, I came back to the box to see that it had locked/seized up.
Turned it off and repeated.
Four times.
Called HP service, located in one of the caves in Afghanistan that hasn't been bombed.
No luck.
So, the "Refurbished" is being sent back to its point of shipping origin, PCMall (in my case PCMal) and attempt another choice.
Oh, for a few shekels more for a real personal computer.......
I'll be back as soon as the FedEx/UPS guy comes a calling.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Effluvia
Monday, January 07, 2008
Apologies to the Faithful Visitors
Folks,
Please accept my profound apologies. No fecundity here in a while. I've been buried (willingly and happily) in family-centered holiday events and trying to get through the trio of this book, this one, and also this one. Each is a treat; each is a juggle of a read.
I will be back. Shortly, or as soon as my home computer (the previously named Piece of Crap) is resuscitated. Unfortunately, no Apples falling from trees for this non-Newtonian dreamer.
Keeping me company in silence are these involving bits of music.
Please accept my profound apologies. No fecundity here in a while. I've been buried (willingly and happily) in family-centered holiday events and trying to get through the trio of this book, this one, and also this one. Each is a treat; each is a juggle of a read.
I will be back. Shortly, or as soon as my home computer (the previously named Piece of Crap) is resuscitated. Unfortunately, no Apples falling from trees for this non-Newtonian dreamer.
Keeping me company in silence are these involving bits of music.
Labels: Blogs, Domestic Burdens
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Radiating Heat
I was reading a newspaper last night when the borborygmic radiator in the living room drew my eyes away from the print. The clanky liquidity of the sound was a warm reminder that heat was on the way and that this season's first snowfall had left a soft 3.9 inches of cover on the deck and the yard. A neighbor's back porch light oozed its illumination through some low-lying branches so dark patterns brushed back and forth over the snow as the wind picked up.I put the paper down and shambled over to the bay window to have a closer look. My thighs leaned into the radiator as I bent over into the bay, turning my head from one direction to the other. The heat of the cast iron slowly warmed and then heated up my legs. Turing off the table lamp in the room, I leaned there for a good 10 minutes listening to the matronly wind putting up a fuss about all of the snow it had to blow off the deck. "Mess, mess, mess. Clean, clean, clean!", it seemed to be scolding the "I'll drop my stuff where I want to" teenaged snow.
The radiator became a bit too hot to lean on and the room now had the toasty comfort that necessitated a lie-down. Somewhere between moving to the couch and rising for bed, I drifted off to short dreams of heating elements.
As a kid in the old country, we'd lived in 3-4 story apartments, each apartment being heated by a musically challenged ping-pang-pong radiator running off of central heating. I use the singular term for radiator as bedrooms, where one was expected only to sleep, were provided with heavy blankets, thereby negating the need for heat, while kitchens, well... had stoves so why waste a radiator in there? Dining rooms were between the heat of the kitchen and the radiator of the living room, so air flow was expected to take care of any coldness there. Besides, you only ate in the dining room and if you are sitting there so long and getting cold, well...go to the kitchen and living room. Ah, living in the warmth of the People's Socialist Republics of (the old) Yugoslavia was sometimes a bit chilly.
In my maternal grandmother's house, where socialism had not yet put a dent in matriarchal rule, heating was more plentiful. In the huge house she lived in, a display of various heating contraptions was available. There was radiator-heating in some rooms, wood-stoked stoves (yes, 2 stoves) in the kitchen, and, my favorites, monolithic sized stand-alone tile-covered heating stoves in the dining and in the living rooms. The latter were about 5 feet high, 3-4 feet wide, and 5 feet deep. Within these heating beauties there was a wood-burning stove buried within soapstone which, in turn, was beautifully tiled. On particularly cold days' walk from school, I cherished coming to see my baka, so that I could do a full body lean against the warm tiles. Her cooking was supreme, so I always made sure to stay for one of her usual winter staples, Roman Bean Soup.
My back and legs, warming up with standing at an angle on the tiled heating elements. My stomach, warming up with each spoonful of the soup. On a few colder winter days, there would be 6-7 of my cousins and myself ringing the tiled stove, all with soup dishes in our hands. Ah, if only someone had thought this funny then and snapped a photo....
Labels: Croatia, Domestic Burdens
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Silica Flowers
A trip out west to Pittsburgh and Cincy to do the college conveyance thing, combined with this year's version of a "vacation" brought in more positive experiences in both cities.Pittsburgh is a treasure; I know my viewpoint is tilted as my daughter's attending college there. But I'd like to believe I'm being at least somewhat objective about the place anyway. One can't look at the physicality of the city and not be affected by the dips, the drop-offs, the wrap-around turns one whips around, self-assured that there's more pavement around the next bend. In the UPitt and Carnegie Mellon section of town, just outside the outskirts of Squirrel Hill and Shadyside, the buildings rise from outcroppings and soar into the clear blue skies. There's greenery all around the area with Schenley Park and the Phipps Conservatory bordering the north and northeast corners of the Carnegie Mellon campus.
