Tag Archives: summer

What a difference a day makes

In NYC today, it was summer.

Flip-Flops

Toes were out. Flips were flopped.

I mention this because so many of my friends in the Midwest are covered in snow.

Not rubbing it in, mind you –

just giving you some hope!

Food stereotypes

Freshdirect.com, my favorite website for ordering groceries in the neighborhood, posted this ‘goodbye to summer’ today on Facebook.

I love the sentiment — the poster’s graphic look and feel, too.

But they can’t honestly be suggesting that my popsicles, fudge bars and toffee crunch bars — all reduced fat and sugar-free, of course — should be packed away with my summer clothes and flip flops….

Not even.

I find popsicles refreshing year round.  They are the perfect light dessert — that little taste of sweet that doesn’t linger compared to heavy cakes and pies.

They aren’t seasonal.  They’re sensible.

Of course, I feel much the same way about soup — love me some soup any time of year, especially in summer.  When the AC is cranked in public buildings, soup is the best way to warm up.

Turning up the thermostat also works.

Let’s give food a chance.

Three strikes

No doubt — John Irving wrote it better.

In A Prayer for Owen Meany, a woman gets hit by a baseball, dies, and her son and the boy who hit the killer ball remain best friends throughout their lives.

When it happens in real life, folks are a bit more litigious.

A New Jersey woman who was struck in the face by a baseball is suing the 11-year old catcher who hit her for medical costs and negligence.  Her husband is filing a separate suit for the loss of “services, society and consortium” of his wife.

The total damages?  Close to $500,000.

The catcher’s family, who says they can’t afford the jury trial the woman has demanded, thinks Little League Baseball should help defray court costs since the accident took place during a sanctioned warm-up.

I think they should call Irving.  Maybe he can do a rewrite and give this story some heart.

Sportswear

I watched a little golf this weekend.

It is summer, after all.

And as pro golfer Zach Johnson donned the bright plaid jacket that is as much a part of the Colonial tournament win in Fort Worth Texas as the check and the trophy, it made me wonder –

Why is men’s golf the only sport that gives clothes to the victor?

The traditional jacket, most closely associated with the Masters in Augusta, is actually a sign of membership.  The tournament winner is a member of that country club for a calendar year, until the next tourney, the next winner.

But I still think giving an article of clothing to the winner of a sporting event to mark their achievement is kinda cool. And I’m surprised more sports — especially women’s sports and the clothing brands that support them — haven’t jumped on the bandwagon.

Wouldn’t you want your brand under the bright lights in an awards ceremony? 

(People do watch golf, ya know. )

Hurts so good

I’m tired.  My voice is scratchy.  My body aches.

I’m not sick — I’m just recovering from last night’s US Open Men’s Singles Final.

And I didn’t even play.

I don’t think enough has been written (or studied, for that matter) on the physical and mental exertions of the spectator.

Especially in major championships like the US Open –  or the Super Bowl or World Series — people watching these events live in the stadium expend a lot of energy cheering on behalf of the athletes.

I don’t know how many times the chair umpire had to tell us to quiet down.

Communist.

I can only imagine how exhausted Novak Djokovic and Rafael Nadal must be this morning.  They ran while they were screaming.

And rumor has it, within the next 24 hours, they will both be catching flights to Europe so they can play tennis on Friday in Davis Cup matches representing their respective countries.

Man, I don’t know if I’ll be rested up by then.

First Saturday

I may be in Manhattan today, but my thoughts are back home.

Best of luck to everyone working hard (and playing hard) at today’s Fancy Farm Picnic!  No one does barbecue better — I can almost taste it — and there might be loss of life during the political speeches this year.

I hate to miss that.

At the very least, could someone play a few cards of tab bingo for me?  And if that doesn’t work out…

…just make sure I win the car, okay?

Thanks.

Candymegeddon

When folks come to New York City, they ask me two questions:

  1. Where should we eat?
  2. What should we see?

Not simple questions to answer in a city that has everything.

One of my favorite places — that I am happy to report is over on the East Side and requires a bit of effort on my part to visit — is Dylan’s Candy Bar.

Across from Bloomingdale’s, Dylan’s is every kid’s dream candy store…and every adult-who-still-loves-candy-a-bit-too-much-for-their-own-good’s personal challenge.

I usually don’t go unless I am with company sightseeing. (Then I have an excuse.)

NEWSFLASH — rumor has it a new Dylan’s location is opening in my neighborhood on the Upper West Side, just three blocks from my apartment.  Now, I could dismiss this as hearsay, but all of the stores in that block — save one — have closed of late, leaving space for what would be a huge sweet shoppe.

Sweet Jesus.

God save the people

So, by now you’ve all heard about The Book of Mormon on Broadway.

Winner of 9 Tony awards, including Best Musical.  Recipient of nary a bad review.

Well, get ready.

Obviously, I’m not gonna trash the show.  I’ve seen it twice.  It was a religious experience…the good kind.

What I do want to complain about is the barrage of celebrity backstage visits at BOM — with accompanying pics that get tweeted out into the stratosphere ad nauseam.

Case in point:  Katie Couric went to see BOM recently.  Early the next morning, she was tweeting all about it, with a link to a photo of her with the entire cast on stage. And is she holding a rose as well?

Talk about overkill.

Even the BOM producers bragged when Oprah descended upon the show this past Saturday night.  They immediately posted pics on their Facebook page.

Show lead Andrew Rannells tweeted out a snap with the goddess herself and Gayle, saying “I have no words for this.”

Well…isn’t that special.

Now, I get as star struck as the next person, but in this instance, I have to cry FOUL.

Ever since the show was declared “the musical of the century” by The New York Times, BOM tix have been near impossible to procure by mere mortals like you and me.  Celebs are a different story altogether.

If anything, the backstage and onstage photos ops should be given to Joe and Jane Nobody — not the folks who are already breathing the rarefied air in the premium seats.

Come on, BOM — God is watching.

After midnight

12:01am — The premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2.

I was there.

Yes, I could have waited until the crowds thinned…until the feverish mania around the conclusion of this epic movie franchise had died down a bit.

But what’s the fun in that?

Seeing the final film in an atmosphere of unbridled excitement and enthusiasm?  That’s how I want to remember Harry Potter.

People dressed in inspired costumes.  Spontaneous trivia contests breaking out in the aisles.  Chants of “Snape, Snape, Severus Snape” attempting to overpower a fervent rendition of “Neville Longbottom.”  And the particularly hilarious cries of hatred hurled at the trailers proceeding the movie.

But the film was so worth the wait.  Director David Yates’ vision is true to the book and yet so much more.

I’ll see it again, of course, at some deserted weekday matinee.  It will still be an incredible movie, but…

Nothing can touch midnight.

très français

HAPPY BASTILLE DAY!

I’ve only spent one day in Paris.

That was during an unscheduled layover at Charles de Gaulle Airport.  I suddenly found myself with eight hours to kill…and I wasn’t going to spend them in the terminal.

So I took the airport bus to the Arc de Triomphe, and spent the day walking around the city.  No plans.  No map.  No French.

And I was dragging my wheelie bag behind me the entire time because they wouldn’t let me leave it in an airport locker for such a short time.

Sacrebleu!

The weather was lovely.  The people very helpful and nice — that’s right, they were nice (at least to my face).  And the city was incredibly beautiful.  When I rode the bus back to the airport later that evening, I had two thoughts.

  1. I am definitely coming back to Paris for a longer stay.
  2. The Eiffel Tower is short.

I bet they threw those fireworks up there by hand.