Train Trekking

Did Liam have a hard day waiting for our return at night?

A Hard Day's Night Beatles

It's been a hard day's night
And I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

The idea to travel to Stirling New Jersey by LIRR and NJ transit began after our recent trip to Arlington Va or maybe with my brother-in-law's trip to Washington D.C. Ours by car, his by Amtrak. Ours a stressful, on edge, stop and go, scenery challenged, bridge/tunnel/tollbooth nightmare while his- a scenic fast relaxing speedy zoomin passenger friendly trip along the coast.
We vowed the next time a trip involved New Jersey we would try the train.
The event presented itself Labor Day weekend, 2010. A housewarming at my niece, Liz Nikol's, new home in Stirling New Jersey, the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.
A gathering of family and friends much anticipated and advertised. see next pic-men working on poster for the event

So our group is Paul, me, brother-in-law, niece. Not Amtrak though-LIRR, NJ Transit. All this planning required much googling. I am addicted to Google directions. who isn't? You get the address, then you can spy from above, look into people's yards, pretend you are in a car and virtually drive along the streets. Here a map of the route from Mapquest, Paul prefers it to Google.



We come up with two options-

Trip 1
drive to Brothers house, pick up brother and nephew
drive to niece's house, park in driveway and pick up niece, let off nephew
walk to Bayside train station, take train
arrive at Penn
embark on NJ Transit to Summit NY
transfer to Stirling train
walk 11 minutes to niece's house or be picked up by her dad (another brother)
Time: 3 1/2 hours

Trip 2
drive to brother's house Bayside, pick him up
take Cross Island to GW Bridge
Route 80 to 78
to Stirling-
1 hour 20 minutes -24 hours depending on traffic, construction, accidents, non EZ passers

We go for Trip 1.
Sounds crazy, but not really. The trip will be in 6 parts, and we are mobile in between each part and not prisoners in a car on a bridge. We left Liam at home; no dogs on the trains, so he watched and waited at home.

We start out at 11:04 AM from New Hyde Park, NY.
Two parts done, this is part 3- arrive at Bayside LIRR on foot, pic next Bayside LIRR around 12:10 Sunday September 5 a clear, cool, jacket on/ jacket off type day. Next Penn Station NY NJ Transit, see pic- the sign on the wall to the right warns "no sitting on steps" Our train is 1:10 PM

Then one hour later our transfer at Summit NJ At 2:10PM and 10 minutes after we arrive at Stirling, 2:26 PM Paul waving to Liz's Dad, another Nikol brother

We were in touch with Stirling during every leg of the trip through modern technology of blackberry texting between Liz and me
our blackberries united at her Stirling home Mine is in green, of course

We leave Stirling at 6:24PM.
How the train trip enhanced my life:

1--I learned about a town where many Broadway stars live and where they are now making a mini Theater district. It is East Orange NJ.
You've heard of actors honing their skills in off Broadway and in summer stock venues, well here we go-East Orange, New Jersey has its own theater district. Who knew?
http://www.sopacnow.org/
and that night on the news, they did a piece on it. What serendipity. See video clip below.

http://bit.ly/9e2MkS

2-In town of Stirling, there is a charming, saloon type hotel restaurant with a wonderful modern eclectic menu. Walking distance from the Stirling Station
And it has a history. read if you like.

www.thestirlinghotel.com/

3-At each stop going home, groups of scantly dressed teenage girls boarded the train. I thought, Wow, they all went to bbq's in New Jersey. At each small town, their numbers swelled. Mini reunions, as they boarded the train. Excitement in the air. Oh, they are not ending their day, but beginning their night. They are all going to Penn Station, to NYC to party.

4-I read the entire, NY Times, a magazine, some chapters in a book, answered all my emails, FB and Twittered.

5-At Penn, we were told that all the trains were delayed due to a fire in the tunnel. The station begins accumulating travelers at a rapid pace. With no trains moving out, it was not long before Penn was packed.
Should we take a subway to Queens and bus it. Should we wait it out?
We debated and waited.
After 40 minutes, fire conquered, the trains began leaving, track 16, then 17, then 19, 20; ours must be 21. No, the announcement comes- track 13. We are near track 21. I whip around, take off, slither through folks, ducking. making myself smaller by turning sideways, while hundreds race with me towards the hole to the stairway. I arrive with the elite runners, in front of the pack
I am still able to outrun most people.
I never would have known that had we been stuck in our car on the GW Bridge.

6-The final plus, there were restrooms at every point. No worries.

Liam waited at home, looked after by Rosie and Shady's Mom. Not such a hard day's night for one dog. He had some blanket friends a lick of a latte and some quiet time

We arrived home about 9:30PM.


