Hawleyblog

Christmas 2011 and New Year's 2011–2012, Part II

On Christmas Eve, Tony and I drove down in our rental car with the Rudester. We had the borsch for lunch at Granny's. She didn't like it.

That evening, we had the usual Christmas Eve cold cuts and sides, including Jean's wonderful green Jell-O salad that, like so many things I mention on here, I would have sworn I'd written about before but doesn't turn up in a search. Dad and Jean had bought kosher salami for David but no mustard. He ragged on them all night because he couldn't put mustard on his sandwich. On Christmas day, Dad went to Acme—who knew it would be open?—and bought some Gulden's spicy brown. Before David and the rest of the Gerbers came over to Granny's for lunch—Dad had brought the leftover sandwich makings to Granny's too—I doctored the label of the mustard.

That's Souf Jersey–speak, bitches!

Rudy seemed underwhelmed by the squirrels-in-a-tree-trunk toy I got him.

Since then, he's played with the squirrels a bit. And I've gotten him to pull the squirrels out of the trunk to retrieve a biscuit at the bottom. And after we got home, Tony had fun posing the squirrels on and around our snoozing boy.

We started opening presents at Dad and Jean's before dinner and finished up, with the Gerbers handing out their gifts, after dinner. Tony got me a Smokey the Bear like I had when I was a wee lad. Actually, I think I had two back then because I wore the first one out, if I remember correctly.

He had said I was either going to love one gift he'd gotten me or I was going to chuck it aside, and he meant this one. I loved me some Smokey. It was such a sweet idea. He also gave me a book of amazing portraits of monkeys and apes.

Everyone enjoyed looking through it.

Jean and Dad had the cutest little tree on the table between the front door and the sofa.

Tony and I gave Granny an organic-flowers-of the-month-club dealie. Her first bouquet arrived a couple of days before we did.

I had hoped to make pop-up cards for everyone in the family, but I didn't get them done. I made a rudimentary one with a pop-up fork for the Gerbers that I thought turned out pretty well.

It reads: "Have dinner on us at the restaurant of your choice. But not Per Se, because that would be taking advantage of us and our generous offer. And no wine pairings for Mike and Matt. Remember how badly that ended last time. And as always, for G-d's sake, DON'T GET THE LOBSTER!" (The last line is a standard joke of mine.)

I had invisioned the Gerbers picking out a nice place (but not Per Se kind of nice), putting the bill on their credit card, and letting me know how much it was, so I could pay them back by check. Tracey and David insisted that we should all go eat somewhere together. So we're taking the four of them to Bistro de la Gare, our new favorite neighborhood restaurant, later this month during the next 'phews visit.

TITC Weekend 2011, Part II

On that Saturday (which is now three Saturdays ago because I haven't had time to blog in a while), Tony and I walked around New Hope and Lambertville. We had lunch at Sprig & VIne, a fantastic vegetarian restaurant that Nadine, our B&B's co-owner and co-host, had mentioned to us at breakfast that morning. Tony and I got the exact same meal: Buttercup and Sweet Potato Puree as a soup starter and the Shredded Cabbages Salad as the main. My soup came with sage croutons and cinnamon oil; Tony's was croutonless. The soup and salad were both so delicious and clearly made from fresh ingredients.

I hope S&V sticks around for a long time. On this trip, I was faced with the closing of New Hope's Strawberry Jam, a favorite store of mine for many years. (The photo at left is significantly less annoying to the eyes and its message easier to read when you click on it.)

Farley's Bookshop is still open, even though Mr. Farley, Pat's longtime landlord, passed away at the end of September. I bought some cards there and some soap at a new-to–New Hope store called My My. (It used to be in Doylestown.)

We had planned to go to Tortuga's Cocina again, like we did last year, with Dan, Paul, and Pat. But once we saw that The Blue Tortilla, which is right on Main Street in New Hope, makes a big deal out of its gluten-free-friendliness on its signage, we asked Pat and the boys whether they'd mind going there instead.

We had a wonderful meal at TBT, including my great dessert: a brownie with cherry-chipotle whipped cream. The cherry taste came through really strongly with a hint of peppery heat at the end. *rubs belly*

Pat brought some birthday presents for me to dinner: Embraceable You: We're All Part of the Story, a book she copy-edited that consists of essays by people who "have all fallen in love with a town called New Hope, Pennsylvania," per the book's back-cover copy, and Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef, by Gabrielle Hamilton, the daughter of Jim Hamilton, the man behind the restaurant where Tony and I had eaten the night before. In my birthday card, Pat wrote that the other part of my present is dinner at GH's East Village restaurant, Prune. Woot!

After we were finished eating, we went to The Raven, where we ran into Petey Wetey and had a good ol' time. Carl, Russ, and Rafael were supposed to have met us there, but they were no-shows. Carl called me Sunday morning to explain that they had gotten unexpected guests around 6 and were too tired to go out once the guests had left. The guys had had a rough time of it recently. The freaky early Northeast snowstorm had left Russ without power for about a week, and Carl had had a lot of tree limbs down at his place that he hired someone to take care of during the day on Saturday.

I had tried getting in touch with Carl the year before to see whether we might get together while Tony and I were in the area for TITC but to no avail. This year, my girl Pat got on the case and tracked down Carl's new mobile phone number through one of the galleries he deals with. When Carl and I spoke on Friday evening, he told me that he had had a dream about me: He was in heaven and saw me off in some side area having sex. Look at me go! Even in the afterlife, I'm gettin' some! :-)

Carl, especially, and Russell, too, are hoots. Carl told me that he and Russ always give my ex (the one I had the farm/B&B with) shit about being foolish for breaking up with me whenever they encounter him. :-) I hope Tony and I can hang out with Carl, Russ, and Rafael soon, either down that way or here in the city. Carl told me he turns 86 two days after Christmas. Mercy!

Two Weekends in Jersey With Some of My Favorite Peeps

Two weekends ago, I went to Cape May with my buds Dan and Paul. I was so busy this summer preparing for the move, moving, and unpacking from the move—and going out to the Pacific Northwest—that I hadn't gotten to the Shore with the fellows. A summer without a Cape May jaunt with my guys? Eff that all the way to F-Town.

And how could I visit Cape May without making something to share? So I made some Blueberry Muffins With Crumb Topping. And they turned out splendidly. And they were even better after being split in half and topped with some of the raspberry jam that Mark and I made out in Portland and that I picked up at the post office before I left on the train for Trenton. (I'll add a photo of a jam-topped muffin, plus many others, at the end of this blog post.) Mark included some of his Tomatillo Salsa in the care package. We had that on a frittata for breakfast Sunday morning, and it really kicked the eggs up a notch.

