Tag: food

Watching the Eagles at the Bar

This is two out of three weeks now. Helaine and I have become ‘regulars’ at Eli’s where the bar is ringed with TV sets showing satellite delivered football feeds.

We decided, so we’d get a good seat, to go at 12:30 for the 1:00 PM start. Maybe we could have gone a little later, but not much. The place filled up pretty quickly with groups of fans clustered near individual sets and games.

To our right a group of Detroit fans watched, cheered, and complained, as the Lions played . When Detroit lost on a botched extra point with a few seconds to go, they were crestfallen. As fans they have lived a life built on heartbreak.

As ways to spend an afternoon go, this is pretty good. Within a few minutes of sitting Helaine ordered a soda and I had some coffee. Then as the game began, so did the food!

Actually, this allows me to question the whole economics of football at a bar. There’s no doubt we got our money’s worth. The food was good. We were thrilled to watch the Eagles. Would it be cheaper over the long run to drop cable and just get DirecTV and the NFL package?

The problem becomes my high speed Internet package. The cable company would ramp up its cost if that was the only service I bought from them – and I’m not about to get my Internet access from anyone else right now.

Something to ponder before next season.

The Eagles’ game was painful to watch. The Eagles went up 6-0 early. The Eagles scored a touchdown but David Akers, who is to kicking as FedEx is to packages, failed to deliver. It was 7-6 a few minutes later, and Dallas stayed ahead most of the way.

One of the Eagles star receivers, Todd Pinkston, dropped another ball in what seemed like a case of hearing footsteps. If, all of a sudden, he’s lost his nerve, that’s troublesome. Then, all star receiver Terrell Owens went down with ankle problems. It’s too early to know how serious that injury is.

Toward the end the Eagles scored to go ahead, and did win. But it was an ugly win for a team that has been a dominating force in football.

Going into this game the Eagles had so little more to gain by winning that a performance like this goes down as a moral loss as much as a “W.”

Next week they’re playing on Monday Night Football. Helaine can watch at home. I will watch at work. We’re out of the bar scene for one week.

King of the Wusses

Next Friday marks 21 years that Helaine and I have been married. I am the lucky one here – let there be no doubt.

As it turns out, we very nearly didn’t get married. This is not a story about the guy getting cold feet or anything like that. This is all about blood! In order to get married you take a blood test. Though it’s seldom discussed, the romantic reason is to make sure you have no sexually transmitted disease. Nice.

We were in Buffalo. We were excited. We were ready to get married. I had never given blood before. I’m not certain Helaine had either (though that certainly has changed, especially while she was pregnant with Stefanie).

Where does one go to get a blood test? We didn’t know, but our friend Jeff Lapides recommended his friend (and former high school classmate) Tommy Cumbo – by this time Dr. Cumbo.

It isn’t the fault of Dr. Cumbo or his office staff, but they couldn’t get blood from my quivering arm. I was so panic stricken it’s a wonder they got within ten feet of me!

Time was running out. The wedding was approaching. No test – no license.

Finally, with little time remaining, we went to the hospital and a phlebotomist (let’s see if that word makes it through the spell checker). This was a woman whose sole job was extracting blood. Dealing with little wimps like me was just a normal part of her day.

Amazingly, she did it. And it didn’t even hurt.

That last part is important, because it should have said to me, “Idiot, you need not fear this.” Good luck on that happening.

I didn’t need another blood test for years… decades actually. Unfortunately, as I got older, my current physician wisely thought it would be a good idea to check my cholesterol. After all my dad has had bypass surgery plus surgery on both coratid arteries because of a buildup of plaque. Even if it wasn’t hereditary, I ate the same food he ate for 18 years.

The test came back with bad news for me. My cholesterol was high. I don’t remember the numbers but they were enough to make those in the know go, “wow.”

There is good news too. Cholesterol can be controlled with drugs. I started taking Baycol (since recalled because it was killing people – oops) and now Lipitor. My cholesterol is within the reasonable range.

Unfortunately for me, there are risks with taking these ‘statin’ drugs. So, every six months I have to have more blood drawn. Tests are performed to make sure the Lipitor isn’t hurting me and to see where my cholesterol stands.

Every six months a blood test… and I still panic as if it were the first time.

Today was my day to go. I went to a huge medical building on Whitney Avenue in Hamden. Inside are dozens of doctor’s offices and the lab. From the outside, it looked as if they were passing things out for free because the place was jammed.

I didn’t wait long to see the phlebotomist. She remembered me from a prior trip and my anxiety.

I sit in the chair, try to clear everything from me mind and close my eyes tight. She told me to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t.

The last time it didn’t hurt at all. This time it stung and then burned. It wasn’t awful… but it isn’t the kind of thing I’d do as a hobby. Or, more to the point, there is little chance of me becoming an IV drug user anytime soon.

When I was done, I hugged the woman who had drawn the blood. She knew it was coming. It is somewhat symbolic, but it’s also an incredible release after all the tension and foolish anticipation I had built up inside of me.

Within the next day or two the doctor will call and tell me what’s good, bad and indifferent in my system. I will be safely away from having blood drawn for another six months.

When I go back, and I will, I’ll still be scared as if it were the first time. It seems so silly that I can’t place this little pain in its proper perspective. That’s what you get when you’re a wuss.

Paper Cuts Revisited

On Monday I wrote about my paper cut.&#185 Everyone I spoke to, who had read the entry, felt my pain. We’ve all done it.

Still, it was perplexing. How does this happen? It’s paper for crying out loud!

Tonight I got a well thought out answer from Thurston Chandler at Yale. I have incredible respect for Yale, for the work that goes on there, for their students and faculty. However, that all pales in comparison to having the name, “Thurston Chandler.” I grew up knowing no Thurstons and no Chandlers. This becomes a double treat!

I’ve never seen this discussed by serious experts, but I’d like

to think the following makes sense. I am something of a knife collector and am pretty well versed in multiple sharpening techniques, so I do have a good idea of what the concept of ‘sharp’ actually means.

In the case of being cut by paper there are several factors as work which also play a role with other cutting tools ( or accidents ).

First is the concept of pressure, or force divided by the area over which it is applied. It’s no secret that a finishing nail is easier to drive than a railroad spike and that a sewing needle takes very little force to stick into things.

