Grace is Gone

I entered my nail salon for my weekly appointment went to secure my nail box, and was surprised to be greeted by a new face. "Hi, I am the new owner." Hi," I replied, "I'm Carol" showing her my box inscribed "Carol 0809," wanting to establish immediately that I am a regular as only regulars have their own nail boxes with supplies. I asked her name and she replied very warmly "Hannah"; taking both my hands as a welcome gesture. Where is Grace? Grace has owned the salon for almost 2 years. There have been four owners since I began coming here in 2001. I liked Grace, she cared, noticed, remembered, shared her life.
These relationships we have with folks in restaurants, shops, train commutes, Internet shopping are real and add to the feeling of connection in our lives. They neither are technically family nor even friends but nonetheless important. I felt a brush with loss as I was led to my chair. Hannah elected to do my pedicure herself. I know that an owner doing a client's pedicure is considered to be an honor in salon culture and I accepted it as such A little later she turned me over to Jenny, one of the regular staff and I whispered, "where is Grace?" She whispered back, I did not get it, but her expression made me think that Grace was sorry to leave but okay.

This week my book discussion was about our assigned book "Family Tree" by Barbara Delinsky. One of the central concepts in the book is the concept of family. The author defines a family as a unit that is linked by either genetics or love. A close and caring group of friends would be the family we choose. The ones that come with birth, marriage and DNA are the genetic families. I have another family definition: the network of folks who we get to know by frequenting the places in which they work; people that provide services for us, or people to whom we just say hello to as we go about our daily lives. People at the train station every morning Or the bus stop. Or folks we ride the train with everyday, These are families in a way also.

We have a Pizzeria in our neighborhood-La Vera -word has it that they have inherited the recipe for the famous Gloria pizza in Flushing, a meeting spot for high schoolers on their way home in the'60s. We felt cared for and confident of good service and friendly greetings whenever we went. One day there were new owners. No one was there from before. A little sadness and loss

Starbucks-the young woman who had my order every time, where has she gone?

Ann, at the French Wine Merchant-for years she helped me pick out wines and had new ones ready when I arrived. Then she was gone. Sometimes folks tell you they are moving on-often this is done with a whisper. Sometimes I ask. More often not.

The cart on Jamaica Avenue by work-the vendor had my tea ready as I was walking up the block. One day he had to leave.

At our health club the core group has been coming at the same time for years. Then one day a person does not come anymore- a sense of loss pervades

These are unique relationships.

Liam has his friends also. Where are Roxie, Rocky, Boomer, Meaghan?
At the dog Run there are regulars. You sit everyday with them and know about their families and their lives. Then one day, Meaghan does not come . Another Rocky does not, then Roxie
Liam remembers his buddies and misses them
Then one day we did not go back. Maybe someone is saying where are Carol and Liam? Are they are okay?
We are.
And sometimes people return. Today we saw Jake. He came running to us off leash in New Hyde Park on Leonard Blvd. Had not seen him since April 2008. So life and people move on. And sometimes we reconnect and other times it was just a connection for a period of time.

I ran into Ann from the French Wine Merchant in our local wine store a few years later- She remembered and suggested some wines. No mention of the time in between. Wistful for me.

So maybe we pass by these temporary "friends" later on in our lives, and reconnect, or we pass by and no longer remember each other, or vaguely do remember and say nothing.

Sometimes the retired person we see everyday drinking his coffee and reading the NY Times at the local bagel place in Kew Gardens is not there one day. He is really gone and not coming back.

That happened 91101. People were at the bus stop that day 91101 and then they were not 91201.

Another type of family. We miss them when they go.

Paul comforts Liam on the loss of his friends
and explains there will be new ones
and maybe future reunions

Woof, woof I see Murphy maybe, no it is a squirrel
nah not
arooooooooo give Licks when you can

Lioness and Tiger

"I did not putt well enough to win the championship." Those words from Tiger Woods Sunday night, August 16, 2009 after losing a third round lead to a South Korean player, Y.E. Yang.
Golf was at the fore this week. The PGA championship was being played at Hazeltine National Golf Club and Tiger was at the top. Tiger is known as a phenomenal putter. There is a putting percentage, like an ERA in baseball. Just found this out. Tiger 's was 1.759 from 2005-2008-putting (not putting) him 8th among the pros. He added a few points to his PP this Sunday.