We spent Saturday at the city beach. I didn't go in the water because the surf was rather rough, and it wasn't so hot I felt like I needed to cool off in the ocean. Sunday was so overcast, and eventually slightly rainy, that we didn't bother going to Higbee Beach, much to the disappointment of Missy and Claire, who'd camped out in Dan's truck on Saturday, demanding we take them to the beach. Poor girls, they never get to have any fun.

We had lunch in town, at the Ugly Mug (my hamburger was really good), and went into a few stores on Sunday afternoon. Saturday afternoon, we had lunch at Oceanview Restaurant, so I could have my usual pork roll sandwich. We split a bowl of tater tots, and by "split," I mean I scarfed down most of them, with Paul not far behind, and Dan getting only a couple.

Dan and Paul were nice enough to make a vegetarian pasta dish for us for dinner Saturday, so I could retain my usual practice of eating meat once a day maximum. It was tasty, and they used the leftovers in the frittata.

On Friday night, we had dinner at the Bayshore Inn. The food was so Souf Jersey, in a decidedly bad way: I got the fried chicken special, which turned out to be a fried chicken cutlet topped with a white gravy and canned green beans—in August!—on the side.* I enjoyed the Duck Fart shots we all downed. Paul and Dan have gotten friendly with the owner of the BI and his partner, and they seem like good guys.

I was on a pretty good comedic roll that weekend. Even Dan, who usually likes to make fun of my attempts at humor (as does Paul), had to admit that I was getting in some good zingers. His exact words were: "You were spot on this weekend." The only line I can remember throwing out among the barrage of jokes is: "Who do I gotta drink to get a f()ck around here?"

Sometime over the weekend, Dan coined a term I plan to use when an appropriate moment next comes up: "double no chin." That's a description of what a person is sporting when he's got no chin to speak of and has a roll of fat under where his chin should be.

On the drive back to Trenton, we had fun singing along to some old hits, including Barenaked Ladies' "If I Had a Million Dollars" ("But not a real green dress. That's cruel.") and "One Week" ("Chickety China, the Chinese chicken. Have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'."), Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" ("Let's look 4 the purple banana 'til they put us in the truck." WTF!?!), and the B-52s' "Private Idaho" ("You fell into the water and down to Idaho. Get out of that state. Get out of that state you're in.") and "Rock Lobster" ("Red snappers snappin', clam shells clappin', mussels flexin', flippers flippin'.").

***

This past Saturday, I had a ball hanging out with the 'phews. They turn 12 on Thursday, and holy shite, does that make me feel older than dirt.

Tracey and David had a pool party—with a rented inflatable water slide—for the boys' friends, and Mike and Matt asked me to come too. And that makes me feel so cool—that they want their uncle to hang out with them when their friends are around. They're the best guys, and I love them so much.

I didn't make any treats to take with me because I knew there'd be a cake of some kind, of course. Twin ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen, it turns out.

David grilled hot dogs and slider-sized hamburgers. And Tracey made St-Germain, prosecco, and club soda cocktails for herself, her friend Susie, and me. So who was really doing the most important work? :-) At Blend (warning: music plays at the link) in Ridgewood, that drink is called a Shooting Star. At the St-Germain website, it's called simply the St-Germain Cocktail. And over at Kitchen Princess, it's drunk with a meal that includes a salad dressed with St-Germain Vinaigrette. Awesome.

I gave the guys books—and boxer shorts from Bonus Pants. The boxers had chimps on them, so I referred to them as Monkey Britches—even though, to be zoologically correct, chimps are really apes, not monkeys. Matt had requested Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Ultimate Guide because he's a huge fan of that series of books. He warned me that there was another guide but he wanted the ultimate one. "Is the other one called The Sorely Lacking Guide?" I asked. Ha!

After I'd bought the book and discovered that it contains magnets to seal the cover shut, I sent him this text message: "There's some mysterious force holding shut the cover of that book you wanted for your birthday. It must be cursed. Gonna hafta return it." Ha! Returned-defective-book jokes never get old!

Michael wanted to be surprised, so he had no request. I got him a book of mazes that you color in after you've found the solution, according to the placement of colored dots along the path, to make some pretty sophisticated-looking pictures. I also got him the latest special edition of Games magazine. When I was wrapping up that and the maze book, I was amused to see an ad for special socks for diabetics and other people with circulation issues on the back cover of the magazine. While I was in Portland, I had teased the boys thusly, via text message: "Hey, buds! I'm having lots of fun in Portland, Oregon. Can't wait to see you for your birthday. I've settled on a sock theme for your gifts. That OK with you? Ha!"

I must have done OK because Mike said he wants to be surprised on his birthday again next year. And I think Matt said he does too. :-)

When they unwrapped those presents, after the party had wrapped up, I told the guys there was another present coming for them in the mail in early September. Later, when I was watching them play Super Mario Galaxy 2, which a friend had given them that day, I said I was surprised they weren't hassling me to find out what the other present was. I said it was a video game that hasn't come out yet, so I knew there was no way one of their friends could have gotten it for them. And I said that the game was mentioned in an old issue of Game Informer I had brought along. Matt looked through the magazine and made a few guesses. (Mike was taking his turn on SMG2.) I finally told them it's a game for the Wii called Metroid: Other M. I said it's rated Teen but I think they can handle it and I think they'll enjoy it even though they're not really into shoot-'em-up games. It's a long-running Nintendo franchise, and there's never been a bad game in the series. And they'll be shooting alien creatures, not people. And they know the main character, Samus, from Super Smash Bros. Brawl and from playing my DS game Metroid Prime Pinball. Mike said they'd give it a chance but asked whether they could give it to their friend Matt, who was hanging out with us and was going to stay over that night, if they really didn't like it. I said that would be OK.

As another part of my continuing quest to get and keep them addicted to video games, I'd also brought along a more-recent issue of Game Informer that had a big article on Nintendo's 3DS. I said it looked cool and that media types who'd gotten their hands on it have said the 3-D effects are impressive. Michael said he wasn't excited about the 3DS. He said—absolutely correctly, I'd say—that the DSi, with its two cameras, was a waste and not worth the money. And he didn't think the 3DS would be worthwhile either. I said I was optimistic about this new DS. If it does turn out to be worthy, the guys can use the ton of money they got on Game Stop gifts cards to buy their 3DSes.

I also showed them previews in that mag of two upcoming Wii games that look like they'd be fun: Kirby's Epic Yarn and Donkey Kong Country Returns.

We had dinner at Amano in Ridgewood. I tried the first slice of the marinara pizza, which was cheeseless. "It's so garlicky, it burns," I said. So Matt and Mike tried that pie next, and Matt liked it enough that he had another slice.

