I am officially annoyed.
Really, really annoyed.
Earlier today, as I was walking through the parking lot at work, I got the distinct impression that there was something stuck to the bottom of my shoe. A quick glance at the sole of my left shoe revealed a wad of yellow bubble gum.
I also noticed a small hole in the sole of that shoe. I guess I'll have to bring it to the cobbler to have it repaired. Not a big deal when you consider that this particular pair of shoes was just about due for its 24-month tune-up anyway.
What is a big deal, however, is the fact that in the United States, a supposedly "civilized" country, someone felt that he/she had the right to just dispose of his/her gum wherever he/she pleased, regardless of the consequences to innocent passers-by.
Looking at the sentence above, sometimes it's quite awkward to express things in a politically-correct, gender-neutral manner, what with all that he/she and his/her stuff. However, that's not nearly as awkward as trying to walk around with a huge wad of gum on your shoe.
This is just driving me nuts! Someone out there has absolutely no concern for anyone else, and feels that it is perfectly appropriate to walk around tossing sticky, already-been-chewed (ABC) gum everywhere. To make matters worse, this person is still out there, and likely to strike again!
I'm really thisclose to channeling my inner Charles Bronson and taking matters into my own hands. On second thought, it would take me forever to grow a moustache like that.
Rather than go the vigilante route, perhaps I will just write to my local politicians, seeking their assistance. Then again, considering that this incident happened in New Jersey, I'll probably have to deal with the politicians here. That's bound to be expensive.
Maybe, using this blog, I can start a grass-roots Internet movement to push for tougher gum control laws. These laws would include mandatory, minimum sentences for those who carelessly discard their gum in public places. If the affected individual (the one who eventually steps on the gum) is wearing a really good pair of shoes, the crime would rise to the felony level.
A final thought: Why aren't the liberals already all over this issue? Doesn't it mess up the environment when there's bubble gum all over the place? Aren't the animal activists worried that some animal will eat the discarded gum and get sick? Then again, considering that they not only roll around in feces on a regular basis, but also eat it, a little gum shouldn't do them much harm.
I'm referring to the animals, not the activists. Or, maybe I mean both.
Either way, this is a cause that people on every point of the political spectrum, in every economic class, should be able to rally around.
Remember, gum doesn't kill people. Stepping on it makes people want to kill people.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I Dub Thee "Sir Tax"
When FBB and I founded IcebergCarwash, our goal was to entertain and inform our readers, while creating a forum for our opinions on a wide variety of topics.
All right, let's do away with all of the mission statement gobbledygook, shall we?
IcebergCarwash is about one thing, and one thing only:
Profits.
The trouble is that after nearly ten months, we haven't generated one red cent from this blog.
We obviously need to make this blog profitable, but how?
We could move to a paid subscription model, but how would we be able to compete with the millions of free blogs out there?
We could sell advertising space on the blog, but that could eventually detract from the spirit of IcebergCarwash, thereby making our brand less valuable over the long run.
As a guy I used to work with often said, "We're in a real pickle here."
Fortunately, just when I was out of ideas, our heroes in Congress have come to the rescue, with their unique brand of ingenuity.
We've got two different solutions for generating revenues, while remaining a "free" blog:
(1) A blog surtax. We would never dream of charging a tax to users of the blog. It's out of the question. Adding a surcharge? That would be positively un-American. Instead, we'll add a "surtax." What's a surtax, you ask? It's a rather magical thing, actually. It's not a surcharge, or a fee, or a tax. It's entirely different. It's a surtax. Why, it even sounds cool. You people should feel proud to be bestowed with the privilege of paying such a marvelous thing.
(2) A Cap-and-Trade mechanism. This one is really neat. Just mentioning it makes me feel economically sophisticated. Everyone will be given a limited number of free visits to the site per month (a "cap"). Any visits above that number will be assessed with a fee. Here's the neat part: If you don't use all of your allotted free visits, you can trade them with other users who have already hit their monthly limits.
I know that many of you might think that the "cap-and-trade" mechanism is simply a hidden tax. However, I've been assured by Representative Henry Waxman (idiot-California), that your fears are greatly exaggerated, or imaginary, or both.
Please rest assured that FBB and I have no plans to unilaterally add either a surtax or a cap-and-trade plan without seeking input from our readers. After all, like the President, we are post-partisan consensus-builders. (We build consensus the same way we'd build a house. With a hammer). Your input is critical.
Please use the comments section of this blog to tell us how you feel about our proposed ideas. In order for us to make a proper assessment of the impact of our plans, while identifying and weeding out the opinions of any of the evil rich, we just need you to include the following, basic information with your comments:
* First Name
* Middle Initial
* Last Name
* Address
* Home phone number
* Cell phone number
* Primary e-mail address
* Secondary e-mail address
* Social Security number
* Credit Card number
* Credit Card expiration date
* Your mother's maiden name
With your help, IcebergCarwash can meet its ambitious goals, while remaining free.
All right, let's do away with all of the mission statement gobbledygook, shall we?
IcebergCarwash is about one thing, and one thing only:
Profits.
The trouble is that after nearly ten months, we haven't generated one red cent from this blog.
We obviously need to make this blog profitable, but how?
We could move to a paid subscription model, but how would we be able to compete with the millions of free blogs out there?
We could sell advertising space on the blog, but that could eventually detract from the spirit of IcebergCarwash, thereby making our brand less valuable over the long run.
As a guy I used to work with often said, "We're in a real pickle here."
Fortunately, just when I was out of ideas, our heroes in Congress have come to the rescue, with their unique brand of ingenuity.
We've got two different solutions for generating revenues, while remaining a "free" blog:
(1) A blog surtax. We would never dream of charging a tax to users of the blog. It's out of the question. Adding a surcharge? That would be positively un-American. Instead, we'll add a "surtax." What's a surtax, you ask? It's a rather magical thing, actually. It's not a surcharge, or a fee, or a tax. It's entirely different. It's a surtax. Why, it even sounds cool. You people should feel proud to be bestowed with the privilege of paying such a marvelous thing.
(2) A Cap-and-Trade mechanism. This one is really neat. Just mentioning it makes me feel economically sophisticated. Everyone will be given a limited number of free visits to the site per month (a "cap"). Any visits above that number will be assessed with a fee. Here's the neat part: If you don't use all of your allotted free visits, you can trade them with other users who have already hit their monthly limits.
I know that many of you might think that the "cap-and-trade" mechanism is simply a hidden tax. However, I've been assured by Representative Henry Waxman (idiot-California), that your fears are greatly exaggerated, or imaginary, or both.