The Hazeltine course is a beautiful one and was very welcoming to Tiger
Liam was woofy pleased to find out that this PGA course has some doglegs; thinking that if he cannot go to Citi Field he will be welcome at the golf course. I explained that the term refers to the direction of an individual golf hole. "Many holes are straightaway from the box to the green. A hole that bends is called a dogleg. Hole 2 at Hazeltine has a dogleg
If it turns left, it is called "dogleg left" from about .com and David Cannon /getty images
if it turns right, it is called "dogleg right." from Blackberry of Liam 81909

"I did everything I needed to do expect getting the ball in the hole."

Another championship had been played in New Hyde Park at the Spring Rock Golf Center on Friday, August 14, 2009.
A few days before Tiger lost the PGA, two other golfers teed off- Carol McNiff and Paul Nikol- see announcement
played at the Spring Rock Golf Center in New Hyde Park. There was choice of two courses, Romeo ( 21 holes) or Juliet (18 holes) Did I mention this was miniature golf? Yes, it was. I was playing with hubby Paul, undeniably a natural athlete, skilled at any sport he tries, needing no lessons, mentoring or coaching.
I knew that he felt this would be an easy win. However, I knew something else. I am a great putter and miniature golf is just a bunch of putts. Years ago I took real golf lessons. I had a perfect swing but never came near the ball. However, when the class putted, I made every one. The instructor sadly explained that I would never be a "golfer" as one has to get to the green in order to putt, since I would never hit the ball that would be impossible. I accepted his pronouncement.
I have been waiting for my chance to show my hidden talent against this formidable natural athlete.

We are given our clubs and balls-I picked a Kelly green ball, of course-already feeling the Irish karma. First hole I get par, so does Paul. I think this early display of skill on my part unnerved him as he promptly lost the pencil and declared that he would be unable to keep score. No problem. We will just remember how many strokes ahead I am.

The course is adorable. Waterfalls, cascading thunderous water all around, hills, twists, rocks roughs. I imagine I am at St. Andrew's. I make the putts easily. I get two holes in one. Then the unthinkable; two yellow buses pull up full to the brim with camp kids. However, we are almost on three so we will just keep moving and maintain our lead. Since I make every hole in par or under, they will not catch up. The course owner leaves his command post and walks to our hole. He laments their arrival and apologizes for our ruined peaceful pairing. Why is he so concerned? the kids cannot catch us. However, he knew something we did not. The day camp procedure for 60 kids is to divide them into groups of five or six, then start on any hole. After all, it is not a game it is fun. So now we have five kids on hole 4, six kids on 6, seven(including camp counselors on 12, and so on. We are surrounded and trapped. You get the picture. The entire course is populated at every hole by groups of campers and their caddie counselors wanting to be Tiger Woods. Paul seems to hope that the pressure of their loudness and lack of skill will affect me. The campers shoot the balls into the trees, they climb on the rocks, they go from hole 18 to hole 10, then run across our green to another while we are putting. I am focused and immune to such behavior- crucial skills management training kicks in. Paul commences play on each hole by announcing in a quite insincere voice. "Now Carol, don't let the pressure get to you. You have commanding lead, do not blow it." I am up by seven as we go to the 19 hole. I have a bit of a problem: I choose to swing to the right, a daring bold idea and my gamble does not pay off; my lead shrinks to 3. However, I see the campers ahead on hole 20 and even the adult counselors cannot get the ball to the hole. I watch surreptitiously-the green tilts right. Ha ha. Paul will fall for it. We go to the 20 hole; Paul is consistent. "Now Carol, you still are leading even though you lost two strokes, don't blow it." Oh yeah, we'll see. Paul swung and yes, his ball goes way to the right, tries again and again. again, again -he finished in 7 strokes. I am gleeful and a very proud Leo lioness. I let him finish out his embarrassing display. Even some of the young campers are riveted by his collapse and come by to watch. Paul's collapse rivals any one of Greg Norman's. I do the same hole in four putts and and gain back three strokes I finish the 21 holes in five under Paul's total. Since he has conveniently lost the scoring pencil and the scorecard we have no written documentation. We both know the truth as do 60 camp kids and their caddie counselors.

