So, it’s really warm in my office today. This happens every year as soon as it starts to get cooler outside… which makes no sense at all. All I know is that some people here love the “warm, cozy” feeling that excessive heat provides. Yeh. My cube is about as “cozy” as your typical phone booth and about as stuffy.
* * * * *
I was notified last weekend that my uncle died. This is my mother’s brother who lived in Germany. Frankly, I haven’t seen or spoken directly to the guy since I was 10 years old. That said, he had an outrageous sense of humor and was known for being a good guy. Tschuss, Erwin.
* * * * *
Our addition project has notably slowed down, although I’m not sure why. My best guess is that the tile guy is MIA. All I do know is that, once again, a builder has done the “eyes bigger than the head” thing when it came to a completion date: it seems they ALL do this… you choose a relatively liberal date for them to be completed, and the builder nearly scoffs, telling you they’ll be done way before then. Then they finish weeks AFTER the scoff date. Go figure. I don’t mind as we’ll be away next week (Bill’s middle son is taking care of the house and cat). But I’m hoping they’ll be done or darned close to it when we get back. I want my bedroom back, dammit.
* * * * *
Okay, back to news about work…
A few months back, I had a bit of a blow-out with my boss. I won’t go into detail, but the event came and went without too much in the way of post-event damage. But it did get me thinking about my future, and the fact that I have absolutely no chance of advancement whatsoever in my current position.
Despite the current, uhm, market trends (the Shrub called it an “adjustment”), I really love the company I work for and I’d rather not leave. So I went to HR – a group that I work with on a daily basis – and spoke to them about the possibility of transferring within the company. They, of course, didn’t have anything, but they promised they’d let me know if anything came along.
About a week later, someone resigned from their team. They offered me the job. I LEAPT on it… they are a terrific group, I love their manager, and the job duties are totally up my alley.
Here’s the rub: before I can leave my current position, they need to find a replacement for me. And, because things are mental here – what with the stock market crashing around us – things aren’t exactly moving forward in terms of finding said replacement.
My best guess is that I’ll be doing my “old” job until the end of the year. Not a problem, so long as the “new” position stays waiting for me. And trust me, I’m watching the whole thing like a hawk. It would be just my luck for things to shift and I end up with no job at all. Either way, I’m really excited for the change, as are my future co-workers who have been really complimentary and enthusiastic about me coming on-board.
* * * * *
In about 56 hours, I’ll be on a plane to Vienna, then transferring there to fly to Croatia. That alone makes me sound like such a world traveler that I can barely stand it. J Expect LOTS of photos.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Great Supression
Yep, two weeks and no bloggin'. It's official: I suck at this.
Well, I suck at the keeping up part. But you have to give me this much: I've had a helluva excuse this week.
For those of you that don't know, I work for a hedge fund. Yes, one of THOSE companies that people are suddenly blaming for the collapse of our economy.
I got news for you: my company and it's activities are the least of your worries. If you want to lay your blame in a better place, try:
1. All those people who got themselves into about 10 times more house than they could afford, then went belly-up on the mortgage;
2. All those mortgage lenders who handed out subprime mortgages like they were candy at Halloween;
3. The current government who turned a blind eye to everything;
4. The f*cking d*ckwad *sshole MORON that we've been forced to call president for the past eight years.
Alas, I digress. Unless you live under a rock, you'll know that anyone who works for any finance-related firm has had a helluva week. That includes me, kids. I'm exhausted.
And worried. We should ALL be worried. Those storm clouds that have been on the horizon for the past year are finally here... we're just going to have to sit tight and see if it's a severe thunderstorm or a Category 5 hurricane. I just pray that we don't see a true-to-form depression... but it could happen, folks. It could.
Okay, onto happier sh*t.
Our addition (I know... could monetary timing have been any worse to start this lil' project?) is going really, really well. Expensive, but really, really well. Our contractor and his guys have been a delight to work with, and nearly everything has been according to plan. The sheet-rocking is almost complete, which means they'll start finish-work next week... tile, trim and the like. If it comes out half as beautiful as I think it might I'll be pleased as punch.
Last weekend, I helped host an adhoc birthday party for Jess by having people attend my ComedySportz show in NYC. It was a lot of fun, and I think everyone had a good time. I just love - LOVE - to make people laugh. Especially people I consider more like family than friends.
Likewise, our show is hosting a visiting team of players from Philly tomorrow night. They're great folks, and I can't wait to perform with them. Come down if you need a big laugh!
So, Bill and I leave for Croatia and Slovenia a week from today. I literally can't wait. Not only will it be great to just get away for a week, but it's to an exotic, relatively unheard of place. A lot of people are wondering why we chose Croatia as our vacation spot this year. The answer? 'Cuz it looks like this:
Now ya get it? :)
Have a great weekend everyone. Tschuss!
Friday, September 5, 2008
Okay, so continuing on from my last blog. (Yes, I know I said I’d do that tomorrow, which was many days ago. I have no excuses except that I’ve been busy, my house is a wreck and I didn’t feel like it.)
So my back thing was on the mend and I headed off to Portland for the ComedySportz World Championship. This is a yearly event where nearly all the groups that do ComedySportz send a team to perform in a pre-designated city. This year it was Portland, Oregon. Next year is ComedySportz’s 25th anniversary, so it will be in the city where it all started, Milwaukee.
I’d never been to Portland and I have to say I was impressed. It’s a really liveable town… very clean and very “green” (as in environmentally correct.) It’s a bit of a hippee city… a lot like San Francisco, but for fewer hills and not nearly so densely packed. My favorite part of town is the Pearl District… it used to be a bombed out industrial area and has been regentrified into a shining new neighborhood. It’s widely considered one of the best large urban renewal projects ever.
We had great weather, did tons of walking and sight-seeing, and enjoy some amazing local cuisine. And, of course, I got to immerse myself in all things ComedySportz. Our stage time consisted of a Friday night match vs. Chapel Hill, which was a BLAST.
Once we got back home, our addition AND change-over of our heating system finally kicked into gear. We’ve since signed with a contractor for the new bathroom and gotten underway… and that brings us up to the present.
Well, sort of. Let’s talk heating system first.
Earlier this year, we decided to take the plunge and replace our smelly, inefficient old oil furnace. When heating oil hit $4.69/gallon and our monthly heat bill was over $350 (on a relatively warm month), we both knew it was time.
We opted to switch to propane, since natural gas isn’t available (unless, of course, we want to spring $8000 to bring a line in from up the street. Even the guy at Yankee Gas recommended propane instead.) This meant having propane tanks and a line installed, and that process started in June.
Then came the snag. The City of Norwalk came to inspect everything and, lo and behold, no permit was ever pulled for our shed. Great. This means we need to have the shed “legalized” before they’ll sign off on the propane line… not a real problem since I have to get permits pulled for the addition anyway. It just brought everything to a screeching halt.