Please rest assured that FBB and I have no plans to unilaterally add either a surtax or a cap-and-trade plan without seeking input from our readers. After all, like the President, we are post-partisan consensus-builders. (We build consensus the same way we'd build a house. With a hammer). Your input is critical.
Please use the comments section of this blog to tell us how you feel about our proposed ideas. In order for us to make a proper assessment of the impact of our plans, while identifying and weeding out the opinions of any of the evil rich, we just need you to include the following, basic information with your comments:
* First Name
* Middle Initial
* Last Name
* Address
* Home phone number
* Cell phone number
* Primary e-mail address
* Secondary e-mail address
* Social Security number
* Credit Card number
* Credit Card expiration date
* Your mother's maiden name
With your help, IcebergCarwash can meet its ambitious goals, while remaining free.
My Name is NOT Frank
Ever since IcebergCarwash's inception, the operators of this blog have been known as "MBB" and "FBB."
The reasoning behind the use of our nomes de blog is our desire to remain somewhat anonymous.
Unfortunately, FBB's recently published post (see below) has ripped away a large swath of the shroud of secrecy in which I am permanently wrapped.
Based on her post, here's what we now know about the heretofore mysterious MBB:
(1) The removal of the last letter of my first name "renders me a female."
(2) Once it gets late on Saturday night, I roam around my house, sans (street) clothing.
(3) I suddenly find myself with more than $300 in pocket money.
Hey, you don't think that information will attract any creeps around here on the weekend, do you?
The way I see it, I've got about 72 hours to witness a mob-related murder and gain admittance to the Federal Witness Protection Program.
I hope they send me somewhere nice.
The reasoning behind the use of our nomes de blog is our desire to remain somewhat anonymous.
Unfortunately, FBB's recently published post (see below) has ripped away a large swath of the shroud of secrecy in which I am permanently wrapped.
Based on her post, here's what we now know about the heretofore mysterious MBB:
(1) The removal of the last letter of my first name "renders me a female."
(2) Once it gets late on Saturday night, I roam around my house, sans (street) clothing.
(3) I suddenly find myself with more than $300 in pocket money.
Hey, you don't think that information will attract any creeps around here on the weekend, do you?
The way I see it, I've got about 72 hours to witness a mob-related murder and gain admittance to the Federal Witness Protection Program.
I hope they send me somewhere nice.
Who Knew?
A few months ago, February in fact, I got a phone call. Not an odd occurrence in the general sense, but this one was different. This was someone telling me I had unclaimed money, and did I want them to get for me. Being both skeptical, and fairly internet savvy, I asked "couldn't I do this myself?" and they said yes.
So I googled missing money, and found a website that you click on your State from the map of the US, and it links to States' Offices of Unclaimed funds, and I began my search. Apparently Horizon Health care got all confused when someone dropped the last letter of MBB's first name thus rendering him a female. This threw them off to the point that they could not send me my money, but instead sent it to the state of NY, even though the address was clearly listed. Hmmm, maybe Government SHOULD take over health care!
NY State has an excellent website, you can fill in the form online, and then print it out, requiring only a signature and a notary Public stamp/signature. So I printed out the form, and called my brother (the lawyer!!!), because he is a notary.
You know how it's good to have certain professions in the family? You would think that this would be one of them, but Mr. Must-Play-By-The-Rules, won't sign anything unless it was signed in front of him. That's all fine and good, but between his schedule and MBB's skepticism that this was worth anything more than 20 bucks, MBB did not think this warranted making an effort to go see my brother to get it signed. It wasn't getting done.
So I printed it out a few more times, because it got lost in the Bermuda Triangle that is my desk, and forgot about it, then remembered, then lost the paper, then printed it again, and forgot about it...until....
...my daughter's graduation party. I walked into the kitchen, and there was my niece, standing with someone I did not know. That's not always strange at a party, except that the party was in my house. Across the island from these two young ladies, was a man hunched over this stranger's paper, signing and using a stamp. Lo, and behold! Here was a notary, in my house!!! At the same time as MBB!!! What are the odds?
Well, pretty good actually that they'd be in the same house at the same time at this party, since the notary was, as noted above, my brother. (the odds that MBB was actual wearing STREET CLOTHES when in the house at the same time as my brother were significantly lower, since many of said brother's visits are late Saturday night). The odds that he had the notary stamp with him were pretty low too, but there it was! Luckily, I DID remember the umpteenth version of the Unclaimed Property Form, and got it signed. I then sealed it, and of course it took another 5 days to mail. Just because. That was June 15.
This morning I went to get mail, all excited because I was expecting some mail from my kids away at camp (When I spoke to them they told me they had written). Those letters were indeed there, as was a letter from the Comptroller of the State of New York.
Through all of this, we never knew how much money was involved. I assumed, for no reason at all, it was about $60, MBB thought less than $20.
We know now.
$321.26
How cool is that?
So I googled missing money, and found a website that you click on your State from the map of the US, and it links to States' Offices of Unclaimed funds, and I began my search. Apparently Horizon Health care got all confused when someone dropped the last letter of MBB's first name thus rendering him a female. This threw them off to the point that they could not send me my money, but instead sent it to the state of NY, even though the address was clearly listed. Hmmm, maybe Government SHOULD take over health care!
NY State has an excellent website, you can fill in the form online, and then print it out, requiring only a signature and a notary Public stamp/signature. So I printed out the form, and called my brother (the lawyer!!!), because he is a notary.
You know how it's good to have certain professions in the family? You would think that this would be one of them, but Mr. Must-Play-By-The-Rules, won't sign anything unless it was signed in front of him. That's all fine and good, but between his schedule and MBB's skepticism that this was worth anything more than 20 bucks, MBB did not think this warranted making an effort to go see my brother to get it signed. It wasn't getting done.
So I printed it out a few more times, because it got lost in the Bermuda Triangle that is my desk, and forgot about it, then remembered, then lost the paper, then printed it again, and forgot about it...until....
...my daughter's graduation party. I walked into the kitchen, and there was my niece, standing with someone I did not know. That's not always strange at a party, except that the party was in my house. Across the island from these two young ladies, was a man hunched over this stranger's paper, signing and using a stamp. Lo, and behold! Here was a notary, in my house!!! At the same time as MBB!!! What are the odds?
Well, pretty good actually that they'd be in the same house at the same time at this party, since the notary was, as noted above, my brother. (the odds that MBB was actual wearing STREET CLOTHES when in the house at the same time as my brother were significantly lower, since many of said brother's visits are late Saturday night). The odds that he had the notary stamp with him were pretty low too, but there it was! Luckily, I DID remember the umpteenth version of the Unclaimed Property Form, and got it signed. I then sealed it, and of course it took another 5 days to mail. Just because. That was June 15.
