Canadian Waffles?

I saw an article about strange sports stories that involved throwing waffles onto the ice in Toronto. ( Here it is). So that got me thinking, I really must not be that far off with all this waffle stuff. Someone had the audacity to refer to it as my obsession. I think more like hobby. Whatever it is, the article vindicates me, as does the fact that there were so few waffle makers to be found on Black Friday. Therefore I feel renewed and invigorated in my quest for the perfect waffle and shall continue to share my adventures with you, my lucky readers!


And to that end, I have a special treat for you, a better picture of a PERFECT WAFFLE! After sharing the first one, this one was once again made with Related's pancake recipe, and used for an impromptu party. Although much complaining ensued about the taste, three (yes, three!) batches were consumed, with the waffles disappearing as fast as they came out of the machine.

here is the pic

A thing of beauty, is it not?

OK, maybe a bit of an obsession.

As a quick postscript, I took the remaining batter this morning, added some applesauce, cinnamon and Splenda, cooked up the waffle and gave it to my tester, who proclaimed

"Syrup is a lifesaver, no offense"

More Moronic Mumbojumbo from the Mouth of the Mayor

I have tried to hold back, since it seems the only things I blog about are waffles and that idiot supposedly running New York City. Alas, the pompous one has gone so far over the levels of propriety I have no choice but to comment.

I understand it is hard to keep a city free and clear of snow, what with creating ( and I am sure, clearing) bike lanes where there used to be roads, giving out tickets like they were candy on Halloween, and creating new and inventive ways to screw hard working New Yorkers out of their money, there just isn't time to take care of the job of making sure the City runs. I guess he COULD raise parking tickets to $700 a piece to supposedly pay for more non-service, but we will keep that for another time.

However, when you mess up on a scale as large as we are witnessing today, at least own up to it. What does this deluded, out of touch fool do? He ATTACKS, yes attacks EMS workers by blaming THEM for getting stuck.

During an interview I saw last night, mayor Moron, in all his histrionic glory, says that the ambulances were trying to go down streets to, gasp!, help people, and do their jobs, when their ambulances got stuck. Now, aside from the fact that this is twisting the truth, int hat the ambulances were apparently getting stuck EVERYWHERE, and that major Avenues and arteries around the City were also impassable, he then goes on to say that they should have left their ambulances on the major streets and WALKED to their patients on the side streets.

Let me explain why this is the height of uninformed idiocy. First of all, the stretchers are really not designed to go through two feet of snow, not empty and certainly not with a 150-200 pound patient on it. They are just not that sturdy, or designed for that kind of abuse. ( I am sure that his position is bolstered by the fact that it is the obligation of the OWNER to clear the sidewalks, or of course, face another huge ticket). Additionally, the equipment that EMS carries can be quite heavy, and to schlep that through the snow is also not ideal. Even if you could put it on the stretcher for the trip TO the patient, it would have to be carried, along with the patient, through the two feet of unplowed snow, and somehow over the snowbank of packed snow at the end of the unplowed street ( from the cross plowing), while trying to steer and ungainly and top heavy stretcher through the snow back to the ambulance. Keeping in mind that unlike the volley crews, you aren't going to be able to ask for additional members to help you schlep, since they are on another call doing the same thing.

Does any of this make any sense?

Did you expect it to from the mouth of a buffoon?

Never Assume

I was driving on the Palisades Parkway last night, tooling along in the left lane, lead car, when my radar detector goes off just before the new York line. I slam on the brakes, and sure enough, just sitting on the side of the road is a PIP cop, who i pass doing the seed limit of 50.

I am feeling rather smug, and look in my rear view mirror to see the lights of an SUV right on top of me. I felt a little bad for the spontaneous and seemingly unnecessary braking, but i felt the guy should really give me a big thank you for saving him a ticket by slowing him down.

I travel a bit further, with this guy still pretty close on my back bumper, thinking he should be more grateful and get off my tail. I then decided to pop in to the gas station not far from the State line. As i pull off, I look over to see who the yahoo in the SUV is as he passes me.

It was a cop.

Why Waffles?

Over on the cold clean blog, there was a reference to our valiant efforts over here to get the perfect waffle. So I commented but for those of you who don't wish to click and see, I am expanding it here.

Although FBB is sort of right ( WOW, I am NEVER gonna live that line down!), that it is really just a base for the yummy goodness that we slather on top of it, I happen to like pancakes and waffles somewhat plain as well. Furthermore, some of the comments from my tasters have pretty much indicated that it doesn't taste waffle-y, so there is a taste out there that they associate with waffles, and I just haven't found it yet.


However, there is a more important reason for eating them, especially fat-free ones, which so far are winning the taste tests. That would be that it gives a growing child a healthy breakfast that can power them through until lunch. It also gives an expanding middle aged man something to eat with his coffee and syrup that isn't cinnamon buns, which would cause the expanding to go to exploding.

This is a good thing, and shows responsible parenting, whereby mere spoonfuls of butter with syrup on them would probably get a parent in trouble with child welfare.

AND Tuesday Morning

So I had some left over batter from Sunday's failed waffle experiment. ( the batter gave me 5 1/2 waffles, which isn't bad, just the taste is) I decided to use it today, and see if I couldn't doll it up a little to make it taste like something. So I put in some more vanilla, a shot of Splenda and cinnamon.

While it cooked up, it certainly smelled better, more like breakfast. I nibbled at the edges, thought it was OK, but not great. However, little miss grumpy was today's taster, and after one bite she gives me one of her morning disgusted/exasperated looks and says

" Just go with the apple one."


We shall keep trying.

Sunday Morning Waffles

My smiling cousin got a hold of me yesterday and asked me if I was finally going to invite him for waffles. I hadn't really planned on it, since I had not yet found a recipe worthy of serving to company, but I figured, what the heck, I can probably get something out of it to share here.

So I decided it was time to try a supposedly real waffle recipe, full steam ahead and damn the cholesterol. I went to the many pages I had printed for waffle recipes, took one from a reputable food site, and decided to make it. the only modifications I made was to use fat free milk instead of buttermilk, since that is all I had, and after piling up the one ounce of whipped butter to the ceiling, decided to forgo the second ounce.

So I measured, mixed, melted, whipped and stirred, and I had a good looking batter going. In went the batter, flip went the maker, out came a waffle. I ate it. nothing special. Then I made one for the cuz, and he added butter on top and syrup, and said it was ok.

Then the official testers woke up ( well one of them, at least. ) Now, she isn't great in the morning, but her taste buds are awake, and I am sure to get an unvarnished opinion. She takes a bite, looks at me, and asks " is it supposed to have any taste?". Later on, taster number two got up, made her own waffle, and deemed it "tasteless."

So I guess its back to the drawing board. If anyone knows of a waffle recipe that has some taste and won't explode your heart, please feel free to send it to me.

Order in the Court

I was in court recently trying to save a client from himself. The opposing counsel had made a fatal error in the agreement and I had told my client that if he paid his rent timely, I could get the case dismissed a year later. Now it was a year later, and he had not kept to the agreement, weakening but not destroying his case. However, I needed to make my argument in front of the judge.

Now some people may feel that courtrooms are serious places where justice gets done with all appropriate gravitas and decorum. And they might be right in most cases. However, in landlord tenant court, as many litigants are not represented by counsel, it is usually looser, and in some cases, downright homey. Especially when you take into account that some tenants are in court so often, they obviously treat the court a second home.

However, on this day, that feeling of comfort was taken to a new level that even I thought I would never experience.

We were all sitting quietly, after being admonished repeatedly by the Court officer to stop talking, when suddenly she stated"

"Whoever is clipping their nails needs to stop."

Incredulously, I asked her if she really just said what I thought she sad. She replied " I did."

Amazing what people will do. She should have added

This is Housing Court, not your house.

I did.

Please, have ANOTHER waffle

I was happy with the waffle saga, thinking it finished ( as I am sure many of you were hoping) but alas, it continues.

After the tepid response from my tasters of the first batch of fat free(ish) waffles, coupled with recriminating looks from Lovey that I put the maker away stating it has served its purpose, I decided this past Sunday would be a good day to try again.

This time, still trying to keep the butter to a minimum, but make the taste less fruity and more waffly, I went to an old standby, Related's pancake recipe. When we make pancakes, we usually leave out all the oil. I cut it down to one tablespoon, but otherwise followed the recipe. The standard recipe yielded four waffles, with one being put aside to be warmed up the following morning for breakfast ( and lunch, these things are HUGE.) The results, again, must be deemed a qualified success.