A cutting blade has an edge which is beveled to what might appear as an infinity thin edge. It’s pretty obvious that something so thin can part softer materials just like a splitting wedge works in wood. At the microscopic level no edge is actually acute, they can be thought of as having a (very thin ) flat (in truth rounded) side that actually does the cutting, so there isn’t anything all that odd about paper being ‘sharp’. However, the main body of the blade behind the edge has to be strong enough to hold the edge part in line as it bites into the substance ( or finger) being cut.

This is why it is much easier to get cut with writing paper than newspaper or magazine paper, even though those papers are thinner and thus the edge is ‘sharper’. Even stiff paper is only dangerous when it’s under the proper (unlucky) amount of tension to hold it stiffly enough that it stays perpendicular to the skin while sliding along exactly the same spot for a brief moment.

But there is another effect at work here that makes relatively thick paper a clerical work hazard. If you measure the thickness of that paper and then find a piece of thin steel with a very ‘dull’ safely rounded edge you will find it difficult to machine the sort of instant cut achieved with paper. Certainly the steel blade is strong enough that it is really far more dangerous if sufficient force is applied, but it simply isn’t going to bite into anything under trivial pressure the way paper or a properly sharpened lade can. The edge only has to be stronger than the substance you’re trying ( or not trying ) to cut, and the surface of our skin is soft and tender. The other requirement is that the actual cutting surfaces have to be harder than the substance being cut and here again we are softer than the wood that the paper is made of.

The real secret is what I’ll call ‘itty-bity serrations’. What we think of as serrations on a knife come in two types, smoothly scalloped (wavy) undulations of a cutting edge and the little interrupted square notches often found on the table knives we eat with. The wavy edges work well because they actually allow a longer cutting edge to be placed on a shorter blade ( imagine straightening out the curvy edge ) and they ensure that the cutting pressure is concentrated in smaller contact points along the blade than a straight edge would allow. This is why bread knives often look like this, you want to be able to cut under light pressure so as not to crush the bread.

But the other sort of serrations are quite different, as most table knives are virtually harmless and have no parts at all that are sharp in the conventional sense, yet they still can cut our food. These serrations function a little like dull saw teeth, the little square edges each catch on little bits of the meat you’re cutting so that the motion of the knife tears apart the food at the edge, making a cut, rather than sliding harmlessly back and forth on the surface.

With the paper, microscopically it actually has lots of little tiny wood fibers sticking out of the edge which look and feel soft and fuzzy when long. But when cut very short as a side effect of cutting out our letter size paper these fibers resemble sandpaper (which I could point out makes for agonizing paper cuts). And this abrasive very thin surface really can easily cut you with a combination of pressure concentrated along the edge and a sliding, cutting motion which draws this cutting edge with its multitudes of little wooden teeth over your unprotected skin.

Real knives are much the same, at the microscopic level (see image) the edge of a scarily sharp knife is quite rough and irregular.

Hopefully this helps answer your curiosity (:

Thurston Chandler

See what I mean about Yale?

&#185 – With a photo universally acclaimed as being vaguely pornographic – though it was a photo of the cut.

What’s the Opposite of I won?

My poker tournament experience has ended. I didn’t win. That’s not to say I didn’t have a god time or I didn’t play well. Except for one small move early on, which I now question, I was pretty happy with my play.

I got to bed early (for me) last night. Sleep was not very good and I was up just after 6:00 AM. I left the house around 8:00 and drove the 70 minute trip to Foxwoods.

Though the roads around the casino were reasonably busy, I realized as soon as I got to the valet parking area that Thursday morning was not prime time. Mine was the only car there and a nice young woman quickly walked up and gave me a parking ticket.

If you’ve never been to Foxwoods it is a world unto itself. The complex is immense. It was, and may still be, the world’s largest casino. As big and bold as Foxwoods is, the area surrounding it is the opposite. Surrounded by the town of Ledyard, there is still plenty of farmland and low density housing and businesses in the area. As you approach from the north, the high rise hotels dominate the rolling terrain of eastern Connecticut.

I got to the poker tournament desk at 9:26. I know this because it’s on my receipt. I said hello, paid my cash, chose between a hat, t-shirt and $10 in food coupons (food – though not used) and headed toward the tournament.

How fitting is this for a seniors poker tournament, we were in the Sunset Ballroom!

I walked into the ballroom. It was a breath of fresh air because I felt, I looked, I (probably) was the youngest person in the room. I’m used to being the oldest at work. This is more fun.

I scouted the room and didn’t see anyone I knew. Then I spied Jimmy Christina.

I have described Jimmy here before, so let me be brief. Jimmy is not tall, though he easily stands out in a crowd of people. His gray hair is pulled back in a ponytail. He has a Southern New England accent&#185 delivered in a voice reminiscent of a gravel road. Standing in his tuxedo, he is the absolute height of incongruity.

When I grow up, I want to be Jimmy Christina.

There’s one more thing about Jimmy. If you watch him from afar, you will see a constant stream of people coming up to him, saying hello. All of them are smiling. Jimmy is smiling. He is charming.

I moved to my seat at table 30, seat 8. The room was filled with long, narrow, Texas Hold’em tables. Each was set to comfortably seat nine players. The dealer sat in what looked like an executive’s office chair. I am told they hate it because it has no back support.

This tournament was ‘sponsored’ by “Oklahoma” Johnny Hale. Johnny is old school poker, back when it was all guts and instinct. It was the era before mathematicians quantified the game’s nuances into a series of odds and ratios. Johnny introduced some other older players, shilled his own line of merchandise and books and led us in the Pledge of Allegiance and a moment of silence. He is everything you expect from someone who goes by the name Oklahoma Johnny.

In a poker tournament, you buy in for a fixed amount and then get tournament chips, in this case $1,500. They’re not good anywhere else, just in a tournament and can’t be turned into real cash. You keep playing poker, hoping to survive as more and more players bust out.

Today’s tournament had 295 players. The top 25 would win money, starting at $777 and going up to better than $40,000. The goal in tournament play is survival. Survivors are paid. Winning is of secondary importance. I hope that makes sense.

Since the game was No Limit Texas Hold’em, anyone could bet all of their chips on any card. It didn’t take long until someone did – and walked away the first loser. I was one player closer to the cash.