So, for all of July and most of August, our backyard had a three-foot deep trench running through with an exposed gas line at the bottom. It was majorly unsightly, but there wasn’t a lot we could do about it. Once we got the permits in place, the company that did our central air conditioning took over and began installing the new, propane-fueled boiler/tankless hot water heater combo.
These devices are COOL. They’re wall mounted and the size of a large cabinet. They’re silent (compared to the roar of our old behemoth), odorless (also compared to the stankly thing that crowded our utility room) and heat the house and hot water about 8 billion times more efficiently. I’m honestly looking forward to seeing what our fuel bill is gonna be like. Even if the system was as efficient with a gallon of propane as the old one was with a gallon of oil, our bill will drop substantially… propane’s only $2.59/gallon.
However, getting this thing install was a bit of a nightmare. It took a solid week… during which time we had no hot water. This meant Bill and I were up early every morning to schlep to where I work and use the showers in the company gym. In all, it wasn’t really so bad… but I have to admit, I was glad to get my shower back.
Since then, I’ve fallen in love with this system. The old furnace would roar to life once every 15 minutes of so to keep our old hat water tank full of hot water… the new system heats water on demand and makes NO NOISE. None. Which is really great, because the old furnace was near our TV, and trying to hear over it meant the volume on the tube would have to go up… then down when the furnace stopped… then up… then down…
On the same day that the furnace guys came, the carpenters also started on the addition… and that little odyssey will be recapped in my next blog. But if you want a sneak peak go to:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=149605&l=9a708&id=904650620
Tschuss for now!
So my back thing was on the mend and I headed off to Portland for the ComedySportz World Championship. This is a yearly event where nearly all the groups that do ComedySportz send a team to perform in a pre-designated city. This year it was Portland, Oregon. Next year is ComedySportz’s 25th anniversary, so it will be in the city where it all started, Milwaukee.
I’d never been to Portland and I have to say I was impressed. It’s a really liveable town… very clean and very “green” (as in environmentally correct.) It’s a bit of a hippee city… a lot like San Francisco, but for fewer hills and not nearly so densely packed. My favorite part of town is the Pearl District… it used to be a bombed out industrial area and has been regentrified into a shining new neighborhood. It’s widely considered one of the best large urban renewal projects ever.
We had great weather, did tons of walking and sight-seeing, and enjoy some amazing local cuisine. And, of course, I got to immerse myself in all things ComedySportz. Our stage time consisted of a Friday night match vs. Chapel Hill, which was a BLAST.
Once we got back home, our addition AND change-over of our heating system finally kicked into gear. We’ve since signed with a contractor for the new bathroom and gotten underway… and that brings us up to the present.
Well, sort of. Let’s talk heating system first.
Earlier this year, we decided to take the plunge and replace our smelly, inefficient old oil furnace. When heating oil hit $4.69/gallon and our monthly heat bill was over $350 (on a relatively warm month), we both knew it was time.
We opted to switch to propane, since natural gas isn’t available (unless, of course, we want to spring $8000 to bring a line in from up the street. Even the guy at Yankee Gas recommended propane instead.) This meant having propane tanks and a line installed, and that process started in June.
Then came the snag. The City of Norwalk came to inspect everything and, lo and behold, no permit was ever pulled for our shed. Great. This means we need to have the shed “legalized” before they’ll sign off on the propane line… not a real problem since I have to get permits pulled for the addition anyway. It just brought everything to a screeching halt.
So, for all of July and most of August, our backyard had a three-foot deep trench running through with an exposed gas line at the bottom. It was majorly unsightly, but there wasn’t a lot we could do about it. Once we got the permits in place, the company that did our central air conditioning took over and began installing the new, propane-fueled boiler/tankless hot water heater combo.
These devices are COOL. They’re wall mounted and the size of a large cabinet. They’re silent (compared to the roar of our old behemoth), odorless (also compared to the stankly thing that crowded our utility room) and heat the house and hot water about 8 billion times more efficiently. I’m honestly looking forward to seeing what our fuel bill is gonna be like. Even if the system was as efficient with a gallon of propane as the old one was with a gallon of oil, our bill will drop substantially… propane’s only $2.59/gallon.
However, getting this thing install was a bit of a nightmare. It took a solid week… during which time we had no hot water. This meant Bill and I were up early every morning to schlep to where I work and use the showers in the company gym. In all, it wasn’t really so bad… but I have to admit, I was glad to get my shower back.
Since then, I’ve fallen in love with this system. The old furnace would roar to life once every 15 minutes of so to keep our old hat water tank full of hot water… the new system heats water on demand and makes NO NOISE. None. Which is really great, because the old furnace was near our TV, and trying to hear over it meant the volume on the tube would have to go up… then down when the furnace stopped… then up… then down…
On the same day that the furnace guys came, the carpenters also started on the addition… and that little odyssey will be recapped in my next blog. But if you want a sneak peak go to:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=149605&l=9a708&id=904650620
Tschuss for now!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
BACK to blogging (you'll catch the pun.)
I’m baaaaa-aaack.
Yeh, I know. I promised to be better about blogging. I promised I wouldn’t let weeks (okay, months) pass between entries. I promised shorter, more concise entries so I could keep up with blogging with ease.
I lied.
Life just got in the way over the past six weeks. That said, some of it's interesting, so let’s see if I can recap…
If you’ve my read earlier entries, you’ll know I’m a fan of griping about whatever is ailing me at the time. Some might think I’m a hypochondriac. The truth is I just get sick a lot and I DON’T HANDLE IT WELL. Blogging helps. Everyone can relate to not feeling well, ‘cuz we’ve all been there.
Well, back on Thursday, July 24, I started feeling a weird twinge in my back. I hadn’t done anything to over-exert myself, so it was a mystery what was causing the annoying little pinches I was feeling.
On Friday, the pinches had turned to a steady ache. I made it into work, but I was seriously looking like an old, OLD man walking around the office.
Saturday morning arrives and I can barely move. I had to get Bill’s help to get out of bed and over to Norwalk Hospital. I was in agony.
Let me sidebar here for a sec and say I have new-found respect for people who suffer with back pain. I’ll admit I’ve always felt that these people should just suck-it-up and tough-it-up. “My poor achin’ back” is a cliché for a reason, right? Wrong. Back pain sucks. It’s entirely debilitating and it makes life just miserable. And the worst part is – as you’re about to read – that the medical community doesn’t know a blinkin’ thing about how to treat it in most cases.
Anyway, I get to Norwalk Hospital on Saturday morning, get checked in and get going with some tests. I also get an IV painkiller… something I recommend everyone should try someday. Yep, flying without wings, folks.