And now, a prime selection of photos:

A muffin with the raspberry jam

Missy and Claire staging their sit-in

Dan doing a little point-up-there-and-then-down-there dancing in D&P's screen house

Saturday night's pasta dinner

 

When the boys' friend Brendan's mother dropped him off at the party, she brought their dachshund Buster along so Molly and he could meet. (Those are not Brendan's mother's legs, btw.)

Tracey trained Molly to be a therapy dog. Her first visit—at a camp for sick children—was today, and Tracey said the kids loved her. Of course they did, the little sweetheart. :-) Tracey said Molly isn't all in the kids' faces—like my basset boy would be, with the lickin' and the sniffin'—but she's very interactive and lets them pet on her as much as they want. I'm so proud of her. And my sister and the boys, who went to the camp too.

And finally, one more of the birthday boys 

*I totally realize it was bar food, but it could have been several notches above what it was, ferchrissakes.

UPDATE on Sept. 3: I just realized I told the Missy and Claire story and ran that same photo in two consecutive posts. Oh well.

Christmas and New Year's 2009–10, Part I

This Christmas was among the best in recent years. I had a lot of fun with the nephews. Even though my soup wasn't a winner, my breakfasty treat, Banana Bread, was a big hit. And everyone got and gave some fun presents this year.

The Schultieses bought me some great stuff even though we'd said we adults would go out to dinner as usual instead of exchanging gifts. But Jen wrote me a wonderfully clever poem in a card they all signed that explained why they'd deceived me. So I'm OK with it.   :-)

The soup was a very minimalist tomato-based lentil. Even with lots of spices (cardamom, cumin, coriander, and turmeric) and alliums (red and yellow onion, scallions, and garlic), it still turned out pretty meh. I bought way too many lentils and used them all despite my hunch there were going to be way too many. As a result, my lentil-to-carrot ratio was way off, which mattered a great deal because those were the only two things floating in the soup, since I'd liquefied the alliums with my immersion blender.

David asked me what I was thinking, making lentil soup for people who probably wouldn't eat it. I'm not generally a huge fan of beans, but I love lentils and I really thought it could have been a hit. Of course, that was my thinking before I tried my final result. :-) I wasn't thrilled with my stew last year, and it's another thing I have to haul to South Jersey, so next year, I'll probably either stick with a reliable, non-peanut-butter-containing variation of my chicken stew or I'll skip the soup/stew altogether.

I didn't take a photo of the soup, but it did at least look purty in the glass containers I put it in. :-)

Tracey—wanting to give me a break from making complicated breakfast treats that require letting dough rise—suggested making banana muffins this year. Bob makes a terrific banana bread, which I found out he makes using either of two recipes. I chose the one from Joy of Cooking, omitting the nuts and adding chocolate chips, as Bob does. (I was a little fancy, though, and used a mixture of semisweet and bittersweet.) It called for both baking soda and baking powder, two eggs, and room-temperature butter. Bob's other option, which calls for melted butter, one egg, and only baking soda for leavening, and no nuts, is from Simply Recipes. I made loaves instead of muffins because neither recipe included instructions on converting it for muffins. (Though I now see that a commenter on the Simply Recipes page says he got 11 muffins from that recipe, and he baked them for 35 minutes.)

I made one loaf without chocolate chips because Mom has been saying lately that she can't eat chocolate. (The plain loaf is the one on the right in the photo; it didn't puff up as nicely as the others for some reason, but the banana flavor was just as strong.) For many years now, she's said she can't eat chocolate after dinner because it keeps her awake. I thought her change in language meant it now upset her stomach or something, but she said on Christmas morning that it's still the same situation, with the caffeine keeping her up at night. Anyway, I enjoyed the plain version almost as much as the one with the chocolate. This bread is incredibly moist and nice and sweet.

I made the soup and the bread on Wednesday; I left for Cumberland County with the woofers late on Thursday morning, Christmas Eve. There was almost no traffic to speak of, and no congestion even at the usual expected locations for backups.

Dad came over to Granny's to help me unload the car, and after a while, I drove Granny over to Dad's house for the usual Christmas Eve supper of lunch meat on snowflake rolls. David had already opened his birthday present from Dad and Jean: a light-up Christmas lawn ornament of a basset hound wearing a Santa hat. He joked about getting a picture of it so he could sell it on eBay, but I bet he'll put it out in front of the house next year.

The next morning, I met the Gerbers and Mom at the Millville Queen diner, our usual spot for Christmas breakfast. David treated. When the check came, he handed the waiter a $100 bill and said, I believe, "That's fine" without also handing him the check. After a bit, David said the guy had better be bringing change, and Tracey and I both said that David surely gave the guy the impression he could keep the change, which would have meant a super generous $50-plus tip. I offered to give David 20 bucks to offset some of the inadvertently huge tip, but he refused it. As we got up to leave, David called over to the guy and asked him about bringing him change. I didn't want to be there to see the guy's reaction. I'd never say David is a cheap guy, but I think when he realized he'd said something he didn't mean to, he should have just let it slide and allowed the guy—who was clearly "family," btw—to have a merrier Christmas-morning shift than he would ever have anticipated.

At Mom's place, Mom unwrapped her presents from us. Both the Gerbers and I gave her Christmas tree ornaments, forgetting that she'd gotten rid of the little artificial tree she'd called her Christmas "bush." (And now that I've written that sentence, let's add another year to the amount of therapy I'm going to need in my life.) The Gerbers gave her an Elvis one, and I gave her the usual Hallmark puppy one. She intends to get a new tree. And the Gerbers and I both gave her some cash, so she's more than covered.

Tracey also got Mom a jigsaw puzzle of Rockefeller Center at Christmastime, which we started working on right away and Mom finished the next day.

We ate some banana bread to tide us over until dinner, and I had a couple of passion fruits I'd taken down for everyone to try, if they wanted to. No one at Mom's wanted to. They don't know what they're missing. Granny split one with me for breakfast the next morning, and I left the remaining ones with Jean for her to share with Gran, who thought the one she'd tried tasted pretty OK.

UPDATE on Jan. 7: I meant to mention that, at one point, Matt referred to the banana bread as "monkey bread," which I'd made years ago for my first Christmas breakfast treat. "If I'd made both, the monkey bread would eat the banana bread," I said. Ha!

Thanksgiving 2009

This year for Thanksgiving, Dad, Jean, Granny, and I all went to the Gerbers' house. Tracey cooked the turkey and, with some help/hindrance :-) from the rest of us, made most of the side dishes.

Jean brought chocolate cream and pumpkin pies. Yum.