Compared to online play, live poker is very slow. And compared to online play, I’m not multitasking. The game at hand gets my undivided attention.

With forced bets and a few cheap peeks, I quickly turned my $1,500 to $1,350. I was somewhat uneasy, though it didn’t affect my play. I was very self conscious. I didn’t want to be out early. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.

At the far end of the room a big screen TV displayed the current stats. What were the blinds (forced bets for two players each round)? How much time was left at this limit? How many players were left?

Table 30 was one of the first to get broken up. As players leave, and some tables have empty seats, tables are combined to allow everyone to sit at tables with a similar number of players. I was sent to Table 8, Seat 1.

Around me, the room was alive with the sound of cards being riffled and chips clinking. It is a steady castanet sound which permeates the room. It is actually reassuring to hear. I looked down at the stacks of chips in front of each player. Already there were huge differences with some players close to busting out and others amassing fortunes.

Life at Table 8 didn’t go much better. Slowly, as if I had a leak, chips were disappearing from my stack. Before long I was down to $320.

With a forced bet of $75 and a number of players already calling in front of me, I went all in with a pair of 4s. Being dealt a pair is good – but 4s… well even a pair of them… is no bargain. If anyone else matches any card other than a two or three (unlikely they’d be played anyway) you’re dead meat.

On the fourth common card, ‘the turn,’ a third 4 was dealt. I had a set (three of a kind) and was now back to nearly the $1,500 I started with. A few more good hands had me up to $2,000.

Meanwhile, on the TV screen the numbers were changing. As tables were consolidated the player count went down – 225, 200, 175, 150. My chip count had me below the middle of the pack, but I was still playing.

And then, I drove into oncoming traffic at full speed.

The limits had gone up to $100/$75. A few players limped in with minimal bets when the action got to me. My cards – two red Aces. In Hold’em there is nothing better to have than a pair of Aces. I raised to $300.

A few players dropped out and then, across the table, another player pushed his chips toward the center. He was all in. In order to play my Aces, I’d need to match his chips.

I had Aces. There is nothing better.

I pushed my chips in as we both turned over our cards. He showed another Ace and a Jack. This was wonderful. Additional Aces wouldn’t help him. He needed two Jacks or some ridiculous out of the blue miraculous one in a million shot… and there would only be five common cards with which to accomplish this.

The dealer rolled three and then one and then one more. Of the five cards exposed, four were 7, 8, 9 and 10 (the 8 coming on the last card, know as the River).

I still had my Aces. He had a straight!

I was left with a few hundred dollars. It didn’t take long to lose that when my King, Queen was beaten by a Queen, Jack.

I had played four hours and fifteen minutes, finishing 102 of 295.

Good play can get beaten. It is, after all, gambling. Yes, there is skill, but skill tempered by chance.

I’m glad I played. I enjoyed the tournament. I wish I would have come home with some more money.

&#185 – Usually limited to far Eastern Connecticut and Rhode Island, this regionalism makes a Boston accent sound soft and gentle.

Stormy Saturday

Steffie was away at Field Hockey Camp. The weather was forecast to be rotten. There were no movies worth seeing. Helaine and I decided to drive the hour or so to Foxwoods where I could play poker while wearing something other than pajamas.

The traffic was horrendous. Well, for our little part of Connecticut it was horrendous. I’m sure Californians or Long Islanders would disagree with my threshold of traffic pain. We hit the first stoppage on I-91, approaching I-95.

The new Ikea was supposed to attract more cars. Since it has opened, I have noticed much slower traffic where I-91 empties into I-95. It might be a coincidence. I hope it is. I don’t want to think this will now be the norm.

I crossed the “Q” Bridge and headed east on I-95. Since I-95 runs from Maine to Florida it’s considered a north – south road. Signs point you to I-95 north or I-95 south. Unfortunately, here in Connecticut it is entirely east – west. It is somewhat confusing in the beginning.

A few minutes later I heard what sounded like touch tones on the radio, then silence, then National Weather Service radio broadcasting a tornado warning for Northern New Haven County.

I picked up the phone and called the station. I wanted to make sure we were on it. Thankfully we were.

Gil Simmons was heading back to the studio from the Pilot Pen Tennis Tournament. A crew was heading to Wolcott where we had reports of storm damage. Our automated equipment had instantly posted the tornado warning on the air.

We continued the drive – in heavy traffic on I-95. As is so often the case, we never found out why the traffic was heavy. One minute we were in bumper-to-bumper stop and go traffic, the next we were cruising along at the speed limit.

Skies remained threatening, but we beat the storms to the casino. The valet parking area was fairly empty and we pulled right in. As it turned out we beat the thunderstorms by about 30 minutes.

Since July, and Las Vegas, I have spent more time in casinos than ever before. Of course I’ve been going because I’ve been winning. Somehow online poker has made me a much better ‘live’ poker player. And since I am willing to risk more in person, a good night can be very rewarding.

The poker room at Foxwoods is bigger than ever, just having added 12 tables. It was also more crowded than I’d ever seen it with long waiting lists to play. I signed up and Helaine and I left to walk around. I came back in time to play.

Recently, I had been having good luck at $10/$20 Texas Hold’em, and went there again. Foxwoods deals tables of 10 at Hold’em – and the table was full.

I bought in with $200 and was soon down around $60. The things began to turn around. By the time we were ready for dinner I had won $483.&#185

We went to the coffee shop for dinner. Foxwoods has some beautiful restaurants and one disappointing buffet. I had a French Dip sandwich, fries and a bowl of chowder. Dinner couldn’t have been nicer.

To its credit, this coffee shop is reminiscent of Vegas coffee shops. It is bright and airy, more room between tables than you’d expect. The food is very good. The menu is more limited than most Vegas coffee shops, but there’s no problem finding something good to eat.

We headed back upstairs and I got reseated for poker. Even though my dinner break allowed me to be second on the list for players coming in, it took nearly a half hour for me to sit.

I never felt I was doing that well, but before long I could see an extra few stacks of $5 chips in front of me. I was up over $200 before getting sucked into a hand that better judgment should have kept me from. I left the table up another $143.

