'Tis the season in NYC

Saturday, December 12, 2009 was all about being in New York in the Holiday season.
We started with Liam's Howliday Party at Best In Show bestinshowpetresort.com This Pet Resort has had parties for holidays, the most recent being Halloween. This time North Shore Animal League was there parading their adoptable doggies, all had coats proclaiming their adoptable status and many had injuries, a different spirit from the past coffee and candy parties yet fitting and noble for this season. Liam was placed in an already started doggie play session. The dogs were the big guys, Golden's, Labs, all lovers. Liam promptly pooped. After that session, we attempted to capture the traditional Christmas pose, but no Santa. Liam was upset and would not stay in the little photo room that had been set up for the pix.
Having exhausted Liam, we returned home, tucked Liam in and set out to NYC for our traditional NYC Holiday outing. NYC day in years past had been packed with so many activities that we could have been tour guides. We have pared it down to "The Tree" and walking to Sueños, our favorite Manhattan restaurant suenosnyc.com-huge walk downtown- about one hour from Rockefeller Center.

Anything goes in NY especially at Holiday time-funny conversations, fearless and fierce costumes, all in a celebratory, silly glorious mood.
So I am sharing some conversations, some scenes, some people,, and our favorite city restaurant, Sueños.
We arrive at the NHP LIRR station for our 2:37 train. Saturday was a cold day. Some folks knew it and dressed like they were embarking on a visit to Wassila to go moose hunting with Sarah Palin; others were in denial, dressed in skinny leather short jackets, bare legs, heels and earmuffs, looking entirely too fashionable for traversing Manhattan We all huddled in the waiting room, all seats taken, only standing room, sort of like non-moving subway car, cell phones going off, snatches of one-sided conversations.
One two sided in person exchange which tickled us came when the station waiting area had emptied as the clock promised that the train was due any minute. Paul and I remained inside with one other couple believing that we could dart out and up the stairs quickly to make the train.

The couple exchange:
"Woman-" The train is coming." Man- "where is it? "It is due 2:37, it is 2:37 so it is here." Man-"I am looking outside and there is no train here. When will it arrive?" Woman "Now. I am going outside." Man" Why? there is no train." She leaves, he shouts after her as the station door closes "I'll call you in the city."
The train did arrive a few minutes later. We saw them in our car. Someone gave in.

A vendor and buyer exchange:
We are waiting on the corner of 47th and 7th. The crowd is so dense and huge that at each light we have to wait two light changes til we can cross. To my right is a $10 cashmere scarf vendor -how can that be bad? I have bought all my scarves and sunglasses on the streets of Manhattan, as well as many watches. The vendor has us, a captured redlight stalled audience and he is working us, looking very frozen, rubbing his hands together for warmth, hands he has to keep free for the next sale. A young man, underdressed ( must be a warm weather tourist) no scarf, no gloves only a windbreaker, approaches and throws out a price "give you 8 bucks for the scarf." "Come on man," answers vendor scarf-man, "Business has not been brisk, people too cold to stop. What will you do with the 2 bucks you make on me?" "Buy myself a hot dog," the young man replies. "Nah, suck it up, it stands at $10, no bargaining in the recession." " Okay you got it." Young man forks over the ten dollar bill with my beloved Alexander Hamilton intact, not broken by change. Sale completed at S10. The green street light switches on and our group glides across 47th as one unit.

Sights along the way:
a couple dressed as Christmas trees, fully decorated with flashing lights, garland and topped with Stars, arms akimbo to show spreading branches.

Group of young women singing "Jingle Bells", loud, in unison and arms linked, boldly challenging anyone to comment; we do not.

Three folks outside a bar for a smoke-one man in a Zorro like black velvet cape , the other two as Mr. and Mrs Claus-just chatting as if being in costume is totally routine. And Elmo, Cookie Monster, Wookies from star trek. So many people are dressed in costume that it can be Halloween.