The maker did not explode, nor did the people who ate the product. However, while Ace said they were good, Boo stated they were just big pancakes with squares on them. Actually, she said they just tasted like pancakes and not waffles. How she knows this with certainly, when she is but a connoisseur of fine frozen packaged waffles, is beyond me, but so be it.

However, they LOOKED awesome, all crisp and fluffy, so I will keep this recipe in reserve as a go to recipe in a pinch if we should suddenly receive guests who are just DYING for a waffle. Stay tuned for more in the adventures of the perfect waffle.

Which I think will require 14 pounds of butter.

Full Service Organization

I was doing a night shift a few weeks ago. About 2 AM a call comes in off Maple Avenue, so I take the ambulance and go. I get there first and the second person there says he would have been there sooner but a deer ran into the side of his car.

We don't transport the call, and on the way back, at the corner of this street and Maple there is the deer unable to get up. Two of the other members who showed up on the call have stopped their cars on the corner and are outside looking at the deer. I pull up behind them in the ambulance for a moment and we chat about the situation.

As I am about to turn on to Maple Avenue, another car stops next to the two parked cars. I go around all the vehicles and proceed to the light and go into the left turn lane. The car that stopped after we all did then pulls up alongside the ambulance and the driver, a young guy just tooling around at 2:30 in the morning rolls down his window.

The driver asks me what's going on. I tell him that we had just had a call. He looks at me incredulously and asks

"For the deer????"

Apples and Trees II

For many years, we have accused Stretch of being, ah, somewhat unaware of his surroundings. This post shall serve both as proof as to where that comes from, and as an apology to him.


A while ago, Stretch was coming back from somewhere in Jersey. As he was explaining the route he took, which he thought was the northbound Garden State Parkway, I asked him if he went through the tolls. He told me that he didn't go through any tolls, whereby I told him that he is more spaced out than usual, since there is a HUGE toll northbound, around exit 165, that divides the highway, has a high speed EZpass lane, and ALL KINDS of signage. he claimed it wasn't there.


Well, three nights ago, I was coming home on the northbound Garden State Parkway when I suddenly realized I was at exit 168 and couldn't remember going through the toll area. I thought I was losing my mind, but I had been listening to something, or thinking about waffles, and just may not have noticed it.


So two night I again went that way, and made sure to pay specific attention to that part of my surroundings. Image my surprise when I realized that THEY HAD TAKEN THE WHOLE THING DOWN!!! Actually, I think they changed the road divider to the other side of the road, and only took down the tolls, but it was amazing. Stretch was right and I ( and others who had agreed with me, who also take that road) were wrong.

So apologies to him, with the deeper understanding that most of what we see in our kids comes from somewhere, usually a place that can be found in a mirror.

MORE Waffles?

Some of the negotiated terms in order for me to get the waffle maker was that I (a) Tovel it (b) use it, and (c) actually make breakfast for someone with it (not just take pictures of waffles in the middle of the night).

Now (a) and (b) were accomplished already. That left (c), which can be tricky, as the members of the household are often gone by the time I get rolling in the morning. However, I had told one of the girls I would make one for them, as I still had batter left over.

So I got up real early this morning, while it was still dark, took care of the morning prayers and then proceeded to make a waffles for the girls for breakfast, which, I must say, they very politely and gamely ate.

Now I will put the waffle maker away for the weekend.

Probably never to see the light of day again.

Waffles, Anyone?

I feel it is only fair to update everyone on my hard won waffle iron. After the euphoria of owning such a prestigious appliance, reality set in. Now someone has to actually MAKE the waffles. I looked expectantly to Lovey, who, needless to say, was not of the same mind as me as to the crushing need to have such a device, but though better than asking her to make the product for me.

So I turned to the internet to see what recipes were available. The true Belgian Waffle recipe sort of goes like this: A little flour, some butter, baking powder, more butter, buttermilk, butter, vanilla, and butter. mix ingredients, grease the iron with butter, and cook. You can add other things like chocolate chips, or blueberries, but then you have to use more butter.

Well, I decided that since I am fat enough ( and not that short), I would look for a fat free recipe. This way I could invite Soupeater over to try them, and I look like a wonderful host. The problem with the fat free recipes is that most are on vegan websites, and the vegans are all nuts. They have recipes, but they won't use any animal product, there was actually a reference to bee vomit, which I assumed was honey. However, the recipe looked better than the one with cider vinegar, an old nemesis of mine, so I decided to make that one using the animal by product, as well as reduced fat milk instead of soy milk. ( I had fat free, but wanted to try it.)

Made the batter, turned on the machine, followed the directions, and here is the result of the first foray into waffleland.

I then made a second one, since they don't recommend you actually eat the first one ( just post it to the web, apparently), and I deem the adventure a qualified success. The waffle looks like a waffle, the kitchen did not blow up, and it was indeed edible, but it tasted a lot like apples, since there is apple sauce and apple juice in the recipe. I will keep looking for one that is relatively low fat but not fruit inspired.

In the mean time, Come on over for some waffles, no need to even speak Flemish.

Green Friday IV

As I have done in the past, and have put here for your reading pleasure, (Green Friday, Green Friday II, Green Friday III) I usually chronicle my Black Friday forays for your reading pleasure and to satisfy everyone's inquisitive nature and quest for knowledge. First, I study, catalogue, map and file all the flyers that come in. (Lovey even gave me a special Black Friday folder to keep everything in this year!). then I begin what is the only day of the year I actually like to shop.


My day started as usual at Walmart. For reasons that were covered in previous years, the had a significant crowd control. I arrived at seven and had to walk 500 feet from the entrance due to barriers set up. Additionally, within the barriers they had additional barriers so that you had to walk serpentine towards the door. This may have been a good idea at 5, but at 7 THERE WAS NOT A PERSON ON THE LINE. I mentioned this to the day laborers hired by Walmart and slapped with a vest for authority, but I am not sure they even spoke English. Once inside , they continued this idiocy by having certain aisles closed off for crowd control, even though there were no significant crowds anymore.


Well, I got some good deals, and have learned to check the wagons for items people decide they dont want at checkout and scored a really good item that was long sold out for my smiling cousin. I then went in search of a waffle iron.


The product du jour this year was the $10.00 Belgian flip waffle maker. A whole bunch of stores had then listed as door busters, and I just NEEDED to have one.


Well, I got to the aisle, and they seemed out of them. I asked a salesperson if there were any more left, and she didn't think so. However, about five minutes later she found one and handed it to someone she claimed asked before me. Not wishing to spoil the good feeling we were all having shopping early in the morning, I figured I would find one during the rest of my forays.


However, I did get the 2 quart crock pot. This was a secondary goal of mine, to purchase as many crock pots in different sizes for no more than $10. The 2 quart was listed at $3. however, when I found a wall of them and went to check out, it rang up at $9.88. As I was on line, a rather forceful woman saw I had them, exclaimed she had wanted one as well, and she and her friend got on line behind me with them. I should note here that I walked right up to the cashier, there wasn't really a line. When it rang up 9.88 i told the cashier it should be $3. the manager said to get a flyer, which I did, only to be told the black boxes of the product was $3. the purple boxes of the EXACT SAME same product was 9.88. This did not sit well with the rather vociferous women behind me so the manager gave them to all of us for $3.


Then on to Staples for the annual bluetooth ( one for me and one for Bug, who was with me) then Sears for the annual radar detector, and a second 4 quart crock pot for $10.


After that We moseyed over to the mall, ostensibly for a waffle iron. ( we had reached the minimum quota for crock pots). JC Penney had all the other doorbusters, but alas, i was not the only one who suddenly realized that he just HAD to HAVE a waffle iron. They were available online, but that defeats the purpose of shopping, which I was already doing. Target was also out of them, so we deemed the mall a bust and headed to Kohl's. Before we left the mall, I checked the Kohl's flyer, and there on the back, was an ad for a waffle iron! i was so happy, thinking that I was out of luck, that I practically floated from the mall to Kohl's. As we pulled in to the parking lot, I informed Bug that was going to stand at the front of the store and refuse to move or leave until i got my waffle iron. despite the very real threat of imminent embarrassment, Bug accompanied me into the store and towards housewares, where I asked, expecting the answer "No." if he had any more waffle irons. He told me "yes, they are right over there". I raced to where he pointed, grabbed one to my chest, then lifted it to the sky and danced a bit ( alas, Bug could not avoid the embarrassment in the end). We then decided to pay. So we went to the registers in the front, and started following the line that eventually reached all the way to the back of the store where we had been in the first place. As i was standing on line, Bug went in search of some refreshment, as we had been going for six hours and hadn't eaten or drank anything.