As was the case when I played in Atlantic City, I keep waiting for my big loss. It is coming – I just don’t know when. Even a great player, and I am not a great player, can’t sustain the string of wins I currently have at brick and mortar casinos.

That loss didn’t come Saturday night.

On the way out I picked up some brochures for Foxwoods big series of tournaments which comes in October. The entries are a bit pricey, but I would consider playing in one event.

In a somewhat sobering observation I realized I am eligible to play in the Senior Tournament. All I need to do is bring proof of my 50+ age… and a lot of cash.

&#185 – When I play poker, I buy in for a round amount. When I cash out I subtract that amount to come up with my win. During the course of playing I tip the dealer after any winning hands and tip the waitress when I get a soda or coffee. Those come from my stack, so they reduce my winnings. Whether they should be part of my winnings or losses is academic. It is easier to calculate it this way, so I do.

Distance Learning – The Disadvantage

Fall semester at Mississippi State starts next week. For me that means late nights watching my coursework on DVD and thumbing through overpriced textbooks (you have no idea – it’s robbery).

Even though I’ve never been to Starkville, I still get the same emails my fellow on-campus students get. Here’s today’s sample:

AUTHORIZED-BY: John Dickerson, Director of Enrollment Services

—————————————————————————–

Dear Students:

Join us as we celebrate Dawg Daze 2004. Dawg Daze is Mississippi State

University’s welcome week for new freshman and transfer students. Join

us daily from August 15-17, 2004, to enjoy the best food, music,

movies, and southern hospitality that Mississippi State has to offer!

August 15th is open to new freshman and transfer students during our

new student block party with Bill Cooke playing acoustic guitar.

The following events are open to all new and returning students.

August 16th features our Papa John’s Pizza and Movie Night co-sponsored

by Information Technology Services (Feature Presentation: TROY).

August 17th features our back to school concert featuring the Patrick

Smith Band and Drivin’ n’ Cryin’.

Last year, over 6,000 students attended during the three days of

events. Please help spread the word to MSU students so that this year

will be another great success. For more information and a listing of

other events, please see the Dawg Daze website at:

http://www.dawgdaze.msstate.edu/ For questions or more information,

please contact Bryan Nesbit at bgn3@msstate.edu

I suppose I could just invite all of them over to the house?

It’s Good To See Old Friends

I have been friendly with Barry since I met him at my first poker game in the late 70s. During the time both of us were ‘between wives’ we hung out took together… even took vacations together. Though we live far apart I still consider him one of my best friends.

I should add, going on vacation with a dentist is a learning experience. I seem to remember his swishing mouthwash at least a half dozen times a day. And, you’ll be glad to know, no one has cleaner hands!

We weren’t able to see Barry in Atlantic City, but knew he and his wife would be passing through on their way to a wedding in Rhode Island. Originally we were hoping they’d come to the house for bagels and lox, but time didn’t permit. So this morning we drove into New Haven and waited for them at the Greek Olive.

Their trip took a little longer than normal because of traffic on I-95. There are choke points here in Connecticut that slow any trip down – and they hit them all. It is especially true around the Greek Olive which is next door to the new Ikea, itself a destination for thousands.

It’s always good to see old friends. You can catch up on their lives and then trash everyone else you mutually know.

Barry and Sheila were my first friends to become grandparents. It was fun for them, sobering for me. Having contemporaries with two generations below them isn’t something you think about while growing up.

They left, leaving Helaine and Steffie the opportunity to walk across the lawn to Ikea. If you’re not here in Connecticut, you have no idea what a big deal has been made of this store. We had stories on the news. The newspaper splashed it across its “A” section. It’s an especially significant event for New Haven which has had almost no new retail activity in years.

The parking lot was even more crowded than when I went with Ann earlier in the week. Outside, a New Haven firetruck stood in front of an ambulance. Both had their emergency lights on. I figured it was a shopper who had bought something and only then realized he’d have to find a way to get it home and then assemble it!&#185

The crowd inside the store would make you think they’re giving something away. It’s been a long time since I bought furniture, so maybe they are. I’m unqualified here. I do know it’s simple and spartan. Some of the items are so simple they resemble the milk crates we used for furniture in my college dorm.

I left Helaine and Steffie to walk around and returned to the car. Since I had my camera, I wanted to take a photo of the former Armstrong Tire (then Pirelli Tire) Headquarters. Built 35 years ago and designed by Marcel Breuer, the upper floors of the building float above the rest. It’s abandoned now, used mostly to hang billboards. There are rumors it will be reworked into a hotel or other commercial space.

As I walked, I caught glimpse of a few of the cameras that have gone up since Ikea was finished. Most of the surrounding intersections have four fixed cameras to see what’s going on. I think, since they’re on the same pole as the traffic lights, that they go back to the city.

Helaine and Steffie met me at the car. Steffie had bought an ice cream cone, the second food related purchase made by my family at this furniture store. In fact, with my earlier trip, we’re 0-2 in furniture.

&#185 – I am only kidding around because a fireman told me someone who had fallen and wasn’t serious.

Eartha Kitt and I Go Way Back

The AP story was short and to the point:

WESTPORT, Conn. — Eartha Kitt, the original Catwoman on the Batman television show, suffered minor injuries when the vehicle she was driving collided with another car and flipped over, police said.

Kitt, 77, was treated at Norwalk Hospital and released, hospital officials said.

The accident occurred Thursday morning, said Sgt. Jerry Shannon. Kitt’s all-terrain vehicle was crossing an intersection when it collided with a car, causing Kitt’s vehicle to roll over onto its roof, police said.

Her two toy poodles, who were in the actress-singer’s car, escaped injury.

The cause of the crash was under investigation.

I’m glad she’s out of the hospital. I’m surprised she lives here in Connecticut. To mention Eartha Kitt and not mention her one-of-a-kind voice and amazing jazz perfomances is tragic.

I first ran into Eartha Kitt in 1967 at CBS on West 57th Street in New York. Since I was in high school at the time, you might be wondering how I got there? It was not where most 16 year olds got to hang out.

In high school, I was a radio actor. My junior and senior year, instead of taking English in the conventional way, I was a member of the New York All City Radio Workshop. The workshop members, drawn from high schools across the city, were cast in radio plays which ran on WNYE-FM, the Board of Education’s station.