Woof, woof

Skippy is gone

Missing
by Bruce Springsteen

Woke up this morning, was a chill in the air
Went into the kitchen, your cigarettes were lying there
Your jacket hung on the chair where you left it last night
Everything was in place, everything was all right
But you were missing
Missing...


I had another LiamLicks just about done but it will not be released today. Another story must be told.
Today we attended a funeral for John Frees, a dear friend, colleague, mentor, teacher, writer, husband, father, grandfather and more, who left us suddenly on Labor Day.

I first met John in October 1973, the month I started at the Social Security Administration. He had began his career a few weeks earlier. There were 6 classes of mostly 20 somethings just out of college and it was almost like being in school again as we had to attend training for 6 months. John was in one of the 3 Claims classes, a higher level job than mine. I was a Benefit Authorizer and so grateful to have a job! After class graduation we were assigned to the same module (meaning a unit of people working in a variety of complementary jobs) On payday, our paper checks would be distributed by the secretary. John would put his paycheck in his pocket and touch it when he passed my desk. Although mine was the same physical size it certainly was for less money. This was John's quirky sense of humor. He was most generous in helping others and I found out later than he always gave substantially more than anyone to collections for those in need, much more than the amount requested or suggested.

We often partied as a group in those early days at a pub named The Assembly in Bayside on Bell Blvd, long gone, but preserved in my photo albums. John is present in all the pix; he often complained that in every shot I took, his mouth is open with a hamburger about to go in. This is true. I have no memory of waiting til John opened his mouth but I seemed to have a knack for snapping the perfect burger shot. He did like that he had more hair in all the early photos so he tolerated my bringing in the "back in the day" pix, although he felt it did not quite make up for the open mouth shots.

John was quite proud of his very large head; one that few hats could cover. We had gleeful fun in buying plastic green derbies on St, Paddy's Day and watching his perch precariously on his large dome.

John also rode a rental horse (a real live one) and I let him know how sorry I was for the horse. Somehow I ended up doing an oil painting of John's horse which hangs in my basement til this day

After our initial module assignments, we moved around over the ensuing years and occasionally would be on a project together.

Our final collaboration from mid 2000-1/01/08 took place in The Immediate Claims Taking Unit- the highlight of our work lives.
We were a team until I retired in January 2008. He advised me on all technical matters. We discussed politics, world events, people, books, family, friends, cars, wine, dogs, houses and more (only on lunch and breaks of course)

We enjoyed our self appointed roles as parents of the newbies and delighted in their achievements. John was able to do an incredible amount of work quickly, correctly and always before deadline. The son of two teachers, he certainly showed that he absorbed their lessons well. His ability to write, analyze, share, comment and explain issues to the staff was just outstanding. John was especially kind to me when a new procedure came out; he never wanted me to be unprepared or out of the loop on any technical issue. John exhibited tremendous patience when in the midst of tech talk my eyes would roll back in my head.

We shared being Yankee fans, being Saturn owners, and wine lovers. John was a connoisseur of fine things; yet also a man who loved the 99 cents store and on his daily trips collected nasty food items which he declared"steals"

John did not ostentatiously celebrate his birthday. He did not appreciate the birthday card I would sneak into his cubicle every August. We share the same birth sign, Leo, our birthdays being 4 days apart. John was not a Leo who loved the birthday attention. Part of my fun was making sure he got the attention every year on August 5 with a birthday card from me. He would then totally ignore the card all day until I was about to burst, then he would come over and acknowledge, yes, he did get the card.

John loved his dogs, especially Jane. I found he had proposed the idea of buying a puppy for me for my retirement gift. I miss that I will no longer be sending him LiamLicks each Thursday. I now so understand his love of dogs.

We had a two floor set up for our unit and tried to give everyone face time with each other at least once a week. John would buy treats for the entire unit and folks would happily munch away on their favorite goodies as I started off with my feedback, passed the baton to the other managers, then gave the spotlight to our 2 Senior Case Processing Specialists, acronym SCPS or Skippies as we affectionately called them. John actually renamed himself Skippy. Upon announcing it was the Johns (they were both John) turn to speak, newbie Cheryl would strike up some appropriate CD, "Let's get it started in Here" by the Black Eyed Peas and the Skippies would roll their chairs forward into the spotlight. The tunes varied, others being YMCA and the theme for the Addams family TV show. John was particularly tickled when newbie Kevin would do a spot on imitation of him.
Good times.