He then called me and told me that the line on the other side of the store had about 15 people on it instead of 150, and I should go over to that side. I surreptitiously slipped out of my spot and with great care, so as not to cause a stampede to the other side of the store, meandered over int hat direction. As the line quickly moved towards a register, Bug informed me " THIS is the best find of the day" a sentiment I had to agree with.


We then left and arrived home, seven hours later and several dollars shorter than when we began, tired but happy. With a stack of stuff for Lovey to once again return the following week.


Then my cousin called and told me she picked up a waffle iron for me at 3 AM.

Apples and Trees

I am not a morning person, not by a long shot. Apparently, that gene has transferred to the next generation.

Now this has usually been a truly wonderful thing, especially when everyone was still little and I had one of the few houses in the neighborhood that didn't start rocking at 530 AM.

However, as the kids got bigger, it started to occasionally become a problem, since everyone went to bed later, getting up for school was harder.

I didn't really realize how much the kids were like me until the other morning. I asked Boo as she was getting ready for school "How you doing?". She stops what she is doing, turns to me, gives me a look both annoyed and exasperated and says.


"It's morning."

Keep it in the Vault

I think I need better speakers at work.

I was listening to a Beatles anthology CD at my desk which is admittedly made up of outtake type tracks, as well as demos and stuff, so the quality is really pretty bad. But what really struck me is the comments I got from people passing by my office.

Now I don't think I play it that loudly, but I seem to need to keep volumes rather high lately (Lovey will confirm this, to her great consternation). At work it is coupled by rather lousy speaker set.

So the first guy comes in to my office and tells me that the music sounds like a little rascals episode. Then within the next three minutes someone goes past my office and asks me why I am listening to Arabic music. Then my secretary IM's me from outside asking me if someone is dying.

I think there is a good reason why these outtakes were outtakes and rejected from the albums.

It Must Be The Hat, Again!

As I have previously blogged, and then followed up, for some reason, when I wear my NYPD cap, people stop me for directions. But I think I need to modify that a bit, they also stop me for other reasons.

I was running late to get back to court in lower Manhattan last week. As I was hurrying along, a group of four tourists from the Eastern bloc asked me to take a picture of them in front of the Brooklyn Bridge. Not wanting to have them think badly of New Yorkers, I grudgingly acquiesced, wondering why they felt they could trust me with their camera. (Could it be that four fit Europeans could probably run down one short fat guy?)

Well, I snapped the picture and returned the camera, and proceeded on my way. Alas, I was not to get to my destination unstopped. As I was once again striding stridently towards the courthouse, a well dressed elderly Russian woman stepped out of a limo and asked me how to get to Grant and Allen streets.

Not wanting to have her think ill of short fat guys, I told her what I thought was the best route to
taken wondering in the back of my mind why she felt compelled to ask me.

It was only when I was once again on my way that I realized I was wearing my NYPD hat.

OY! Jerusalem

A major intersection in Jerusalem near the Municipal Buildings is named Kikar Zahal in honor of the Israeli armed forces. It used to be known as Parachutist's Square but that was changed many years ago. It is formed from the intersection of Kvish1, Shlomo Hamelech Street, Jaffa Street and Shivtei Yisroel Street. Crossing from one corner to its diagonally opposite corner can take several minutes because of the way the lights are set. There is some meaning to the madness which I can't quite figure out but it is a life threatening act to cross against the light.

This intersection is the construction unions' sugar daddy. I can't remember a time when they were not either digging it up, covering it up or just leaving it for weeks on end in an in-between state, complete with heavy steel plates that you can easily trip over, piles of paving stones and heaps of rubble, to say nothing of the construction equipment which block lanes in a very busy trafficway. In all this time, there doesn't seem to be any noticeable difference to the street or sidewalk. Just the other night some construction vehicles were doing something to the street that necessitated closing a lane and led to a massive backup. The next morning they removed the heavy machinery and left only a 12 foot by 6 foot portion of the pavement completely scraped away to the base layer of roughened stone.

(Between writing the lines above and this writing, I actually tripped and fell over some unevenness in the pavement at this very intersection)

This intersection is chronically backed up especially in the afternoon and early evening hours. The Jerusalem Light Rail system is supposed to remedy at least the bus traffic which may solve some of the other traffic problems as well. This event, eagerly awaited by many but whose eventual occurrence is as equally doubted, has been in the construction and planning stage for about 12 years and is currently expected (by the authority who runs the thing) to begin operations this coming spring 2011. The first phase which is now finishing up will provide transportation from the northernmost end of Jerusalem to one of its southern suburbs, the trip taking about 25 minutes. This is a vast improvement over the current interminable ride by wheeled vehicle, public or private.

I have seen some of the rolling stock actually rolling in test runs and it warms my heart. I am among the more avid fans of the system and have been waiting since 2008 to see the system in real time operation.

The intersection of which I spoke is a major turning point in the light rail route turning the north-south route to east-west until the next turning point, at the new, landmark, cable-stayed bridge back to north-south. The turn has been the cause for much of the construction at this intersection since the distance between the pairs of tracks increases as it rounds the bend. I don't think they got it right the first few times they tried it.

So all is in readiness for the grand opening six months hence. The only thing they haven't quite figured out is where to route the buses that currently are riding along the right of way and there is no room for vehicular traffic once the rail line is open.

Rumor has it that there is no plan.

Please Act Appropriately

Kirsten Gillibrand is a hypocritical crybaby.

Does that statement make me a bigot? It probably does in her world. However, I resent the double standard that seems in play any time a republican or conservative makes a statement.

Allow me to elaborate.

Mr. Palladino made a comment that Ms. Gillibrand was Chuck Shumer's little girl. She henceforth took great umbrage at the categorization, no matter how true the statement may be. She resented the fact that he referenced her gender, which, I guess is a crime.

If that is the case, then why did she agree to do an article and spread or Vogue magazine? You don't really see many male ( gasp! gender reference alert!) senators featured on its glossy pages. I would even venture, without researching the issue, that there have probably never been any male senators as the subject of a photo spread.

So what bothers me the is hypocritical double standard that our junior senator is using, its OK for her to capitalize on her gender, but no one else may mention it.

And if she really doesn't care, and is just making a fuss for the political grandstanding advantage, than I guess she really is Chuckie's little girl.

Cheap, or Frugal?

Occasionally, I have to endure snippy little comments from siblings at my ability to enjoy entertainments for, shall we say, reduced costs.

Some of these savings are by design (early birds specials, with all the retirees), others by luck (winning raffles and auctions) and sometimes through others (gift certificates).

Whatever the cause, it is always nice to be able to enjoy a night out, and still enjoy a full wallet at the end of the evening.

So last night we went out to commemorate a special occasion. We had vouchers for a movie (that we did NOT use last time, since the matinee price was 1/2 the regular price, and we wanted to save the vouchers for a full price ticket), which was lots of fun, and then we went to Noah's Ark, which never disappoints, for a light late dinner. We went there partially because we like it, and partially because we still had some money left on an old gift certificate. (Yes, I know, three meals on a $50.00 card is quite a feat, but that's the way it is.)

So we had our usual split an appetizer and main, and we used up the rest of the card.

Movie with voucher $ 0.00
Dinner for two with gift certificate $17.00
Being able to say dinner and movie for just $17.00

Priceless.

But we paid with a Visa.

Mayor Moron, Meet the Mother of Myopic Meandering

I really can't decide who is the bigger self serving hypocrite, Mayor Moron or Christine Quinn.

Our dear mayor has now decided that he is in FAVOR of term limits, and now the people of the City of New York can be trusted to make the right decision, when during the last election, they couldn't be. His reasoning? We were at a difficult time in the City. Like we weren't right after 9/11, when Mayor Giuliani was forced to leave due to term limits. There truly is no end to this guy's hubris.

However, now we have Christine Quinn giving Mike a run for his money ( which is really saying something) when it comes to flat out hypocrisy and stupidity.

This purported leader of New York, and ostensibly ALL its citizens, has decided to think with her, well,not her head. She had publicly come out ( ooh, poor choice of words there perhaps) and criticized the district attorney, who, in his capacity as a professional prosecutor, has decided that there is NOT ENOUGH EVIDENCE to waste the taxpayers money on a trial that he, in his professional opinion, CANNOT WIN.

