Archive for March 2008
A Matter Of Burgers
Once again, The Dead Poet has provided another dose of crazy serendipity. I’m beginning to think the place is some sort of Twilight Zone or Time/Space Portal. Let me set the scene. Abbi and I have just stepped out of Chris and Jen’s Upper West Side apartment following a five hour babysitting stint. As adorable…
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Will Commute For Food Fun
My friend, Tricia Martin, sent an email on Friday with this blurb from The Des Moines Register: “Are you planning to compete in the June 22 Hy-Vee Triathlon in Des Moines? Are you willing to blog about your training experiences?” “The Register has 10 entries to give away, and we are looking for a cross-section…
Read MoreShe’s So Heavy
“Do you know what the capital of Djibouti is? Djibouti.” It seemed funny at the time. I think it might have even warranted a knee slap. Which is often the case when you’re three beers in at Rockwood Music Hall. Back home in Hell’s Kitchen watching Frontline, though, I’m not entirely sure what I found…
Read MoreClean Up In Aisle Five
I find the psychodemographics of grocery shopping kind of amusing, and maybe even a little bit insightful. I mean, who among us hasn’t snuck a look at another patron’s cart, or rendered some sort of judgement in the check-out aisle? In a way, one’s purchases are deeply revealing stuff. A brand says a lot about…
Read MoreSwinging The World By The Tail
That’s me in Miss Opalinski’s fourth grade class. I liked stuffed animals, model airplanes, T-ball, Beverly Cleary books, and Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” I spent the bulk of my time roller skating, drawing, singing “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow,” cleaning my room, and watching “3-2-1 Contact.” T-ball notwithstanding, it occurs…
Read MoreHave You Seen Me Lately?
“So what have you been up to?” That’s young Ryan Vaughn, drummer to half of the bands on the Lower East Side, talking. It’s just before seven o’clock on Saturday night. The sun has cast a warm, early-spring urbanglow on Avenue C. Ryan, Tony, Chris and I are sitting at an Italian restaurant across the…
Read MoreLucky Strike
“I owe everybody a rub down,” Meg said, frowning. I guess I started the whole thing off on the wrong foor when I left a message on my father’s answering machine that jokingly said, “I hope you have a lovely day celebrating the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ.” Oops. The afternoon (let’s face it,…
Read MoreComing Home
So it’s been five years, or 1825 days, or 43,800 hours, or — in terms the average American can better understand — roughly enough time to watch 87,600 episodes of “Friends.” The War In Iraq — the one intended to depose Al Queda-supporting (oops!), weapons of mass destruction-toting (oops!) dictator Saddam Hussein — has cost…
Read MoreDear Mister Rogers
Dear Mister Rogers, My memory isn’t the best, but one moment I’ll never forget is meeting you. It was September 4, 2001. I’d arrived on Nantucket just a few hours prior. I remember going for a run, then swimming in the bay at sunset. By the time you walked over from The Crooked House, there…
Read MoreWhere We Can Shine
I’m in the back seat of a rental van some 23 miles west of the New Jersey state line. New York City is ahead of us, casting an orange glow on the horizon. It’s been an interesting few days, much of it was spent with eight young Iraq War veterans — emphasis on young. These…
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