Perhaps the most challenging, rewarding, sad project we worked on as a team was in 2001 for the families of the 9/11 attacks. Our unit processed 1000 of the 5000 claims filed nationwide for surviving families. John was there to guide, encourage and work these claims with the rest of our staff. Our group was much recognized for our efforts and we even became local pinups ( thanks to our boss) The following is a pic of the unit-shot fall 2001, on the 2002 calendar. Our month is August. John is the tall guy in the back-5th from the left, big head with some hair and not riding his horse I would be the Leo in the front, arms akimbo. As I am writing this, we are only 2 days from the 9th anniversary of the attack.

John wrote a note to Paul and me on the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary in 2007
see insert I could very easily reverse the beginning and end to read

Skippy,

May a tiny bit of the joy and comfort you have given to others return to you.
You will be blessed beyond measure
Carol and Paul and Liam

R.I.P. Skippy

Woof woof

OCD and the Environment

Liam on Tuesday afternoon, August 31, 2010

Tuesday Afternoon
I'm just beginning to see
Now I'm on my way
It doesn't matter to me
Chasing the clouds away
Something calls to me
The trees are drawing me near
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh

Moody Blues

I have spoken before of my adventures with my retirement assignment of food shopping. I hate it. Okay. that might be too strong a word. Let's say I do not look forward to it and that this chore seems to come up so quickly. I have tried doing it during the day, then changing the day of the week and then the time of the day. After months of that I switched to Sundays, thinking most people would not be doing major shopping, just a few items on a Sunday afternoon, this is true. However, then my Sunday becomes a chore day and even in retirement weekends should be free. Then I went to Tuesday nights for most of this year. by doing it at night, when Paul comes home, l have help unloading the car. However, then I have "the chore" hanging all day. So I recently changed to day time again. Tuesday afternoon, a day usually free of meetings. book clubs, yoga, courses, all my retirement activities. I can involve Paul by leaving really heavy stuff for him, that would be non perishables. We can be a team on this chore 4 hours apart. Teamwork.
Starting with the month of August, I now go on Tuesday afternoon. With Sawyer's bigger trunk I can just toss the packages in and not have to be so careful arranging them, heavy, frozen, breakable, all that.
However, weekday, daytime food shopping is not like night food shopping.. The daytime customers are different. They seem purposeless, they meander about, very few have lists. They have no sense of direction. They make u turns in the middle of the aisle and crash into you. They are lawless, no one keeps to the right, they charge down the middle of the aisle. They eat as they go, nibbling grapes, cherries and whatever produce is in season; ostensibly testing for a worthy batch but really just grazing for free.
At night there is a crispness to the motions of the shoppers, a focus, a knowledge that time is not to be wasted. Most have lists and go through the store in an orderly manner.
Why are the daytime shoppers so odd? Does being out in the day mean that you are a dropout from society? Social mores do not apply?
I am one of them now.
I am a day shopper.
My latest encounter with oddness was OCD on the checkout line. We all have some OCD-http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/obsessive-compulsive-disorder/DS00189/DSECTION=symptoms
Checking the door over and over to make sure it is locked. At work I would go back to my cubicle to make sure everything was turned off. I would do this so many times that the staff would all yell, "Go, It is all off," not letting me back.

What I saw though the first August Tuesday was casebook sad, yet fascinating. By the time I knew what was going on it was too late to change lanes. I was committed with all my items on the belt. How come I did not notice the couple on line in front of me? Guess I am in another world just like the rest of the daytime shoppers. As I turned to wait for their items to be scanned. I could not believe my eyes! Every item in the cart, I mean every item was in a plastic bag. The box of penne, in a bag, a bag intended for produce only. These clear handleless bags are only available in the produce aisle. see pic next The can of tomato sauce in a bag. The soap in a bag, You get the idea. These are the plastic bags used for produce and only available in the fruit and veggie aisles. So all of their items were in plastic bags, They each had their own cart, because it seemed from the positioning of the items that none were allowed to rest on top of others, so what easily could have fit in one cart had to go into two. Now with each item in a bag the bar code had to be exposed for scanning. This was done by the man handing each item to the checker. This procedure added an inordinate amount of time to the scanning process. I thought where are the plastic bag police? I know this is an illness, I am sorry for them but there was so much plastic on the belt that a landfill could have been stocked just by their plastic bags. It got worse. As each item was scanned the woman would then put the plastic bagged item in 3 plastic carrying bags Three. So now we have another step. The box of pasta is now in its own bag and then packed with other items in 3 more plastic bags see next illustration, bags on right go into 3 regular bags with handles.
I watch as another line opens up and all those behind me run to it. Surely though this will end soon. Not soon enough. Almost all those who had been behind me are now through. With the handing of each plastic covered item bar code up to the cashier, then him handing it to the woman (cashier not allowed to pack) the time adds up. And they pay for each cart separately with plastic, no cash of course. There is nothing I can do. I am one of the day people, expect the unexpected.
They are gone. Pushing carts piled high with plastic bags, enough to choke several rivers.
I go through quickly. Retirement chore girl that I am; I have the packing, the loading, the paying, down to an efficient procedure. Actually I admit I enjoy this part. I challenge myself to see if I can get my job of packing done before the cashier announces the bill. I usually get it done.