Even in the late 60s this was an anachronism. Drama on radio had been dead for a decade or more. On the other hand FM radio was a underdeveloped technology that few people listened to. We were the worst of both worlds!

At the same time, somehow, the Board of Education ‘sponsored’ a weekly public affairs program, “Dial M for Music,” which ran on WCBS – TV. Why the Board of Education would care about this was, and still is, beyond me. It seemed then, as it does now, like a weasel deal for Channel 2 to get some sort of FCC Brownie points.

“Dial M” brought jazz acts into the Broadcast Center and then taped their performances in front of high school kids. That’s where I came in. Instead of rounding up random kids and then letting them roam free through the CBS studio complex (which is what we did, as the show taped 2-3 episodes on a Saturday afternoon), they called on members of the All City Workshop. I guess the idea was, we already knew a little about broadcasting and would be less troublesome.

I got to see some jazz legends – people like Lionel Hampton, Mongo Santamaria and Hazel Scott. And, I got to spend 6-7 Saturdays a year at CBS, poking around the studios and signing for food in the cafeteria. I remember visiting “The Treasure House” set from Captain Kangaroo, some soap opera studios, and an elaborate set-up for a Barbra Streisand special. The center core of the Broadcast Center was a circular ramp, loaded with props and sets.

One Saturday we came in to see Eartha Kitt. I knew the name and recognized the voice, but wasn’t a fan. Her core audience was around my parent’s age.

Before the show started, the director (as I remember a laid back man with a Southern accent) came and gave us the drill. Don’t look at the cameras. Applaud with your hands cupped to sound a little louder. Pay attention to the artists.

So as Eartha Kitt started to sing, I watched with rapt attention. The studio was small and there weren’t more than 15 or 16 of us in the audience, sitting on low stools.

Eartha looked at me. She looked at me deeply.

The more she sang, the more intently she looked into my eyes. I was 16 – and a young 16 at that – what did I know? But she was mentally undressing me! Though it may have been enjoyable for her, it was unnerving to me.

I remember her performance was great. I also remember being as uncomfortable as is humanly possible. I should have been flattered, but it totally weirded me out.

If she’s 77 now, she was about 40 then and overtly sexy. She was a catwoman before she played Catwoman on TV. I’d like to think I helped her performance.

She probably forgot about me as she left the studio. I’ll never forget her.

We’re Home

I am writing this page grudgingly. In my heart of hearts I know I want to write and share some experiences. On the other hand the trip home was so awful and exhausting. We left this afternoon and spent nearly five hours driving through rain, much of it torrential. And somehow, either through a weird driving position or more likely while carrying our overstuffed bags upstairs, I pulled something in my upper left leg that needs little provocation to be painful.

But I digress…

Monday was another awful weather day in Atlantic City. Looking back at some of my photos, I see hints of blue. Trust me, if you were there in it, you wouldn’t have used the color blue in any description.

As I mentioned earlier, Steffie was not particularly thrilled with the Boardwalk. Still, I hadn’t been in at least ten years and Steffie had nothing better to do, so the three of us got the car and headed out.

I believe there’s a tax issue here, but another way Atlantic City differs from Vegas is that you’re charged for parking. We went to one of the Trump hotels and were hit up for $5 for the self park garage.

I should get a break for the mere fact that I was a registered New Jersey voter who originally voted to bring casino gambling in. Is there no loyalty?

The Boardwalk remains as tawdry as ever. Unfortunately, the first thing you notice is, there’s no beach to be seen! Oh, it’s there, but it’s hidden behind dunes which have been built to stave off erosion. Somehow, I would hope there’s a compromise between the beach disappearing physically and the beach disappearing visually. Maybe not.

All the casino hotels back on the Boardwalk. Because of the salty sea breeze they are stucco or ceramic facades. It would be foolish to expose too much metal here. Still, the lack of chrome and glass and the salty coating makes everything dull, including the colors.

Other than the casinos, here’s what you’ll find on the Boardwalk: psychics, t-shirt shops, old arcades, a few food joints, Steel’s Fudge and birds. The number of birds on the Boardwalk is astounding. Some hotels and other businesses have strategically placed metallic spikes to keep the birds from roosting. But they’re around 24/7. There are constant sources of food, both discarded and offered.

There is one older apartment building that seemed to be home to thousands of birds. They would fly in an intricately choreographed swarm and then light on small outcroppings.

Some of the outer structure of the building, hopefully not weight bearing, has crumbled away. Maybe it’s because of what the birds leave behind. Maybe it’s the salt air. Probably it’s a combination of the two and too little maintenance.

Steffie and Helaine went to Steele’s to get some fudge. It’s really great. A true Atlantic City treat. I believe pound for pound Steele’s fudge has more sugar than sugar!

We popped into Trump Plaza on our way to and from the beach. I remember thinking, years ago, how gaudy and yet upscale it looked. Not anymore. Everything seems small, crowded and a bit seedy.

As we walked by an outside window, a Trump Security vehicle pulled up. It was old, sort of beaten up, and had letters missing from its name. The Donald would not be thrilled – though this vehicle is the least of his Atlantic City problems.

Back at The Borgata we had dinner at the buffet again. There’s no doubt I’ll be dieting again as soon as I can! Buffets are my undoing.

The comedy club at the hotel runs seven days a week. Monday is when the new acts begin. So Helaine got tickets and we got to see another three comics working hard.

First up was Jim McCue. He just couldn’t get started – couldn’t get the audience warmed up. About 15 minutes in, he started talking to the audience, again going nowhere. He had some funny bits and maybe as second up he would have done better.

Next was Rob Magnotti. He is a talented impressionist, but he needs better material to support his voices and movements.

The ‘headliner’ was Kenny Rogerson. He was very funny – top notch. It’s interesting how a comedian’s performance often hinges more on his command of the stage and audience than jokes. I thought this guy took charge from the beginning and there was no doubt he was going to be funny. That’s very important and then he followed through.

It was 10:30 when the show ended. We said goodnight to Steffie and I headed to the basement and poker. Unlike the weekend, the list for the $10/$20 Texas Hold’em table was short. Within 10 minutes I was in the back ‘room’ playing.