This morning I went to get mail, all excited because I was expecting some mail from my kids away at camp (When I spoke to them they told me they had written). Those letters were indeed there, as was a letter from the Comptroller of the State of New York.
Through all of this, we never knew how much money was involved. I assumed, for no reason at all, it was about $60, MBB thought less than $20.
We know now.
$321.26
How cool is that?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Beware of the Lurking Bear
Today, the stock market, as measured by the S&P 500, made a new high for the year. The S&P closed at 951.13, its highest close since November 5, 2008. Stocks were buoyed by news that commercial lender CIT Group, a critical source of funding for many small-to-mid size businesses, had arranged for $3 billion in additional financing from its bondholders, averting what only last week had seemed like certain bankruptcy. In addition, with the earnings reporting season for the second quarter having recently begun, there is a growing sense of optimism that corporate earnings might come in better than originally expected. (Of course, no one really knows for certain why the stock market went up or down, even after the fact, but we'll save that topic for another time).
The S&P 500 is now up 40.6% from its closing low of March 9th. After stagnating a bit from mid-June through mid-July, the market has resumed its recent upward trend, sporting a gain of 8.2% in the past six trading days alone.
Despite the rally, which is most welcome, I'm beginning to feel quite uneasy. For one thing, volume has been unconvincing. I learned a long time ago that relative volume is one of the most significant indicators in any major move, whether up or down. A big move, on strong volume, can indicate a longer-term shift in the market trend. On the other hand, a big move, on light volume, indicates that the market lacks conviction. When the move in question is upward, the light volume becomes a bearish indicator.
As to the recession itself, history implies that stocks are a "leading indicator," meaning that the stock market moves before the economy does. Therefore, for stocks to move upward as they have, while the economy is in difficult shape, is not a strange thing. If anything, it portends that positive economic news might be just over the horizon.
I remain unconvinced. I think that the risk to the economy now is not necessarily one of never-ending recession. Eventually, we will experience a couple of consecutive quarters of GDP growth, however faint, and the recession will officially be over. My primary concern is with the outlook for the recovery, which is unlikely to be robust, restrained by the employment picture. It's not just that unemployment is poised to shoot past 10% within the next month or two. There are two other employment-related statistics, which I find to be much more troubling than the "headline" unemployment number.
(1) The duration of unemployment: The average length of unemployment is now at 24.5 weeks. This is the longest since the government started tracking this data in 1948.
(2) The under-employment rate: In addition to those who are out of work, there are millions of people who are working part-time because they cannot find full-time work. When adding all of these people to the "core" unemployment number, the national "underemployment rate" is above 16%. That is a frighteningly large number.
It's going to take an awfully long time to put that many people back to work. Add to that the anticipated job-killing effects of all of the tax increases that the President and Congress seem intent upon delivering, and it begins to look like we might be facing something of a lost decade.
In the face of this, can the stock market rise further? Technically, yes. However, I'd bet on a pretty big pullback between now and Labor Day, as market participants begin to focus on the still-deteriorating economic fundamentals.
The S&P 500 is now up 40.6% from its closing low of March 9th. After stagnating a bit from mid-June through mid-July, the market has resumed its recent upward trend, sporting a gain of 8.2% in the past six trading days alone.
Despite the rally, which is most welcome, I'm beginning to feel quite uneasy. For one thing, volume has been unconvincing. I learned a long time ago that relative volume is one of the most significant indicators in any major move, whether up or down. A big move, on strong volume, can indicate a longer-term shift in the market trend. On the other hand, a big move, on light volume, indicates that the market lacks conviction. When the move in question is upward, the light volume becomes a bearish indicator.
As to the recession itself, history implies that stocks are a "leading indicator," meaning that the stock market moves before the economy does. Therefore, for stocks to move upward as they have, while the economy is in difficult shape, is not a strange thing. If anything, it portends that positive economic news might be just over the horizon.
I remain unconvinced. I think that the risk to the economy now is not necessarily one of never-ending recession. Eventually, we will experience a couple of consecutive quarters of GDP growth, however faint, and the recession will officially be over. My primary concern is with the outlook for the recovery, which is unlikely to be robust, restrained by the employment picture. It's not just that unemployment is poised to shoot past 10% within the next month or two. There are two other employment-related statistics, which I find to be much more troubling than the "headline" unemployment number.
(1) The duration of unemployment: The average length of unemployment is now at 24.5 weeks. This is the longest since the government started tracking this data in 1948.
(2) The under-employment rate: In addition to those who are out of work, there are millions of people who are working part-time because they cannot find full-time work. When adding all of these people to the "core" unemployment number, the national "underemployment rate" is above 16%. That is a frighteningly large number.
It's going to take an awfully long time to put that many people back to work. Add to that the anticipated job-killing effects of all of the tax increases that the President and Congress seem intent upon delivering, and it begins to look like we might be facing something of a lost decade.
In the face of this, can the stock market rise further? Technically, yes. However, I'd bet on a pretty big pullback between now and Labor Day, as market participants begin to focus on the still-deteriorating economic fundamentals.
We Didn't Really DO Anything
This Sunday, we tried something a little different. Its magnificence was matched by the enthusiasm of the kids, which was great. We decided to go to a small town, not far from us, on the banks of the Hudson, in the vicinity (across the river) from West Point.
We got to the town of Cold Spring, and walked down to the main pier, a huge square concrete area jutting into the Hudson. There's ample seating, old fashioned light poles, a parrot gun on display, and a beautiful a Gazebo at the head of it. We walked past all that, and continued to a grassy area that dipped lower to the water, so that if you were brave enough to traverse the jagged rocks lining the beach head, you could actually touch the water. The kids were brave. Off came the shoes and socks, and with much yelping, they put their feet in, excited as each speed boat, fishing boat, jet ski went by 500 feet away, sending waves crashing around their feet.
I don't know if they understood how gorgeous it was where we were. The mountains were on one side, the other side was dense trees with the occasional train rumbling through. The railroads have been such an integral part of the development of this country, and this area played a vital role during the American Revolution, that the trains seem apt here. They lend a certain air of history to a place where modern water craft are zooming by. Obviously, the trains are modern equipment, but it just seemed right.
Later we sat and had lunch in the shade on the grass:
Then we walked back to the pier and watched the boats and people fishing. The town of Cold Spring is quaint and picturesque, with great front porches, cafes, antique shops, and lots of people on the weekend. We window shopped, walked into a few antique stores, and crossed the street and headed back down towards the river. The area runs a trolley service (50 cents for adults, kids are free)which is a bus that's been converted to look like a trolley decorated outside with green and gold paint, and inside old fashioned wood slat benches, the legs wrought iron filigree. It's more of an on off type of trolley, but we just stayed on for the whole ride (less than 15 minutes) and my kids seemed to get a kick out of it.
