Today, I drove to a client in Northern PA and back but rather than heading down the less scenic 390, the hubby talked me into taking Route 14 which is also, unbeknown to me, faster. Duh. So I headed to Geneva and instead of going to my brother-in-law's cottage, I drove along the other side of the lake and saw those familiar sights from a new angle. The road-side of the inns directly across the lake from the cottage: Geneva on the Lake and Belhurst Castle. I now want to stay at both and wave to my sis from my upscale vantage point. So beautiful!
Anyhoo, instead of taking pictures of the cute little town of Watkins Glen or of the gazillion vineyards dotting the landscape (or even of the one, lone boater), I fell in love with the town (city?) of Geneva for the first time ever. Crime-riddled, decay-filled Geneva, NY with its boarded up storefronts is chock full of gorgeous architecture. Mansions dotting the lakefront. The lake itself. The whole package. I now personally want to restore the area to its former glory. A Geneva revival sans gunfights, welfare and crack whores. Could happen, right?
And I want to live here: smack dab in the middle of town with Christmas decorations on the lampposts and views of the lake from my backyard.
When out in the living room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter,
Oh right, two cats fighting over something . . .
This year, with new kittens, we're decorating the tree in all non-breakables. And, unlike prior years where the tree was decorated by little people (i.e., bottom loaded), all of our ornaments are now strategically placed at the top of the tree where they can't be swatted down by furry creatures. It's an equally bizarre lookin' tree only a few short years later.
So what must one do with all of the pretty bulbs? Shove 'em in bowls, I say (and then take a fuzzy picture).
Went out to meet my niece, in town from DC, for a drink tonight at the pub. Thankfully my girlfriend came with me because my niece didn't show for another 1.5 hours. So we went home. Beforehand, we had these.
Happy Thanksgiving y'all. Today's picture is not of the succulent turkey that my brother-in-law Jim prepared. Or of the gorgeous spread that he and my sister offered at their home. Or the blazing fire. Or the smiling faces. Or the beautifully illustrated label on the wine that my mom bought. Instead, today's picture represents what families of nine year old boys know inside and out: how to stave off a holiday meltdown. Today's picture is of Son #2 at the supermarket picking out a box of store bought stuffing because he doesn't like the fresh mushrooms and delicious sausage in my sister's moist, homemade stuffing. Welcome to parenthood 2010. Dysfunction. Love. Thanksgiving. Whatever it takes for happiness.
Okay, so I missed two days of my self-imposed photographic compilation; however, I'm closing the gap with an extra photo today. This shot was taken by my brother-in-law, Jim, at his cottage last Friday night. I've never seen the lake that calm before.
Sooooo excited for Thanksgiving, a four-day weekend, the kickoff of the Christmas season, dinner at my sister's house, food, family fun, etc. Alone at work, I can't stop looking at the clock on the wall outside my office door. Got another day to get through . . . No such thing as tomorrow, only 1-2-3-go.
Stopped by Powers Farm Market with Son #2 to feed the animals. It's been a few weeks since the Halloween haunted teepees/hayrides/pumpkin picking mayhem subsided and we thought they might be a bit lonely.
Today's guest photo was swiped from the Internets courtesy of our friend Stan Merrell's Facebook page. Stan, who was dubbed the "omnipresent documentarian of western New York culture" by local music critic Jeff Spevak, captured a colorful, shadowy shot of last night's Chinchillas show at our favorite hotspot Abilene. Thanks Stan!
Tonight was the annual Beaujolais Nouveau party hosted by talented local agency, The Verdi Group. Due to a confluence of unplanned events, long client meetings, an emergency stop at the office, and an East Avenue traffic jam, coupled with a need to be home by 7:00 p.m. for the hubby's escape to a coaches' meeting for our son's Odyssey of the Mind team, I could only stay for 40 minutes. Argh.
But a great 40 minutes it was. Tables and tables of difficult-to-find, artisan cheeses accented with tiny flags denoting their country of origin with a little text on the variety, cow, etc. All to die for. My favorite was a mustard yellow, curried cheese that I just Googled and cannot find online. So I hung with my girlfriend Jennifer, enjoyed a glass of wine and ate heaps o' cheese.
Both Jen and I won free bottles of wine based on our submissions to their "cheese pun" contest. I was thrilled because who doesn't want a free bottle of wine (?) but also savvy enough to realize that all entrants won. Hey, you gotta be in it to win it. Whey to go! Gouda work . . .
Today's pic: Jen with her fabulous bottle of wine.
My girlfriend Gretchen, who lives across the street from my office, and I just took a morning walk through the neighborhood to pick out our next houses. Walking. Stalking. Gawking. Wishful thinking. Planning ahead. Living vicariously. Seeing how the other half lives. Voyeurism. Whatever you want to call it.
My next house. Sadly the whole house didn't fit in the frame.