The players at this table were older than those I had been with over the weekend. One man, who the dealers called by his first name, sat a few chairs down from me. I had played with him earlier and he had been a putz. He continued on that track.

Of the ten at the table, I would guess 5 or 6 were regulars or semi-regulars. This was tougher competition than what I had faced earlier.

Within the first few hands I played a big pocket pair (I think it was Kings, maybe Queens) only to get busted on the river (someone had caught good cards to beat me – the best hand when dealt). I was down over $100 and the night was young.

I wavered a little, crawling up and down, but by the time Helaine stopped downstairs to check on me (she called me on the cell phone from within the poker room because she couldn’t see me in this back area) I had shed nearly $200. My play was fine, but the cards weren’t great and the competition was.

I had bought in with $300, getting $20 in white $1 chips and the rest in $5’s. The chips at Borgata are a good idea gone bad. They are clean and new. Unfortunately, they have a tendency to stick together. Mention this to anyone and you’ll be told there’s a magnet inside – but that’s not true. If there was a magnet, at least some of the time it would repel. These always seems to stick together.

Over hours and hours of playing I had lots of time to look at the chips. I think I know where the problem lies. The chips are quite smooth. There are no grooves or ribbing anywhere around. The center inset is depressed ever so slightly – a few fractions of an inch. When two chips come together, a vacuum is formed between the chips in that tiny cavity. It’s enough to make it cumbersome to separate them easily as their natural tendency is to stay together.

Before Helaine left, I won a hand. It was fairly big and I quickly moved from minus to plus. I continued playing until nearly 2:00 AM. At one point I said to myself, as soon as I won a hand, I’d walk. And, I won the very next hand from the small blind position.

At the end, I was up $253 for the night and, as I previously mentioned, the trip was a remarkable success at the poker table. Each time I sat down, I cashed out a winner.

Of course that got me to thinking about what I did right.

First of all, I played my cards. I know that sounds foolish, as that’s what you’re supposed to do. Sometimes, a player wants to look weaker than he is, or stronger. I’ve been guilty of those ruses myself – and often to my detriment. When I thought I was leading, I bet. When I felt behind I folded. Simple as that.

I didn’t play crap before the flop – didn’t chase. If a large number of players were in, and I was in a late position so I could see them bet before me, I’d sometimes play two suited cards or ‘connectors’ (like 9-10 or 7-8). Compared to the table, I was conservative.

If there were tells to be seen from me, no one seemed to catch on. And, to my surprise, my betting really didn’t affect many other people’s play. I was surprised at how few players folded to my raises. Weird.

These tables were fairly loose. Not as loose as some I’ve seen at lower stakes. Still, for a $10/$20 table, I was amazed at how many players saw the flop, even after a raise.

I was lucky, but not overly so in having my cards hold up. I would hope I could replicate my play for similar, if not quite as lucrative, results.

At one point I brought up the subject of on-line play. No one at the table played on-line. To me, the thousands and thousands of hands I’ve played have been my real poker education. I can’t vouch for its honesty in ring games, as I’ve heard stories. But it seems that it would be tough to cheat in the tournaments on a regular basis.

I left the poker room, found Helaine and we got to the room at about 3:00 AM.

Today was getaway day, and pretty uneventful. There was one piece of high tech equipment that caught my eye on our way out. At the valet parking stand is a sophisticated computer system. As each car goes in or out, six cameras take a photo, getting a detailed look at the entire car. Any pre-existing damage is beautifully documented! And, as the cars go in and out, the valet ticket and the ID of the driver are both recorded.

I asked the driver who delivered our car if this system pays for itself. No pause, “yes.”

Blogger’s note: I’ve posted some pictures from the trip in my photo gallery. All the shots with this entry are there, but in a larger, more readable size.

Another Day in Paradise

The phone didn’t ring at 4:00 AM. No balloon trip again. I’m not sure I understand, because a glance at the weather observations show low winds. Helaine is upset and we’ll attempt to get our money back because it’s now too late. What a shame.

We took a group of 9 to breakfast at Paris. Max, Steffe and Ali all said they were tired, so we drove – though it’s a pretty short drive. Melissa led the way and brought us into the self park garage. That was fine, but I realized it was probably the first time I had ever parked my own car in Las Vegas.

Isn’t that strange.

Valet parking is so common, and always free. I has never thought about doing it any other way. The 6th level of the garage gave me a different photo perspective of the city.

Speaking of valet parking, Helaine and I have a theory that the best legs seen in Las Vegas aren’t on showgirls but valet parking attendants. They are constantly sprinting everywhere and it shows. Originally, when Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun opened in Connecticut, I expected to see the same thing – but didn’t.

It’s funny. No matter how much building there is, no matter how many people say the market is saturated – or near saturated, building continues. I’m not talking about little additions. These are substantial buildings with huge cranes and loads of activity. These is more construction activity today in Las Vegas than there has been in my twenty years in the New Haven area.

If you were going to pick a location to model you hotel after – a place Americans would flock to, it probably wouldn’t be France. Forget my terrible 7th grade experience in Mme Gobstein’s French I class at Campbell JHS. America just doesn’t get along with France and vice versa. We both look down our noses at each other – especially on matters of taste.

Paris is modeled after France in nearly every obvious way. Outside the hotel are models of the Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower. Inside the hotel, the corridors are made to look like quaint French villages, with blue skies and sparse cloud cover.

We ate at the buffet, also looking like a French village – though there usually isn’t a display for Keno numbers on real French walls.

The food, especially for breakfast, is very good. My favorite part is the freshly made crepes. I had the mixed berry crepe with apricot sauce. Atkins be damned this week! I was surprised they only had mini bagels, which are inappropriate for cream cheese and lox.

After breakfast, Helaine, Steffie and Ali headed out to shop at the Aladdin Hotel’s Desert Passage. The rest of us went back to Mirage, where my parents and Michael met up with Molly and Abie – old friends from New York City who are part of the immense non-native population which dominates Las Vegas.

Before I go, a few quick observations.

This is a service oriented community and most employees have insurance and other benefits, even in positions that usually don’t get those, like food service employees. It is a city where a working family can actually buy a home. Most workers I come in contact with are happy in their jobs, or at least understand that making me, and others like me, happy is an important part of their jobs. Everyone says hello. Everyone says thank you. Everyone seems interested in helping me have a good time.