I made Bill's Browned Brussels Sprouts and an orangy cranberry sauce, the recipe for which I got from Martha. It's basically sugar, water, cranberries, orange zest, and orange juice. The boys helped/hindered me with it, but they wouldn't eat it and said the corn syrup–loaded kind from the can is much better. Dad said he liked "the taste," which meant he wouldn't eat it because it wasn't smooth. *sigh* And this time, Mike wouldn't eat the Brussels sprouts even though he said he liked them OK when I made them the last time I visited the Gerbers. And Matt "tried" one by holding it up to his mouth and putting his tongue on it for a nanosecond. I need a foodie family of dog lovers with a handsome gay best friend to adopt me. Please!

Everything was delicious, and the leftovers were even better. Tracey made oven-baked mashed-potato cakes crusted with panko bread crumbs and heated up individual portions of her stuffing in a muffin pan. Mmmm.

On Thanksgiving afternoon, we started putting up the Gerbers' Christmas tree. They put the ornaments on that evening as the rest of us watched. It was fun seeing the same battle being played out between Tracey and the boys that she and I used to have as kids. Like me, Matt and Mike wanted to put the homemade ornaments in the front, but my unsentimental sister insisted they go in the back.

On Black Friday, we went to a mall, not because we're insane but so I could try the food at Bobby's Burger Palace, which M&M said has the best burgers of all time and puts 5 Guys Burgers and Fries to shame. My verdict? I did like both my hamburger and the fries a little better than 5 Guys'. Because the boys had said you could get all kinds of weird stuff on your burger, I had assumed BBP had a board with a list of toppings, like 5 Guys. But it's got a selection of burgers that you can make additions to or deletions from. I got a boring Palace Classic, hold the cheese. Pictured at left is Tracey's L.A. Burger, with avocado and watercress. Two more things that put BBP over the top: You can get your burger cooked to order, and it's served on a real plate. Woot!

After we ate, we walked around the Bergen Town Center mall a little, including the Target. And then, at my suggestion, we walked around Ridgewood, which has a wonderful, actual town center. I got a pair of jeans and a cool shirt at Lucky. On the way back to the car, I snapped a picture of a chipmunk that I saw emerge from a little pipe in a wall. Can you spot it? If not, click on the photo to make it larger.

Ooh, I almost forgot, I brought the wine, aka The Precious Liquid That, Goddess Willing, Will Prevent Another Stabbing Incident Like the One Back in 2000 for Which Jean Is Still on Parole. Hah! I kid. It's really Granny who's on parole. :-)

Everyone says to drink pinot with turkey, so to quaff with the bird at T-day dinner, I took the 2007 Patricia Green Cellars Pinot Noir Reserve. One of the staff writers on My favorite writer for the magazine, who works in the Portland, Oregon, bureau, sent four bottles of this wine to the New York office to thank us copy editors for all of the times we've saved his bacon over the years. Thanks, Anthony! Dad, Jean, Tracey, and I all enjoyed this tantalizing red-fruity wine.

I took a magnum-sized bottle of, gasp, Beringer White Zinfandel to keep Dad and Jean happy. And a quite nice new-to-me malbec from Legado and another pinot, from one of my favorite producers, MacMurray Ranch, to keep everyone happy. Except for the boys. Who like to get hammered on Painkillers. Hah!

Tracey has been on a kick for Pineau des Charantes. She bought one at Red, White & Bubbly the last time she visited that she really enjoyed, but when I popped in the Sunday before Thanksgiving, RW&B was sold out and wouldn't have more until after the holiday. And none of the other liquor/wine stores in my hood had any PDC at all. So I got one from Maison Brillet at Sherry-Lehmann Wine & Spirits, which is very close to work. Bug* liked it.

M&M and I played lots of video games, especially some new ones I'd bought for my iPhone: Skee-Ball, Rolando, and Pinball: Rollercoaster. Skee-Ball is good fun, and I'm sure I'll enjoy Rolando more and more as I continue to mess around with it. Rolando has gotten excellent reviews, and I've always loved rolling-type games ever since Marble Madness and, especially, Run Yourself Ragged, aka Screwball Scramble and Snafu. I'm enjoying the pinball game, but $5 seems too high for it considering there's only one table and given the price of other games in the app store.

I even got some sewing done while I was at the Gerbers'. I sewed up holes in my coat pocket and a reusable bag and reinforced the bottom of another bag. I took my sewing because I figured if there was anything my family would enjoy more than discussing or interrupting my every bowel or bladder movement, it'd be the sight of me with a needle and thread in my hands.

And of course, I played with the woofers a lot. I rented a car so I could take the dogs with me. Emme was on her best behavior except for one minor incident when Molly, unbeknownst to me, had a piece of bread in her mouth and Emme wanted to follow her into her crate to grab it from her.

I guess there's not much left to do besides post a string of photos.

A photo of a snoozing Rudy with a turkey chew toy near his head ...

... is paired with this shot of Emme's behind sidled up next to a sheep chew toy that Tracey said I should bring home with me because Molly never paid it any attention and Rudy enjoyed playing with it.
 

Emme under the Christmas tree

Me in need of another hand

Tracey, Dad, and Jean

Rock on, David!

Granny at the kitchen table

Uncle Bill's place setting

Mike, Bug, and my dinner plate

Dad reading The Marshmallow Incident to M&M

Trace got the boys personalized violin-player ornaments to put on the tree. This one is Mike's.

When I left on Saturday morning, the boys said I should move in. I would live in the downstairs guest bedroom and I could bring Emme and Rudy too. :-) I'd love to have lots more time to hang out with my wonderful 'phews, but I think the commute into the city would kill me. Or David would. ;-)

*A family nickname for my sister that dates back to when she was 5 or 6 and had a dress with a cute bug on it. Dad called her his little Tracey Bug.

A Post About My Labor Day Weekend and the Day After

I took off last Friday so I'd have a very long Labor Day weekend. I had a very enjoyable date on Friday evening: drinks at a bar in the Village with a guy whom I'd met through an online dating site. He's cute, funny, and interesting. And he's from Milwaukee, so if there's ever a temporary lull in the conversation, we can fall back on singing the theme song from Laverne & Shirley: "We're gonna do it!"

I got back to Brooklyn just in time to have the usual 9-ish pizza dinner with Bob and Jen. The next day, B&J and the kids went to Greenwich, Connecticut, to hang out with their friends who'd moved there just a couple of weeks ago. I was left in charge of feeding B&J's cats, Simon and Mr. Peterson.