As it turns out, I’ve got all – and I mean ALL – the symptoms of kidney stones. Sharp pain on one side. Quick onset. I’ve even got (skip to the next paragraph if you’re squeamish) blood in the ol’ urine sample.
Of course they do a CT scan and guess what turns up? Nothin’. No stones, no nothin’. They give me a scrip for Percocet, the name of an out-of-network orthopedist and discharge me.
Now, keep in mind that I’m supposed to fly to Portland (yes, Oregon) on Tuesday night for a convention/vacation, so I’m feeling stress. I do not, under any circumstances, want to cancel my trip.
On Sunday, I take it easy and, by the end of the day, I’m up and about a little. Pain’s there, but it’s definitely starting to subside.
Monday, I’m back to work, but the pain has returned. Not nearly as bad as Saturday, but it’s definitely there. I leave work early and see the orthopedist. He takes x-rays and twists me like I’m Gumby, dammit. He finds… nothin’.
I gotta tell y’all… there’s nothing worse than being in agonizing pain and having everyone tell you they can’t find the source. It’s sorta like water leaking into your house but no one can find the hole in the roof.
Tuesday arrives and I decide to go on the trip. I’ve got a muscle relaxer, pain-relief patches and a ton of Percocet. Besides, the idea of sitting still for a five-hour flight actually sounds inviting.
Of course, the flight is delayed 3.5 HOURS getting out of Kennedy. No matter. I’ve got painkillers, dude.
Thankfully, the pain subsided and didn’t stand in the way of me having an awesome time in Portland. I kept the physical activity to a minimum, but it was a totally enjoyable trip, nonetheless.
The Moral of the Story? They still don’t know what caused all this. I have a freakish back, I guess.
* * * * *
Coming tomorrow…details of the Portland trip.
Yeh, I know. I promised to be better about blogging. I promised I wouldn’t let weeks (okay, months) pass between entries. I promised shorter, more concise entries so I could keep up with blogging with ease.
I lied.
Life just got in the way over the past six weeks. That said, some of it's interesting, so let’s see if I can recap…
If you’ve my read earlier entries, you’ll know I’m a fan of griping about whatever is ailing me at the time. Some might think I’m a hypochondriac. The truth is I just get sick a lot and I DON’T HANDLE IT WELL. Blogging helps. Everyone can relate to not feeling well, ‘cuz we’ve all been there.
Well, back on Thursday, July 24, I started feeling a weird twinge in my back. I hadn’t done anything to over-exert myself, so it was a mystery what was causing the annoying little pinches I was feeling.
On Friday, the pinches had turned to a steady ache. I made it into work, but I was seriously looking like an old, OLD man walking around the office.
Saturday morning arrives and I can barely move. I had to get Bill’s help to get out of bed and over to Norwalk Hospital. I was in agony.
Let me sidebar here for a sec and say I have new-found respect for people who suffer with back pain. I’ll admit I’ve always felt that these people should just suck-it-up and tough-it-up. “My poor achin’ back” is a cliché for a reason, right? Wrong. Back pain sucks. It’s entirely debilitating and it makes life just miserable. And the worst part is – as you’re about to read – that the medical community doesn’t know a blinkin’ thing about how to treat it in most cases.
Anyway, I get to Norwalk Hospital on Saturday morning, get checked in and get going with some tests. I also get an IV painkiller… something I recommend everyone should try someday. Yep, flying without wings, folks.
As it turns out, I’ve got all – and I mean ALL – the symptoms of kidney stones. Sharp pain on one side. Quick onset. I’ve even got (skip to the next paragraph if you’re squeamish) blood in the ol’ urine sample.
Of course they do a CT scan and guess what turns up? Nothin’. No stones, no nothin’. They give me a scrip for Percocet, the name of an out-of-network orthopedist and discharge me.
Now, keep in mind that I’m supposed to fly to Portland (yes, Oregon) on Tuesday night for a convention/vacation, so I’m feeling stress. I do not, under any circumstances, want to cancel my trip.
On Sunday, I take it easy and, by the end of the day, I’m up and about a little. Pain’s there, but it’s definitely starting to subside.
Monday, I’m back to work, but the pain has returned. Not nearly as bad as Saturday, but it’s definitely there. I leave work early and see the orthopedist. He takes x-rays and twists me like I’m Gumby, dammit. He finds… nothin’.
I gotta tell y’all… there’s nothing worse than being in agonizing pain and having everyone tell you they can’t find the source. It’s sorta like water leaking into your house but no one can find the hole in the roof.
Tuesday arrives and I decide to go on the trip. I’ve got a muscle relaxer, pain-relief patches and a ton of Percocet. Besides, the idea of sitting still for a five-hour flight actually sounds inviting.
Of course, the flight is delayed 3.5 HOURS getting out of Kennedy. No matter. I’ve got painkillers, dude.
Thankfully, the pain subsided and didn’t stand in the way of me having an awesome time in Portland. I kept the physical activity to a minimum, but it was a totally enjoyable trip, nonetheless.
The Moral of the Story? They still don’t know what caused all this. I have a freakish back, I guess.
* * * * *
Coming tomorrow…details of the Portland trip.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Food for the Soul
Didn’t I promise that I’d be better about blogging? I did. In my defense, I’ve been really busy at work and at home. And I have a lot to blog about, so a short entry wasn’t going to cut it.
First off, Bill has been away since last Tuesday. He was sent to assist with an audit in Los Angeles (my former stomping grounds!) and will be back late Friday night. I’d say that it’s been strange without him, but I’ve been keeping myself so busy that I haven’t had a chance to really notice how weird things are without him. Yes, that’s intentional.
This isn’t to say that I don’t miss him, ‘cuz I totally do. I’ll put it this way: since he left it feels like I’ve been walking around wearing only one shoe… it’s not debilitating, but man it’s uncomfortable and feels just odd. So I’m definitely lookin’ forward to the return of my lil’ Reebok.
* * * * *
I mentioned that July 4th was my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, and the one-year mark of our civil union. We celebrated by taking my parents out to the Torte Knox Bistro in Hawley, PA.
Let me start by saying it was the most expensive meal I’ve ever had in my life. Let me add that it was also the best. Yes, the best meal I’ve had to date. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ll remember every bite.
The restaurant is located in a former bank and the décor is stunning… lots of dark, wood details everywhere, and the original, antique banking equipment (including the vault complete with huge, locking door) is used throughout the place. It’s owned by a somewhat eccentric – but definitely entertaining – former actress (and dancer?) named Sheilah. What she does is this: she books 10-12 people per evening (even though the place seats at least 40 more.) Everyone sits on counter-height stools at butcher block slab counters around what’s called the “grand chef’s arena”. From there, Sheilah cooks the entire meal, all five courses.
Of course, she doesn’t just cook. She entertains. Not only with witty conversation and banter with the diners, but also in the amazing way she actually prepares the meal. She chops and sautés and whips with grand flourishes and techniques that make it clear she’s an artiste. And that’s what the meal is all about: food as art. We didn’t just eat… we experienced.