Apparently, the driver of this trolley know nothing about the area, and a few times mentioned this to a couple who was on the bus with us. She said it nicely, ("I just drive the trolley, it's not really a tour") but I found it funny. Especially when they asked about a part of town that is considered the "main attraction" (a foundry museum), and she did not know what it was(just where it was).
We made our way back to the car, and started to make our way out of town. We passed a sign for Garrison's Landing, which we were later told was one of the locations where the movie Hello Dolly was shot. We went just to gaze at more beautiful vistas, and a great view of West Point:
I mentioned my affinity for trains. Right before we drove down the hill to Garrison's Landing we passed this:
And then got really lucky:
.
Back in the car, we once more started for home, but stopped on the shoulder just before the Bear Mountain Bridge, and walked across.
Well, mostly across. the oldest kid with us is 8 1/2 and they wanted to turn around halfway. From the bridge we saw another bridge across the mountains, and below it a pedestrian bridge so we decided to find it. It wasn't that hard, and we ended up at Fort Montgomery, where we headed down a steep rocky hill to get to this small bridge we could walk on in the shadow of the Bear Mountain Bridge:
It was just a glorious day, we had such a nice time.
Have I mentioned how much I like the summer?
We got to the town of Cold Spring, and walked down to the main pier, a huge square concrete area jutting into the Hudson. There's ample seating, old fashioned light poles, a parrot gun on display, and a beautiful a Gazebo at the head of it. We walked past all that, and continued to a grassy area that dipped lower to the water, so that if you were brave enough to traverse the jagged rocks lining the beach head, you could actually touch the water. The kids were brave. Off came the shoes and socks, and with much yelping, they put their feet in, excited as each speed boat, fishing boat, jet ski went by 500 feet away, sending waves crashing around their feet.
I don't know if they understood how gorgeous it was where we were. The mountains were on one side, the other side was dense trees with the occasional train rumbling through. The railroads have been such an integral part of the development of this country, and this area played a vital role during the American Revolution, that the trains seem apt here. They lend a certain air of history to a place where modern water craft are zooming by. Obviously, the trains are modern equipment, but it just seemed right.
Later we sat and had lunch in the shade on the grass:
Then we walked back to the pier and watched the boats and people fishing. The town of Cold Spring is quaint and picturesque, with great front porches, cafes, antique shops, and lots of people on the weekend. We window shopped, walked into a few antique stores, and crossed the street and headed back down towards the river. The area runs a trolley service (50 cents for adults, kids are free)which is a bus that's been converted to look like a trolley decorated outside with green and gold paint, and inside old fashioned wood slat benches, the legs wrought iron filigree. It's more of an on off type of trolley, but we just stayed on for the whole ride (less than 15 minutes) and my kids seemed to get a kick out of it.
Apparently, the driver of this trolley know nothing about the area, and a few times mentioned this to a couple who was on the bus with us. She said it nicely, ("I just drive the trolley, it's not really a tour") but I found it funny. Especially when they asked about a part of town that is considered the "main attraction" (a foundry museum), and she did not know what it was(just where it was).
We made our way back to the car, and started to make our way out of town. We passed a sign for Garrison's Landing, which we were later told was one of the locations where the movie Hello Dolly was shot. We went just to gaze at more beautiful vistas, and a great view of West Point:
I mentioned my affinity for trains. Right before we drove down the hill to Garrison's Landing we passed this:
And then got really lucky:
.Back in the car, we once more started for home, but stopped on the shoulder just before the Bear Mountain Bridge, and walked across.
Well, mostly across. the oldest kid with us is 8 1/2 and they wanted to turn around halfway. From the bridge we saw another bridge across the mountains, and below it a pedestrian bridge so we decided to find it. It wasn't that hard, and we ended up at Fort Montgomery, where we headed down a steep rocky hill to get to this small bridge we could walk on in the shadow of the Bear Mountain Bridge:
It was just a glorious day, we had such a nice time.
Have I mentioned how much I like the summer?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
I'd See Him Again
MBB and I went out last night. We haven't been out on a real date "out" for a few months, so it was really nice. We got out of Dodge, which automatically makes it special, and met up in Manhattan. It was a gloriously cool summer evening on the East Side of Manhattan. The neighborhood was pretty, the restaurant was pretty, all the ducks were in a row for a great night out. I ordered a drink, watched the bartender muddle the mint (what's up with the processed lemon juice? I want real limes in my mojito!!)garnish and serve. Delicious.
I should have cut my losses right there. Maybe that's not really fair. The food was decent, the appetizers and sides, anyway. Not great, just decent. There was no moment of "WOW!" when I took a bite, and really someone in the kitchen needs to lay off the cilantro a little. And why weren't the potatoes spiced AT ALL? And why were all the sauces from one dish spiced the EXACT same way? A little imagination and diversity goes a long way in a meal.
I just have an issue with a pricey place (see: "been a few months", above)with lousy meat. I mean, for what they charge, and how they bill themselves, I ask "Where's the Beef?" Really, you're going to charge that, and you don't blow me away with your culinary ability, or awe me with the cuts and flavorful nature of your main dish?
I'm a decent cook, but when I go out I don't want to eat something that I think I could make better. No matter WHAT the price. Hey, I'll buy macaroni and cheese if it tastes yummier than the way I'll put it together. Sometimes it's just worth it. This, sadly was not. This is the second time this has happened to us. A few years ago we went to a different place...also on the East Side...hmmm, that greatly disappointed us. Back then we had a 10% off coupon, and a recommendation from a friend ,so we went there. The funny thing? We got a coupon at the end of this meal for 10% off the next time, because we patronized them in these tough economic times. Might as well have given us a nice piece of card stock that said "SUCKERS!!!"
The shame is we do have a few restaurants we really love, but opted to "try some place new for us." Well, you live and learn. It could have easily turned out fantastic.
It took an hour to get onto the highway because of all the construction on Second Avenue, but all in all? We had a great time.
I guess it's not about the food after all.
I should have cut my losses right there. Maybe that's not really fair. The food was decent, the appetizers and sides, anyway. Not great, just decent. There was no moment of "WOW!" when I took a bite, and really someone in the kitchen needs to lay off the cilantro a little. And why weren't the potatoes spiced AT ALL? And why were all the sauces from one dish spiced the EXACT same way? A little imagination and diversity goes a long way in a meal.