That morning around 10, my buddy Glenn texted me to ask whether I wanted to go with him and "two furry guys" to Sandy Hook at noon. I asked him whether that meant, specifically, the nude beach at Sandy Hook. He assumed as much. Chub! I said I'd try to get a dog walker lined up on short notice and I'd get back to him. Rebecca, my fantastic backup dog walker who is often able to humor my last-minute requests because a) she's a doll, b) she lives in the neighborhood, and c) she truly enjoys hanging out with my woofers,* was able to humor me again, so I called Glenn back to let him know I was in. He said I actually had until 12:30, which was when the Zipcar his friend was renting would be available. I ran to the health food store to get some Odwalla Bars, which are my go-to beach snack; washed up; packed my backpack; grabbed my beach umbrella; and headed for the subway.

Glenn's "two furry guys" actually ended up being one furry and cool guy, also from Wisconsin, named Mike Pickles, whom Glenn calls Pickles. The car was supposed to be at a parking lot in Chelsea, but we couldn't find it. While Pickles called the Zipcar people to make sure we were looking for the right kind of car, Glenn and I watched and heard one of the parking lot attendants zip like a bat out of hell toward us in the area where the rentals were parked. The car he was driving was our car.

It was a fun ride toward the shore. We talked a lot about our dogs; Pickles has two and Glenn and his partner, Derrick, have one. And we debated Apollo vs. Helo. Pickles said he'd rather do Helo, and Glenn and I said it was the Bamber all the way. That bod, those eyes, that accent. That bod. Quick, give me somethin' to bite on. *chomps on Rudy's tail as Rudy continues to snooze on the love seat* Grrr!

As we approached Sandy Hook, we saw electronic signs along Route 36 East saying that the park was closed and that you had to go to a different beach. We kept heading toward our goal, hoping that it would have reopened by the time we got on the scene. Then there was a sign indicating that Sandy Hook was closed but would reopen at 3. It was a little after 2. Since I was the most familiar with the area, having gone to SH more than Glenn or Pickles, they asked me what I thought we should do. I suggested we could park somewhere, kill some time walking around a town or a strip mall outside SH, and head back in time to hit the entrance to SH at 3. G&P were eager to get to the beach, a beach, and time was a factor because the car had to be back at the lot in Manhattan at 6:30. I said that if we kept following 36 as it made a 90-degree turn and headed south, we'd come across a series of beach towns. The very first town is Sea Bright, and at first, there were a bunch of private beaches with no public parking. And then we passed some public parking lots that were blocked off because they were supposedly full even though you could see some open spots in them. Pickles parked on the street in a two-hour spot, figuring that we shouldn't stay longer than that anyway or risk getting back late, what with the inevitable traffic.

We had to pay $8 apiece to go on the beach. And we had to wear, like, clothing. So I didn't get to see Pickles's pickle.** Or Glenn's gherkin. As I posted on Facebook, "ending up in Sea Bright when you meant to go to Sandy Hook is kind of like ending up in Fresno when you wanted to go to San Francisco." But I still had fun hanging out with the guys. Even if we weren't able to let it all hang out.

 

The guy visible in the background above Pickles's hat had the craziest set of man boobs I've ever seen. He wasn't heavy overall, but he had some low-hanging breastages, let me tell you.

I can't remember whether it was on the way to the shore or the way back to the city, but Pickles mentioned that his father's name was Richard. And that he never went by the name Dick. How could you not call yourself Dick Pickles if your Pickles-last-named parents chose the first name Richard for you?! OK, I understand that would be pretty ludicrous to have as your everyday name. But it sure makes for a fun porn-star name. If I ever achieve my goal of doing porn fall into the porn biz, I'm so gonna call myself Dick Pickles.

The next day, I went to the Gamesters group for the first time in many weeks. Well-traveled Gamesters host Mark had spent several of those weeks in his native state of North Dakota. I made a Blackberry Coffee Cake, aka just Blackberry Cake, which is the same thing as the much-mentioned-on-here Peach Cake, a blueberry version of which I made and took with me when I visited Paul and Dan in Cape May in July. The cake was a hit. When I took it out of my pie holder (so used because I'd baked it in a glass pie plate), I babbled something about the topping not running because I used raw sugar that was much heavier than refined sugar. Only I couldn't think of the words "raw" or "refined." *sigh* You drop globs of the spicy, buttery, sugary topping onto the cake when it's almost done baking, and then it runs over the rest of the cake to cover it completely. This time, the topping hardly spread at all, which actually made it look quite purty. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture of the completed cake, though my friend and regular Gamester Jack took pictures of the Gamesters ooh-ing and ah-ing over the cake—at Coppola-wannabe Gamesters host Mark's direction. Mark always has everyone do that whenever someone brings something homemade to the gathering. So when he sends out the pix to everyone on the Gamesters e-mail list, I can add one of them here.

Gamester Bill made fun of me for mentioning, in a not terribly erudite way, the topping issue. And later, when I had to leave, I said, "Well, I'm gonna run." And he said, "Like raw sugar." And I said, "No, like refined sugar. You can't even mock me right!" Zing! I mocked the mocker for not mocking me well. Man, I'm such a dork.

I didn't do much on Labor Day itself. Bob and Zane came over for a little while after I ran into them on 3rd Street and Zane insisted that he had to see the inside of my apartment. Even though, of course, he'd seen it before. And of course, once I let Rudy and Emme out of their crates, Zane spent most of his time running away from Rudy's eagerly sniffing nose.

I also made some more meatballs like I made with the Gerber guys. We'd used only a pound of ground beef, so there weren't many left over after our Saturday dinner. I'd finished up the rest and was hankerin' for more.

On Tuesday, after I got done work, Missy and I went to a Kathy Griffin book signing at the Barnes & Noble in Tribeca. This may get my embossed and laminated Officially and Totally Gay card revoked, but I've never seen her Emmy Award–winning reality show on Bravo, My Life on the D-List. I always record and thoroughly enjoy her comedy specials on that gay-friendly network, however, and I loved her as the host of the Joan Rivers roast on Comedy Central. Although I gotta say, I think I laughed the hardest during that show when Greg Giraldo referred to Griffin as "Tranny Bonaduce."

Anyhow, I met Missy, who'd taken that day off, at the store a little before 6:30. She'd already bought me a copy of Griffin's book, Official Book Club Selection, which entitled me to the same green paper wristband Missy had, which said we weren't guaranteed to get to meet Kathy. Those with purple wristbands were guaranteed to meet her, and the group of purple people ended not long before us in the line that snaked throughout the store, though there were also a few of those people behind us. *shrugs*

We waited on the line for a looong time. The store employees said that Kathy was scheduled to leave the store about 8:45 or 9. While we were waiting, Missy and I were able to read good chunks of the book, and it's really a lot of fun. I've continued jumping around in it, and my favorite chapter so far is the one with a bunch of e-mails she and Steve Wozniak sent back and forth to each other when they were sort of dating.