The District Attorney knows what he needs to obtain a conviction, and he clearly felt that he did not have enough of the elements necessary in the horrific case up in the Bronx to win against ALL of the people arrested. So he dropped the case against A FEW of them, while continuing against the MAJORITY of the men arrested.

Now this is not good enough for that fool, who obviously feels that anyone arrested in the City is guilty, or if they are arrested for a crime that SHE feels strikes too close to home, the DA should waste time, money and resources to pursue a case he knows he cannot win. Then she says he OWES it to the LG (and some other letters I didn't recognize what they stood for when I heard them ) community to send this to a Grand Jury.

What about owing to all the other millions and millions of New Yorkers not to waste time, money and resources, as well as the following the law, and pursuing justice?? This obviously does not factor into Quinn's thought process.

And she wants to be Mayor?? Frightening, but somehow it fits.

6,000. Wow

Here we are hitting another milestone. As you can see from the last one, I now write a post so we know when we get 1,000 more hits, with the goal being to have to write one of these every day or so.
Well, a quick check on our inspiration shows that we are now only approximately 3,380 behind the good folks over at Carwash , who I probably should not link if I want to pass, but I can always spend days just hitting my own site over and over.

considering it took over 100 days to go 1,000 hits, that is less than ten a day. And this is even after I post the addresss and hand it out to people. What is this, folks are actually busy with life that they can't take the time to check out our pearls of wit and wisdom? Well obviously, if you are reading this I am preaching to the choir, so what is the point of ranting here? None.

I shall have to take an ad out in the local papers, or sign anonymously with my website.....

Cousins Are Useful

Back in June of last year, I posted about the clock in my car, and my cousin who fixed it for me. (Here it is) .

So I took this same smiling cousin home from the City this week, this time in my regular car, ( he has the same model) which clock works quite well. However, I had recently gotten a new phone, and it was messing up the built in bluetooth.

Well, not two minutes after he realized the issue, he had my phone synced back up with my car, and was well into changing the settings on the phone to make it more efficient.

I need to take him with me more often.

Father Knows Best

On the first night of the past holiday, the power went out right as the holiday began. This led to me refusing to open the fridge, since I was not sure how long the power would be out, and as it was the beginning of the holiday, all the food was in there and I did not want to have everything potentially spoiled.

This then led to Soupeater engaging in somewhat constant discussions with my crew ( Bug, Stretch, Ace and Boo) as to the merits of refrigeration and what he sees as the knee jerk reaction to refrigerate everything immediately. (I won’t give my opinion as to WHY he feels this way so strongly, that if for him to share.) I sort of agreed with the kids that there are merits to not having food spoil, and that spoiled food is not necessarily the best thing for you, but pretty much stayed out of it.

Well, I have to say that I was wrong.

I made a coffee in my office last night before I went home. I make it in a travel mug, so it stays warm the whole way home. However, I forgot it in the car last night. Now I do this regularly in the winter, and have ice coffee ( with a layer of ice on top) in the mornings, but I don’t usually try this any other time of the year. So I went out this morning to get my mug and clean it out. However, when I opened the mug, expecting to see curdled coffee that smelled of cottage cheese, I was surprised to see, smell and then taste a perfectly good coffee.

I am drinking it as I write this. Hopefully I won’t be out of commission for a few weeks later on….

The Last Funeral

Louis Hirsch and Son, the place that I have known all my life as the portal through which the members of our congregation pass on their way to the next world, has indeed itself passed on. This ancient institution which was referred to phonetically as "heershoonzone" (accent on the first syllable) by everyone I knew, is going out of business as of September 22.

The property has been sold to a developer. I don't know the details, but it's obvious that it's worth more than what can be earned from conducting funerals. And this in a bombed out section of the Bronx like Jerome Avenue and 167th Street. In all the years of the neighborhood's downward spiral, despite the proximity of Yankee Stadium and still marvelous apartment buildings lining Jerome Avenue with their 1920's art deco style, I have not known it to improve by even one iota.

A source close to the current owners of the funeral parlor told me, maybe 15 years ago, that the revenues they earned in January of any year, covered all the expenses of the subsequent 11 months. This same source now told me that there was no money in the funeral business, and in fact, averred that just recently he had been there and that there was not even one corpse in their morgue. How far they have fallen. There used to be a full complement of bodies lying around anytime we came to be there.

The day before Hirsch and Sons was scheduled to close, unfortunately, we attended a funeral there for the mother of a dear friend. The woman had been quite old and out of her social orbit for a long time so the funeral was not very well attended. I remember other funerals where a second chapel had to be opened to accommodate a large throng that overflowed even the second chapel. I recalled the groups of people waiting at the corners of 181st Street for the bus to take them to the funeral home and the busses arriving directly in front of it to disgorge a crowd of eager mourners.

These four walls evoked many memories of our departed relatives and friends whose final leave-taking took place here. I couldn't help but speculate on the finality represented by this funeral.

May it truly be the last funeral.

Only 25 more days.....

The new employment numbers came out today. So putting aside all the positive spin that the sick liberal media continues to spout, it doesn't look good for the administration and the democrats.

However, what I find most telling as to the complete failure of the left is that the public sector lost jobs. This means that the stimulus money, which went mostly to public works and governments, did absolutely nothing to spur economic growth. As soon as the money ran out, so did the jobs, with no lasting benefit.

Let's hope that the American people express their extreme displeasure for the inept regime in November

Mar & Venus? You Bet

I never really bought into the gender gap thing to such an extent, as all the people in my family are pretty much knowledgeable of a wide range of things (girls know what a football is (oblong ball used in fall) and guys know what a flat iron is ( its for hair)) .

I was wrong.

I was listening to the baseball playoffs at work. Texas Rangers against Tampa Bay Rays. A woman ( in her defense, she has no brothers) walked in and said " Oh, Football". I asked her how she came to that wonderful conclusion. She informed me that she heard the announcer say Rangers, and she knew that there was a New York football team called the Rangers.

I looked at her and informed her that there is a New York team called the Rangers, but they play hockey. I felt that to point out that there are never football games played on Wednesday afternoon was overkill.

Its not a gap, sometimes its a chasm.

Watch Your SHTEP

Maybe its genetics, or passed down from my baby nurse.

For years my aunt had over an old friend of the family. As she got on in years, I assumed her eyesight was not a sharp as it had been when she was younger, and she must have had some issues with the "shtupid shcreens" on the screen doors to get into the Sukkah. I know this because my aunt would put signs at eye level ON the screens, so that people could see that the door is closed. A brilliant idea, I thought, but not one needed for people under 70.

Now I always prided myself on my ability to realize that a door is closed, and then to open it before attempted to pass through. I also had little tolerance for those younger than me for sure, who did not seem to to able to master this feat. So I was actually quite filled with mirth when Boo failed to see that the glass door on the deck was closed and bumped into it over the holidays. And in her defense, there was no light on the deck at that point, and may not have been in the dining room either.

Well, my feelings of smugness and self worth didn't survive past Saturday night. We were invited to the Iceberg Carwash's ( The Icebergs? the Carwashes? whatever) for a little pizza and family. As I was exiting the Sukkah to go into the house, basically plowed through the screen to get inside. Aside from feeling bad that I might have ruined the door ( I didn't, cheese eater apparently beat me to it) I felt both like an idiot, and quite old ( more like an idiot, though.)

I could probably make up some excuse that I was distracted by the noise, or was trying to escape some family member, but the fact remains, I WENT THROUGH a screen door. That was closed.

I think I will make some signs for my door at home.

Up up and Away

There's something very wrong with mileage programs. I have always been somewhat skeptical of their value and am constantly surprised at the backward bending some of my friends practice in order to get a few more miles into their accounts.

Let's begin with the airlines. It is a fact of life that where you live determines, in most cases, which airlines you fly on the most. This is especially true for frequent travelers to many different destinations, less so for the leisure traveler with one or two fixed destinations. If you live in Atlanta or Detroit you are more likely to fly Delta than another airline. If you live in Chicago or San Francisco, Dallas or Los Angeles you are most likely to fly United or American and if you live in Houston or if Newark Liberty is your preferred airport Continental is your most likely choice. There are many other airports where your choices are limited to one or two airlines.

This is because, at the airports mentioned, the preponderance of flights are with the dominant airline which will have the most flights to the most destinations and you are most likely to use them more frequently than others. This leads you to a situation where you have a lot of miles on the dominant airline and bits and pieces on other airlines serving your city. While I have no hard data on any of this, it's reasonable to believe that most business travelers pay for their business travel and accumulate the mileage for their personal travel.