Add to this that Sheilah is what Webster’s would define as a pip. She’s charming, feisty and warm. Sure, the dinner is about her as much as it is about the food, and some people might find that off-putting. I’d completely disagree with them… she’s providing “dinner and show”; but instead of those things being separate, they’re rolled into one. Dinner is the show.
And, of course, the food is outrageously good. How good? Let’s put is this way: I detest salmon. And Bill wouldn’t even dream of touching the stuff. But we couldn’t decline when Sheilah prepared a simple smoked salmon amuse bouche, and we’re glad we didn’t… we both agreed we could have eaten a barrel of the stuff. Delicious.
Our choices for our main course (which had to be selected weeks in advance) were a crab cake, veal-on-the-bone and a filet mignon. I was the only one in the restaurant who chose the filet, and man, I’m so glad I did. First off, it was probably the best cut of steak I’ve ever had. Second, Sheilah prepared it with a sauce made of – get ready for this – dark and white chocolate and balsamic vinegar. My description makes it sound unappetizing… trust me, it was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever put in my mouth.
Lastly, the service was ideal. Sheilah’s assistant, Viviana, and the rest of the staff tend to the few diners that are there, and they do so with a perfect combination of professionalism and warmth… the entire odyssey never once feels stuffy or uptight, yet you know you are being treating to an exclusive, five-star experience.
My parents hate being the center of attention, but Sheilah and crew made them feel like guests of honor without ever once making them feel uncomfortable. I commented to her that we wanted a very special to commemorate their big day, and she and her crew simply nailed it.
Wow, what a meal. What an experience.
* * * * *
So last Friday night, I had a ComedySportz away show at Yale University. The show went quite well, but I have to say: for a school with such a big name, Yale really has some dumpy parts to its facilities. The theatre where we were performing in was next to the Dean of Performing Arts’ office… crikey, what a hole.
Alas, I digress. When I got home much later that evening, there were about eight messages on the machine. Apparently, my father – while doing some handyman’s handiwork – managed to get his hand caught on/in a table saw. He was wearing protective gloves (which, by the way, you NEVER DO while using a table saw for the exact reason you’re about to read)… one of the gloves got pulled into the machine and…
Ironically, just a few weeks ago I was watching a program about intricate medical procedures on TLC. A vascular surgeon was in the ER… the same EXACT thing had happened to him. Except this guy lost most of his fingers. (And, subsequently, his career.)
My dad? Not nearly so unfortunate. Two broken fingers, but none chopped off. Oh, and 48 stitches. Apparently the glove that caused the problem also protected him enough to not lose any digits. Thankfully, this was his left had (he’s a righty) and it doesn’t look like there will be any nerve damage. In all, he’s really fortunate… could have been WAY worse.
What cracked me up about the whole thing is this: just after my dad tried to saw off his own hand, he called out to his neighbor, Craig, for help. Please know that Craig is this buff, handsome, married straight guy who lives next-door. He works out, is ultra-athletic and has about 3% body fat.
He’s also got two very poufy Pomeranians and a kick-in-the-pants wife who is the one who really runs the show.
Anyway, Craig came running over and was of NO HELP. Why? He saw the blood and was on the verge of fainting for the next three days.
I have to laugh. I’m pretty much the world’s biggest nellie wuss boy, but I know I can handle gory situations (yes, that’s experience speaking).
I spoke to my father on Saturday morning and both he and Craig are going to be fine… he was already joking about the incident.
* * * * *
Not a joking matter is what happened while I was at yet another ComedySportz show in Manhattan the following night.
Again, I get home and there a bunch of messages on the machine. This time it was in reference to Nick Vita.
Nick is the husband of Barbara (nee Cunningham), a woman who I have known for well over 20 years. Barb and I went to college together and did a ton of theatre work with each other during that time frame. She’s a sweet, wonderful person… someone I don’t see nearly enough of.
Ironically, Barb, Nick and I reunited a few months back at the funeral of the mother of mutual friend. We made plans for the two of them and their kids to come up to the Nest at the end of this month.
Sadly, that won’t be happening. Apparently, Nick was at work and took a break for a cigarette… and never returned. They found him collapsed on the floor and rushed him to the hospital. He’d suffered a major heart attack and, though they got his heart beating again, it was too weak to pump blood to his brain. They declared him brain dead and, at 10:30pm, pulled the plug.
I’ll be honest: the whole thing hasn’t quite sunk in. I’m attending his wake on Thursday in Bristol… I have a feeling it will hit then. He was a really great guy and a great husband to a dear friend.
Since many of you also read Tina’s blog, it’s worth saying here that Nick was a voracious smoker. Tina and partner Jess quit recently… PLEASE encourage them to stay on the wagon.
* * * * *
I have yet another ComedySportz show tonight (this time at Fairleigh Dickinson University in NJ) then I’m home to do some major house cleaning before Bill gets home. Yes, the cat has been shedding like there’s no tomorrow and the house looks like the Old West what with the fur tumbleweeds blowing by. Yecch.
First off, Bill has been away since last Tuesday. He was sent to assist with an audit in Los Angeles (my former stomping grounds!) and will be back late Friday night. I’d say that it’s been strange without him, but I’ve been keeping myself so busy that I haven’t had a chance to really notice how weird things are without him. Yes, that’s intentional.
This isn’t to say that I don’t miss him, ‘cuz I totally do. I’ll put it this way: since he left it feels like I’ve been walking around wearing only one shoe… it’s not debilitating, but man it’s uncomfortable and feels just odd. So I’m definitely lookin’ forward to the return of my lil’ Reebok.
* * * * *
I mentioned that July 4th was my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, and the one-year mark of our civil union. We celebrated by taking my parents out to the Torte Knox Bistro in Hawley, PA.
Let me start by saying it was the most expensive meal I’ve ever had in my life. Let me add that it was also the best. Yes, the best meal I’ve had to date. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ll remember every bite.
The restaurant is located in a former bank and the décor is stunning… lots of dark, wood details everywhere, and the original, antique banking equipment (including the vault complete with huge, locking door) is used throughout the place. It’s owned by a somewhat eccentric – but definitely entertaining – former actress (and dancer?) named Sheilah. What she does is this: she books 10-12 people per evening (even though the place seats at least 40 more.) Everyone sits on counter-height stools at butcher block slab counters around what’s called the “grand chef’s arena”. From there, Sheilah cooks the entire meal, all five courses.
Of course, she doesn’t just cook. She entertains. Not only with witty conversation and banter with the diners, but also in the amazing way she actually prepares the meal. She chops and sautés and whips with grand flourishes and techniques that make it clear she’s an artiste. And that’s what the meal is all about: food as art. We didn’t just eat… we experienced.