The line was full of the gays. So instead of trying to figure out Which Guys Are Gay Here?, I'd have had to play Spot the Heterosexual Men. Here's a picture of Missy reading while on the line.

We weren't allowed to take photos after we reached a certain point in the line, and the store employees had announced that Kathy would only be signing her name, with no personalization, so she'd be able to get to as many fans as possible. Here's the closest photo I was able to take of her.

When we got up to the signing table, Missy told Griffin that her husband is a big fan of hers but he had to work. Kathy replied something like, "Well, he's straight, though." And Missy said that his friends say he's the gayest straight man they know. Nate does like him some musical theater, it's true.

I greeted Kathy with "Hey, hon." She thanked me for coming, I thanked her for coming to sign her book, and she thanked me for buying the book "or stealing it. Whatever got you here." And I gave her a little wave and a big smile and let her sign the next book. She was very cute in person. Someday, Missy, Nate, and I will have to catch her live.

And to wrap up this post, here, via Joe. My. God., is a clip of Kathy on Jimmy Kimmel's show presenting a trailer for her upcoming Lifetime "film" Kate Is Enough. Hah!

*And why wouldn't she? They're awesome!

**It took me and a team of writers hours to come up with that line. :-)

UPDATE on Sept. 15: Here are the photos of the cake that blackberry-loving Gamesters host Mark sent out at the end of last week.

And here's one he took of me with Bill and Jack before I headed home to the woofers.

'Tis and Swish

I've been reading more books, and now I must write about them.

'Tis is the biographical sequel of Frank McCourt's stupendous Angela's Ashes. But you probably already knew that. It's been around a long time, and it was even sitting in my to-be-read pile for, I bet, a couple years. Pat had lent it to me either after I had read AA or I'd told her I was enjoying McCourt's debut memoir, and I, in turn, lent it to Paula before I read it. I really enjoyed 'Tis. It wasn't as earth-shatteringly intense or as funny as AA, but it was a great read. McCourt didn't flinch at showing what a dick he was toward his first wife. And the passages about his early teaching jobs were priceless.

Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever by Joel Derfner was loads of fun. Even though it may sound profoundly superficial based on its title, the book contains a great deal of wisdom mixed in with the humor. Derfner is supersmart and a fantastic writer, and he manages to mine an amazing number of insights from such swishy and wacky situations as joining a cheerleading squad (as a non-college-attending adult) and teaching aerobics to the severely mentally ill. The last chapter, about his undercover visit to an ex-gay retreat, was a fine bit of journalism and a terrific piece of writing, but it seemed tacked on to make the book even more serious. And it was: Derfner writes that his editor "suggested that part of my book be about something unexpected and subversive." It was both of those things, but it seemed off topic by 180 degrees (going to an antigay-group gathering is the very opposite of delightfully embracing your gayness) and might have been better as an article for The Advocate, which would have snapped it up if it knew what was good for it. All in all, though, Swish is a fantastic book that you definitely should read. I picked up my copy when I visited Heather and George in the swishiest city in the country.

Derfner is known in the gay blogosphere for being Faustus, M.D., the author of "The Search for Love in Manhattan." I've added a link to the blog in my READ THESE OR ELSE! list.

A Long Weekend in Cape May and Manhattan

I took a train down to Trenton on Friday afternoon, and Paul drove us to Cape May for the weekend. Dan was already down there, living the life of leisure, unlike us poor working stiffs. :-)

Dan made burgers, corn, and green beans for dinner for a bunch of us in the campground: D&P; Ed and his new squeeze, A.P.; Alec, Luke, and Sam; and me. Paul and I shared a bottle of wine that I'd schlepped down: the 2007 Cuilleron Lybel Syrah Rosé from the Rhône. We liked it pretty well. I didn't take any homemade baked goods like I did last year. I think I sort of made up for it, though, by taking down some morning rolls from Patisserie Colson for breakfast Saturday morning. I won't stop until everyone I know has enjoyed their deliciousness.

Saturday was pretty overcast so we hung out at the campground until early afternoon. Then D&P and I had lunch at Cabanas with Dan's longtime friend Steve and his wife, Deb, who were up from Kentucky for vacation. Not visible in the photo at left: the hunky Olympic wrestlers who were on the big-screen TVs in the bar. I told Paul that I'm always disappointed when the less-hairy guy wins. It just doesn't seem natural! :-)

Saturday night, Ed and A.P. hosted a seafood night. I tried king crab for the first time. It was OK but not worth the price, as far I'm concerned. Ed deep-fried some tilapia and grouper, which I enjoyed, and some shrimp. Dan, Paul, and I shared another bottle of wine that I schlepped down: the Madonna Estate Chardonnay I had ordered when I was out in California visiting Heather and George. I enjoyed that, too.

Sunday was a great day for the beach, though not for swimming, at least for landlubbers like me. The surf was rough, and the lifeguards were calling everybody out of the water rather frequently. They kept open a little alcove to our right where lots of people were surfing. I sat down on the rocks to get myself wet so I could cool off.

D&P and I got lunch at a diner, and I got my traditional Cape May meal: a pork roll sandwich. As D&P pointed out, I could always buy a four-slice pack at the store and make myself a sandwich at home, but I know it's not terribly healthy for me, so I limit my consumption to the one or two times a summer I go to the shore with the fellas. As I've noted on the blog before, pork roll and pasta with butter were staple foods for me and my sister when we were kids, so a pork roll sandwich is comfort food for me. Ooh, and the tater tots we shared were pretty comforting, too. And now they've adhered to my belly, so I can look at them and reminisce about them anytime I want. :-)

Paul drove me back to Trenton, stopping for pizza on the way, and I caught the 9:01 train back to New York.

The next morning, I picked the woofers up from boarding and then took the slow-ass F train to Lexington and 63rd to meet Tracey and the boys at the Central Park Zoo. Matt and Mike's birthday was the next day, Tuesday the 26th, which means they're now 10 years old. Holy crapola!

After we saw everything there was to see at the Central Park Zoo, including the feeding of the sea lions, which involved them putting on a little show in return for fishes, we went to the Tisch Children's Zoo. Then we had lunch at La Bonne Soup. I had a bowl of gazpacho and a tasty crepe with chicken, peppers, mushrooms, and mozzerella.

The boys opened their cards and presents. I got them each a cute pop-up card; Matt's had dogs on it and Mike's had a big ol' goldfish in a bowl. They already knew I'd gotten them Boom Blox for the Wii. They'd rented it at Blockbuster with their Daddy for a sleepover birthday party last weekend. (If Mommy had been there, she might have found a subtle way to discourage them from choosing that game.) They enjoyed the game so much they said they wanted to buy it the next day with their birthday loot. Tracey told them they couldn't, so they figured out they were getting it from me. *sigh* It's almost impossible to keep a surprise around those hooligans.