So when you want to take a vacation to an exotic destination you find that your most convenient airline doesn't happen to have the best or cheapest route to your dream vacation spot. In order to correct this flaw, each major airline offers a credit card and purchases on said card will accrue mileage plus the signing bonus. Why pay 9.3% interest and no annual fee to some non affiliated card when you can pay 13% plus an annual fee and get mileage towards your dream vacation. Also, as you collect cards, your credit rating goes down because the credit agencies see a multiplicity of credit cards as a high need for credit rather than a high need for miles.

And then there is the granddaddy of all credit cards, American Express which not only charges an annual fee but charges another $40.00 a year for the mileage program and additional charges to link your business cards with your personal card.

Now it comes time to use the mileage you have painstakingly and doggedly collected for many years. You find that your miles are worth between .75% and 1.5% of your expenditures. Don't forget, there are some cards that offer almost 5% in certain types of benefits. Not only aren't your miles worth much, if you want to augment missing miles you can buy them from the airlines for more than they are worth or, in certain situations where transfers from one account to another are permitted, the fees are equal to or exceed the points' value.

The only miles that are worthwhile accumulating are flown miles because you don't fly in order to gain points.

Making financial decisions based on the chimera of free vacations just doesn't make sense.

A Few Thoughts on the Political Landscape.

Little bit of politics, folks. I try to avoid constant preaching, but sometimes it is necessary.


1. Tea time in America?

Someone aught to tell the Republicans that now is not the time to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The party needs to become the party of inclusion. Might I say, the new democrats. For the Republican leadership to distance itself from the Tea Party candidates instead of embrace them under the umbrella of conservative thought, especially when all the energy on the right seems to come from them, seems silly at best and irresponsible at worst.

The time is ripe for a major shift in the house and senate, it just has to be packaged properly, and if so, I believe that there is no Democratic incumbent that is safe.

2. Hypocrite for the Ages, Mike Bloomberg

The same (alleged) brain that tells us that he can't do anything about the mosque at ground zero because it wouldn't be proper or right for him to tell anyone what to do has now come up with a scheme to limit even further the rights of smokers to light up in open air, uncontained public spaces.

Yes, smoking is bad, yes, so is second hand smoke, but just being in the general vicinity of a smoker does not mean you are inhaling second hand smoke. If this were the case, every building in New York City that had a heating system and every manufacturing plant within the five boroughs would have to shut down, since it would be spewing nasty smoke into the air, and someone somewhere might breathe it in.

I say enough already. focus on the terrorists and restoring the quality of life that affects all people all the time, like crime, homeless people, the infrastructure, and leave the greening alone.

The Cobbler has no shoes, or in this case, Brains

I have a very peculiar habit. Especially in the town I live in. I check registration and inspection stickers in people's car windows.

I do this as a service to them, since I know people tend to forget that they have to do annual inspections, and that their registrations are due every two years, and sometimes the renewals do not come in the mail.

This is especially a problem outside of New York City, where they are very diligent in ticketing cars that have expired registrations or inspections. I always tell people that they should be very careful when going into the City, since it is something the traffic enforcement agents look for, and will gleefully slap a $65.00 ticket on your car.

I just consider it a service that I provide to the community, since it is something I constantly think about.

Or so I thought.

We were in the city for the High Holidays. Parked for three days on the streets of Manhattan. I was able to completely forget about the car after diligent effort, so that I could focus on thoughts of the day. So I didn't even glance over at it (much) when I walked by to make sure that it and all its pieces were still there.

Well, Lovey comes to get us Saturday night and she tells me that we got a ticket for an expired inspection. I felt pretty stupid.

But it gets better.

Now, I know that if the inspection just expired, then you get it done immediately and send in the receipt, and they knock down the ticket significantly. Someone once asked me what could be done to fight such a ticket, but they had been expired for NINE months! I thought at the time how could anyone not notice that they were months overdue? In that case, you just dispute the ticket, and the city takes off about $23.00.

So I look at the ticket, figuring I will send in the receipt, and I would just check to see how little I was overdue.

June 30th.

'nuff said.

NO! to additional Speed Demons

We just completed a trip to Detroit for SLiM, my nephew. Allow me to share the ongoing saga of the drivers in my house.

We had decided that Ace could really benefit from some serious highway time. However, she is only really allowed to drive in New York State as she only ha her permit. So we decided to let her drive the first leg of the trip, which was towards Scranton to visit Stretch.

As we were proceeding along on route 84, I remarked to Lovey that this was the highway that both Stretch first and then Bug both went really fast ( click on them to see those posts). Ace then says hopefully

"ooh, can I try that too??"

If that wasn't enough, we found a great way to stay up while driving back late at night after about ten hours of driving.

Let the 16 year old drive.

NOBODY slept during that portion of the trip.

Mullah Mayor Moron, Mull Moving the Mosque

The blatant hubris, arrogance and hypocrisy our dear Mayor is really getting to me. All I will say about this issue is that this Mayor has dictated to us where we can(not) smoke, what we are allowed to eat (no salt, no transfats), that stores have to tell us what is in the food we are sil allowed to have, and where we can (no longer) drive.

But he has the audacity to say that he doesn't have the right or power to tell a group not to put a mosque on the still open wound of ground zero.

Flex your Mosquels

In the debate about the proposed mosque at the heart of ground zero I can't but notice that just about every report or interview or speech in favor of the mosque has a muslim component to it. Somewhere in the background there is always a muslim name or middle eastern organization hiding behind American names.

Not so with those opposed to the mosque.

One would think that with 1.5 billion muslims in the world (and many of them in the United States) that at least one muslim name would support the idea that the mosque be moved to a less offensive location. Apparently that isn't happening.

Everyone agrees that they have a perfect right to put a mosque wherever the local zoning allows a house of worship. Common sense, however, dictates that others' sensitivities should be taken into consideration when exercising one's rights in a fashion that pokes everyone else in the eye. The universally held muslim position is that 9/11 had nothing to do with Islam a claim akin to saying that the crusades had nothing to do with Christianity.

At the very least, if muslims can't agree that the mosque should be moved, they should have the good sense to get out of the limelight and disengage themselves from the debate. To instead try to justify the new community center by characterizing it as a means of reconciling Islam with the rest of the civilized world, as a bridge to peace, as a road to the recognition of our common humanity, is just so much self-serving sophistry.

Either they are fools, or they are coldblooded realpolitikers, attempting to brazenly challenge, intimidate and subdue the opposition.

It Must be my Cologne

i ws in the city the other day with Lovey. We went into an establishment to check on the timing of something, and then left, as we were too early.

As we left, I noticed that they had some revolving doors. The one we exited from had very wide partitions, and there was more than enough room for two people to walk through it side by side.

As we went through this door, I commented to Lovey that it is strange, but there is a revolving door that one must go through to get into my office building where I work. For some reason, on more that a few occasions, the people was with when entering or exiting the building felt compelled to join me in the much smaller partitions, which makes for a difficult if not uncomfortable litte trip through the door.

We then returned to that same establishment a little while later, but we went approached a normal sized revolving door. As I prepared to enter the partition alone, a woman on her cell phone stepped in to the partition with me!

Weird.

17 Pounds

I am indebted to one of my two lovely daughters-in-law for the idea for the following story.

This past weekend we were five adults, one child and one baby.

When I got home from work, I found that someone had shopped for the weekend meals and I discovered grapes (red and green), cherries strawberries and blueberries lurking on the counters. They had come from a store that I generally disdain, mainly because of this very issue - the size of the units they are sold in. I did a quick calculation, adding up all the various items and discovered to my horror that we had a full 17 pounds of assorted fruits and berries that had to be eaten in a few days because there wasn't enough room in the refrigerator to contain all that bulk.

Whipping out my trusty calculator, I determined that every man woman and child would have to consume 2.429 pounds each in order to prevent any spoilage. It seems to me that a normal person doesn't eat much more than about 1 lb of food at a meal. So the entire inventory of fruit and berries would pretty much take up all the eating power among us and there wouldn't be room for eating anything else if we were to consume the produce before it rotted.

When I pointed this out to the chief multi-tasking householder here, aside from a pained look, I got an excuse about the red and green grapes being a mistake because she had asked someone to buy green grapes and red cherries and this got misinterpreted to green and red grapes and cherries.

OK, so 13 lbs.

What I hadn't seen at first were the THREE melons (they come in a net bag) each one weighing at least 4 lbs each. When were we going to eat all this?