Add to this that Sheilah is what Webster’s would define as a pip. She’s charming, feisty and warm. Sure, the dinner is about her as much as it is about the food, and some people might find that off-putting. I’d completely disagree with them… she’s providing “dinner and show”; but instead of those things being separate, they’re rolled into one. Dinner is the show.
And, of course, the food is outrageously good. How good? Let’s put is this way: I detest salmon. And Bill wouldn’t even dream of touching the stuff. But we couldn’t decline when Sheilah prepared a simple smoked salmon amuse bouche, and we’re glad we didn’t… we both agreed we could have eaten a barrel of the stuff. Delicious.
Our choices for our main course (which had to be selected weeks in advance) were a crab cake, veal-on-the-bone and a filet mignon. I was the only one in the restaurant who chose the filet, and man, I’m so glad I did. First off, it was probably the best cut of steak I’ve ever had. Second, Sheilah prepared it with a sauce made of – get ready for this – dark and white chocolate and balsamic vinegar. My description makes it sound unappetizing… trust me, it was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever put in my mouth.
Lastly, the service was ideal. Sheilah’s assistant, Viviana, and the rest of the staff tend to the few diners that are there, and they do so with a perfect combination of professionalism and warmth… the entire odyssey never once feels stuffy or uptight, yet you know you are being treating to an exclusive, five-star experience.
My parents hate being the center of attention, but Sheilah and crew made them feel like guests of honor without ever once making them feel uncomfortable. I commented to her that we wanted a very special to commemorate their big day, and she and her crew simply nailed it.
Wow, what a meal. What an experience.
* * * * *
So last Friday night, I had a ComedySportz away show at Yale University. The show went quite well, but I have to say: for a school with such a big name, Yale really has some dumpy parts to its facilities. The theatre where we were performing in was next to the Dean of Performing Arts’ office… crikey, what a hole.
Alas, I digress. When I got home much later that evening, there were about eight messages on the machine. Apparently, my father – while doing some handyman’s handiwork – managed to get his hand caught on/in a table saw. He was wearing protective gloves (which, by the way, you NEVER DO while using a table saw for the exact reason you’re about to read)… one of the gloves got pulled into the machine and…
Ironically, just a few weeks ago I was watching a program about intricate medical procedures on TLC. A vascular surgeon was in the ER… the same EXACT thing had happened to him. Except this guy lost most of his fingers. (And, subsequently, his career.)
My dad? Not nearly so unfortunate. Two broken fingers, but none chopped off. Oh, and 48 stitches. Apparently the glove that caused the problem also protected him enough to not lose any digits. Thankfully, this was his left had (he’s a righty) and it doesn’t look like there will be any nerve damage. In all, he’s really fortunate… could have been WAY worse.
What cracked me up about the whole thing is this: just after my dad tried to saw off his own hand, he called out to his neighbor, Craig, for help. Please know that Craig is this buff, handsome, married straight guy who lives next-door. He works out, is ultra-athletic and has about 3% body fat.
He’s also got two very poufy Pomeranians and a kick-in-the-pants wife who is the one who really runs the show.
Anyway, Craig came running over and was of NO HELP. Why? He saw the blood and was on the verge of fainting for the next three days.
I have to laugh. I’m pretty much the world’s biggest nellie wuss boy, but I know I can handle gory situations (yes, that’s experience speaking).
I spoke to my father on Saturday morning and both he and Craig are going to be fine… he was already joking about the incident.
* * * * *
Not a joking matter is what happened while I was at yet another ComedySportz show in Manhattan the following night.
Again, I get home and there a bunch of messages on the machine. This time it was in reference to Nick Vita.
Nick is the husband of Barbara (nee Cunningham), a woman who I have known for well over 20 years. Barb and I went to college together and did a ton of theatre work with each other during that time frame. She’s a sweet, wonderful person… someone I don’t see nearly enough of.
Ironically, Barb, Nick and I reunited a few months back at the funeral of the mother of mutual friend. We made plans for the two of them and their kids to come up to the Nest at the end of this month.
Sadly, that won’t be happening. Apparently, Nick was at work and took a break for a cigarette… and never returned. They found him collapsed on the floor and rushed him to the hospital. He’d suffered a major heart attack and, though they got his heart beating again, it was too weak to pump blood to his brain. They declared him brain dead and, at 10:30pm, pulled the plug.
I’ll be honest: the whole thing hasn’t quite sunk in. I’m attending his wake on Thursday in Bristol… I have a feeling it will hit then. He was a really great guy and a great husband to a dear friend.
Since many of you also read Tina’s blog, it’s worth saying here that Nick was a voracious smoker. Tina and partner Jess quit recently… PLEASE encourage them to stay on the wagon.
* * * * *
I have yet another ComedySportz show tonight (this time at Fairleigh Dickinson University in NJ) then I’m home to do some major house cleaning before Bill gets home. Yes, the cat has been shedding like there’s no tomorrow and the house looks like the Old West what with the fur tumbleweeds blowing by. Yecch.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Chivalry: Not dead, just having a bad week.
Apologies for the lag here in blog land. The past ten days or so have just been off-kilter for me. It seems that everything I do as of late has some sort of a false start to it or derails mid-process. That, and the listless physical feeling that’s been nagging at me for the past week finally developed into a minor chest cold. Nothing serious, but I’m feeling just lousy enough to add to that sensation that everything is just a little off.
I was supposed to have this entire week off to spend at the Nest. That plan got screwed up by my work schedule and an edict that our department head put on our “Summer Hours” program. In short, I ended up with Monday and Thursday off, a Friday holiday, and having to work yesterday and today. That alone makes for one screwy week.
So the updated plan became for me and Bill to go up to the Nest after my ComedySportz show last Saturday night and for me to leave Bill in Yulan while I zipped back to work for my two-day stretch. Well, we were expecting a delivery in Norwalk on Saturday afternoon before we left (our new fireplace unit, to be exact… yes, in the middle of summer. More off-kilterness.) Of course, the delivery didn’t show up on time, forcing me to go into the city solo and leave Bill at home to wait for the truck. The driver did finally show up, but once I got back from Manhattan at 9pm, neither Bill nor I wanted to make the drive out to NY State. So we decided to leave Sunday morning instead.
We stopped for groceries on the way up and the remainder of Sunday was a typical day at the Nest… eating, boating around the lake, etc. I took my first swim of the season, we had a brief (and really beautiful) rainstorm, and Bill and I watched a Netflix rental called Lars and the Real Girl, which was way better that I thought it would be.
At 3am, I woke up with a bout of asthma, feeling really wheezy and heavy-chested. And – OF COURSE – I left my inhaler and any sort of medication I have for said asthma at home. Brilliant, Glenn. Brilliant.