At least they were surprised with the books I got them. Numbers 2 and 3 from the Hank Zipzer series by Henry Winkler, the first two books in the Molly Moon series by Georgia Byng, and numbers 3 and 4 from the latest iteration of the Tom Swift series that's been written under the pseudonym Victor Appleton ever since 1910. The new Tom Swift books are well reviewed, and the boys enjoyed the first two books in the series, which I got for them two Christmases ago. I looked for some more last Christmas, but bookstores don't carry them. The woman at my neighborhood Barnes & Noble said she could order them for me but I'd have to pay for them in advance. I guess B&N wants to make sure you're going to take them and not change your mind, so they don't have to put them on the shelf where they'll take up space that could be used for more-popular series. Whatever. As far as I'm concerned, if most lemmings people don't like something, it often means it's wonderful.

I ended up getting the Tom Swift books from Amazon.com because I wanted to make sure Mike and Matt got them in time for their birthday. The next time I buy a book online, though, I'll get it from Powell's Books, because I like to go with the underdog whenever possible. There were also two different versions of the books on powells.com, and I couldn't figure out the difference, if there was any. Both were listed as being new, as opposed to used.

After lunch, much to M&M's chagrin, we did some shopping along and near 5th Avenue. We stopped at FAO Schwarz, though, which made the boys happy. I bought myself a stuffed basset to go with my stuffed corgi. I prefer the more realistic look of the corgi, but the basset's cute. I also tried in vain to get Tracey to buy precious, precious iPhones for all of the Gerbers at the Apple Store. :-)

And now, herewith, a cavalcade of photos:

Purty sunflowers in a vase in D&P's screenhouse

D&P clowning around with crab legs

A.P. and Ed, who's acting pretty dignified, FOR ONCE! :-)

Dan holding his Claire bear

Paul cuddling with Ed's dog, Lucy

Ed's bright and colorful balls

The neon dolphin on Ed's trailer

Some random hunk Paul photographed as he was leaving the beach ;-)

Dan, Sam and Paul

Flowers in the dunes

More flowers in the dunes

Mike and Matt with (out of focus) spectacled eiders between them. M&M said the eiders were the ugliest birds ever, so I said I should take a picture of them with the eiders so they'd look even more handsome than usual in comparison. I read constantly about animals when I was a kid. Gran and Pop were always buying me animal books, and my Aunt Marian got me a subscription to Ranger Rick magazine. I recognized the birds as eiders before I saw the sign. In your face, Jeff Corwin! :-)

Some tuxedoed fellow who took a dip at the zoo

The boys making like baby turtles, with my sister's foot

The Gerbers posing for me as they got ready to depart for Jersey

I've Been Reading Books

And then not writing about them. So I've got a bunch to mention now.

One of the most important things I gained from reading Michael Pollan's excellent In Defense of Food is the understanding that a lot of what we eat isn't really food. Hence his need to defend actual food. Pollan also makes it clear that a lot of the decisions we've made in recent decades about what we should be eating have been based on beliefs—pushed by nutritionists and food companies—that later proved untrue. He talks about the rise of "nutritionism," which convinced us that fad foodlike products that were spiked with the latest thing we were told we needed or formulated with none or very little of the latest thing we were told to avoid could replace actual foods. To counter that way of thinking, "don't eat anything your great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food," he advises us. And along that same line, "avoid food products containing ingredients that are A) unfamiliar, B) unpronouncable, C) more than five in number or that include D) high-fructose corn syrup," which our bodies are ill-equipped to deal with.

Among other things, Pollan has gotten me rethinking soy milk. "The ancient Asian practice of fermenting soybeans and eating soy in the form of curds called tofu makes a healthy diet from a plant that eaten almost any other way would make people ill," he writes. "The soybean itself is a notably inauspicious staple food; it contains a whole assortment of 'antinutrients'—compounds that actually block the body's absorption of vitamins and minerals, interfere with the hormonal system, and prevent the body from breaking down the proteins in the soy itself. It took the food cultures of Asia to figure out how to turn this unpromising plant into a highly nutritious food. By boiling crushed soybeans in water to form a kind of milk and then precipitating the liquid by adding gypsum (calcium sulfate), cooks were able to form the soy into curds of highly digestible protein: tofu." I've had second thoughts about soy milk in the past because it contains estrogen-like compounds and because I feel I'm helping to legitimize the industrial-agricultural corn-soybean behemoth, even though the soy milk I buy is made from organic beans. The fact that its nutritional value is also questionable may be the third strike necessary to get me to give up on it completely.

Pollan's bedrock advice, which is highlighted in the cover photo on a band wrapped around a head of red leaf lettuce, is: EAT FOOD. NOT TOO MUCH. MOSTLY PLANTS. I should follow a tip he offers regarding not eating too much: He says we're likely to eat less if we appreciate food for the sensual experience it is and eat more slowly, appreciating each mouthful. I'm not typically a really fast eater of savory foods, but I suck down ice cream, cookies, and other sweets like I'm competing in a blood-sugar race. I need to learn to enjoy each spoonful or bite and so be more likely to be satisfied with a small bowl of ice cream or only half of a large brownie.

My father visited me this weekend, and In Defense of Food went home with him after he started reading it here.

***

Truck: A Love Story by Michael Perry also went home with my Dad. Jean's son, Rob, got it for my Dad a couple of Christmases ago. I borrowed it mostly because I thought it sounded like something Bob would enjoy; years ago, he had a completely cool, purple, flare-sided pickup truck that he loved. It turned out, though, that I ended up liking the book more than Bob, even though I've never owned a truck and have spent my adult life happily free of the pickup-ownin', Nascar-lovin', no-"funny"-salad-eatin' Really Southern Jersey culture I grew up in. Perry is a phenomenal writer with a tremendous gift for metaphor. He sometimes comes across as trying too hard to sound like just a simple guy, but I found myself feeling that way less than Bob apparently did. I was drawn in by his wonderful observations about life and his story about finding the woman of his dreams while he and his brother-in-law restored an old pickup he'd owned for years that was no longer drivable.

***

Mark Doty, author of Dog Years, is another amazing writer. I wasn't surprised to read on the jacket copy that he's a poet, because his prose is so complex and lyrical that I often had to read a passage a couple of times to get its full meaning. The book is about his relationship with two retrievers, with a focus on their eventual declines in health and their deaths. It's a sad but beautiful meditation on love and loss. I feel I would have gotten more of an emotional charge out of the book if I'd confined my reading of it to my apartment, but I read a lot of it on the subway. I wouldn't allow my emotions to get the better of me because I didn't want to break into tears on the train.

