Nov 30: On the New Jersey Turnpike, from North Jersey to PhillyWe are on our way back from visiting Jorj's Aunt Anne in North Jersey. Jorj is driving, I'm maintaining web sites, and Tobi is, I hope, sleeping. I can just make out his hair in the dark, and he looks to be asleep. The PowerBook screen brightness is as low as possible -- I can't see the keyboard -- and still I worry it's disturbing Jorj. Although the clicking of the keyboard might be even more annoying. We got the cook's tour, and did some touristy things. We made another visit to Kitchen Arts and Letters in Manhattan, where I shocked Tobi again with how much money I'll drop at one go (but it's Christmas shopping). I picked up Calvin Trillin's latest collection of essays on eating, a present for Anne, a food encyclopedia, Rose Levy Berenbaum's Rose's Christmas Cookie, Savuer. We trekked to the observation deck of the Empire State Building to take lots of pictures. We never made it to the World Trade Center site, but Tobi did have dim sum in Chinatown. We went to the American Museum of Natural History, but not he Historical Society next door. We never made it to a Broadway show; I need to order matinee tickets and make another weekend of it. Christmas shopping was accomplished, checking off a few more people from the list. The highlight was the first night, when Anne took us to Zafra in Hoboken. Zafra is partially owned by Maricel E. Precilla, who is also the chef and the author of Chocolate, a culinary and political history of cacao. The book is fantastic, the restaurant even more so. The cuisine is Cuban/pan-Latin. I had a shrimp dish described as "Chino-Latino." My first thought: ugh, more "fusion." However, Anne explained that South America had a significant Asian immigrant population, who came to work on the railroads there, much like the immigrants who came to California and worked on the railroads. The dish was excellent, as was everything else we tried -- and we tried a lot. The desserts were out of this world: a flan, chocolate creme brulee, crepe with dulce de leche, and a drink (more a loose pudding) of chocolate and dulce de leche (that was the chocolate mariclara, you must try it). Best of all, Maricel joined us toward the end of the meal, and we heard wonderful stories about her youth in Cuba, the new restaurant she is opening (and the troubles she has renovating), who's dating a former porn star (no one I know), how to make dulce de leche, how to make Tobi's favorite drink calpirena. I also must mention the hotel, the Comfort Suites North Bergen: it sucked. Tobi slept on a sofa bed in our room (it was only two nights). Wednesday night, I called the hotel to confirm that we had a room for three people. The woman on the other end confirmed that we had a room with a king-sized bed and a sleeper-sofa. I even made sure to ask that they charge us for a third person; as it turns out, the hotel didn't charge for guest under 18 staying with another adult. At this point, one could assume that they knew we would have a third person, and that they would prepare the room for three people. Well, I quickly found out why they don't charge for under-18: they did nothing. We had to ask for a blanket and bottom sheet for the sleeper sofa. Both mornings, we had to ask for a third towel. The staff's attitude was that I expected too much for them to prepare the room. When we checked out and I complained of the problems, the woman on the front desk said, "we aren't a full-service hotel." The Comfort Suites North Bergen is a no-service hotel. She apologized after I pointed out that no-one had apologized for the continual screw-ups, including herself. That was the big problem; the small problems included being put into a smoking room -- the majority of the country doesn't smoke, isn't it time to make the majority of hotel rooms non-smoking -- the 4 a.m. sauna that woke me up and forced me to turn on the room's air conditioner, the lack of fresh ventilation (which aggravated the smoking stench and the sauna). Techinically Thanksgiving, 1 a.m.Just finished setting the table, putting out the serving pieces, labelling the serving pieces, finding the glasses, and, oh yes, cooking half the meal and dessert. Now it's time for a bit of Ausruhen before bed. The biggest group yet for Das grosse Fressen, as Tobi calls it. Mary & Co., Mom & Scott B, Friedie & Freddie, John & Marianne, and the Talbutt-Bauer-Buchmanns. (This last name thing has led me to consider adding "see also ..." to my nametag for meeting.) We have a "kids'" table in the living room, although most of the kids are legal adults, and Tobi's just hyper-responsible, when nagged enough. Last weekend ended on a good note: Martin, Julie and Theo visited for the afternoon and evening. We finally got to know Julie; having first met her the day she and Martin married (we were bad friends). Julie paid Jorj the ultimate compliment, saying he reminded her of Martin. Julie reminded both of us of me, in that take no nonsense way I have, not the screaming psycho girlfriend way. The ThinkGeek shipment is lost. They shipped it in two parts, and the ffirst part, with 90 % of the order, is lost somewhere. Can't get Airborne Express's website to admit they ever saw the package. This is the first problem I've had with ThinkGeek, and so far they are being helpful in tracking down what happened. Right