Sunday, September 30, 2012
Leave it to Peter to want to celebrate his birthday with a Ballantine Ale. While everyone else is sampling the latest trendy micro-beers, Peter wanted to venture back to the ale of our fathers. For me at the age of six or so, Dad brought out the green bottles late Sunday mornings after Mass. Often he'd invite two best friends, Sonny and Jim, from the Post Office over for a couple, amid ribald jokes and hardy laughter. At other times, Grampa Mike, in his black dress suit, would be our guest for Sunday dinner, and they'd share a few. On those mornings, I'd crawl up into Dad's lap on the livingroom couch and listen to their stories. On occasion, he'd let me put the cold, green bottle to my lips and sip. Back then it was a bitter sin, that I never confessed to Mom nor priest. And to this day I wonder, if when I'm at a pub ordering a beer of choice, and an auburn-tinted ale is placed in front of me, might it have any roots to those Sunday mornings nestled in Dad's lap with ale on his breath and aqua velva in the air?
I'm going to say, Yes.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Bring back the Boob!
We spent all day yesterday back in Hippiedom at the Common Ground Fair in Unity, Maine. It's our favorite fair. No cotton candy, no games of chance, no stupid stuffed animal prizes, no midway rides and no screaming kids wanting to throw dimes in glasses. Ah... my kind of fair! On the other hand lots of birkenstocks, lots of green living, lots of organic diet choices, lots of dredlocks, lots of wellies, lots of ponytails on men, lots beads, lots of long flowing printed dresses, lots of long hair, no makeup, lots of long beards, lots of braless t-shirts and more. It was comforting to see. We liked it. This van had lots of artwork painted on it. Bring back the BOOB!, Kill your TV, Formula Stinks, but Breastmilk Sucks, LIVE without Fear, Harm None, Do What Ye Will, and Dance or Garden were some of my favorites.
I kept looking for the free LOVE booth, but it was MIA.
Braless Ts, that's about all she wrote.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
In a second!
I bet I'm a bit different here then most.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Too bad you can't seen mine.
It's a secret still.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
We've spent the last two days on Monhegan Island 10 miles off the coast of Maine. We were up early Saturday morning and on the road to catch the ferry in New Harbor. It's about a 2 hour drive down Route 1. The trip out was quite rough. Four foot swells made for some motion sickness bag use. I was fine, and Elenka was too, as long as she kept her eyes on the horizon. If she was to look down to search for something in her bag, not so much. We paid a return trip to the Monhegan House, where we spent a weekend in 2002 with J- tagging along. This time we took trips to the surf at Lobster Cove, up to Lighthouse Hill and to the deep green of the Cathedral Woods. It was a wonderful, stress-free weekend, like it always seems to be when you get an opportunity to sample island living. I took close to 400 photographs, some of which you'll see this week. Here's one looking out our second floor window towards the island church next door.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Say hello to my little friend!
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Local country fields are being hayed one more time before the first frost comes. Driving into the city yesterday, I saw plenty of action on the field of a large farm. There were three haying machines working, going back and forth, and this scene reminded me of a haunting hay story. I don't even know if there is a bit of urban myth mixed into it. An eighteen year old was working a field on his family farm in the Midwest somewhere. While working alone one afternoon, he accidentally fell off his tractor and was run over. His arm was severed. Thinking fast, he made a tourniquet out of his t-shirt and ran to the house, carrying his arm. When his parents returned shortly, they found him, covered in blood, sitting in the bathtub. He was rushed to the hospital and his arm was reattached. News reporters asked him later why he was in the bathtub with his arm, and he said he didn't want to get blood on his mother's rugs. Is the story true? I have no idea, but each summer, as I drive by fields being worked by large haymakers, this story comes back to me. I can't shake it. To me, it's very believable, yet haunting. I can actually start to tear up. Now, this is a son who loves his mother.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
"Is anybody hurt?"
"Yes, they all are!"