As of now (Tuesday evening) the cherries are gone. There are more than 4 lbs of mixed grapes left acting as a force to keep the refrigerator door from closing properly. There are also about a pint of blueberries left (they don't take up too much room in the fridge). I noticed that about a pint of strawberries had become moldy yesterday and presumably were disposed of in a discreet manner, and one melon was pressed upon one of my hapless children who happened to visit at the height of the food disposal crisis.

What of the other melons you may ask? One of them is disintegrating on a kitchen counter, the other one rolling around in the fridge door already beginning to develop soft spots.

We are planning to have even more people for this weekend. I hope our multi-tasker didn't ask the produce truck to stop in our driveway before going on to Costco.

rain

I just spent a weekend in sunny Florida. Not my first choice for a summer vacation but a wedding put on by dear friends occasioned this rather unusual travel destination. It was hot! Not even so much hot as the combination of temperatures in the 90's and humidity in the 80's. The weather was predicted to be stormy and rainy (so much for the convertible) and indeed as we approached Ft. Lauderdale airport the pilot got on the horn and told us that the airport was closed to incoming traffic because of a thunder storm right over the airport. I already had visions of being diverted to Palm Beach or something like that. Being a veteran of diversions (see previous blog) I took it in stride, but, luckily, after flying a pattern for a half hour about 30 miles away from the airport, we landed safely and none the worse for wear.

The highlight of the trip was early Saturday morning. 6:20AM, a time when all sabbath observers ought to be in bed.

"Let's go for a walk on the boardwalk."

Not having anything better to do and being up anyway, I agreed. We passed from the hotel lobby's refrigerated air into the hot, steamy and oppressive half light of the Florida dawn. It was drizzling a few drops which felt good as we climbed onto the boardwalk. A large, dark storm cloud blanketed the sky to our south obscuring the light from an already risen sun. Almost deserted, the boardwalk did have its share of denizens even at this early hour in the rain. People coming in from a night at the beach, runners trying to finish their laps before the storm. We turned south, where the lush foliage on both sides formed a sort of tunnel over our heads, and into a cooler, refreshing breeze blowing a cooling rain into our faces.

Realizing that we were walking towards the storm, we turned around. The sun was visible only as a light smudge against thin clouds and as we turned we could see patches of blue sky; definitely the direction we wanted to walk in. Only, the storm caught up with us. When it storms in this part of the world it's apt to be violent but ephemeral. Luckily for us, this boardwalk is built with shelters every 1000 feet or so and we dashed into a nearby one as the rain came down in sheets.

We weren't the only ones. A few of the night denizens were already there, biding their time and making small talk with us and others. Some of them moved off, others came. One in particular was a woman with a blow-up mattress who grunted at our greeting, clearly unhappy that she had to come in from the beach. She even tried to monopolize a bench for her mattress. We couldn't get word one out of her, just wordless sounds of anger and discouragement.

It finally let up and we continued our leisurely walk. We left the boardwalk into the half light, behind a woman and two men who had come off the beach. We felt exhilarated.

I repeated the walk the next morning, but couldn't duplicate the experience.

Take That Rachel Carson

I feel a breeze blowing, ever so slightly, signaling a change in the weather. Only a whisper so far, a zephyr fraught with possibilities.

Lately, I've noticed that the people who run things in this country have become a bit soured on the nation's 50 year environmental kick. And it's not only limited to the United States. For all the lip service given to the philosophy, only hardened left wingers misguided do gooders journalists and the school children who are still the victims of the push to indoctrinate them into the Carsonian religion really believe that environmentalism is the greatest good and capitalism is the greatest evil.

Take for instance the court's decision to strike down Obama's offshore drilling moratorium. Such a decision would have been unthinkable 20 years ago, when all the leaders of our institutions were still under the spell of this evil dogma and those who weren't were too intimidated to put in a good word for economic development and modern comforts.

Admittedly, environmentalism did some good. It eliminated some very serious health and safety hazards and some very dangerous and destructive pollution of our rivers lakes and forests. Like every other all encompassing program, it gained a life of its own and when the problems were fixed, new problems were invented to keep those charged with protecting us, in business.

Some responsible business leaders and even the miniscule number of responsible politicians have turned their backs on mindless greenness. They are beginning to make objections to the world's governments' blanket bans of this or that process or substance, whose risks are so much less than the benefits.

China's torpedoing of the Copenhagen treaty, India's refusal to ban the safe use of white asbestos are just two of the cases in point. Daily, I have come across little stories poking their heads up through the soil of indiscriminate green boosterism. The public today is more worried about jobs and the economy than in climate change.

I think we've turned the corner.

Oh, Nothing

Got a call from Bug today. Here is the transcript of the beginning of the conversation.

Bug: Hello Dr. G, steri strips are one step under stitches, right?
Dr. G: Right. Why?
Bug: No reason, I was just wondering.


Ok, this is not something that one contemplates along with the deep dark mysteries of the universe. In fact, the thought of steri strips usually NEVER crosses a person's mind unless there is a specific injury involving their use.

Upon further questioning ( actually, badgering) it turns out that there was a small need for their use. I insisted on having a picture sent to me to ensure that the damage did not appear to need additional medical attention, and then I let it go.

I wonder if this is specific to certain people, or if our kids do it to us to make us nuts. i know that getting information from Bug can be beyond difficult. to quote someone, I don't know who though the quote is apt here

"He wouldn't tell you your coat was on fire unless you asked him a direct question"

and even then, it usually involves a lot more than one question.

Sheesh

LOOK OUT!!!

One of the advantages of the summer at the Good Doctor's home is that the house is relatively empty, so the unlucky child who remains at home with the old folks gets lots of attention.

Good or bad.

The truth is, the child currently at home, my older daughter, is a pleasure to have around ( mostly). However, she is learning to drive, ( hence the name Ace, also for her academic achievements.) and this is scary. Without Boo around, who we don't like to terrorize by having her older sister practice, we have run out of excuses to not let her drive, and the usual standbys ( "its day" "its night" "its raining" "its sunny" ) are just not cutting it anymore. So off she goes, behind the wheel of a 3,000 pound weapon, blissfully enjoying her new found freedom while Lovey and I, whoever has the (mis)fortune to be with her, alternately cringing or crying out in sheer fear as trucks, buses and other assorted vehicles careen towards her.

You see, Ace believes that she has the right of way. Always.

Perhaps we should get her some lessons while we still have colored hair.

More Tales from Brooklyn

Its all about timing, folks. however, this time, it works to your advantage. Allow me to explain. ( "what else can we do, Mr. cryptic?" you wonder...)

I got to my office around 12 today about ten minutes later half the lights went out. I shut my computer as a precaution against a power surge ( trust me, the surge protectors only work up to a certain point). So I really couldn't do much except perspire and watch the mercury climb inside as the air conditioning was out as well.

Around 1:30 the power went out completely, in order to address the issue that had caused the brownout. I walked down the 12 flights to the ground floor, with the intention of heading into the local town for some lunch, and then depending on the power situation, I would return or more likely go home, as I had no desire to climb 12 flights in 100 degree heat.

I met someone downstairs, and I was in his air conditioned car chatting for about five minutes when I got a call from the office that the power was back on! Since I was merely in the parking lot, I really had no excuse to not return to the office immediately, which I did with great alacrity ( in case the boss reads this).

Others who had left right after me, expecting the power outage to continue, did not feel compelled to return to work (shame, shame). However, all is not lost, as I was able to get back on to my computer and dash off this entry, so that all of you out there in the blogsphere can benefit from my return as well.

It's Not WHAT You Know, It's WHO You Sit Next To

Two kids off to camp yesterday and one still in school leaves the house relatively empty. (my apologies to Ace, the new driver in training).

To mark this momentous occasion, Lovey and I decided to do the counter intuitive thing, and go out.

We decided that we didn't want to spend any money, so we went to a place where we had a gift certificate. We checked the menu, and decide to stay. They have a lovely dining room, but outside seating as well. As the weather was perfect for siting outside, we chose to sit there.

After they bring us the bread and water, eventually they take our order. I wash. So does Lovey. We nibble the bread, we nibble more bread, we finish the bread. We wait. We watch other diners come and sit. We start a conversation with a friendly couple on the next table. We wait. We see other diners get drinks, condiments, bread, water, some meals. We wait.

You would think that a hard nosed litigator might actually get up and say something, however, the night was lovely, we had no place to go, the remaining child at home was babysitting, and most importantly, I am a wimp when it comes to asserting myself for myself.