now, only Marsha and Tony's son is getting a present. Friday November 21It started with ... a parent-teacher converence, which had two good outcomes: First, the faculty and staff at FSS have the same opinion of Tobi that we do, i.e. he's nice, likeable, funny, smart, and a joy to have around. I had only minor worries that he might be a bit of a troublemaker; he is a Quaker after all and everything must be challenged and questioned. Or is that part of bein 17? Mom can tell, me, I'm sure. Secondly, we have a plan of attack for the physics labs. Turns out Tobi does better with the labs if he knows what he's doing beforehand. He will browbeat his lab partner into pre-picking the lab they want to do that week, and we'll review beforehand. Worked from home (got something done), showed tobi .bashrc, $PATH, alias and how t change shell in MacOs. At 5 left for Moorestown to drop Tobi off for the Fall Ball. Route 73 was a parking lot miles before we hit Philly. Then there is the driving in Jersey problem: I can't. I U-turned five times, called Jim B. three times for directions, exited 73 S for 130 N only to get back on ... 73 S. Gah! I allowed extra time for traffic and getting lost, but not such big traffic jams or getting lost so often. Tobi was just laughing by the end. Probably at me, but better than sulking and anger. It was pretty funny. We were about fifteen minutes late. Then came pictures. After staying to talk with Jim, Maureen and Rosie's Mom and family, I started the drive home, which is much easier than the drive to Moorestown. Each visit to Moorestown we take a different route. Each drive back is over the Tacony-Palmyra and onto Levick St, which, contrary to all known logic, is not Route 73. I'm putting down Levick, exhausted, looking for Martin's Mill Road, which I remember form the days when Granma lived in the Protestant Home when some idiot does a lane change into the Chrysler in front of me. This is what I remember: the light in our direction was red. The car in front of me (the Chrysler) was breaking and signalling right. The red car in the lane to the left (the center of the three lanes) was also braking, and also signalling right. I watched the red car drift into the right lane; by the time it hit the Chrysler, it's wheels had completely crossed from the center lane into the right lane. I'm late. Jorj is home waiting. I've just seen an accident. I pull over to say I've seen it. The driver of the Chrysler flags down a cop four cars behind me (didn't see him; good think I was too tired to speed!). He calls for a patrol car to take the report. While we wait for the partrol car to arrive (the first car responding is re-routed to a burglary in progress), the (male) driver of the red car says the (female) driver of the white car, has hit his mirror, not the other way around. She says he also accused her of speeding. Waiting, waiting. I've called Jorj. The Chrysler driver is nearly in tears, and has asked me to wait with her. The driver of the red car is young but with thinning hair. He is aggressive and defensive. A male friend appears, perhaps from the car, perhaps from the pizza place across the street. He is a stereotypical ethnic (your choice) Philadelphian: beefy, loud, oversure, badgering. He tries to bully the Chrysler driver out of filing a report, saying he works for an insurance company, her insurance deductable won't cover her rear view mirror (the only damage to her car). She's not sure what a deductable is (I later explain, and the estimate of the cost to replace a mirror). She wants to file the report with her insurance anyhow because he hit her car. As the friend talks to her, he inches closer. I'm sitting on the hood of my car, but stand up, yoga-straight, and look at him. this is not an effective strategy. Perhaps he is used to people staring at him while he hectors someone. Finally, I ask, "Are you harrassing her? You're standing very close, and moving closer." He denies this. I retreat and give him an out, "Perhaps you don't realize what your body language conveys, especially to a woman, at night, alone, in the city." His reply: "we're not alone." I continue to stare in disbelief at him as he turns away. Unable not to have the last word, he comes back for a second round of badgering, and the woman asks the cop to keep the beefy friend away from her; the cop tells him to leave her alone. The second cop arrives to take the report (are the Philly cops divided into competencies?); he's young, good-looking, blonde. He gets info from both drivers, and the driver of the red car has another go at escaping blame and consequences, "will this go on my record?" "Does this have to be reported?" "It would be a shame if anyone's insurance rates went up because of this." It all comes down to the Chrysler driver; she insists she'll file a report. He seems to have changed tack from "not my fault" to "don't be a baby." I haven't told him I saw him change into her lane, but she's mentioned the word "witness" enough and I've not moved from where I first pulled over. I advise her to let him drive off first; my own feeling is that he should go his own way, so that she doesn't have a second encounter with him. When he does pull away from the curb, rather than making a right turn (remember, he merged right), he turns left and parks, and is joined by the beefy friend. I give the cop