And, of course, the wheeziness wouldn’t leave me alone, so I finally abandoned Bill at around 2pm the following day and headed back to Norwalk. I was supposed to stay until after dinner… but that wouldn’t have been in keeping with the latest string of things going wrong and plans being FUBAR.
So, I’ve been back at work, feeling lousy and trying to just get through two very long days. I was supposed to leave right from work and go back up to the Nest tonight… but – you guessed it – that ain’t gonna happen either. I left all the stuff I was supposed to bring at home, and even took the wrong car this morning to get to work. Yes, the kilter is off. Way off. It’s just as well… I’m still feeling rather yecch, and I’ll do much better making the drive in the morning.
But wait, there’s more.
Bill’s employer is planning to send him to LA for week, the timing of which is still up in the air. He may need to leave Sunday night, which will mean my former week’s worth of vacation would be cut even shorter. He’s still waiting for definite word… and the holding pattern is just adding to the dizziness of this totally f*%ked up week.
So what was supposed to be nine days off in a row and a long vacation at one of my favorite places in the world has turned into two truncated weekends. Some vacation.
The good news is that my parents are supposed to come up tomorrow, and we have an amazing dinner planned on Friday night. Hopefully this will all stay on track. Hopefully.
* * * * *
It struck me last week that my pal Tina is the most intuitive person I’ve ever met. Seriously, you can’t get anything past her… she has an amazing knack for knowing exactly how you’re feeling. An even better knack for knowing exactly what you’re not saying.
We were supposed to record a new podcast last Tuesday. As you’ve read, I’ve been feeling out of it, so I asked to move it to Thursday. Thursday rolls around and I’m still not feeling like my brain and my life are fully engaged, but I decided I was going to give the podcast my best shot anyway. When I called Tina, it seemed like she was busy getting everything together for her vacation (which sounds like it’s going about eight thousand times better than my own), so I asked if it wasn’t a good time for her. That was enough to tip her off… she immediately tuned into the fact that I wasn’t there 100%. So, she offered to put the podcast off until next week. It was really kind of her.
It felt horrible to let her down twice in a row… on the flip side, it was such a relief. I love doing the cast, but I’m a fussy queen and want everything to be right. With luck, she understands… I think she does. Like I said, I can’t get much past her. I’m glad I haven’t ever been in the situation where I’d have to lie to the girl… she pick up on it like lightning. Seriously, it’s a talent. Consider yourself warned. :)
* * * * *
So, I’ve officially had my first altercation on the train.
Yesterday, the 6:07 out of Stamford was two cars short and PACKED. Every seat was taken and just about everyone who got on in Stamford was forced to stand. This meant people were packed together like sardines, standing everywhere, even in the aisles.
I found a snug spot to stand in one of the vestibules by the exit doors. It was hot, cramped and miserable… compounded by the fact that I felt like I had an elephant sitting on my wheezy, asthmatic chest.
Once the doors had closed and we were getting underway, I noticed a woman carrying a sizeable toddler, making her way through the car I was in just trying to find a spot to stand. After spending minutes looking like a salmon trying to make its way upstream, the poor thing finally just gave up. She had no choice but to stand in the middle of the aisle, with nothing to hold onto for support. And I gotta be honest… the kid looked heavy.
Seated directly behind her was a guy who couldn’t have been more than 25. He was fit, young and wearing shorts and t-shirt. He looked up, noticed her situation and went back to his GameBoy.
Hm.
It was probably everything combined – the cramped conditions of the car, the fact that I wasn’t feeling well and that my week has been SO messed up – but I just couldn’t let this go. The woman was obviously struggling and this a-hole just shrugs it off. Thus, my big, fat mouth popped open.
“Dude,” I said to GameBoy. “Why don’t you let the lady with the baby have your seat?”
GameBoy looks up at me and, without even the tiniest bit of irony, says “Why don’t you go f*%k yourself?”
Hm, part two.
You know those moments when there should be the sound of a needle dragging across a record, followed by the entire world stopping dead in its tracks? Well, this was one of those moments. There was an audible gasp from about a dozen people around me – apparently just about everybody nearby had tuned into the plight of mom and baby – followed by complete, stunned silence.
Before I could say anything, a big guy (my height and at least 50 pounds heavier) standing pretty much between me and GameBoy suddenly barks at the kid, “WHAT ARE YOU, A F*%KIN’ RETARD? LET THE LADY SIT DOWN!!!”
Without hesitating, GameBoy gathers up his stuff and gets up out of his seat. From the row of seats behind him, a woman who could best be described as a classic, little old lady says to the woman sitting next to her, in deference to GameBoy, “I certainly didn’t raise any of my children to behave like that.”
WWB (Woman With Baby) sits. GameBoy squeezes his way through the vestibule. As he passes me, he glares at me and mutters, “Jerk.”
Bzzzzzz. Wrong.
“I’m a jerk?” I ask loudly. “You’re the one who has to be told to give up his seat to a woman and her baby, and I’M the jerk. Yeh. Right.”
GameBoy pauses for a second. I don’t know whether the look on my tired, sweaty face let him know he was in for huge verbal beating if he took it any further, or whether he just sensed that everyone standing near him was ready to crucify him for being such a jackass. Either way, he just kept moving. All eyes watched him as he shuffled his way down the crowded aisle and out the door to the next car.
“None of my kids would ever behave like that,” the little old lady mutters.
WWB looks up and we make eye contact for a second. She offers a little smile, but the look on her face – just as tired and sweaty as mine – says “thank you.” She’s welcome, but I gotta be honest… I still wanna punch the kid with the GameBoy square in the mouth.
* * * * *
Waiting on the quote from our latest contractor (who, promisingly, was stunned when we told him about our two $57,000 quotes). Keep those fingers crossed.
Happy 4th to all.
Tschuss.
I was supposed to have this entire week off to spend at the Nest. That plan got screwed up by my work schedule and an edict that our department head put on our “Summer Hours” program. In short, I ended up with Monday and Thursday off, a Friday holiday, and having to work yesterday and today. That alone makes for one screwy week.
So the updated plan became for me and Bill to go up to the Nest after my ComedySportz show last Saturday night and for me to leave Bill in Yulan while I zipped back to work for my two-day stretch. Well, we were expecting a delivery in Norwalk on Saturday afternoon before we left (our new fireplace unit, to be exact… yes, in the middle of summer. More off-kilterness.) Of course, the delivery didn’t show up on time, forcing me to go into the city solo and leave Bill at home to wait for the truck. The driver did finally show up, but once I got back from Manhattan at 9pm, neither Bill nor I wanted to make the drive out to NY State. So we decided to leave Sunday morning instead.
We stopped for groceries on the way up and the remainder of Sunday was a typical day at the Nest… eating, boating around the lake, etc. I took my first swim of the season, we had a brief (and really beautiful) rainstorm, and Bill and I watched a Netflix rental called Lars and the Real Girl, which was way better that I thought it would be.