We arrive at The Tree. I have NEVER seen NYC so crowded. Nearing the tree has to be done in stages and carefully. No hope of looking at the skaters this year

Then onward to Sueños. An arduous walk for me- I am wearing my Uggs, boots my podiatrist has informed me are the worse footwear for walking.

We arrive and the Sueños' owner and Chef, Sue Torres is there. Fresh from her stint on Iron Chef with Bobby Flay. A merry crowd, eclectic -we are in Chelsea and the ambiance is flaming red, orange, purple, alive! We talk to our waiter about the cooking shows, Top Chef, Iron Chef and the Food Network. We are unknowingly building in his mind a belief that we are gourmands, possibly pals of Tom Collichio, Bobby Flay and of course Sue Our waiter informs us that Sue will be on Chopped in January, we nod as if we are her "sue" chefs. Chef Sue, outside in the adjacent garden, is lighting candles and perching precariously on rocks to place them in view of us diners All of this to celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe.
At our meal's end, we request our idea of dessert, Mexican coffee. "Oh no, we do not have that here." We are confused, we always have it here. Our waiter says he will check with the bar and staff. He returns with two cappuccino mugs with some delicious frothy concoction. He says " We do not have the staff to shave the chocolate, to pick the Mexican beans, to...... I said "Oh, are you thinking "Top Chef" and all the spices, herbs and ingredients that are used for their dishes?" All we wanted was some liqueur, with coffee and cream on top. Like an Irish coffee. Our waiter explained that he mistook our simple order for something much more grand, complicated, high-level. We all got a kick out of our challenging request. and his suspicion that we might be food critics. Professional paid ones.
The coffees were good, if a tad small.

Penn Station had a great band playing Real talent.

Some Santas on the LIRR trip home

Oh and Liam now knows there is no Santa Some of the NSAL dogs told him. So he posed without Santa, who should be on my right. Liam is okay with it. He is not a puppy anymore.

Woof, Woof
Liam has a Christmas gift of a gingerbread man from his Akita pal, Stormy the GM 's time seems short as Liam gets a good mouthful but maybe they'll be friends for a bit

BFF
AROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Liam's Life

It's a dog's life a phrase that folks seem to be using now to connote a comfortable, undemanding, pampered. even lazy life. However, its origins are the opposite, deriving from hard times when dogs were not allowed in the house, had to scavenge for food even from their owners, worked hard, no toys, no vacations, a life of misery. Going to the dogs was not a way to go. Dog-tired was not a pleasant physical state.

Liam is authoring this week's blog story. Is his life "a miserable subservient existence" as "living a dog's life" once meant? Let's hear about Liam's day.