I just have an issue with a pricey place (see: "been a few months", above)with lousy meat. I mean, for what they charge, and how they bill themselves, I ask "Where's the Beef?" Really, you're going to charge that, and you don't blow me away with your culinary ability, or awe me with the cuts and flavorful nature of your main dish?
I'm a decent cook, but when I go out I don't want to eat something that I think I could make better. No matter WHAT the price. Hey, I'll buy macaroni and cheese if it tastes yummier than the way I'll put it together. Sometimes it's just worth it. This, sadly was not. This is the second time this has happened to us. A few years ago we went to a different place...also on the East Side...hmmm, that greatly disappointed us. Back then we had a 10% off coupon, and a recommendation from a friend ,so we went there. The funny thing? We got a coupon at the end of this meal for 10% off the next time, because we patronized them in these tough economic times. Might as well have given us a nice piece of card stock that said "SUCKERS!!!"
The shame is we do have a few restaurants we really love, but opted to "try some place new for us." Well, you live and learn. It could have easily turned out fantastic.
It took an hour to get onto the highway because of all the construction on Second Avenue, but all in all? We had a great time.
I guess it's not about the food after all.
Monday, July 13, 2009
We'd Like To Thank......
We've recently been awarded the "BLOG DE OURO 
By a fun blog Guess Who's Coming To Dinner. This honor is both unexpected and appreciated in the young life of our blog. I feel like Marisa Tomei at the 1992 Oscars, beating out all the veteran actresses, most twice her age.
By accepting this award we and all recipients are duty bound to:
1)Show the award in your blog.
2)Link back to the blog that tagged you.
3)Pass on the award to 8 blogs that you love. (Since this award has been around for a while feel free to pass it to as many or as few as you want.)
4)Inform the bloggers that they have been awarded.
Hmmm. Now I need to award a blog that would appreciate being awarded. I guess I'd go with:
The Good Doctor
This Blog, Cross-Currents, is not really going to play this game, but it's a great read, and worth bookmarking.
Thanks you again, and thanks to all our readers. Even though most of you never comment.
By a fun blog Guess Who's Coming To Dinner. This honor is both unexpected and appreciated in the young life of our blog. I feel like Marisa Tomei at the 1992 Oscars, beating out all the veteran actresses, most twice her age.
By accepting this award we and all recipients are duty bound to:
1)Show the award in your blog.
2)Link back to the blog that tagged you.
3)Pass on the award to 8 blogs that you love. (Since this award has been around for a while feel free to pass it to as many or as few as you want.)
4)Inform the bloggers that they have been awarded.
Hmmm. Now I need to award a blog that would appreciate being awarded. I guess I'd go with:
The Good Doctor
This Blog, Cross-Currents, is not really going to play this game, but it's a great read, and worth bookmarking.
Thanks you again, and thanks to all our readers. Even though most of you never comment.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Visiting Day
Today is the day. The day we make the trek to see our darling children who left our home a mere 11 days ago. Today is the day we tip the counselors, buy sodas and ice cream, take a quick trip off camp, and ooh and ahh at the girls' beds. Frankly, MBB had it right when he asked the kids "Hey, how come your stuff doesn't look this neat at home?"
We get the whole to-do about how the bunk NEVER looks like this, and you can't IMAGINE what it looks when it's not visiting day. This does not thrill me, because then they come home and I expect them to clean their room and make their beds,and they expect a point system connected to some odd line-up song devoted to cliched rhymes with the words "bunk" and "spunk," "great" and "top rate," definitely in the lyrics.
The camp they're in is really nice. I just have one complaint. Th staff members who tauntingly ride around in their golf carts, while the rest of us have to walk the whole campus. It's not just that they ride around, NO, despite lots of little people (think Cheese-Eater size) running around, they are ZOOMING around. Granted a golf cart can't go very fast, but when you're walking on what seems to be a pedestrian path with a bunch of little kids, it's amazing how fast those things seem to go. Of course it does not engender much confidence that some of the drivers seem to be straining to reach the pedals, and are taunted by their equally young friends that their driving is...pathetic. Oh joy.
So the big discussion on the way up to camp is always...the traffic on the way home. Not being denizens of the city, we cut our trip by half. That doesn't mean we get away Scot-free. This year we chose to take a route that took us 30 miles out of the way to avoid bumper to bumper traffic on the main highway that was down to one lane for a few miles, due to construction. I love listening to people complain about this, they take it so personally. As if the powers that be PURPOSELY are doing construction just to disrupt people's summer Sunday evenings. In a perfect world, construction would be done during a blizzard, when no one is on the road, and finished in six hours. In the real world of unions, construction, rain, etc, construction, major construction, tends to take a looooong time.
So a trip that takes an hour forty in the morning, with NO traffic at all, takes 2 1/2 hours on the way home. There's no way it will ever take one forty on the way home, and the amount of time it took, is the amount that it has typically taken over the years, just this year we did not sit in traffic. I'd always rather drive than sit, especially since the minute we hit traffic the kids just start fighting. It's really weird. It probably has to do with the scenery not changing, no cows, RVs, horses, or motorcycles to look for. The stuff around you is going to be there for a long time, so you might as well look at your sibling, and see how you can rearrange facets of her being for your own amusement.
A few years ago we started taking dinner sandwiches in a cooler for the kids on the way home. This has made getting home much more pleasant. No leftovers to heat up, no lines to stand in at a takeout place, packed with all the people headed into the city who got off the Thruway for dinner and to "wait it out" a little. Nope, we just throw 'em in the shower, play a game, and send them to bed.
Why am I recounting this whole thing? It sounds like a schlep, it seems like a pain in the neck. Indeed it does. And yet, the kids love to show us everything. Year after year, I really believe they like it that we see THEIR place. They spend four weeks there. In the life of a kid, that's a long time to be so disconnected from parents. There are some people who prefer not to deal with the traffic and the crowds, and because we live close enough, they send a van to pick up their kids, and just bring them home for the day. That's not for me. For as long as they have visiting day, and as long as my kids are in camp, I will do my darnedest to GO see them.
So until next year, when we make the trip again, excited to see our kids, and just so grateful that they are having the time of their lives.
We get the whole to-do about how the bunk NEVER looks like this, and you can't IMAGINE what it looks when it's not visiting day. This does not thrill me, because then they come home and I expect them to clean their room and make their beds,and they expect a point system connected to some odd line-up song devoted to cliched rhymes with the words "bunk" and "spunk," "great" and "top rate," definitely in the lyrics.