At 3am, I woke up with a bout of asthma, feeling really wheezy and heavy-chested. And – OF COURSE – I left my inhaler and any sort of medication I have for said asthma at home. Brilliant, Glenn. Brilliant.
And, of course, the wheeziness wouldn’t leave me alone, so I finally abandoned Bill at around 2pm the following day and headed back to Norwalk. I was supposed to stay until after dinner… but that wouldn’t have been in keeping with the latest string of things going wrong and plans being FUBAR.
So, I’ve been back at work, feeling lousy and trying to just get through two very long days. I was supposed to leave right from work and go back up to the Nest tonight… but – you guessed it – that ain’t gonna happen either. I left all the stuff I was supposed to bring at home, and even took the wrong car this morning to get to work. Yes, the kilter is off. Way off. It’s just as well… I’m still feeling rather yecch, and I’ll do much better making the drive in the morning.
But wait, there’s more.
Bill’s employer is planning to send him to LA for week, the timing of which is still up in the air. He may need to leave Sunday night, which will mean my former week’s worth of vacation would be cut even shorter. He’s still waiting for definite word… and the holding pattern is just adding to the dizziness of this totally f*%ked up week.
So what was supposed to be nine days off in a row and a long vacation at one of my favorite places in the world has turned into two truncated weekends. Some vacation.
The good news is that my parents are supposed to come up tomorrow, and we have an amazing dinner planned on Friday night. Hopefully this will all stay on track. Hopefully.
* * * * *
It struck me last week that my pal Tina is the most intuitive person I’ve ever met. Seriously, you can’t get anything past her… she has an amazing knack for knowing exactly how you’re feeling. An even better knack for knowing exactly what you’re not saying.
We were supposed to record a new podcast last Tuesday. As you’ve read, I’ve been feeling out of it, so I asked to move it to Thursday. Thursday rolls around and I’m still not feeling like my brain and my life are fully engaged, but I decided I was going to give the podcast my best shot anyway. When I called Tina, it seemed like she was busy getting everything together for her vacation (which sounds like it’s going about eight thousand times better than my own), so I asked if it wasn’t a good time for her. That was enough to tip her off… she immediately tuned into the fact that I wasn’t there 100%. So, she offered to put the podcast off until next week. It was really kind of her.
It felt horrible to let her down twice in a row… on the flip side, it was such a relief. I love doing the cast, but I’m a fussy queen and want everything to be right. With luck, she understands… I think she does. Like I said, I can’t get much past her. I’m glad I haven’t ever been in the situation where I’d have to lie to the girl… she pick up on it like lightning. Seriously, it’s a talent. Consider yourself warned. :)
* * * * *
So, I’ve officially had my first altercation on the train.
Yesterday, the 6:07 out of Stamford was two cars short and PACKED. Every seat was taken and just about everyone who got on in Stamford was forced to stand. This meant people were packed together like sardines, standing everywhere, even in the aisles.
I found a snug spot to stand in one of the vestibules by the exit doors. It was hot, cramped and miserable… compounded by the fact that I felt like I had an elephant sitting on my wheezy, asthmatic chest.
Once the doors had closed and we were getting underway, I noticed a woman carrying a sizeable toddler, making her way through the car I was in just trying to find a spot to stand. After spending minutes looking like a salmon trying to make its way upstream, the poor thing finally just gave up. She had no choice but to stand in the middle of the aisle, with nothing to hold onto for support. And I gotta be honest… the kid looked heavy.
Seated directly behind her was a guy who couldn’t have been more than 25. He was fit, young and wearing shorts and t-shirt. He looked up, noticed her situation and went back to his GameBoy.
Hm.
It was probably everything combined – the cramped conditions of the car, the fact that I wasn’t feeling well and that my week has been SO messed up – but I just couldn’t let this go. The woman was obviously struggling and this a-hole just shrugs it off. Thus, my big, fat mouth popped open.
“Dude,” I said to GameBoy. “Why don’t you let the lady with the baby have your seat?”
GameBoy looks up at me and, without even the tiniest bit of irony, says “Why don’t you go f*%k yourself?”
Hm, part two.
You know those moments when there should be the sound of a needle dragging across a record, followed by the entire world stopping dead in its tracks? Well, this was one of those moments. There was an audible gasp from about a dozen people around me – apparently just about everybody nearby had tuned into the plight of mom and baby – followed by complete, stunned silence.
Before I could say anything, a big guy (my height and at least 50 pounds heavier) standing pretty much between me and GameBoy suddenly barks at the kid, “WHAT ARE YOU, A F*%KIN’ RETARD? LET THE LADY SIT DOWN!!!”
Without hesitating, GameBoy gathers up his stuff and gets up out of his seat. From the row of seats behind him, a woman who could best be described as a classic, little old lady says to the woman sitting next to her, in deference to GameBoy, “I certainly didn’t raise any of my children to behave like that.”
WWB (Woman With Baby) sits. GameBoy squeezes his way through the vestibule. As he passes me, he glares at me and mutters, “Jerk.”
Bzzzzzz. Wrong.
“I’m a jerk?” I ask loudly. “You’re the one who has to be told to give up his seat to a woman and her baby, and I’M the jerk. Yeh. Right.”
GameBoy pauses for a second. I don’t know whether the look on my tired, sweaty face let him know he was in for huge verbal beating if he took it any further, or whether he just sensed that everyone standing near him was ready to crucify him for being such a jackass. Either way, he just kept moving. All eyes watched him as he shuffled his way down the crowded aisle and out the door to the next car.
“None of my kids would ever behave like that,” the little old lady mutters.
WWB looks up and we make eye contact for a second. She offers a little smile, but the look on her face – just as tired and sweaty as mine – says “thank you.” She’s welcome, but I gotta be honest… I still wanna punch the kid with the GameBoy square in the mouth.
* * * * *
Waiting on the quote from our latest contractor (who, promisingly, was stunned when we told him about our two $57,000 quotes). Keep those fingers crossed.
Happy 4th to all.
Tschuss.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
No longer nasally challenged.
Okay, I’m back. The nasal crisis has passed… I left work early yesterday, got home and climbed into bed for an hour and a half. I can’t say that I felt better last night, but today I feel somewhat back on track.
* * * * *
Last weekend was a busy one, with the three final performances of A Totally 80’s Wizard of Oz. In all, it was a very fun and very well-received show. The kids loved it… although on Sunday - when I took a totally-staged spill in my first scene - I scared the dickens out of a toddler in the front row. I later saw him out in the lobby and convinced him that I was all right and not the anti-christ. Before long he was smiling and giving me a high-five… I’m glad; the last thing I want to do is scar the lil’ tyke with a bit of physical humor.
