The musical talent on stage was very impressive, and not just the singing. Many of the performers played instruments, and in that regard, BTBHS reminded me of Million Dollar Quartet, a show Dad and I saw on Broadway six years ago. Hunter Foster, one of the stars of that show—he played Sun Records' Sam Phillips—directed Buddy at the Playhouse.
Before the show, I walked on ahead of Dad and Tony to pick up our tickets at the box office because it was getting close to the starting time. On the way, I overheard a woman telling someone she was walking with that it's the last night for the Billie Holiday musical. Um, nope.
That afternoon, Dad had helped me put together the sales cart for my ice cream business. It hadn't come with instructions, and there weren't any on the maker's website. So I'd ended up emailing my sales guy (who seems to be the only sales guy for the ice cream cart side of the business) for guidance, mostly to confirm which pieces of wood needed to come off and which needed to stay on. Which was ridiculous. I paid good money for that thing. Why shouldn't I get some freakin' instructions? And some information on care and maintenance? *sigh* And maybe a free bowl of soup?1 😄
The cart uses what the company calls holdover cartridges to keep cold the ice cream you store inside it. Dad figured out how the cartridges and some thin metal bars that came with them should be positioned to hold the cartridges in place:
Figuring out something like that isn't intuitive for me anymore, if it ever would have been. I sent a photo of Dad's placement of the pieces to the sales guy, who confirmed Dad was correct. (Only one of the four sides is in place. There are more pieces for the other three sides of the cube.)
Dad took a photo of me and the cart, with an umbrella I ordered from a different company:
You can't see the logos well in that photo. They turned out very nicely.
On Sunday morning, Dad and I drove into Stockton and took Missy for a walk along the path near the river. We stopped at Prallsville Mills, where a watercolor show and sale was going on. Dad bought a framed autumn-in-the-country scene, and I took a photo of him with his purchase outside the mill:
He put the pic on Facebook, and I commented, "This is going to ruin your reputation as Cheap-Ass Bill Hawley From the Sticks." Ha!
The day before, we'd gotten pizza for lunch at Market Pizza. Quick tangent here: MP is now owned and operated by a terrific couple named Matt and Megan who have maintained its high quality; it had been part of Jamie Hollander's New Hope–area gourmet food business. This past Saturday, I got a special pizza: the Summer Grill, with corn; zucchini; roasted red peppers; mozzarella, fontina, and Parmesan cheeses; basil; and a drizzle of balsamic reduction. It was so good:
End of quick tangent. When I was with Dad, I got the pizza I've been buying regularly for many weeks: half margarita, half pesto.
And speaking of my ice cream business, my first day of sales was this past Sunday. If I had to describe it in one word, that word would be wet. You can read about it and some other business developments over at Huge Hound's blog page.
The heavy rains we've been getting of late have been hard on my deck garden. The bachelor buttons got waterlogged and rotted. I'd gotten to enjoy only three flowers before that happened:
My dill and cilantro also took it on the chin.
On July 1, we had a particularly bad storm that brought down several limbs in our yard. Some landed very close to the cages around my gooseberries and blue wood asters. Here are some photos of the damage:
On the plus side, we were able to enjoy a lot more wild raspberries that grew in our yard. These later ones were red when fully ripe, ...
... unlike the earliest ones, which were black.
Tony falls asleep on the couch with his head on top of Grady fairly regularly. Grady doesn't mind:
If every home had a basset, insomnia would be a thing of the past.
For their high school graduation present, I took Matt and Mike to see a matinee of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time yesterday.
I had told them they could pick any play, straight or musical, they wanted. They asked whether this one would be OK because they knew Tony and I had already seen it, in London, almost four years ago. I said I didn't mind seeing it again, because I had enjoyed it the first time, I wasn't sure how much I would recall, and from what I'd read, this production had more bells and whistles.
I had forgotten that the killer of Christopher's neighbor's dog, Wellington, was revealed in the first act, but I did recall whodunit. The staging was indeed a technological step up from the London version, which hadn't been any slouch either. I'm glad I got to see it again, and the 'phews really liked it, which was the most important thing.
M&M posed for a selfie with me outside the theater before the play started. A woman passing by offered to take our pic instead, and I handed her my phone:
Matt asked Mike to take a photo of just the two of us in the same spot.
Before the play, we had lunch at the Times Square location of Qi, a two-restaurant mini chain started by Pichet Ong, who was mentioned in the very first Hawleyblog post ever, which was, not exactly surprisingly, mostly about ice cream. Ong made a name for himself in the culinary world as a pastry chef, but he's since branched out into savory cuisine.
The service at Qi was perfunctory as hell, but the food was good. And I loved the decor:
There were 3-D images of the beautifully dressed models shown on the website (linked above at Qi) throughout the restaurant, including on my menu and the men's room mirror.
I love the 'phews so very much. I'm super proud of the wonderful young men they've become, though it's sometimes hard to accept they're old enough to be heading off to college. Mike's new student orientation at Bucknell starts early: on Aug. 17, two weeks from yesterday. Matt will arrive at Lafayette on their birthday, Aug. 26.
1We're nearing the 10th anniversary of that first death march.
UPDATE ON SEPT. 5: I forgot to mention that because we weren't asked about dessert at Qi and were instead handed our check—an example of the perfunctory service—we looked for a place to get something sweet on the walk to the theater. We ended up inside the Shake Shack just a bit up 8th Avenue for some frozen custard. I was disappointed in the special selections—Miso Caramel, Blueberry Sweet Corn (interesting but not something I was in the mood for), Caramel Pretzel (a second, totally unnecessary, caramel-containing flavor), Buttery Blackberry (the butter aspect turned me off), and Peanut Brittle—so I got a boring but tasty vanilla and chocolate swirl cone. Mike got a vanilla cone. Only Matt went for one of the specials and got a cone of the Miso Caramel. I tried a bite and thought it was actually pretty good. Matt enjoyed it.