I believe my PP (putting percentage) is 1.0809, a tad above Tiger's pre PGA of 1.759. Remember low is better.

"I thought if I shot under par I would win the tournament." Which he would have except he shot over par. I just did not make the putts when I needed them." Who said that Paul or Tiger ?

Liam stayed back enjoying the dog days of summer in the cool of the grass happy to know that there are doglegs on a golf course. Dogs are always represented. Liam hopes and dreams that someday dogs can golf, til then

Woof woof

Citi not the city

Hubby Paul is on a 2 week vacation. We are not going on an "away" trip but doing day trips. One of the day trips was a Met game. Normally I would balk at going as I am a Yankee fan way back to childhood and The Mick." However there are reasons why I agreed with alacrity and here they are:

1-I worked at Shea Stadium
2-It was a day game
3-I would get marriage points
4-Dog Day at Shea
5-Keith Hernandez


Some background on the Reasons:

Reason One
Worked at Shea
I worked the Mets/Jets games at Shea in the late '60's and early '70's. I was interested in visiting its replacement-Citi Field The procedure for work at Shea was that we got $16 per game no matter the length of the game. If you had committed to work and it rained, you were paid half. Before the days of the "Weather Channel" this was a dicey commitment. I personally prayed for rain often. I worked in tandem with my best friend, Joanie. We were there for the Met game that went to mid morning of the next day, and worked 12-15 hours. Next week the game was cancelled due to rain and we got paid $8.00. In the winter, we watched Joe Namath and froze. In those days, girls, (that is what they called young women then) were not permitted to work in the stands. Of course, that is where the money was in tips.. Therefore, we had only the "boys" working the stands. If you had earned your stripes you were rewarded with the task of selling beer-a bonanza for tips. If you were new or were a mediocre seller you got ice cream, or Bazzini nuts. Being assigned ice cream for a winter Jet game was especially insulting. (no one would buy a thing from that unfortunate worker.) So inside were the girls and the "old Ladies." These old ladies were most probably younger than I am now in chronological age but their spirits were much older than I will ever be. The girls inside did get tips. They were called "subways" because they were small and were enough for the trip home on the subway, about $.20, yes, twenty cents-you read it correctly. The procedure was that we must announce "subway" and throw it in the communal Dixie cup. We soon discovered that these innocent old ladies made sandwiches at home, brought them in to sell, and pocketed the extra cash. To offset this injustice, Joanie and I stopped announcing our "subways" and pocketed them, sometimes accumulating huge sums like $1.50 each. When the witches realized they were not getting any "subways" they refused to work with us, which was just fine with Joanie and I.

The best Shea story I have is that of a Jet game. We worked at the top where the seats were the cheapest and the crowds were the wildest. By the second half it was like "Animal House" up top. Roaming drunken guys would routinely reach over the counter, grab some hot dogs and eat them without paying, like an unofficial hot dog eating contest
My best transaction was selling one hot dog three times. It was time for me to exact revenge for all the stolen dogs. I was ready. It was my "Three Dog Night."
A wild eyed cold drunk Jet fan reached over the counter, grabbed a dog, took a bite and put it back. I told him that would be $1- he paid me! Soon after, two more guys came by and asked for a hot dog, I told them I only had one and it was small (small, meaning one bite short of normal size.) They agreed to split it (thank goodness the first biter had bit cleanly) They each offered to pay one dollar for their half. That thrice bitten hot dog yielded $3.00, twice the going rate in 1969.
At least we got some money this time.

Reason Two
Day Game
A day game to me will always be real baseball. One is supposed to be hot, sweaty, sunburned, sticking to the seat, nauseated by wafting hot dog smells and stale beer. That is the tradition of an old fashioned baseball day game. People are less tired, and more relaxed.

Reason Three
Marriage Points
This is when you cheerfully do something for the spouse that they feel guilty for asking you to do- you must be totally enthusiastic and not ever mention "this is a favor" Points must be used quickly because spouse forgets. I retrieved mine that night as I had wanted to go out to dinner and we did. I should not have spent them so quickly. Maybe he would have done the food shopping this week; I am so bored with that chore-always good to have points as I never know when I will screw up the food shopping or need hubby's good will for my crazed schemes.