The camp they're in is really nice. I just have one complaint. Th staff members who tauntingly ride around in their golf carts, while the rest of us have to walk the whole campus. It's not just that they ride around, NO, despite lots of little people (think Cheese-Eater size) running around, they are ZOOMING around. Granted a golf cart can't go very fast, but when you're walking on what seems to be a pedestrian path with a bunch of little kids, it's amazing how fast those things seem to go. Of course it does not engender much confidence that some of the drivers seem to be straining to reach the pedals, and are taunted by their equally young friends that their driving is...pathetic. Oh joy.
So the big discussion on the way up to camp is always...the traffic on the way home. Not being denizens of the city, we cut our trip by half. That doesn't mean we get away Scot-free. This year we chose to take a route that took us 30 miles out of the way to avoid bumper to bumper traffic on the main highway that was down to one lane for a few miles, due to construction. I love listening to people complain about this, they take it so personally. As if the powers that be PURPOSELY are doing construction just to disrupt people's summer Sunday evenings. In a perfect world, construction would be done during a blizzard, when no one is on the road, and finished in six hours. In the real world of unions, construction, rain, etc, construction, major construction, tends to take a looooong time.
So a trip that takes an hour forty in the morning, with NO traffic at all, takes 2 1/2 hours on the way home. There's no way it will ever take one forty on the way home, and the amount of time it took, is the amount that it has typically taken over the years, just this year we did not sit in traffic. I'd always rather drive than sit, especially since the minute we hit traffic the kids just start fighting. It's really weird. It probably has to do with the scenery not changing, no cows, RVs, horses, or motorcycles to look for. The stuff around you is going to be there for a long time, so you might as well look at your sibling, and see how you can rearrange facets of her being for your own amusement.
A few years ago we started taking dinner sandwiches in a cooler for the kids on the way home. This has made getting home much more pleasant. No leftovers to heat up, no lines to stand in at a takeout place, packed with all the people headed into the city who got off the Thruway for dinner and to "wait it out" a little. Nope, we just throw 'em in the shower, play a game, and send them to bed.
Why am I recounting this whole thing? It sounds like a schlep, it seems like a pain in the neck. Indeed it does. And yet, the kids love to show us everything. Year after year, I really believe they like it that we see THEIR place. They spend four weeks there. In the life of a kid, that's a long time to be so disconnected from parents. There are some people who prefer not to deal with the traffic and the crowds, and because we live close enough, they send a van to pick up their kids, and just bring them home for the day. That's not for me. For as long as they have visiting day, and as long as my kids are in camp, I will do my darnedest to GO see them.
So until next year, when we make the trip again, excited to see our kids, and just so grateful that they are having the time of their lives.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Off the Wall in L.A.
Ah, technology.
I'm composing this post on my Blackberry, while riding in the back of a cab in Los Angeles. We're on the Santa Monica Freeway, if you must know.
The weather, as they would say in Brooklyn, is byooteeful.
However, despite the climate, there is a real sense of foreboding in the city. Tomorrow, Los Angeles will have the "privilege" of hosting the memorial service for Michael Jackson. The event will be held downtown, at the Staples Center, an arena best known as the home of the Los Angeles Lakers. The problem is that while the arena can accomodate about 20,000 fans, some ONE MILLION people are expected to show up. Doing some simple math, it seems that only 2% of the anticipated visitors have tickets, while the remainder will be told to "Beat It."
While we're at it, here's another equation for you:
Large, potentially unruly crowd + L.A.P.D. = A whole lotta beatdowns.
Earlier today, I caught a few seconds of Larry King's show, during which he asked his guests whether or not they felt that the Jackson memorial service could turn into a "major calamity."
I'm well aware of the fact that Larry King is senile. However, his question triggered one of my "Inalienable Laws for Living and Thriving on This Planet."
"When a man who has been married 7 times refers to something as a potential 'calamity,' it's time to run for cover."
(That's one of the great things about IcebergCarwash. You swing by on your way to some other site, and by the time you leave, you feel as though you've had a private audience with Confucious).
From my perspective, I feel like I'm trapped in one of those cheesy disaster movies, where the storm-of-the-millenium is bearing down on the town, and everyone just hopes they can get out in time. Everything is nice and calm now, but in 12 hours or so, things will be totally wacky. My flight back to New York is scheduled to leave at 7:30 tomorrow morning, which means that I should be out of the Pacific time zone before this ridiculous event is scheduled to begin. It will be good to leave the craziness behind.
I'm composing this post on my Blackberry, while riding in the back of a cab in Los Angeles. We're on the Santa Monica Freeway, if you must know.
The weather, as they would say in Brooklyn, is byooteeful.
However, despite the climate, there is a real sense of foreboding in the city. Tomorrow, Los Angeles will have the "privilege" of hosting the memorial service for Michael Jackson. The event will be held downtown, at the Staples Center, an arena best known as the home of the Los Angeles Lakers. The problem is that while the arena can accomodate about 20,000 fans, some ONE MILLION people are expected to show up. Doing some simple math, it seems that only 2% of the anticipated visitors have tickets, while the remainder will be told to "Beat It."
While we're at it, here's another equation for you:
Large, potentially unruly crowd + L.A.P.D. = A whole lotta beatdowns.
Earlier today, I caught a few seconds of Larry King's show, during which he asked his guests whether or not they felt that the Jackson memorial service could turn into a "major calamity."
I'm well aware of the fact that Larry King is senile. However, his question triggered one of my "Inalienable Laws for Living and Thriving on This Planet."
"When a man who has been married 7 times refers to something as a potential 'calamity,' it's time to run for cover."
(That's one of the great things about IcebergCarwash. You swing by on your way to some other site, and by the time you leave, you feel as though you've had a private audience with Confucious).
From my perspective, I feel like I'm trapped in one of those cheesy disaster movies, where the storm-of-the-millenium is bearing down on the town, and everyone just hopes they can get out in time. Everything is nice and calm now, but in 12 hours or so, things will be totally wacky. My flight back to New York is scheduled to leave at 7:30 tomorrow morning, which means that I should be out of the Pacific time zone before this ridiculous event is scheduled to begin. It will be good to leave the craziness behind.
Days Of.....
I'm sure it's becoming abundantly clear, I love the summer. No, that does not mean that for the next seven weeks this will be all summer all the time, but it could take up a good chunk of our little dot on the web. Mostly, because things are different in the summer, the schedule changes, and we move outside of our normal activities, so there's certainly more to talk about. Seriously, who wants to hear about homework, supper, bath time, bed time, laundry everyday? Not me. That's what the summer is. A break from routine.