I used to think I would, someday, retire to Florida. Now I’m not so sure. The more I experience this climate, the more I like it. Even my folks, Floridians beyond a doubt, find this scorching weather easy to deal with than the hot and oppressively humid conditions they deal with 4-5 months a year.

Finally, this is a wide open town. If there’s any question about that, just look at the ads on the tops of taxi cabs. There a few inhibitions or worry that kids might be looking. The photo on the left is relatively innocent compared to what is handed out on Las Vegas Boulevard… even to 17 year olds like my daughter.

Blogger’s note: I continue to add photos to the gallery for this trip. You can see them by clicking here. The whole Vegas trip has its own category, which means you can link to these stories specifically by clicking here or read about the 2003 Vegas trip here.

It’s All About the Water Pressure

About this time in every vacation, though I say I will keep the blog up, I start to fall a little behind. That’s bad, because I want to stay current. It’s good because it means we’ve been busy.

My sister and brother-in-law remain sort of AWOL on this trip. They have been making sales calls for their business, meaning they haven’t been around. Other than 2 minutes when we first got here, we haven’t seen them. They have been busy with sales calls for their business, which is a good thing – so it’s certainly defensible.

I think I’ve already established that I love this hotel. There are many reasons… well known reasons, and at least one more esoteric reason – water pressure in the shower. I believe every hotel can be fairly judged by the pressure of the shower water and the size of the towels. That’s how Mirage became a 5-star hotel to me.

We had heard about the $12-$13 million rebuild of the buffet, now know as Cravings. This was our night to try it.

I’d been a fan of the original Mirage Buffet, and one night years ago when I saw Steve Winn (then the owner) sitting there with his family, went and told him so. I still like the buffet, but I’m not sure it’s with the same passion.

There is no way to know that this buffet was even built in the same space. There’s nothing left from the position of the food stations to the shape of the room. The dining area itself is immense. The old room was more segmented and split up. This is wide open.

Lighting is diffused and comes in through gold colored louvered fixtures on the ceiling. They’re very pretty.

The food was excellent. There was sushi, shrimp, prime rib, pizza – anything you can think of. And there’s the desert section which has cakes and pies and other baked goods.

After dinner, Helaine, my parents and I went to see David Brenner. He’s playing as the ‘house act’ in the David Brenner Theater at the Westin Hotel on Flamingo. The hotel is low key and subdued which is a weird juxtaposition against the small casino which sits in the center of the entry area. In design, it’s tough to have a casino look right without having over-the-top decorations. That doesn’t necessarily mean garish – though garish usually works.

Brenner was great. Helaine and I had seen him before. He’s very bright, very much in control and confident on stage. He worked a solid hour and a half and had the audience every step of the way.

It’s a small theater, and even then it was less than half full. He made a reference about 100 people, which sounded about right. With promotion and good word of mouth, this guy should be packing them in. It’s a shame. I’d see him again in a second.

We headed back to Mirage and I sat down to play poker. I spent about 5 minutes at $3-$6 until a seat opened up at $6-$12. It was a good table. I recognized one player from earlier trips, and she was doing well. I did well too.

If you’re a poker player you’ll recognize these hands, otherwise feign excitement. I flopped a straight flush and I flopped a full house. The full house didn’t win me much but the straight flush was very nice. I ended up +$162. So, I’m pretty close to even now at poker, which is fine.

This morning, we were supposed to go ballooning over the Nevada desert, but the winds weren’t cooperating. It will have to be rescheduled later. It’s a shame… except for the fact that the phone didn’t ring at 4:00 AM

Less of Me is a Good Thing

I have been dieting for months now. It hasn’t been easy and I haven’t been 100% dedicated – but I’ve been very good. The first week the weight just fell off. As time progressed my weight loss slowed down. For the past 2-3 weeks, I’ve been pretty much stuck at 176. Sometimes it’s a pound up, sometimes a pound down.

I have been told, probably a million times, I shouldn’t weigh myself every day. Good luck. Of course I weigh myself. I want instant gratification. And, it’s distressing that there’s so little of that now. Still, I’m dedicated to task.

It’s likely that I’m at my lowest weight in 10 years, maybe more. Getting married and having Helaine cook on a regular basis was my first step toward putting on weight. After Steffie began to eat solid food, she often would eat less that was served. As a good daddy, I finished it for her!

I discovered the Atkins Diet four years ago. My first time on, I got pretty close to where I am now. Then, of course, I went off and porked up. It’s a diet, after all, not immunization against weight gain.

Though I haven’t been as consistent as Helaine would like me to be (and as always, she’s right), I have been spending time on the treadmill. I don’t think it’s made any difference in the weight loss program. It is probably making me healthier – though when I’m done walking/running I do feel like I’m going to die.

Recently I’ve gotten some email from viewers commenting on my weight loss. Even my mom who only gets to see me on the streaming Internet forecasts on my station’s website, noticed it and commented. This is all very encouraging.

If you know someone who’s on a diet – let them know you notice. It really helps.

What has made the diet so much easier now is the addition of low carb wraps at Subway. Hey – I don’t want to do a commercial for these folks, but they have definitely been a huge factor for me. I buzz over to our local Subway and Dave makes me a Chicken – Bacon wrap with double chicken. It’s very filling. I have him load it up with all the veggies they have (which adds some carbohydrates that I shouldn’t be getting and aren’t calculated in their 8 grams of carbohydrates claim).

Taste of the Nation

There is one fringe benefit my job brings which I love. I get to give away the TV station for the common good. Tonight was a case in point.

I did this evening’s weathercasts from the New Haven Lawn Club, site of “Taste of the Nation. What we had were a few dozen restaurants represented, with their chefs and some of their more memorable dishes.

All the proceeds from the event go to the Connecticut Food Bank – a great charity.

No one brings anything but their finest food to an event like this. Everything was so good – and often so spicy. The older I get, the more I enjoy spicy food. Of course, the next step will probably be my stomach protesting, putting and end to these oiutings.

One thing I’ve learned as an adult is no indulgence goes without punishment. It’s a law of nature!

The toughest part of tonight’s event was not eating carbs. It even came to the point where I said something on-the-air about my diet to justify my picky eating. Then, I had Mary Scanlon from KC-101 radio be my ‘designated eater.’