As with most museums and publicly available exhibit spaces in Pittsburgh, a student ID from any of the major colleges and universities will get you in free. Which is a great deal for the student but, alas, not a good deal for the parent of any college student as the college fees include this privilege. So, the parent is "permitted" to pay for their students' "freebie", but is not privy to the "freebie" themselves. Well, the money all goes to a good cause, right?After multiple visits to Pittsburgh, we finally made it to the Phipps Conservatory. The wait was well worth it as we were able to catch the Chihuly Exhibit which will be at the Phipps until November 11th.
Living where we do, botanical gardens, while gorgeous, tend to glaze my eyes after annual visits at Longwood Gardens, Winterthur, or The Philadelphia Flower Show. Not being the avid gardener that my ever-loving wife is, I tend to view visits to these fine places as portent of being laid up due to back-pain induced by diggin' 'n carryin'. So, coming to the Phipps and specifically the Phipps Chihuly Exhibit was a truly relaxing experience. I could not manufacture any of the glass art pieces nor could I afford any of the available-for-sale pieces offered. It was a look-but-don't-touch/buy event. Fiscally, any of the arrangements we saw at the Phipps were impossible to duplicate back home. Finally, rest for the weary!
I'm your basic minimally art-trained kind of guy. Now, while Mr. Michael Blowhard and Mr. Donald Pittenger of 2 Blowhards, may portray themselves as minimally trained, if you take a gander at some of their pieces on art, you can conclude fairly quickly that they understate their capabilities of appreciation and analysis. The nuns would have been switching them for fibbing, in my day. While I dabble in art analysis, I tend to keep my cognitions to myself, staying true to Mark Twain's opinion about keeping one's mouth closed. So, please excuse me as I prattle on. I'm not clear as to whether Chihuly's stuff can be called art.
It is produced in a factory setting. He guides rather than gets involved with each piece intimately. He's in the Warhol camp of art manufacturing along with Jeff Koons. I'll throw in the self-described Painter of Light (or should that be Lite) in here as well. I'm certainly not equating the talent or resulting product of these artists, simply the evident non-uniqueness of their output. So, I have a conflicting view of Mr. Chihuly's glass pieces. They look stunning and beautiful but so does this, but it is not unique, nor does it pretend to be.And yet the combination of the glass objects and the setting of the Phipps had me mesmerized. It was possible to admire and to curse simultaneously without having one's head explode. At times it was mentally exhausting holding the positive and negative feelings in, but I did as spending the balance of our Pittsburgh stay in a holding cell was not a viable option.
I loved it. I hated it. I'd strongly suggest to anyone within driving distance of Pittsburgh to go see it. It is a good walk not ruined. Be sure to drop into the gift shop to check out the continual play DVD of Chihuly in Venice and to eye the Chihuly pieces available for purchase. Put a stick between your teeth so as not to bite off your tongue. If you've seen the exhibit in NYC's Botanical Garden or Missouri's Botanical Garden back in 2006, let me know what you thought of it.
Let me say a few things about the pictures of the Chihuly Exhibit. I apologize for any pix that seem ordinary or blurry and I take no credit for the pictures that turned out fine. You'd have to be a caveman to have the limited talent to take a lousy picture there. All it required was pointing and shooting. For lots more pictures of the Chihuly Exhibit at the Phipps go to this Flickr site. I'll be adding more pix as my Flickr account allots space.
(Please click on any of the pictures for a larger version
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Glimpses, Pittsburgh
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Husbands, Wives, Cell Phones
A cousin from the Old Country passed this along to me. She's female and a wife, so no nasty comments about misogyny or marriage, please.
Labels: Domestic Burdens, People
Friday, June 01, 2007
Speeding to Nowheresville
I am going here on Saturday and I am not a happy camper. My lack of mirth has nothing to do with this. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to it. I've been residing in the First State for well over 15 years and have yet to have gone to any of the 2 NASCAR events held here every year. How I haven't gotten arrested yet for such a lack of participation in one of Delaware's main attractions is pure luck. I haven't researched the entire Code of Law in Delaware, but I'm pretty sure there's some regulation in there stating a resident of the state must go to the Monster Mile for a race at least once if said resident has resided in said state for over ten consecutive years. If there isn't one, there should be. I'll be posting pics and descriptives sometime next week, after fully recovering from the the Sun, the Suds, & the Speed.
My lack of mirth? The key gobbets are Homeland Security, US Embassy, family, and summer visits. I am still so teed off at this point to be able to write about this topic without bathing the entry in a full body acid wash. I promise to re-visit this topic. Going to the race on Saturday will, unfortunately, rub in the pain more as it was an event I was not going to attend without a certain visitor who, unfortunately, will not be visiting this great country. Let me just finish by stating that it's a sad state of (foreign) affairs our country has come to when dealing with those folks who aren't our citizens.
Labels: Delaware, Domestic Burdens, Quirks