We mentioned to the couple next to us that we seemed to be waiting for a while. Then the waiter started coming out and giving us funny looks. Then the manager. Finally, the manager comes over to us and the couple next to us and apologizes profusely that there was a glitch in the computer and the outside orders were not getting through to the kitchen. I was willing to go with this. However, are fellow diners felt that something should be done, so they suggested that at least there should be complimentary wine. The manager agreed, but as I didn't need to drink, we opted for dessert instead. When it came time for dessert, our neighbors again reminded the waiter that it should be complimentary. Which it was, and delicious.

We asked the couple what they do. Turns out they are both lawyers.

5,000. Wow

We are about to hit a milestone here at the good Doctor, 5,000 hits since we started the counter ( some time after the actual blog). I would have to go back and check when we hit 4,000, but that would involve research on my part.

I see that we are only about 3,500 behind the blog that was the inspiration for this one, so keep checking here for more interesting tidbits on life.

The only thing I don't get is 5,000 hits, maybe one comment per post. Speak up, folks!

My Mother

On the sixth anniversary of my mother's death, I contemplate her life and my relationship to it. Unfortunately, while she was alive, I couldn't really appreciate her situation or her history. Mine was always a rocky relationship with her. Although she would go into paroxysms of laughter at one thing or another, I always thought of her as not having a sense of humor, certainly not one akin to mine. Irony and satire did nothing for her and she actually resented it when presented with them.

Beset by 7 rambunctious children that she had a hard time controlling, she retreated into a humorless insistence on order (very much like myself). We considered her old-fashioned and unwilling to bend with the times.

Of course, in retrospect, we have all become our parents and journeyed the continuum of growth they traveled before us. The generation gap wasn't invented or discovered in the 60's. It's as old as creation.

Until she died, it was difficult to see her as a person, growing from childhood into young adulthood, maturing into comfortable peaceful middle age and finally descending to the end of life with all its anxieties and fears.

After she died, I went through boxes of photographs which depicted her in many of the stages of her life and only then did I realize there was a real person there. An orphan child afraid of dogs and hating the goat she had to milk, living just along the poverty line with her mother and adored brother and retarded sister. Then later with the man she married, happy in the new security of marriage, but once again plunged into anxieties caused this time by persecution and a world war and then the tragedy of her brother's murder and the untimely death of her mother.

I see pictures of her, at a time when she was younger than all my children are now, finally in the new world though not worry free, happily holding a little baby (me) on a Hudson river boat outing or enjoying a summer afternoon sitting on the grass with myself and my older brother, a picture of youth and expectation. Things got well for her after she arrived here. My father did well and we lacked for nothing material. A summer home, vacations in Florida and out west, and then later a home in Israel. I don't think she was ever completely comfortable socially, always in my father's shadow, except for the time she spent in Israel.

I am still surprised when, on the occasion of the anniversary of her death, people approach me and tell me stories of how they were impressed by my mother, how she helped them and was kind to them and did things for them.

It has taken me almost seventy years to finally appreciate her.

More on Mayor Moron

Once again, recently I was attempting to travel down the West Side Highway. There were delays getting off the George Washington Bridge. This is a merge where two two lane roads converge into a three lane road, with the middle lanes merging.

So i see on the little zebra stripes that separate the merge a car stopped with a motorcycle cop writing the guy a ticket. The stripes are not really big enough for the car, and this is what is causing the delay.

Traffic is still heavy into the lower 100's. Sure enough, at least this time on the cut out off the road, I see another motorcycle cop writing up two cars.

Traffic gets a little better, then snarls up again coming into 79th Street. once again, ANOTHER motorcycle cop. But this idiot has someone pulled over half blocking and entrance lane from 79th Street and the actual highway.

So it turns out that there is a cell phone ticket blitz going on. However, I can't believe that it is the policy of the NYPD, and of course, by extension, our moronic Mayor, to have the cops stop people in the middle of highways, and cause massive rush hour traffic jams just to raise a few dollars. The Mayor should ensure that this doesn't happen, and prevent people from getting to work on time. Once they are late, they have to call in, don't they? Then they get pulled over also. A vicious cycle of entrapment, if you ask me.

The truth is, this one is more on the typical display of arrogance of the cops, who just don't give a hoot about anything other than their narrow minded view.

I think it was put best by Bug. "Cops are the bullies from High School"

Whats Shaking?

An interesting thing happened today. I work in a twelve story commercial building in Brooklyn. In the area where I am, it is by far the tallest building. I was sitting at my desk, holding my head in my hands as I read something, when I felt myself getting woozy. It was really more of a slight side to side motion, so I thought it must be because of the way I was sitting. However, upon changing position, the swaying continued.

I thought maybe I was dancing, but I looked down and my feet weren't moving.

Now this is an old, concrete building that really shouldn't be doing the rumba on its own. I didn't hear whooshing wind or a plane, so it couldn't be that. Really pretty nerve wracking, as I am pretty high up. I immediately longed for my old office, ground floor, one story.

Everyone here, after dithering about, decided to check and see if anyone else reported tremors of some kind. Turns out this big earthquake in Canada is being felt down the Eastern seaboard (or at least in Brooklyn.)

Typical damn Canadians. And I can't even blame Bloomberg for this one.

Gotcha, Speed Demon 2 ( maybe)

OK, Now this is getting ridiculous. If anyone is actually still reading this blog, or has done so this past week, you would know that I finally tracked down the Speed Demon. Or so I thought.

The excuse for the 94 speed was that he had closed the windows and was driving downhill and didn't hear the wind noise to indicate how fast he was going. Whatever. Still too fast in my opinion.

However, yesterday I got a tip to look at the max speed on the GPS again. So like an idiot, I did. Wanna guess the number? 100!! This is getting ridiculous.

I will protect the innocent here, but I will tell you it wasn't me, Lovely or Stretch. The excuse for this one was the need to pass a truck so as not to get stuck behind it on a one lane road. My answer to this was if you had to hit 100 to pass, then the truck was going plenty fast on its own.

I have decided, no more. The young drivers are herewith punished.

They can no longer use the GPS. I just don't want to know.

Mayor Moron, Get Your House in Order

I'm not sure is this is under the direct purview of the esteemed Mayor of New York, but it certainly should be if it isn't.

I was driving down the West Side Highway at 9:25 AM on my way to an appointment in the city at 10:00 AM. Traffic was very slow southbound past 125th Street, where it usually opens up. So I figured there was an accident, or that idiot performance artist with the fruit on his head was out again.

No, this was even better, there was a construction truck in the left lane, and they were MOWING THE GRASS in the median! During RUSH HOUR. Does the mayor and his various departments absolutely not give a darn about the drivers, workers and residents of the City?? I wonder.

The fruit guy should be arrested every time he is out as well, since he also snarls up the traffic, but at least he doesn't work for the city. Why can't they schedule the mowing for, say 11 AM to 3 PM, when it would cause the lease damage to traffic and people's ability to get to work and make money to pay the taxes which pay for the mowing?

I reiterate my previous position, eventually we will be down to one resident, hizzoner hisself.

Gotcha, Speed Demon!

Previously, I posted about the interesting feature on my GPS that allows me to see the top speed attained while the unit is in use. Since then, I have left the unit plugged in while sitting inside the console box. I did this out of sheer laziness, since it was easier to do that than to unplug it and take it inside. I did not do it to spy on the various other drivers of my vehicle to see who thinks he or she is speed racer.

Well, this weekend I went down to Lakewood with Bug. Although we know the way, travelling on a summer Friday down the Garden State Parkway always has its adventures, so I like to have the ability to detour if necessary. As we hit a particularly slow stretch of the highway, we punched up the GPS. I was driving, so Bug was working the machine. I asked him, out of curiosity, what the top speed was now reading. It had been 87 on this particular unit ( not 110, that was the OTHER unit I have). He tells me it is now reading 94!!!!!

OK, now I KNOW that I haven't been on a plane, and I also know that I haven't gone that fast. That leads me to the usual suspects. Well, Bug immediately denied going that fast any time recently, which makes sense, since he has not done any major highway driving lately. Lovely has not used the unit or my car, for that matter, in quite some time. Stretch recently took the unit to return to school. However, he was driving some ancient station wagon that needed to be returned to Pennsylvania. Therefore we were under the impression that he probably couldn't coax that kind of speed out of a car like that, especially one he claimed shook at around 60.

Well, we were wrong. Upon admission, it appears the old wagons certainly hit that kind of speed.

Let's see how fast he can go on a bicycle now.

Do I look fat with this?

I recently attended a celebration for a relative. At the coffee station there were some danishes and pastries set out. As I got my coffee, I picked up a small rugelach that both intrigued and called out to me.