I so want to continue with the diet, but I’ve hit a plateau. For the last week or more I’ve been stuck at 179.5… not a bad place for me to be. Still, I want to get below 175, and I’ll keep trying as long as I can.

I am making one exception – this weekend. We’re going to Foxwoods and spending the night. They have a Sunday brunch I just can’t resist – and I won’t even try.

There’s Less of Me

I had made mention, about a month or so ago, that I was starting a diet. This is not the first time time I’ve dieted and it probably won’t be the last. Luckily for me, even when I don’t keep the weight off, the act of dieting is successful in the short term.

When I was growing up… even in mid-adulthood, I seemed impervious to weight gain. For much of my early thirties, I lived on Hydrox Cookies and Coca Cola and gained not an ounce.

I thought I was bulletproof.

Helaine found the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Even then, while we were dating, I stayed slim. I quit smoking cigarettes in 1984, again, without weight gain.

It wasn’t until Steffie started eating solid food, and I would finish what was on her plate, that I started to expand. It wasn’t rapid but it was steady. When I bought clothes I would notice the size going up. I remember one salesman at a men’s store where I shopped commenting on my added heft.

Note to clothing salesmen: If you want to sell more, don’t tell me I’m heavier than I was.

Finally, probably five years ago, with my suits getting tight and my cheeks getting chubby (my mother had commented to Helaine I was getting a ‘fat face.’), I decided to do something. I had never dieted and was sure I had no will power. I had heard about Atkins, but knew little.

The more I read, the more enticing it became. That became especially true when I read Dr. Atkins write, you can eat many foods to your heart’s content… as long as your carbohydrate intake is under control.

I cut the sugar from my coffee. There was no more bread or pasta. We referred to chicken wings as the breakfast of champions. My weight went up the first day and then dropped. Within two weeks I was down nearly ten pounds and it didn’t take long to go from 200 to 175.

People always remark that when you get off this diet, the weight goes back on. Duh! Of course. It doesn’t immunize you from self destructive behavior.

Over these past few years I have gone up (never over that first plateau at 200 pounds) and down (never quite as low as 175).

It is better to be thinner than heavier – not just for health, but also because I have so much invested in my weight with suits and shirts. You can’t go out and buy a new wardrobe every time you change.

This time, again, I started near 200 pounds. I’m just a bit over 180 now and doing fine. This time, I am doing the diet a little differently, using some of the strategies and foods from the South Beach Diet. At the same time, I am eating less fat. There have been no chicken wings for breakfast this time.

There are times when I crave sweets, or stay hungry when I know I would be eating if not weighing myself every morning. Helaine is incredibly helpful, baking low carb cookies (using almond flour) and making a Ricotta cheese concoction that I eat every day.

And then there are those fudge bars from Klondike. Three net carbs is what the package says. I’d eat them off the diet!

We are going on vacation in the beginning of July, and I’d like to try and stick to the diet until then. After vacation I’ll have to figure out how to put myself in some sort of maintenance mode. That’s never worked in the past, but I have to make it work now.

Hopefully, by July I’ll be around 170. It’s been a very long time since I was anywhere near that. I’d like to be close to 175 and definitely below 180 through the rest of 2004. It won’t be easy once pretzels and cake return to my diet.

More And More Linux Frustration

This is a rant born of frustration. I guess I’m looking for some sort of community consensus – not how I should solve my problem, but how the Open Source community should attack a real problem of usability.

In my heart of hearts, I so want to love Linux. But now, after months of trying, I’m wondering if I’m not ready for Linux, and more importantly, if Linux isn’t ready for me.

Some quick background. I took my last computer course in 1968 (that’s no typo). To my friends, I am tech support. My wife has watched me guide others through menu after menu, all while in bed, with my eyes closed. The computer I’m typing on was assembled by me from parts I specified. The one next to it has just received a motherboard/cpu transplant on my kitchen table.

I am not a technophobe. Still, Linux frustrates me in nearly every possible way.

Over the last week, since rebuilding my auxiliary computer, I have loaded and reloaded and reloaded again. My estimate is a dozen loads of 5 or 6 different flavors of Linux. Each of them similar. Each of them different.

I’m starting to get worried Comcast will flag me for overly taxing their system with all the iso’s I’ve scarfed up.

On some distributions my audio card is recognized. On others it’s not, or is only after some minor tweaking. On one (and I wish I could remember which one) my TV card plays. On others, it’s cryptic error messages – messages which make Microsoft’s error messages seem kind and gentle. On one distribution, the box for the TV is blank, but the rest of the screen is full of noise, which seems to be the disjointed TV video.

The only way to get the printer to work (it’s attached to an onboard print server on my router) is by first making believe it’s attached directly to this computer and then editing the file. Clever.

None of the Linux variants I’ve used knew what to do with the video system on my motherboard – though it’s far from esoteric. I am stuck with a generic VESA driver, which means my system is running slower than it should.

I have tried to fix all of these problems, but let me use the video problem as my example. Doing a Google search for the video chip (KM400 from Via) and Linux leads to some interesting suggestions. There are some that seem to be translated to English from Chinese, but not well enough that anyone speaking English could follow. Others originate in German, then English, and again something is lost in translation. Steps are missing or just hinted at. No two suggested remedies are exactly the same.

As I look through the Usenet responses, it’s tough not to pick up smart ass disdain from many of the cognoscenti! And, I expect to get some of that here.

One of the things that’s touted as a strength of Linux, and weakness of Windows, seems to be the opposite. Windows lives in a standard world. My Linux box does not. Will the Debian driver work in my Mandrake distribtution? Maybe, though probably not.

Does my 2.6 Kernel need different care and feeding than a 2.4? Seems like it. But, I don’t really know what a kernel is, much less why 2.4 and 2.6 eat different food.

My motherboard came with all the Windows drivers I’d need – none for Linux.

Will I have to compile a package? Can I? How do I do it?

I want this to work, yet I feel Linux is fighting me. The Linux community seems anxious for this to work… and at the same time it’s scared that their baby will go mainstream… afraid that someone will do to Linux what they perceive AOL did to the Internet!

I’m not going to give up. But, I am getting very frustrated – very. I can’t believe I am alone.