A few years ago, as the summer started I was hanging out outside with a few of my friends, and one woman piped up "If we were in a bungalow colony, we could do this everyday!" Another woman responded "Ladies, a bungalow colony is a state of mind." I took that very to heart, and I try to have laid back summers (I still thank her every time I see her in the summer, and remind her how her statement changed my summers for the better). We have it easy too, since half the kids go away for four weeks, these first four weeks become a total change from reality. The oldest kid home is 8 1/2, and it is so easy to make everyday special. If we just stay out an extra half an hour doing...anything, the day was special.
Then there are the days when we really do special things. Like walking 2 and half miles to a friend who doesn't know we're coming on a stunning day. Being the good friend that she is, we stayed for dinner, which was served on the deck, until it got to cool to sit outside. It being the 4th of July, we got a double bonus of a real illegal fireworks show (I mean REAL fireworks) one of her neighbors was shooting off in the schoolyard nearby. Her lawn was the perfect viewing area. Apparently, we live in the wrong neighborhood, because my friend also had some illegal fireworks (courtesy of Pennsylvania), though not anything that shot up in the air. They lit them up for us, and we had a marvelous 4th of July, completely unplanned. It all just came together.
Yesterday, we thought , let's do something fun for these little kids. We decided to go to the Crayola crayon factory in Easton, PA. As we were getting ready, and I was listening to the weather, I decided I was crazy. Why would we go indoors, on one of the most beautiful days this summer? So, we decided to go to Bushkill Falls, in Bushkill, PA. Man,if I lived there, I'd move out on the weekends in the summer. There are a few traffic lights in town that just back up so badly, it took us 40 minutes to drive 12 miles. I know for those of you in New York City that's not that odd, but things don't go that way normally in rural areas. This place has been around a long time, you would think they'd get some cops out there for traffic control or something.
It really didn't ruin the trip at all. The kids were behaving, and the falls were gorgeous. There are some hard trails, which we did not do, because of the age of most of party. MBB did need to carry the Cheese Eater in spots, but mostly she trooped a long. The trails are pretty much carved out, some with gravel, some with wood planking, and some just natural. Obviously all the steps are man made, but this was perfect for us, and I'm really glad we chose to be outdoors.
They offered paddle boating on premises, but after all those steps to see the breathtaking falls, we passed on that and stopped at a roadside bumper boat place instead. It's good my car isn't neat, because I had a towel, and an extra t shirt in the car, so the "big" one could take off her SOAKING wet clothing. How'd she get that wet in bumper boats? The pond the bumper boats was in had a fountain in the middle. A fountain she drove to, and sat under! For the rest of the summer, if we go anywhere I plan to take a long a change of clothing. Half the fun is stopping when you find something. They had such a great time, we finished the night with dinner at....Carvel.
I love the summer.
A few years ago, as the summer started I was hanging out outside with a few of my friends, and one woman piped up "If we were in a bungalow colony, we could do this everyday!" Another woman responded "Ladies, a bungalow colony is a state of mind." I took that very to heart, and I try to have laid back summers (I still thank her every time I see her in the summer, and remind her how her statement changed my summers for the better). We have it easy too, since half the kids go away for four weeks, these first four weeks become a total change from reality. The oldest kid home is 8 1/2, and it is so easy to make everyday special. If we just stay out an extra half an hour doing...anything, the day was special.
Then there are the days when we really do special things. Like walking 2 and half miles to a friend who doesn't know we're coming on a stunning day. Being the good friend that she is, we stayed for dinner, which was served on the deck, until it got to cool to sit outside. It being the 4th of July, we got a double bonus of a real illegal fireworks show (I mean REAL fireworks) one of her neighbors was shooting off in the schoolyard nearby. Her lawn was the perfect viewing area. Apparently, we live in the wrong neighborhood, because my friend also had some illegal fireworks (courtesy of Pennsylvania), though not anything that shot up in the air. They lit them up for us, and we had a marvelous 4th of July, completely unplanned. It all just came together.
Yesterday, we thought , let's do something fun for these little kids. We decided to go to the Crayola crayon factory in Easton, PA. As we were getting ready, and I was listening to the weather, I decided I was crazy. Why would we go indoors, on one of the most beautiful days this summer? So, we decided to go to Bushkill Falls, in Bushkill, PA. Man,if I lived there, I'd move out on the weekends in the summer. There are a few traffic lights in town that just back up so badly, it took us 40 minutes to drive 12 miles. I know for those of you in New York City that's not that odd, but things don't go that way normally in rural areas. This place has been around a long time, you would think they'd get some cops out there for traffic control or something.
It really didn't ruin the trip at all. The kids were behaving, and the falls were gorgeous. There are some hard trails, which we did not do, because of the age of most of party. MBB did need to carry the Cheese Eater in spots, but mostly she trooped a long. The trails are pretty much carved out, some with gravel, some with wood planking, and some just natural. Obviously all the steps are man made, but this was perfect for us, and I'm really glad we chose to be outdoors.
They offered paddle boating on premises, but after all those steps to see the breathtaking falls, we passed on that and stopped at a roadside bumper boat place instead. It's good my car isn't neat, because I had a towel, and an extra t shirt in the car, so the "big" one could take off her SOAKING wet clothing. How'd she get that wet in bumper boats? The pond the bumper boats was in had a fountain in the middle. A fountain she drove to, and sat under! For the rest of the summer, if we go anywhere I plan to take a long a change of clothing. Half the fun is stopping when you find something. They had such a great time, we finished the night with dinner at....Carvel.
I love the summer.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
A Pile of Summer Memories
In the previous post, FBB very eloquently described some of the signs of summer's onset. Allow me to add my 1.94 yen.
For me, summer doesn't begin when school ends, when camp begins, on Memorial Day, or on June 21st. Summer begins when the horses show up.
A couple of miles from my house, right near the New York/New Jersey border, there's a large day camp.In front of the camp, right off the road I travel most days on the way to work, is a holding area for a few ponies. As the month of June progresses, the pen is spruced up, and the fences are given a fresh coat of white paint. When the horses appear, you know that the camp is about to open, and that summer has truly arrived. The horses showed up in the middle of last week, meaning that we're now a few days into summer.
The fact that this camp has horses on the premises daily probably means that the place caters to children-of-privilege (COPs). By contrast, the summer camp I attended as a kid never had any horses.
Except, that is, for that one time, when they "broke out" colorwar.
The summer camp I attended was run by a not-for-profit organization. It was a boys-only camp, with a separate camp, for girls, a few miles down the road. (Or, as a wiseacre counselor of mine once put it, "It's a special camp. For ugly girls.")