my name and address, and drive -- slowly -- home to Jorj. I hope she files a report. My own feeling is he did see her in the lane, and thought to intimidate her into letting him in. It's possible he didn't see her; that she ws in his blind spot, but he was so aggressive afterwards, laying blame elsewhere and then pooh-poohing the idea of suffering any consequences. He could have as easily apologized and offered to fix the damage. She might have still flagged down the cop, but would have been less likely to report the incident to her insurance company. So much for cleaning. Nov. 16: The outdoor life is the life for me!Raked leaves this weekend, and the yard looks great. Usually, we get half the job done. With Tobi's help Saturday, we got the leaves into piles. Today, jorj shredded while I moved leaf piles, then moved shredded leaves into the garden for mulch, like a good organic gardener. Organic gardening appeals to me because I'm too lazy for pesticides, and it's more fun to buy plants than chemicals. How lazy am I? In the battle against the ivy, I've had the name of a particularly effective (and nasty) pesticide to take care of the ivy -- the Borg of the plant kingdom -- and send it to its rightful place in the plant afterworld. Instead, next year will be another season of slowly pulling out ivy tentacles because I never get around to buying the stuff. Saw Matrix Revolutions: tedious. I guess the long pauses in the dialog were good for non-native English speakers to keep up with the dialogue. Frankly, if the long pauses and stilted dialogue were edited out, the gratuitious S&M club scene (including the gratuitous and didn't-we-see-that-in-the-first-movie fight scene), over-long final fight with Smith (just cut to the chase Neo). With the last 15 minutes of the second movie (and perhaps a bit of inital background), Revolutions could have been a worthy sequel. Some new ideas surfaced -- Love is just a word -- although, like the original, they weren't explored nearly enough. Instead, we got an overlong, pandering, tedious, shallow, manipulative pile of bits that is Revolutions and Reloaded. Just got a spam from "Freda Wolf." I was never so glad my grandparents couldn't spell in English. Another run to Rieker's the weekend; another charge on the card. I take what seems like a reasonable amount of money, and always go over it. Tobi was shoked by the prices. Between shipping and tariffs, the prices of any German goods are probably one-and-a-half times or doubled. Everything else is made on the premises in small batches. Always good, but very labor-intensive, and specialized labor at that. But it's worth a trip every month or two. We bought Tobi his Christmas present. I'm so excited! I think this is a very good present; something he'll like and wouldn't have bought for himself. Now I can't wait until Christmas. The problem is not spending too much money on him! There are so many things (I think) he would like. Nov 10: Lots of good newsReally great news today: Tobi got a B on a math quiz! Woohoo! I could really see the math clicking in his brain when we did homework. I did a lot less explaining, and a lot more reviewing and asking pointed questions, such as "Are you sure that's negative"? Did yoga last week with Suze. I missed the time with her more than the yoga. Suze and I met in Algebra II; we were two of three or four sophmores in the class, and each thought the other was a junior. We must have both really faked it well in those years. After discussing how much we hated our wavy, uncontrollable hair in those years. Suze confessed she couldn't use a curling iron (I couldn't either, hence the super short but very hip cut I had) and her stepmother bought all her clothes as Sears, which lead to much friction. Suze, I think I understand your clothing obsession now. BUT, I always thought she looked great. Suze wore makeup to school every day! Heck, I was excited to figure out mascara. I never knew she was as insecure as I was; she never knew how much I admired her. Tobi was away for the weekend, getting very, very dirty; therefore, we cleaned and I did some preliminary Christmas baking for the site. Not quite successful; I'm trying Tobi's Mom's recipes, and need him by my side to translate/interpret. Also started the Thanksgiving menu, with only one fight over gravy. It turns out that not only are the potatoes sacrosanct, but so is the gravy and stuffing. Not only must they appear on the table, the recipe must be unaltered from Jorj's childhood. All this over a "Gravy with Apple Cider" recipe.
Nov 9: Picture updateTobi playing soccer in Moorestown Visiting the Brennans after the Moorestown game, inlcuding pictures of Maureen's house decorated for Halloween! Kraftie, the 12-pound wonder-kitty Halloween weekend
I was a cat for Halloween. Tobi asked, "Are you going to work like that?!" Yep, and to see Eric Idle that night too. In honor of Eric Idle (absolutely great, go see him), Jorj was a bicycle repairman, a character from an early Monty Python sketch. This necessitated shaving his beard to a mustache. The mustache was gone by Saturday. No one has seen his chin since college, when he tried to shave with with a cold, and coughed or sneezed at inopportune moments and shaved the whole thing off. His resemblance to his father is particularly noticeable; good thing George Sr. is a good-looking guy.