I sleep in the den with Mommy Carol. Why? Just habit. Daddy Paul sleeps upstairs in the bedroom I am not revealing anything shocking. My parents are very open about this sleeping arrangement which came about a few years ago when Mommy Carol developed restless leg, apnea, insomnia and sleep eating.
Since the sleep issue is such a struggle she decided to stay downstairs and wrestle with her own demons.
Daddy Paul is no slouch in the sleep challenged area either. He snores and gets muscle spams.
I guess what really attracts me to sleeping on the den couch with Mommy Carol is that she occasionally gets up for a snack. She firmly believes these snacks calm her down and induce sleep. Whatever. I follow her in these early dark morning fridge forays and have a 52% rate of snack capture. Lately though she has only grabbed some Cheerios and these are quite a comedown from the turkey on pumpernickel.
Daddy Paul works and gets up around 7AM. He brings me a few pellets of doggie food as an appetizer ( no human food is ever given to me) as he scuffs in to make the coffee. I am still on the den couch, but now sitting up, the day has begun. I wait a few minutes as he fills my bowl and then I leap off the couch sliding across the wooden floor to my destination. After I finish, I am rewarded with my snack of a greenie, shaped like a toothbrush which supposedly acts as a teeth cleaner. My white teeth support this-see those gleaming teeth-no laminates needed! Daddy also lets me out to do my business. Then he is gone. Mommy Carol is a stay-at-home mom. She says she worked for many years. There are plaques, testament, flags, and photos on the walls to prove it. I am so lucky to have company during the day, although I have my own fun and she does her own things. I like to chase rabbits and squirrels, especially in those our neighbor's tree and birds and bugs in the backyard
Inside, I perch crouched on the couch back like a cat and watch for dogs. I am very patient, until one walks by and then I bark bark bark.
I also hear the heat as it hisses from the vent, my cue to toast my body. I sit as close as I can my own fireplace
When Mommy leaves for her activities, she closes off two rooms: one where the parakeets live and the other where the computer is. I have tried to play with these colorful little creatures and my parents fear I will chew on them. There is also a belief that I destroyed the former PC when I got tangled in the back wires as a puppy. These humans never forget. I am no longer a puppy, and have evolved out of puppy tricks.
I am given a treat whenever Mommy leaves and she says "good dog" because I sit still and do not chase after her. While she is out, I watch TV I like all the channel seven shows starting with Regis and Kelly. I also like CNN, and I like Mike Fancesca especially this week with all the Tiger controversy. Some callers call Tiger a "dog" and I think they do not mean it as a compliment Guess going from a tiger to dog is a fall from grace.
I bark a lot. I am a Leo and like to announce myself to all passersby. I have a high-end set of toys that can be stuffed with treats.
When Daddy comes home I go nuts. I jump all over him. We sit for a bit and catch up on the day's eventsWe might do a chore together
He takes me for a walk every night. He lets me pull on the leash, poop on lawns and dilly dally along the way. That is my idea of a walk. I control where we go and what happens. Fun.
Then we are in for the night. I have my chair But I like to explore. I usually end up in the den with Mommy Carol but go back and forth. Wherever the action is, I am. I bark and make my parents play, Daddy always says "quiet your dog" to Mommy.
Weekends are different. Daddy sleeps later. I go upstairs around 8 AM and bark once. He gets up and feeds me. He goes back up to bed. Then I go back up and bark once more. he comes back down and gives me my greenie. I then ring my poochie bells hanging from the side door. They are a set of jingle bells. Mommy has been trained to come immediately to let me out. If she dawdles, I rip down the bells. It took me a while to train the parents but they work well as a team .
I go on vacation to a wonderful pet resort Best in Show. They have parties. This week is the Howliday party. It will be wooferful.
Sometimes we have visitors who are called handymen. If they encourage me, I lick and jump on them. Our housekeeper and I have the best time every two weeks. I love helping with the cleaning and have even adjusted to the noise of the vacuum cleaner. Late afternoon more excitement as FedEx, UPS, and our mail carrier all come by. A never ending carousel of events to keep the day spinning and twirling on the joy ride that is this dog's life.
At the end on my day, I am dog tired, warming in front of my fireplace tired from playing with my toys, full of treats. it is a very pleasant physical state for this dog.
Maybe a need for a second meaning to the phrase It's a dog's life My life is restful celebratory interesting view on the world fireplace cozy fun dinners to overseeand many more superlatives.