Now, this organization wasn't exactly what you'd call "well-funded," so there wasn't much of a budget for extraneous things, like colorwar break-outs. Whatever budget there was would typically be consumed by the girls' camp, which would often stage very elaborate breakouts. Perhaps they did so to boost their flagging self-esteem. I'm not really sure.
Here are some of the things that were featured in the girls' camp's colorwar break-outs over the years:
* A Lamborghini
* An elephant
* The cast of Cirque de Soleil
* The 7th Infantry Division of the U.S. Army
* A helicopter
* Fireworks
* A Led Zeppelin reunion concert
* Big Foot
* Every police officer and fireman from within a 25-mile radius
The break-out itself was always very dramatic and frighteningly realistic. It typically resulted in dozens of girls crying for hours on end. In other words, it was much like the average day in camp.
Meanwhile, in our camp, we usually had to settle for something like a crazy, homeless-looking guy running around spitting on people. Then, the head counselor would appear on the scene, and berate the crazy guy by saying something like, "Hey, stop that. You can't spit on people during colorwar, don't you know?"
My friends and I would watch these pitiful scenes unfold, shake our heads, and shuffle off to the canteen to eat twin pops. In other words, it was much like the average day in camp.
Well, one year, for reasons that are still not entirely clear to me, they decided to throw us boys a colorwar breakout bone.
One day, we returned from a trip to see a couple of horses hanging around in the meadow in front of camp. No one knew how they got there. We just figured that they were a couple of strays from one of the local farms. We didn't think about it too much.
A couple of days later, the camp was in the dining room, finishing lunch. Suddenly, the side doors of the dinning room opened, and there was this guy, sitting on one of the horses. The guy was holding a sign in his hands that said "Colorwar."
In terms of drama, it wasn't much of a break-out. But, it involved a real, live horse!
So, it was pretty cool.
What happened next has become the stuff of legend.
Perhaps the horse was excited/nervous at the sights and sounds of more than 300 cheering boys.Or, because, well, he was a horse, and that's what they do, the horse proceeded to evacuate his bowels, right there on the steps leading into the dining room.
Bedlam erupted in the dining room, with kids laughing, shrieking and pointing at the sight. The counselors vainly attmepted to get their youthful charges to settle down, while the head counselor furiously blew his whistle, trying to restore order after a colorwar break-out that had gone horribly (and disgustingly) awry.
For me, it was a memorable moment, and proof that sometimes, magical things do actually happen.
I don't remember anything about the ensuing colorwar.
I don't remember the teams' colors.
I can't recall the teams' names.
I no longer have any idea who the generals were.
I don't remember whether or not the teams' various "songs" represented a felonious assault on the English language. (Although I'd say it's a pretty good bet that they did).
I don't even remember if my team won or lost.
But, for as long as I live, I'll remember how that horse let it rip at the dining room door.
So here's to summer.
Enjoy it, everyone.
For me, summer doesn't begin when school ends, when camp begins, on Memorial Day, or on June 21st. Summer begins when the horses show up.
A couple of miles from my house, right near the New York/New Jersey border, there's a large day camp.In front of the camp, right off the road I travel most days on the way to work, is a holding area for a few ponies. As the month of June progresses, the pen is spruced up, and the fences are given a fresh coat of white paint. When the horses appear, you know that the camp is about to open, and that summer has truly arrived. The horses showed up in the middle of last week, meaning that we're now a few days into summer.
The fact that this camp has horses on the premises daily probably means that the place caters to children-of-privilege (COPs). By contrast, the summer camp I attended as a kid never had any horses.
Except, that is, for that one time, when they "broke out" colorwar.
The summer camp I attended was run by a not-for-profit organization. It was a boys-only camp, with a separate camp, for girls, a few miles down the road. (Or, as a wiseacre counselor of mine once put it, "It's a special camp. For ugly girls.")
Now, this organization wasn't exactly what you'd call "well-funded," so there wasn't much of a budget for extraneous things, like colorwar break-outs. Whatever budget there was would typically be consumed by the girls' camp, which would often stage very elaborate breakouts. Perhaps they did so to boost their flagging self-esteem. I'm not really sure.
Here are some of the things that were featured in the girls' camp's colorwar break-outs over the years:
* A Lamborghini
* An elephant
* The cast of Cirque de Soleil
* The 7th Infantry Division of the U.S. Army
* A helicopter
* Fireworks
* A Led Zeppelin reunion concert
* Big Foot
* Every police officer and fireman from within a 25-mile radius
The break-out itself was always very dramatic and frighteningly realistic. It typically resulted in dozens of girls crying for hours on end. In other words, it was much like the average day in camp.
Meanwhile, in our camp, we usually had to settle for something like a crazy, homeless-looking guy running around spitting on people. Then, the head counselor would appear on the scene, and berate the crazy guy by saying something like, "Hey, stop that. You can't spit on people during colorwar, don't you know?"
My friends and I would watch these pitiful scenes unfold, shake our heads, and shuffle off to the canteen to eat twin pops. In other words, it was much like the average day in camp.
Well, one year, for reasons that are still not entirely clear to me, they decided to throw us boys a colorwar breakout bone.
One day, we returned from a trip to see a couple of horses hanging around in the meadow in front of camp. No one knew how they got there. We just figured that they were a couple of strays from one of the local farms. We didn't think about it too much.
A couple of days later, the camp was in the dining room, finishing lunch. Suddenly, the side doors of the dinning room opened, and there was this guy, sitting on one of the horses. The guy was holding a sign in his hands that said "Colorwar."
In terms of drama, it wasn't much of a break-out. But, it involved a real, live horse!
So, it was pretty cool.
What happened next has become the stuff of legend.
Perhaps the horse was excited/nervous at the sights and sounds of more than 300 cheering boys.Or, because, well, he was a horse, and that's what they do, the horse proceeded to evacuate his bowels, right there on the steps leading into the dining room.
Bedlam erupted in the dining room, with kids laughing, shrieking and pointing at the sight. The counselors vainly attmepted to get their youthful charges to settle down, while the head counselor furiously blew his whistle, trying to restore order after a colorwar break-out that had gone horribly (and disgustingly) awry.
For me, it was a memorable moment, and proof that sometimes, magical things do actually happen.
I don't remember anything about the ensuing colorwar.
I don't remember the teams' colors.
I can't recall the teams' names.
I no longer have any idea who the generals were.
I don't remember whether or not the teams' various "songs" represented a felonious assault on the English language. (Although I'd say it's a pretty good bet that they did).
I don't even remember if my team won or lost.
But, for as long as I live, I'll remember how that horse let it rip at the dining room door.
So here's to summer.
Enjoy it, everyone.
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