First, some background. I had lost about forty pounds, but have since put about half of that back. ( I know, I know, some people want a refund!) So I am in the middle of where I was at both my heaviest and lightest.

As I pick up this pastry, I met a relative. He looked at my hand, then my midsection, and asked me if I was putting the weight back on.

So now I was wondering, if I had had a carrot in my hand, would he have asked me if I was losing weight again?

I think that the whole thing is really perception. I mean, I was wearing a jacket and tie, its not like I have this big gut just sticking out in its own time zone here. People tend to look at the circumstances to make a decision. It does make sense that if I am not at my thinnest, and I am eating cookies and cakes, that I am probably not in diet mode, even if I should be. But I could be at an optimum weight ( remember, round IS a shape, after all), just maintaining, or cheating a little bit ( it was a little rugelach, not a big donut or cookie).

As to the ultimate question whether it was worth it?

YUP

I'M BAAACK!!!!!

i don't know why, or for how long, but for some reason, my computer is not blocked today! I noticed first that certain links were working, then, when i was researching someone, I was able to access sites that have previously been blocked.

So of course, the first thing i could think of doing when i realized that i could once gain get to the good doctor without going through gatekeepers and machinations ( not unlike managed health care), was to share the good news with you all, dear readers.

Now this leads to a new pressure to keep the wonderful bits flowing here. ("OK, wiseguy, your excuse is moot, we expect blogs, and we want to be entertained!") So I can always claim ( in advance) that this unblocking must be some kind of fluke. Therefore, if you don't see a post for say, a week, assume I am blocked once again.

Or just have nothing to say.

Where the Green Grass Grows

Where the Green Grass Grows

Probably the loveliest spot in the United States is in the area of the four counties north of Dayton, OH. Miami, Shelby, Auglaize, Mercer. It's an area of rich, fertile,verdant fields with wide vistas of land and sky separated by a clearly defined horizon and dotted here and there with tall farm structures such as silos and grain elevators.

I have written before about the high plains of the Texas panhandle which is similar but drier and much lonelier. Here the towns are not as far apart, the wind doesn't blow quite as hard, there are more trees and generally more people, just the right amount of people.

The area was originally settled by German farmers, some Catholic and some Protestant, and their characteristics are still noticeable in the behavior of their descendants. The farms, properties and towns are almost compulsively neat and orderly. No blade of grass is out of place and the boundaries are precisely clipped and delineated. Street crime is low to non existent though every once in a while there is a kidnapping or a spectacular murder. Most cars are parked with their keys in the ignition. The streets and roads are populated but uncrowded and the people are friendly and non-threatening. Everything is fresh and new looking like a real life version of Lake Woebegone.

It was an absolutely beautiful spring day when, while waiting to see a customer, I decided to eat my lunch out of doors. I came upon a large park with few people in it and several clusters of canopy covered picnic benches on stone slabs amidst the incredibly green grass. I stopped at a bench to eat and during my meal noticed several other lone picnickers enjoying the brilliant weather. Almost all the others were single women, who drove up, ate their lunches, took in some sun and left. I must have been a sight in my suit and tie and yarmulke but I enjoyed it so much, I repeated it the next day as well with the same type of company.

This idyllic situation doesn't come without some tribulations. I began my trip very early on a Sunday morning in order to spend it in Detroit with a close relative. In fact, I left my house at 4:00AM to catch a 6:00AM flight. The flight left on time and even though it was cloudy, we immediately rose above the clouds and had a pleasant journey until we reached the area of Lake St. Clair which is the eastern border of Detroit. I noticed that we began a holding pattern and also noticed that even though we were at 13,000 feet, way below us, about 10,000 feet below us, the earth was covered with cloud cover. This is unusual since cloud cover usually begins much further up in the sky, but this time it was clear until very close to the ground. We were informed that Detroit was completely fogged in but it would soon dissipate.

That didn't happen and we got the go ahead to divert to Toledo (only fifty miles south). Strangely, there was no cloud cover at all as we approached Toledo from the east and landed in sunny weather. Because Toledo is a small airport, it took a while to get refueled and even longer till we got the go ahead into Detroit. We took off and flew for about 16 minutes and then taxied into our gate at Detroit for another 16 minutes. Had I left the plane, I would have been able to drive to Detroit and would have arrived 2 hours earlier than i subsequently did, but didn't realize how long we would be delayed.

Flying from Cincinnati into Newark later that week, about half way into the trip we again began a pattern and this went on for about half an hour when we were informed that it would be another 40 minutes before we would get clearance to proceed to Newark and that we were getting low on fuel.I noticed that when we finally left the holding pattern, we flew northward which didn't bode well and indeed the pilot soon announced that we were being diverted to Albany.

I had learned my lesson and insisted that I deplane at Albany (only about 2 hours by car from my final destination that evening). Before leaving the plane, I remarked to the pilot that this was my second diversion this week.

He replied, " Really? My last diversion was two years ago"

Yertle the Judge

As the country is now faced with a situation of a nominee for the Supreme Court who isn't a judge, I would just like to share a story with you that sort of supports the notion that someone who isn't part of the judiciary might be more in touch with reality.

I went out to Hauppauge on a case. It was raining, the traffic was horrendous, and the bridge was a mess, so I went a different way. I figured I was OK, because the Court always has a second call at 10:30, and I didn't anticipate the other side showing up.

Well, I pulled in to the Court parking lot at 10:25, parked, and went inside. There was nothing going on at the time, so I approached the clerk and told her my case name. She looked it up and announced, " Case dismissed at 10:30, no appearance either side."

This is where I felt that I was in an alternative universe.

I looked at my watch, just to be sure. It is a minute fast and showed 10:28. Then I looked up at the clock on the wall DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE JUDGE, and it showed 10:27. I then looked back at my watch, because I needed a moment so I wouldn't shout at the judge " CAN'T YOU IDIOTS TELL TIME!?!?!?!"

The judge, then, in his most officious tone, stated " You can keep looking at your watch, counselor, it was dismissed at 10:30".

Now I was really at a loss for words, or more specifically, words that would not get me held in contempt and thrown in jail. So I just sort of stood there, thinking how I could delicately tell this judge that although the Courtroom is his kingdom, I don't think some district judge from Long Island can bend the rules of time.

Fortunately, the clerk, taking in my completely befuddled and bemused expression, decided that this could indeed be rectified by simply recalling the case, since the other side didn't show, and it STILL WASN'T 10:30. So she did.

However, when put on the automatic tape recorder, it did show a time of 10:33! So either the judge is a slave to a faulty piece of equipment, or he just thinks that he is some kind of god that can make any rule he wants in his courtroom, including suspending the laws of nature.

Although I might not agree with Kagan's policies, the idea that she isn't a judge really should not count against her, if only for the fact that she might not be AS out of touch with reality as even some low level judges become as soon as they get on the bench.

The Costco Factor

Dinner time, especially formal dinner time, has become an endless commercial for Costco and a source of annoyance to myself. Talk of this store has become like the gulf oil spill, nothing can shut it off.

An innocent question about the food being served is immediately answered in a paean to the company whose gas ruins your car engine. A chance comment about a dress or a skirt is immediately taken as an opportunity to sing the praises of the company that makes you pay for the privilege of selling something to you. A question about the salad sends the cook into paroxysms of praise for the company that is too cheap to give you a bag for your purchases. Is nothing unavailable there?

The last straw came as I heard my 3 year old granddaughter playing house. She pretended to go shopping. And where you may ask did she intend to shop? Why at Costco of course and she was going to buy strawberries and blueberries, etc.

So here's a panegyric to the business that women love and men hate. Maybe this will allow the women in my family to get this behind us.


I love to shop at Costco
It's my favorite store
Where, to weed out undesirables
There's a policeman at the door.

Not for them the usual practice
Of wanting to sell to all
They indulge the haughty conduct
Which goest before the fall

They reject the lowly Mastercard
Disdain the downscale Visa
Only Amex will pass muster
That's the card with the luster

I can buy almost anything
That I can eat or use or wear
From meat to fish to pantyhose
Or a sofa or a chair

Fruits out of season
Quantities beyond reason,
Peppers Red Orange and Yellow
Oh, it makes me so mellow

Pay not heed to the feeling
That the quantities are brash
I know I can use most of it
Before it sees the trash

And when I need to haul it home
It fazes me not a whit
That the berry containers burst
Since there is so much of it


I fear that reiteration
Is making me a bore
But I can't help repeating,
It's my favorite store