woof woof oh and Go Dawgs, UGA
Liam

Fresh or Frozen

Last week we dealt with creme fraiche fear. That has been laid to rest. There was no creme fraiche (krem fresh) at our Thanksgiving gathering. Whew. But I had introduced a new fear into our home on the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week. The fear of a fraiche turkey. I had come home with a fresh turkey, not the expected frozen one.
It had not been an easy shopping trip. I was doing the weekly food shopping, Thanksgiving root veggie shopping and turkey shopping for our own Thanksgiving on Saturday, so there were three shopping assignments in one trip. Having our own turkey after Thanksgiving had become established as a result of annual giveaway by supermarkets. Those customers whose total bill exceeded a predetermined amount earned the reward of a free bird. So we always had our own, which we used later on in the month. Thing is, there was no offer of a free turkey this year but we stubbornly decided to go ahead with our turkey plan.
I started in the produce aisle. I would do the root veggie shopping first. The list immediately caused me confusion. Paul had listed the desired veggies in what to me was an inconsistent manner. Some were plurals and others were singular. He had beets (plural, how many?) then parsnip (one?), carrots (a bunch, I suppose) yam (one big one?) thyme leaves (could be hundreds) Paul had instructed as well as emphasized that I was to buy turnips and butternut squash already chopped-these two veggies were located in bags in the organic section. The reason for the prechopped variety was to preserve our counter top from the powerful axe like smashes needed to break a turnip as well as the surgery involved in the hollowing of a squash.
I saw the beets first. The beets were clumped in groups of three. So did that clump of three represent the standard of grouping I was to follow? It seemed to me that one parsnip, one yam were so lonely and skimpy for a feast. Isn't Thanksgiving about being with others? Why did only the beets get to be in a group? And what about the carrots? They were packaged in a bag of about ten. I became very frustrated. I knew I would choose all the wrong amounts.
I make my choices. Three of each it would be. No fresh thyme by itself. It came in a package nestled among sage and rosemary-another sign that the group of three was the way to go. Done with the root veggie shopping.
Onward to the turkeys. Of course, I have listened to the stories of frozen turkeys and how long to defrost and all that. Somehow I was magnetically pulled towards a group of turkey shoppers who were squeezing, sniffing, kneading and pawing a group of turkeys, I did not notice that they were soft, fresh, almost cuddly to the touch-fresh, so fresh I completely forgot about my mission of the frozen turkey. The camaraderie of this shared experience with this group of turkeys erased my frozen thoughts and compelled me to select a perfect fresh turkey. I plopped the little guy in the seat of the cart , the seat of honor, reserved for human toddlers. Done with the turkey.
I did the weekly food assignment by rote. All three shopping lists done.
I had been gone a long time.
Upon my arrival at home, Liam burst from the side door to greet me, stopping at the gate in the driveway.
As I carried in the bags, Liam propelled his body into the turkey bag. I knew from Liam's interest in the cuddly turkey that I had done good. "On no. You got a fresh turkey!" "Yeah, I did." " Do you know why people do not get fresh turkeys? I am sure you will tell me. But suddenly away from the hypnotic turkey aisle of King Kullen, the answer became clear. Money. Frozen are so much cheaper. Frozen are .29 cents a pound, my soft bird was 1.19 a pound. I had spent about $12.00 more than I would have had I bought a hard cold frozen turkey. I offered to return the baby bird (I had no intention of doing so). "No, no, we'll keep him."
Liam showed his beagle heritage by becoming a sniffing machine. He could not get a rabbit or squirrel outside but he had hit the mother load with this succulent bird on the counter.
As we shooed Liam away my root veggie purchases were evaluated and questioned. "Why did you buy 3 parsnips and 3 yams?" I reply "The beets came in threes so I thought that set the tone for the rest of the veggies." Paul just sighed. Perhaps this exalted chore of food shopping will be wrested from me. I am full of thanks at the possibility.
I was given the job of paring the yam. Let me first say that we do not having the correct tools for chopping and paring root veggies. By the time I got finished skinning my yam I had winnowed it to the size of a carrot. Paul was more skillful. He cited his produce background as a boy in the A&P as the reason his paring as so superior. Haha. All he did was squeeze the cantaloupes for the women and tell them tell them their melons were ripe. Half the time their melons were not ripe and never would be.
We did it. They were ready. The roasted root vegetables were a fine addition to Thanksgiving and we thank our niece for requesting them.

By the Saturday after Thanksgiving, our fresh turkey was at the tail end of its freshness. Last day before we might suffer salmonella. We had to cook him. Paul slid turkey in the oven- lo and behold-it cooked twice as fast as a frozen bird. I applauded its competitive spirit.
It was worth every penny. Or the many pennies. A juicy, fresh turkey!
Liam had doggie chicken with brown rice.
And now onward to the Christmas Howliday season.
The tree is up and Liam is playing ball, not one from the tree. let's get a closer look No it is his own Kong rubber ball flying through the living room
Woof, woof