***

Finally, there's Cesar's Way by Cesar Millan with Melissa Jo Peltier. I love Millan's TV show, Dog Whisperer, and I gained some valuable insights on handling my woofers from this book, including the idea that something we want to see as an aspect of a dog's "personality" might really be something that needs to be corrected. The only gripe I had was that he too often lapses into celebrity worship. But I understand that Jada Pinkett Smith was his first celebrity client, and she helped him get more business from Hollywood stars. And no one can blame him for playing up his Oprah Winfrey connection. If she'd talk about Hawleyblog on her show, I wouldn't have to keep trying to shame my family and friends into reading and commenting on my stupid blog. :-)

I think Millan's greatest accomplishment in this book and on his show is convincing people to treat their dogs like dogs and not like children. Dogs need us to be their pack leader and help them live the best, doglike lives they can. We do them no favors when we treat them like little humans. A calm, submissive dog whose owner exudes calm, assertive energy is a happy dog and a wonderful companion.

Two Weekends With Visits From Family, Part II

Tracey and the boys came to visit me on Friday. I had gotten us tickets for the Gazillion Bubble Show that night, which, like I wrote in an earlier post, we'd planned to go see in February. I sent Tracey and the boys a joke e-mail a couple of weeks ago saying that I couldn't get tickets:

You're never gonna believe this but ... When I went on ticketschmaster.com to get tix for the Gazillion Bubble Show, they were all sold out for the night we wanted to go. But ticketschmaster saved the day! It suggested tix for the Thousand Bubble Show. Which is put on by some dude with a bucket of dish soap in a vacant lot in the Bronx. And we've got front-row seats! How awesome is Uncle Bill?

Tracey knew, of course, that I was joking about the Thousand Bubble Show, but she assumed I was serious about not being able to get tickets to the real bubble show until I e-mailed her back that the WHOLE THING was a joke.

We had lunch at Miracle Grill because the boys were psyched for some quesadillas. Then we went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, because I wanted Tracey, Mike, and Matt to see what the Hawleys and I had seen the previous weekend. On the walk to the subway, I told the boys we should have a contest to see who could be the most botanic while we were at the garden. Hah!

The flowering trees weren't quite as spectacular as the previous weekend, but they still looked great. And we saw some beautiful crab apple blossoms that I don't recall having spotted last weekend. The boys liked that the clusters of cherry flowers felt fluffy. And Tracey loved the lilacs. Matt took this picture of Tracey and me. I don't know what the purple-flowered trees in the background are, but they're not lilacs:

I took lots of pictures of koi at the Japanese garden:

And one picture of the koi fountain near the visitors center:

After we left the BBG, I jogged home from the Grand Army Plaza subway station and quickly walked and fed Emme and Rudy. Then I jogged to the 7th Avenue subway station so we could all take the Q to 14th Street.

Tracey wanted to have dinner at Max Brenner because one of David's co-workers had recommended it. Unfortunately, none of us liked our meal very much. The boys hardly touched their shared Happy Pizza Toast. I think the kids menu is atrocious. Variations on toast with potato chips and ketchup! Or cereal. Or a hot dog in a "secret roll cave." Michael recognized that that was a stupid way to describe a "bun." Tracey got Marinara Penne, which she could have made much better at home. And I got the Roasted Chicken, which tasted like Shake 'n Bake. The sides were seasoned potatoes, many of which were burnt, and mushy, tiny asparagus spears. Blargh!

For dessert, Tracey's Crunchy Chocolate & Peanut Butter Snack was enjoyable, but my Chocolate Fudge Brownie Cookie, at $6.50, was nothing to write home about. The boys literally had a "mess" for dessert, the Max's Palace Famous Chocolate Mess Party, which consisted of chocolate cake, chocolate sauce, ice cream, "chocolate rocks," whipped cream, toffee sauce, and strawberries. I'm almost getting a stomach ache right now writing about it.

And speaking of getting sick: I can't say for sure that the restaurant was the cause, but by Saturday morning, two of the four of us had vomited.

We made out better at the show. Tracey nearly fell down when she saw that the tickets were $61.50 apiece. That did seem pretty steep for a show mainly intended for kids. After the show, Matt said he thought it should have cost $40, and I said that sounded right to me. The boys get to do a whole lot more than Tracey and I ever did as kids, but I'm optimistic that they're learning to appreciate how much things cost—or should cost—and won't end up toooo spoiled. :)

Anyhow, the show was quite enjoyable. Bubble artist Ana Yang made loads of bubbles, including ones that slowly leaked smoke as they floated, a bubble tower that shimmied to the music, and a square bubble that seemed to defy the laws of physics. As we entered, the ushers said no flash photography or recording devices were allowed. I took that to mean we could take nonflash photographs but couldn't videotape the show for resale, which foiled my plan A. :) Now I see in the program that it says you're not supposed to take any photographs. I didn't take any pictures of the performer herself because I thought that seemed inappropriate, but I couldn't resist snapping this picture of Michael with my iPhone during the finale as a sea of bubbles passed over the audience. That's Matthew beyond him.

I'd joked before the show about how I intended to count the bubbles to make sure we got our money's worth and that they weren't lying about the gazillion part. Afterward, the boys said they counted one bubble short of a gazillion. Dammit! :)

The next morning, I took Matt and Mike to get bagels, and they chose peach Yogurt Drinks from Ronnybrook Farm Dairy as their beverages. They liked them so much that we took them to the farmers market to get more for the road.* We were going to visit the Treats Truck, too, but it wasn't where it should have been. Later, I saw on the Web site that she wasn't scheduled to be in Park Slope that day even though she'd been coming to Union Street for five Saturdays running. Please come back, treats lady!

I was sad to see the Gerbers go, but Tracey wasn't feeling so great and she wanted to head back to North Jersey. I want the Gerbers and the Hawleys to come back in June, when the roses will be in full bloom at the BBG and, let's hope, the Treats Truck will be back in the hood.

*One reason why the boys were so jazzed for the yogurt drinks is that my sister has started buying soy milk for them because she's decided industrially produced cow's milk is bad for them and they're not digging the soy stuff yet. How did Tracey come around to that way of thinking? Because of her brother, who used to be a part-time organic dairy goat farmer and who's been drinking soy milk since before the twins were born? No, because of celebrity author Marilu Henner, whom Tracey recently met through her involvement with her local library booster group. Sigh. After Tracey mentioned Henner's citing of an unbelievable increase in dairy production per cow that can't be good for the animals or for us, I told her I should lend her The Omnivore's Dilemma, so she could read more about the horror of industrial agriculture. I also lent her Heat, because I thought she'd get a kick out of it like I did.