What’s next for me, theatre-wise? A break. Then off to the ComedySportz national tournament in Portland, OR at the end of July.
* * * * *
Also on the weekend agenda were dinner with Doug and Bill at Chili's on Saturday night, and the Oz cast party on Sunday afternoon/evening. Both were fun... it was really great to just kick back and enjoy dinner with Doug.
For those of you who don't know him, Doug is a long-time friend of mine... we actually dated a long, long time ago (1987 to be exact), but maintained a friendship after officially breaking up way back when. He's been one of my best friends since and has saved my life so many times I can't even count.
One of the best parts of our friendship is, quite honestly, just growing older with someone who knows all the personal references from many of the past eras of my life. He's been around for so long that we can practically talk in code sometimes. It makes me think of a line from the film Broadcast News, where Albert Brooks says to his best friend, Holly Hunter, on the phone: "Okay, I'll meet you at the place by the thing where we went that time." She responds: "Okay," and hangs up.
* * * * *
I’ve got some vacation time coming up next week (working Tuesday and Wednesday only) and I’m really looking forward to the downtime. Bill and I are headed to the Nest for the week, and my parents will be joining us on July 3.
July 4 will be their 50th wedding anniversary, and Bill and I will be celebrating one “official” year under our civil union on the same day. Sadly, Bill’s mom also passed away on July 4, 2004... so we have a plenty of reasons to lift a glass to commemorate and celebrate.
We’ve decided that we’re treating my parents to dinner at a place called Torte Knox in Hawley, PA. We were recommended to this place by the owners of the River Gallery in Narrowsburg, NY… apparently the owner, Sheilah, is this wildly talented, abundantly energetic and pretty much eccentric woman who sets out to create an experience, not just dinner. We have to pick our menu choices and pay in advance, and Sheilah doesn’t allow for any last minute changes. Sounds like she wants everything to be five-star perfect. I can’t wait.
* * * * *
Tina and I will be doing a new podcast on Thursday. Thanks for the time extension, T. I wanna be 100% for when we record.
* * * * *
STILL trying to get the bathroom addition off the ground. Last week, another contractor came in with another exorbitantly high quote, this one almost $60,000. That’s even higher than the previous ridiculously high quote. The crazy part about this guy is that he’s actually following up with me, as if the quote isn’t embarrassingly off-base. Makes me wonder if he confused our job with someone else’s.
To give you an idea of how bloated this quote is: he’s itemized and he’s broken-out the cost of purchasing and installing the windows and doors for the job. There are two, small Andersen windows, and two, inexpensive hollow-core interior doors on the plan. His price for this: $6000.
Yeh, right. I feel like calling him and saying, "dude, the birthday was last week, not yesterday."
Note that we had ALL the existing interior doors in the house replaced previously for about $1000. The guy must be stoned. Or worse, he thinks I’m a flippin’ moron. Still, he thinks we should have a sit-down to discuss the job. Yeh, I’ll sit down and discuss if he brings a scalpel and is prepared to use it on his quote… he’s about 140% over our budget.
We’ve got a new contractor stopping by tomorrow night to give us a quote. I also met two friends of the producer of Oz last Friday night… both are connected in the business and may be able to help. Again, fingers are crossed.
* * * * *
Last weekend was a busy one, with the three final performances of A Totally 80’s Wizard of Oz. In all, it was a very fun and very well-received show. The kids loved it… although on Sunday - when I took a totally-staged spill in my first scene - I scared the dickens out of a toddler in the front row. I later saw him out in the lobby and convinced him that I was all right and not the anti-christ. Before long he was smiling and giving me a high-five… I’m glad; the last thing I want to do is scar the lil’ tyke with a bit of physical humor.
What’s next for me, theatre-wise? A break. Then off to the ComedySportz national tournament in Portland, OR at the end of July.
* * * * *
Also on the weekend agenda were dinner with Doug and Bill at Chili's on Saturday night, and the Oz cast party on Sunday afternoon/evening. Both were fun... it was really great to just kick back and enjoy dinner with Doug.
For those of you who don't know him, Doug is a long-time friend of mine... we actually dated a long, long time ago (1987 to be exact), but maintained a friendship after officially breaking up way back when. He's been one of my best friends since and has saved my life so many times I can't even count.
One of the best parts of our friendship is, quite honestly, just growing older with someone who knows all the personal references from many of the past eras of my life. He's been around for so long that we can practically talk in code sometimes. It makes me think of a line from the film Broadcast News, where Albert Brooks says to his best friend, Holly Hunter, on the phone: "Okay, I'll meet you at the place by the thing where we went that time." She responds: "Okay," and hangs up.
* * * * *
I’ve got some vacation time coming up next week (working Tuesday and Wednesday only) and I’m really looking forward to the downtime. Bill and I are headed to the Nest for the week, and my parents will be joining us on July 3.
July 4 will be their 50th wedding anniversary, and Bill and I will be celebrating one “official” year under our civil union on the same day. Sadly, Bill’s mom also passed away on July 4, 2004... so we have a plenty of reasons to lift a glass to commemorate and celebrate.
We’ve decided that we’re treating my parents to dinner at a place called Torte Knox in Hawley, PA. We were recommended to this place by the owners of the River Gallery in Narrowsburg, NY… apparently the owner, Sheilah, is this wildly talented, abundantly energetic and pretty much eccentric woman who sets out to create an experience, not just dinner. We have to pick our menu choices and pay in advance, and Sheilah doesn’t allow for any last minute changes. Sounds like she wants everything to be five-star perfect. I can’t wait.
* * * * *
Tina and I will be doing a new podcast on Thursday. Thanks for the time extension, T. I wanna be 100% for when we record.
* * * * *
STILL trying to get the bathroom addition off the ground. Last week, another contractor came in with another exorbitantly high quote, this one almost $60,000. That’s even higher than the previous ridiculously high quote. The crazy part about this guy is that he’s actually following up with me, as if the quote isn’t embarrassingly off-base. Makes me wonder if he confused our job with someone else’s.
To give you an idea of how bloated this quote is: he’s itemized and he’s broken-out the cost of purchasing and installing the windows and doors for the job. There are two, small Andersen windows, and two, inexpensive hollow-core interior doors on the plan. His price for this: $6000.
Yeh, right. I feel like calling him and saying, "dude, the birthday was last week, not yesterday."
Note that we had ALL the existing interior doors in the house replaced previously for about $1000. The guy must be stoned. Or worse, he thinks I’m a flippin’ moron. Still, he thinks we should have a sit-down to discuss the job. Yeh, I’ll sit down and discuss if he brings a scalpel and is prepared to use it on his quote… he’s about 140% over our budget.
We’ve got a new contractor stopping by tomorrow night to give us a quote. I also met two friends of the producer of Oz last Friday night… both are connected in the business and may be able to help. Again, fingers are crossed.
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