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Birdman's Tomato Soup
3 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 medium , finely chopped onion
2 lbs. ripe sliced tomatoes (unpeeled)
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp finely chopped garlic
2 tsp. cornstarch
3 cups of chicken stock
fresh ground pepper
1 tomato, peeled, cut julienne
1 tbsp. chopped parsley
1 tbsp. chives
1 tsp. light honey
Heat 3 Tbsp. oil in a 4qt. saucepan. Over med. heat, add onion and cook til translucent. Add sliced tomatoes and cook 3 minutes. Stir in tomato paste, bay leaf, cover and cook for 10 minutes, stir often. Transfer mixture to processor and puree. Return puree to saucepan. Combine cornstarch and 1 tbsp. oil in a small bowl. Stir into puree. Add stock and bring to boil over med. heat, stir constantly. Reduce heat to low and simmer 10 minutes. Season with pepper and herb salt. Stir in tomato julienne, parsley, chives and honey.
With a loaf of homemade bread on the side, that's one delicious meal for a cool Sunday.
Bon Appetit... in more ways than one!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
btw LFK stands for Longfellow Fellowship Knights. I'm going to have to do some more research into its meaning. Cheers Peter!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
These hands caught my fancy recently on a ride through Evergreen Cemetery. When I worked there for 9 summers, I spent a lot of my free time investigating the stones, carvings, names and dates of the deceased, and in some cases how they met their demise. I love how you can find a baby's small, seemingly insignificant stone alongside a huge family mausoleum. Here are a couple of headstones from Disney's World's Haunted Mansion:
Fred Joerger- Here Lies Good Old Fred. A Great Big Rock Fell On His Head. RIP
(set designer and model builder for Disney)
Cliff Huet- REST IN PEACE COUSIN HUET, WE ALL KNOW YOU DIDN'T DO IT.
By the way, both real people who worked and knew Walt Disney personally.
Humor and death: they seem an odd combination.
*These days when I'm in Evergreen, I'm on a bit of a quest. There is a stone, among the 65,000 buried here. I found it once and have been going back and searching for it to no avail. It has a small tin type photograph attached to the front. I know it's in there. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
One morning the guy across the street came racing over asking me if I saw it.
"Saw what?" I said.
"That moose, with that big rack, walked right up the road in front of your house. What a bull!" He replied.
"Noooo, are you kidding me? I missed it." I said.
I've seen quite a few on my trips to the North Maine Woods, but never one down here, in the real world. Well, let me take that back. One grazed off my front bumper once over on Running Hill Road. It was twilight, and I saw his eyes and braked. I don't want to make an acquaintance at night while driving fast though, say on the Maine Turnpike. The moose wins that confrontation every time. They are huge. They end up in the front seat, guts and all, and the driver usually at a local funeral parlor. The percentages are against humans in that meeting. Just Saturday night a motorcyclist met one just after passing over the Canadian boarder. Result? Not pretty!
And I bet you thought I was going to be dreaming about motorcycles today.
Monday, September 3, 2012
"I hate cheap pictures. I hate pictures that make people look like they're not worth much, just to prove a photographer's point. I hate when they take a picture of someone picking their nose or yawning. It's so cheap. A lot of it is a big ego trip. You use people as props instead of as people." Jill Freeman , photographer.
"To be a jockey you must love the horse. There's lots of times when I lose patience with him. There's just certain horses that annoy you. There's no two alike. They have personalities like you and I do." Eddie Arroyo, jockey.
"I never listen in on phone conversations, but I'll tell you what. I worked for Illinois Bell, and I don't care who the operator is, the greatest thing is listening in on phone calls. [Laughs] When you're not busy. At the motel, no. At Illinois Bell, I did. If you work nights and it's real quiet. I don't think there's an operator who hasn't listened in on calls. The night goes faster." Frances Swenson, hotel switchboard operator.
I still love my job, everyday. I wish Studs had interviewed me. Love your job? Hate your job? Why?