My picture of Gretchen's next house came out a bit blurry so the house below is a reasonable facsimile. This only has a two-car garage but it'll do in a pinch.
There's a church on the way to my sister's house that posts pithy, thought provoking maxims on their lawn sign. I always slow down to read them. Yesterday's read, "Joy is not the absence of problems but the presence of God." Love that.
Our first stop yesterday, after hitting the Walden Galleria to return some boots, was Buffalo's Anchor Bar: original home of the chicken wing. In the Treacy and Wiersema value disciplines model, they've embraced a product leadership go-to-market strategy.
Operational efficiency, not so much. The place, pre-Sabres game, was jam jam jam packed. The wait for a table? An hour and a half. We headed to the bar where we found a place by the wall to stand and ordered two beers and 10 medium chicken wings. The wait for our wings? Somewhere between 45 and 60 minutes.
Customer intimacy, not a prayer. Over the loudspeaker, we would hear, "Jumby, party of 15, let us know if you're still here."
But the chicken wings were perfect. Crunchy and delicious. I would definitely go back but next time, I'll go earlier. Or not on a game day.
This morning, my girlfriend Yams, the kids and I headed down to one of my favorite places in the city: the Rochester Public Market. This 105 year old establishment was recently voted the Best Farmers' Market in the U.S. narrowly beating my cousin Toni's market in Davis, CA. (Note: Let's go there when I come visit!)
I love the sights. The crowds. The people watching. The vendors. The colors. The fresh veggies. The fruits. Pretty much everything but the parking.
Yea! It's almost the weekend! A few more hours of this view (below), an afternoon at a client site, and then the fun begins with a visit from my girlfriend Yammikins.
And if my bro is reading this, please note your name, actually your entire family's signatures, remain on the bottom of the white board in my office. We're just conducting business around the more important stuff in life.
This is how I start my day. Not every day but many. Usually I have the pool to myself. Today I shared it with a tiny woman who looked to be in her early 80s. At 5:30 a.m., she was already doing laps. When I entered the steam room at 6:30 a.m., she was in there, lying on the tiled bench, stark naked. (Another missed Photo Per Day opportunity. Too steamy. Ha.) She was facing the wall with her back/butt facing me. I wondered if I will be that carefree when I'm her age. For now, I'll keep my swimsuit on. It's in everyone's best interests.
Usually when I do laps, I meditate on the Lord's Prayer. I recite a single verse per lap and I focus on either a single word or an entire phrase. "Our Father. Our Father. Our. Not just mine but all of ours." I sometimes throw in a few Hail Marys for good measure because I think Mary is pretty awesome.
When I'm done, I float in a swimmer's savasana of sorts and relax. Today, after prayer, while floating like a bloated corpse, my brain was flooded with an old Squeeze song from when I was in college. While I don't think the writers intended it for God-like purposes, it really amazed me.
Take me I'm yours for dreams are made of this. Forever there'll be a heaven in your kiss.
Last night, the lovely Heather G. and I met after work at black and blue for dirty martinis (mine had Tabasco and an oyster! yum.) and ribeye (rare!) with Gorgonzola sauce. Absolutely delicious. Who else was there you may ask? A client of mine who was having dinner with none other than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Fame in our midst! While that would have made for a fabulous Photo Per Day entry, I decided not to be that intrusive. I'm much too composed for that . . .
Afterward, we walked over to see a free, test screening of the movie Lucky which is playing for two nights only. Our friend Chris, the Executive Producer, and Avie Luthra, Director, were on hand to field questions after the film and gather input regarding what worked/what didn't work. For me, the pace of the movie was a bit slow at times and, because the soundtrack hasn't yet been laid, the depth of emotions typically evoked by music were missing. With that said, however, I think it is one of those films that may haunt me for a while. It is based on a short subject film that won 43 international film festival awards in 2007. It follows a ten year old orphan as he makes his way in South Africa and deals with race-related strife, poverty, dishonesty and other issues. Pretty intense subject matter but the approach was not too heavy handed. I honestly cannot wait to see it again after the final edits have been made and the soundtrack has been added. And I hope it does well. It was receiving great feedback last night.
In un-lucky news, one thing this Photo Per Day exercise is highlighting is my complete inability to take a good picture as evidenced by the photo below. With a dose of mild irony, the subject of this dark image, smiling and proudly displaying her buttered popcorn, works at the George Eastman House -- home of one of the greatest collections of photographs in the world. Somehow methinks this photo will never be in that esteemed collection. But note Lucky on the marquee behind her! How much fun would it be to see your name in lights?
I feel lucky, oh oh oh, I feel lucky, yeah Hey Dwight, hey Lyle, boys, you don't have to fight Hot dog, I'm feeling lucky tonight
Eight, eight, I forget what eight is for. Yes, this is the second time I've quoted the Violent Femmes in as many months. And yes, I missed a day already.