The weather was insanely warm -- 70 degrees or so. I finally got some time in the garden, the first time since we'd started working on the house. Lynn's fabulous neighbor had given me six clumps of irises, and Burpees started a new fall catalog. Mmmm. Planties. Now if only everything will survive to spring and summer, I'll have a blue garden of perennials. Jorj, fabulous man that he is, bought lunch for us at the upscale grocery (mushroom quesadillas, salmon quesadilla, broccoli rabe, cous cous) and we had a picnic with wine on the back patio. Tobi was at a Quaker committee meeting and supposedly studying in the library with a young woman from school. October 30: Punk Mom Moment
Thanks to Jo-Ann and Gena for the help! October 21: Another Mom MomentTobi's family sent him five varieties of German licorice, or, as Tobi calls it, licorice for adults. It's not sweet at all. The closest to sweet American licorice is a "Konfect" from Haribo, a slice of licorice between two slices of coconut something or other. Tobi prefers the licorice, and peeled off the coconut and gave it to me. Work not so bad today: they Systems people have changed the annoying Windows "your password will one day expire, long in the future, not now, but do you want to change it anyhow?" warning to start seven days, not two weeks, before the password expires. Small victories people. Oct 20: Soccer, Segway and StepmothersThursday: Tobi and the Trollops. It was Chris C's pick and she chose Jack's Firehouse and a nightcap of "Terror Behind the Walls" -- the haunted house in Eastern State Penitentiary. Sounds creepy: what could be more haunted than a 30-year abandoned prison? It was fun but (thankfully) not scary. A quiet tour wuold probably have been creepier. The slow creepies are much scarier than the screaming, badly-made-up gouls. Also, the history is fascinating: it was based on Quaker principles of finding the light through solitary meditation -- and work. Talk about a good idea gone bad: Eastern State eventually led to solitary confinement as a punishment. Dinner was also good, and the bar is an okay place for math homework. And they make a good virgin Mary, Tobi says. Saturday: Soccer, Friends Select vs. Moorestown. Normally, we refrain from attending soccer games (we have enough chances to embarass Tobi in daily life, and the phrase "soccer mom" scares the life out of me), but a game in Moorestown gave us the chance to visit Johanna's host family (last seen at the birthday party). FSS lost, but did score thrice, and scored first, and scored in the first five mintues. Tobi headed the ball twice (connection to lack of math skills? You decide) and looked good to me. After the game, we returned to the Brennans and got to play with their toys, which included a Segway. I declined the opportunity; I can make a fool of myself without help, thankyouverymuch. And I did, leaving my bag with wallet behind. I have pics, but I'm having quota issues. The abundance of toys did lead to an interesting discussion of what is "enough" money? I think Jorj and I have enough -- more than enough -- but what are we doing with what is beyond enough? We buy a lot of toys, probably more than we need. Hah, certainly more than we need. Well, now that we've concluded that, what are we going to do about it? Today would have been Elanor's birthday. I'm not sure I can remember how old she would have been, but then again, she was always 16. Friends made famous: a mention of James re: California recall. Didn't know you were a Green, Jim! Oct. 14: Birthdays, BaltimoreA fun weekend Tobi-wise, not so fun work wise. But, let's ignore the work! Thursday Tobi had a birthday. He celebrated by leaving me home alone -- Jorj was in New Hampshire for a conference -- and seeing a movie with friends, then staying overnight. Bad mother -- didn't call the parents of the friend he was staying with, although I did make him tell me the name and number. It was late, I was tired. Friday he had off. Saturday we stayed home and cleaned for Sunday's party. Sunday was great: most of Tobi's "American family" celebrated his birthday: his sister's host family, aunt, uncle and cousins from two years ago; Mom and Fred; Scott and Lynn; and Gena. Cake and apple pie, coffee and tea. Tobi picked a dark chocolate, white chocolate and pistachio recipe from Death by Chocolate. Do you know how hard it is to find raw pistachios in a suburban grocery? I dropped back to dark and white chocolate. The cake was three layers, but baked as one; this means cutting into layers. Typically, the top puffed up, leaving me with two flat layers and one hemispherical layer. I used a lot of icing to build up the round layer -- too much, I had to make a second batch of icing with an hour before guests arrived. The first batch also sat in the fridge for two hours while we were in meeting. By the time we returned, it was set solidly. Nearly an hour on the counter didn't return it to spreadable consistency, but five minutes with the hairdryer on low, and the icing was gliding on like new. Tobi hung out with the teens, and Mom, Maureen and Peggy hit it off like I knew they would. Pics! We continued partying with Gena: mini golf and Thai food. Gena is mini-golf deprived in southern Maryland. I keep telling her this could be a second career if the Navy civilian thing doesn't work out. After thirteen years and innumerable promotions, I've given up hope that we'll have an insider to the mini-golf industry before she retires. We finished Tobi's four-day weekend with a trip to Baltimore. We all stayed up so late Sunday night that we missed our early start, and didn't make it to Baltimore before lunchtime. |
What I'm readingWhen Jorj left for San Antonio, I went immediately to the bookstore. A few days later, I hit another book store with Mom. I've been working through the stack since then.
What I'm listening toiTunes jukebox running off the Linux box
Things that make me happy
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A final picture of the hair:
