Rhinebeck

To my dismay, I was not invited to Chelsea's wedding. However, I have spent time in Rhinebeck, although its been almost 30 years. It was there, one beautiful early fall day, that I got picked up hitchhiking by Barney Martin, the actor who played Jerry's father on Seinfeld. He was a friendly resident of that quaint town.

There was a great old timey smoke shop on the corner of Route 9 and East Market, the town's main street. There we'd buy the great papers of the day; The Poughkeepsie Journal, The Middletown Times Herald-Record, The Kingston Freeman and, on the occasional Sunday, The New York Times. I also frequented the breakfast joint across the street, which is probably long gone. The patisserie, or whatever has replaced it, is doing a bang up business as I write.

I never hung at The Astor Courts but I do remember having a few beers on the lawn of The Vanderbilt Mansion a few miles south. There's a lot of history in the area. New York's original capital, Kingston, was across the Hudson. It was in that city's old Rondout neighborhood that I lived for the majority of the time I spent there. It had been gutted by urban renewal but was on the comeback trail in the early 80s. Per Wikipedia, it "is home to a large number of art galleries." I guess they had to wait until I split for it to really take off.

That's all folks. I need to hit the SLA and I got stuff to do today. Learn to embrace the mediocre post.

Love Has No Pride

is a great tune, written by Eric Kaz and Libby Titus, covered by Linda Rondstadt and Bonnie Raitt, among others. Most of you are probably not familiar with it. That is because you are heathens. It opens thusly:

I've had bad dreams too many times,
to think that they don't mean much any more

So what the hell does that have to do with anything DJ? I'll tell ya!

I had a bad dream earlier this week. I ended up kicking my wife. In the dream, I was trying to kick a zombie in the face. What's the difference, you ask? Oh, gentle readers, she's not going to appreciate your sardonic inquiries.

My Beautiful CPAP

Back when I used to go to movies, a single and aimless young man, I caught a flick called My Beautiful Launderette. I recall enjoying it. The details escape me but that title has always stuck with me. Gosh, I hope that clears things up somewhat.

Tuesday night I had my first decent night's sleep in several days. I came home from a trip to Portland Friday 7/9 and left the CPAP in The Banker's car when he dropped me at PDX. He caught the error and called me, but I was half way through the security line and blew it off since my wife would be able to pick it up in Seattle. Never again! I've arrived at the age that requires medical devices to be hooked up to me on a daily basis. I could drop 20 lbs., get my tonsils removed and stop drinking, but that seems radical. When I got home, I sent a note out to my village friends because I thought there was a loaner CPAP floating around Foster City, but I found out #2 has adopted it as his own.

I was in Portland for The End of the Trail tournament with my daughter. This is the fourth straight, and final, year we attended this event. She played hoops and I watched. A lot of college coaches were there. They even got their own special section to sit in. I had a good time hanging out with the parents, i.e. The Banker, Maverick and The Iceman. You'll have to reference my 7/13/08 blog to find those last two characters. However, as with all great literature, re-reading my past posts is highly recommended.

We stayed at the Embassy Suites so we had a free breakfast and a free happy hour daily. I saw a few folks help themselves to about a pound of bacon and/or sausage to go with their cheese omelets before waddling back to their table. I love bacon, like any red-blooded American, but restrained myself admirably, taking two or three slices. The happy hour was pretty good. You couldn't get the top shelf booze I'm accustomed to, but it sufficed. The trail mix was OK but I still cannot fathom why anyone touches that molten,canned cheese product that goes on alleged nachos. I think it could be better used as spackle.

Alright, enough about the food. I rode with The Banker to and from most of the games. Since the rental car was equipped with satellite radio, we got into a game of Name That Tune. Actually it was Name That Artist. Each decade had its own channel so we went from the 50's through the 90's. I did pretty well, pulling Oingo Boingo out at the last minute. I'm proudest of naming the Royal Guardsmen, maker of a few Snoopy hits in the 60s. Obscure and useless information is my specialty.

We saw some excellent basketball. The girls took their bracket and then beat another bracket winner. They entered the last game 6-0, before finally falling to a stacked So Cal team. The stands were loaded with coaches for that game, with many eyes on the opponent's guard. Our girls never gave up. They played solid team basketball and all of them stepped up with their best effort. I think we'll be seeing them on the court long after high school.

Odds and Ends

Its free slurpee day folks. Run, don't walk.

http://www.7-eleven.com/Locator.aspx

I'm bound by the SLA to post today, as I was reminded Friday night via conference call with the village boys. I'm not quite ready to document my fab Portland trip or discuss anything else of substance, but there's always celebrity crapolla to make fun of.

People informed us a few weeks ago that Celine Dion found pregnancy "physically and emotionally exhausting". Why dimwits like her act like they are the only ones to experience this is beyond me. By the way, excuse the sermonizing, but having twins with a 68 year old cancer survivor strikes me as a tad bit irresponsible.

I saw on Letterman recently that Kim Kardashian now has a wax figure at Madame Tussaud. I agree with him that they both have a big butt and don't do anything.

It looks like Rihanna is ready to go straight to the pool after her concert.

Scan Card

I love Safeway, but I spent about ten minutes more than I had to there yesterday. If something is going to go wrong, it will certainly happen in the line I've chosen. I think they need to consult with the genius who came up with the velvet rope idea that banks use, so you get the next available teller as opposed to getting stuck behind some old lady cashing in five years worth of pennies.

Yesterday an error occurred in front of me during the checkout process. The cashier did her level best, banging on the keys several times to try to void the pesky sale in question. When this did not work, she requested a scan card. Apparently these scan cards are in short supply. Why each cashier is not equipped with one is beyond me, but I am not an expert in the grocery industry.

The task of procuring the scan card was relegated to at least one of the baggers. One went away and then came back and asked if the cashier needed a scan card. I thought we had already established that fact but perhaps my impatience had colored my perception. At that point I said, in stentorian voice, "A scan card, a scan card, my kingdom for a scan card." Actually I kept my mouth shut but the guy behind me started grumbling a bit. I didn't want to exacerbate the situation. I could envision the cashier checking out my grapes individually to get back at me.

It turns out the issue was that the woman in front of me had mixed two different types of fruit in one bag. I understand now that when this is done, it creates a time warp. Since this was only discovered after the checkout process was complete, the woman was summarily sent to customer service to fix it.. Anyone familiar with Safeway knows what a black hole that is.

Bond, James Bond

When I first saw this today, i had to ask myself "When did Sean Connery start managing a baseball team?"

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2010/07/02/sports/s215959D39.DTL

Adeus Brazil

Wow! Are you people overcome with World Cup Fever! Yeah, me neither.

It has been a relatively boring week. I have no stories about dog poop or door to door religious fanatics. However, I did catch this guy taking a smoke break in the neighbor's yard.



Damn, I bet Chairman Brezhnev is red faced about this latest Russian spy scandal. Wait, what the hell decade are we in? Did you know that Brezhnev and The Rifleman were buddies? No shit. Wikipedia told me so.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chuck_Connors

While we're on the topic of Russians, I encountered a leading member of the USSR (see 5/16/09 post) at my posh club today. I couldn't see a thing as I entered the steam room, but in a few minutes things cleared up. It was just me and him, and he had his face completely covered with eucalyptus leaves. I couldn't tell if he was giving himself a facial or was just shy.