I blame this place. With that bleak sky, it looks almost institutional.
Last night we hosted a bunch of nine year old boys for a sleepover. I think they had heaps o' fun. They played football and baseball outside in the freezing cold. Came in and played video games. Ate pizza and chocolate fondue (big hit). Received gift bags with Lego mini-figures and Brickarms weapons (because what Lego surfer dude is complete without an assault rifle?) Played more video games. Football in the basement. And they tried to stay up all night.
Yep, the only night of the year when you don't want an extra hour . . .
Today's pic is post-mayhem: the kittens relaxing in their new Japanese style housing complex and looking at each other a la the Brady Bunch.
I went to see one of my favorite women on the planet at 8:00 a.m. this morning: my acupuncturist, Deeanne Bevin. Today we talked about the usual stuff: health, work, stress, politics, faith, family and pooping.
Grannie gave me a highly desired gift certificate to an acupuncture session in a professional practice in an office building a few years ago. I was sooooooo excited! There was a menu of choices on the wall from which I could select (weight loss, smoking cessation, balance, etc.) I was told to take my clothes off and lie down on a cold hospital cot. The doctor then rapidly proceeded to stick tens of needles up and down my body with what looked and felt like a staple gun. He left my voodoo doll body to lie there freezing to death.
When I told Robert, my hair stylist, about this well intentioned but god-awful experience, he referred me to Deeanne. I now understand firsthand the difference in treatment styles. Night and day. Deeanne's practice is in a cozy little home. It's well lit and surrounded by trees and birds. It's also warm inside and the beds are heated. Most importantly, she knows eastern medicine inside and out. Unlike my first experience, it's both professional and personal. Chatting, examining my tongue, taking my pulse. And gently (for the most part!) hand placing needles in a few select areas of my body. I then relax (covered!), in a warm bed, while listening to beautiful music.
It's a great, great feeling to start the day back in bed . . .
Tonight, I went to see our resident filmmaker's recent release Stone starring Robert De Niro, Edward Norton, Frances Conroy and the beautiful seductress Milla Jovovitch. While it's gotten some mixed reviews, I absolutely loved it. And I hate everything. (That means you, Forrest Gump.) It was shocking how much it reminded me of a Bob Rafelson film. (That's my nod to you, Jack Garner. You know who you are.) More in the Five Easy Pieces vein than his (hey, hey we're the) Monkeys pièce de résistance. But seriously, the performances were truly outstanding and the plot line extremely compelling if you like twisted faith-based/spiritual/religious/new age-y path-oriented topics (as I do).
So today's pic (albeit not an Annie Leibovitz caliber photo), clocking in before midnight (oh snap), is of our esteemed local director and his hot wife at the post-screening reception. Happy birthday Kris and John!
Every once in a while, I test the kids' ability to stay out of trouble by peppering them with questions such as, "You're playing in the yard when some dude drives up and tells you that he cannot find his puppy. Do you help?" (Answer: no, freak.)
Last night, I asked the age-old don't let anyone know your parents are not home question, "I am out for a little while and the phone rings. Where do you tell them I am?"
Son #2: "I just tell them you can't come to the phone 'cause you're dropping some friends off at the lake."
Great. That'll work.
Tonight's picture is him greeting me at the door as I came home at 8:15 p.m. Crazy boy.
Yesterday I had the honor of voting for one of my best friends from childhood who ran for NYS Senate. My eyes welled up with tears at the voting booth. I was picturing us playing kickball as kids. Camping on weekends in high school. Taking *sightseeing* trips to Mexico and Canada. Visiting colleges. Drinking blue whales at T's after her wedding still in our formal gowns. And on and on.
While she didn't win, she came close gaining an impressive 47% of the votes in our district.
This photo of two childhood girlfriends (and one hubby) was taken at the Hyatt downtown last night from the Democratic campaign headquarters. Tons of TV crews were stationed in the ballroom. We were in a river view suite on the 21st floor watching the results roll in. It felt like such an historic event and, while the outcome sadly wasn't in her favor, it was a privilege to be there.
Finally, the much anticipated first installment of my month-long, Photo Per Day series. I can feel the excitement building already. Heading out of the gate with not one but three pics of the loot from last night.
Son #2's collection. He was home first. Such a good boy.
Son #1's slightly larger collection (he arrived home 35 minutes after his 9:00 p.m. curfew) -- including the three Naruto Kunai knives that I skillfully made for him out of heavy folded paper, eye bolts, black duct tape and purple cord. Martha Stewart eat your heart out.
A close-up of the prized possession in Son #1's collection: a rubber ducky. So needed, in fact, that he and his friends started in another neighborhood to get it and then made their way back home. Note the fortune cookie to the side of the duck. Do you think that came with the duck or that another family ran out of candy and supplemented with "dessert" from their Chinese takeout? I'm voting for the latter.