Reason Four
Dog Day at Shea pic from NSAL
I felt I should go in order to give Liam a first-hand report. They have had dog days at Shea. This is when dogs can come with their owners and sit out in the bleachers with the goal of dog adoptions. A North Shore Animal League truck is outside with adoptable dogs inside. Paul will not let us go as he knows I will adopt as many dogs as I can fit into the car. Liam is hoping to get to a game. He watches with Daddy Paul He is aware of doggie adoption day at Shea and has hope that this tradition will continue at Citi Field.

Reason Five
Keith Hernandez
I did desert the Yankees in the mid eighties when I fell hard for Keith Hernandez. Oh my goodness-looks, skills, intelligence. It felt odd as I had been to Yankee Stadium as a child and actually watched "The Mick" play. But Keith had the moves (on field and off), the looks and he was a "thinking player" I just loved that. I became a rabid Met fan. I was nuts for them, but really for Keith. Of course, I was crazed when they won the 1986 series
Keith picked number 17 to honor Mickey Mantle He needed a number with a 7 in it and 17 was available. So I still maintained my Yankee connection with Keith's tribute to the Mick in his choice of a number. Some Keith info:
"Keith won 11 consecutive Gold Gloves, a record for a first baseman. Hernandez had such a strong and accurate throwing arm that as a result, the Mets re-routed their relays through him. Due to his instincts, Hernandez was able to play farther off first base than other first basemen, allowing the other infielders to play farther to their right." (from wikipedia)

Fast-forward to August 5, 2009. I harbored a fantasy Keith would come out of the broadcasting booth and somehow bump into me. I am older, but so is he. Love the camaraderie with his teammate Ron Darling. He has honed his sense of humor as well as sense of fun. I could possibly run into him at Citi if I was in the right place at the right time

So what did happen?

We prepared; sun screen, water (have to hide it, not allowed in) reading material for me, hats, I would be one of the few without a cap. My head looks like a pea in a cap and makes the rest of my body appear huge, So I brought a huge hat hoping that would have the reverse effect, making my body appear small. We arrived, walked around the entire second level How open how bright, how unlike the cavernous dark, halls of Shea! And the food and drink offerings were light years advanced from Shea of the late 60's and 70's. There were rules also. Alcohol is not sold after certain point and hoards of drunks can no longer harass the workers at the food stands and grab hot dogs with their bare hands.

So much eating went on that folks must be spending hundreds of dollars. The day, Wednesday August 5, was a hot humid New York August day. What Liam calls the "hot dog days of summer"
there was a full house. I had the NY Times, 2 mags and a book. I figured if I discreetly read them no one would get upset, after all this was not the rivalry of the Yankees and Red Sox, but the Cardinals and Mets. Very early on David Wright fouled a ball within inches of my hand. Paul said had it hit, my wrist would have shattered. Since I left my catcher's glove at home I opted to duck instead, earning the scowls of two little boys in front of me wearing David's number.
As it got hotter, Paul made frequent trips to the shade while I stuck it out, The fourth time he left I started thinking about my situation, A Yankee fan, dripping with sweat, thirsty, and now with sweaty NY Times print all over me. A gust of wind caught the Dining section and sent it like a paper plane into the neck of a woman in the row in front of me. Whoops. I have to move. There is now knowledge I am reading a newspaper at the game. When Paul came back I told him I was going to explore. What a great venue Citi field is! I walked around a bit, then found this wonderful air conditioned den named The Promenade. There were folks eating, drinking- they had wide screen TVs hanging from the ceilings and better yet, they had a bar!! I got a gin and tonic and sat down to watch the rest of the game looking like an attendee of the Kentucky Derby not the NY Mets.
Heaven

Love Citi Field

The Mets won big.
Did not see Keith.
Finished the NY Times.
Had an awesome gin and tonic.
Had a fruit salad, No hot dogs.
The women finally have enough restrooms-Lets Go Mets


and Liam came back from his vacay at Best in Show yesterday, washed, brushed and with a blue ribbon -see it hanging- Liam hates bows! He spent some agonizing moments twisting himself into a pretzel trying to get comfortable in his first hour home in Aunt Joanie's peridot ( Leo birthstone) blanket before he found his spot. But he did
and said good night early

Woof woof