Da Big Apple

Today started way too early. Four a.m., if I recall correctly. It seems so long ago. We had to catch an early train to New York City. Dawn and Roger, dear friends from England, are finishing a week's vacation and we went to spend the day with them.

I thought getting to the train station was a challenge. We made it, but barely, Still that paled in comparison to the challenge of finding two people in New York's Penn Station. What were we thinking? Finally, we met and Joan and Dawn settled down to walking and talking. We left Penn Station and headed for Manhattan Mall--simply because it was on the way and we seemed to have no direction--then we went to Macy's. I made a strategic blunder in Macy's. For some reason we got on an elevator going up and I got off on the eighth floor. This provided the ladies ample opportunity to browse ALL the way down to the first floor.

I believe I mentioned walking and talking. For some reason, Roger and I set a quicker pace than Joan and Dawn. Katie was very good about keeping up with us. I have no idea what the other two were talking about, but when Roger, Katie and I crossed the street, Joan and Dawn continued walking, talking, and gesturing animatedly. They were completely involved in conversation. They were also walking further and further from us with each word and step. We shadowed them from across the street for four blocks. City blocks. They finally stopped and looked around for us. Thank goodness. Reunited, we stopped for a cup of coffee.

We hadn't much time, so we visited Rockefeller Center, Ground Zero, a sports shop, and a pub. That covered everybody's needs but my desire to visit a book store. But like I said, we hadn't much time. I've rarely visited a good book store quickly.

After some ales and some french fries with roasted garlic cloves and fresh rosemary (I'm not making this up. It's good. Try it.), we headed back to Penn Station. Roger, with his unfailing sense of direction, kept us on the right paths throughout the day. Such a quick trip, but what a pleasure to see dear friends again.

Subsidized Gluttony

Ahh, the annual office holiday party. For five bucks apiece we were treated to an open bar, hors d'oeuvres, and a variety of entrees. That doesn't include the fresh fruit tables and dessert tables that came out later. I love diversity. Because of the make-up of our workforce, one must offer kosher foods, vegetarian foods, and the decadent offerings that the rest of us relish. It was nice to go out. As always, though, it's good to be home.

Still Here

Hello All................forgive me brother, for I have not posted.......in what.......days? Weeks? Oh, well, I'm still here.

Clifford's saga has been a little more excitement than you need. Been there. Lived with that.

We're waiting for eldest daughter to arrive home this weekend. She's enduring six finals this week. Two down, four to go. More than anyone else she knows. Feel free to E-mail her with encouraging words.

Em and Bob both have karate testing this Friday. What do I do? Go and bop back and forth between two rooms? Go Bob! Go Em!

Still working on the Great Gift Hunt, Wrapping the Great Gifts, and tagging the Great Gifts. So glad I no longer have to hide the Great Gifts. That was always a pain. I'd frequently forget where I put them anyway. Kind of like the forgotten Easter Egg that shows up in August. "Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be for you for Christmas!"

Aaaaaaaah Husband is arriving soon. Time to reheat the evening meal. More later!

Sun-day?

The white stuff is back. I went to visit some friends this morning. They had some items to throw out and I wanted to be sure I keep my hauling skills sharp. Just in case. So I showed up on their doorstep at 9 a.m. They had me in for some coffee and some rich, tasty coffee cake with nuts and glazed sugar crumbles. Given the opportunity of taking or leaving coffee cake, I'll usually leave it. This was different. The only time I left it was to go back into the kitchen and warm up my coffee. Even after that I found my fingers wandering back to the plate to pick at the crumbs.

Eventually we faced the inevitable task of tossing the refuse onto the truck. We had waited patiently--enjoying conversation, coffee, and the aforementioned baked delight--but in all that time not one person had knocked on the door to ask if they could unlock the garage and load the truck for us. Slackers.

Taking shovel in hand, we cleared the front walk and part of the driveway. It was all going too smoothly. Somebody had to act before this day went too well to warrant comment. In a decisive stroke of inspired idiocy I locked the keys in the truck. Lest you confuse me with an incomplete imbecile, I'll make a confession. The engine was running. But wait. This drama deservces a better stage. The snow was turning to rain.

Have I introduced you to my friend Bill? He is a very talented Web page designer and artist. He is also handy. He takes old homes, sees the beauty in them, and coaxes it out. He writes wonderfully (see www.billdugan.com), has a delightfully cynical edge at times, and loves Macintosh computers. He has an International Scout in the driveway and two slim jims in his car trunk. I love Bill.

Had you been driving down Frederick Road on Sunday morning, you would have seen some interesting sights: snow and ice glazing every available surface; other fools like yourself trying to drive in perilous conditions; and and two miserable men flanking a big red truck, apparently trying to subdue it with long, flat strips of metal. Silly men.

Bill came through. He was first to unlock the door and gain entry to the nice, warm truck. I happily climbed in and backed down the driveway. It seem to take little time at all to load. Then the fun began. Music!

Bill has amassed an impressive collection of songs. We perused them and selected those that would be conducive to concentrating at work. Not only does Bill have the music, he knows it thoroughly. He could tell me which were the better albums, who had influenced the artists, and which titles to avoid. I came away with a happily sated iPod and an irritated wife.

You see, today is Fruitcake Day. And before we can make the fruitcakes, we have to shop for ingredients. Add to that the desire of my mother-in-law to get an early start and you can see that arriving at 3 p.m. is putting my wife--and by extension, me--under some pressure.

I admit I was not much help shopping. I dropped the girls at the door and parked the truck--with the engine running AND me inside. I just sat there watching the wipers going back and forth. Hypnotic. Phlap-phlop. Phlap-phlop. You see, one takes one's relaxation where one may. I listened to my new tunes while I waited (see how quickly I assumed ownership? MY tunes.)

Several uneventful, stree-free minutes later we were underway to the birthplace of incredible fruitcakes. Don't get ideas. I mean the kind you eat. To my knowledge nobody has been born in that house.

Katie stirred the batter. Joan filled the loaf pans. Katie arranged the dried fruit. I put the batter on top. We loaded the oven, I shoveled the drive and walkway and we came home.

Now, a little popcorn, a little movie, and it's time to call it a day.