I leave King Kullen. And I know that the plastic folks will be in the lot. If packing and shopping are so ritualized then something must be happening at the car. Sure enough. They have only made it to the car. Must be some OCD stuff on the way.

Then I see the next phase. I am not gawking. I can watch as I load up Sawyer. They have large black hefty lawn and leaf bags, They are lining the trunk of their car with these bags, so that all the thrice bagged packages holding the individually bagged items will not touch the inside of the car, Then on top of the items, (yes, I waited) they place three more black plastic lawn and leaf bags.
Then the final step. I am now in Sawyer peering out the driver's window, as I am done. The woman goes to the driver's side and waves her arms up and down three times. Then another set and another. The man waits. Then she enters the driver's side. He enters the passenger side. I look away. When I look back they are gone. Whew.

This was a long shopping trip.

It gave me a story; it also poses some questions. Obviously this pair has deep problems. Should King Kullen permit them to pack and use so many bags? KK is strongly urging all their customers to stop using plastic. And here we have such flagrant overuse. But this is an illness. Are they known here? Do they travel around doing this? Maybe they use the same bags each trip. Maybe they do recycle them in the huge cylinders provided at the entrance. But it is not only about the plastic.

One Tuesday afternoon.

Liam crosses his legs the same way every time. Right over left. No matter what. He will only go down the stairs on my right. He eats exactly 3 pellets of food before he will eat the full bowl.
And he knows that when I get a few plastic bags we are going out for a walk.
When I take out the 2 bags he heads for the door. Always 2 bags.
Doggie OCD?
Yes, I have a few plastic bags Only for Liam and his produce.

all pix taken Tuesday afternoon after food shopping, August 31, last day of August 2010-
no OCD encounters this Tuesday


If you could just come with me and see the beauty of Tuesday afternoon Tuesday afternoon

Woof, Woof

Butterflies, here, there, everywhere

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

Bob Dylan's Lyrics

We had made plans several months ago to make the trip to Arlington National Cemetery to visit my parents Ruth and Charlie. Ruth had joined my father, Charlie, in the Arlington Columbarium after her death in March. Each niche in the Columbarium has space for only two urns and a marble plaque covers the front of the niche. I have described it as a wall of plaques, each one covering a drawer where the urns are housed. It looks like a wall of squares with names and dates etched on each square. These walls of niches surround a courtyard with a fountain and there are several courtyards. Read more if you like:
http://www.arlingtoncemetery.org/visitor_information/columbarium.html

We leave for our trip on Monday, August 16, in my Ford Focus named Sawyer, knowing it will be hot, but not knowing how our trip will be six hours (Google says 4 hours 52 minutes) due to all the Monday morning vacationers, construction, unexplained traffic slowdowns and those folks who still do not have EZ Pass. We stop several times, Juliet (our GPS, yapping all the way, asking us to stop for coffee, "saying see you on the other side" and offering up an infinite number of ways to enter the Wash.D.C. area) We are staying in the Arlington Hyatt and we know it well as we have stayed here on every trip to VA for nearly 20 years. Looking forward to the newly renovated rooms, lounge, restaurant.

When we do land, it is 4PM, steaming hot rush hour traffic, impatient pedestrians. Paul informs me he will not be leaving the air-conditioned hotel until our trip to Arlington National Cemetery the next day. I am fine with that. The bar is cool and friendly, the room restfully decorated with a soothing harmonious palette, reminiscent of an HGTV makeover. Dinner at the City House Hyatt restaurant has some Top Chef touches and works for us; sleep for me does not come easy, but I can look out towards Georgetown as Paul snores and watch the lights over the Potomac.

Morning does happen, we set out. The Metro is a delight, the challenge is buying the ticket. Each destination has its own price and there are hundreds of stops with varying prices; we of course overestimate our fare and get beat for a few bucks. No big deal in the greater scheme of things but if everyone adds a dollar I know why this train system is looking so spiffy, maybe NYC should take a look at it.

We take the one stop to Arlington and emerge from the underground with the group of sightseers. I doubt many are visiting relatives. We walk the usual peaceful road through the hundreds of white crosses, and make the turn at York Avenue, the road to the Columbarium. I have always liked that it was York. As we are nearing the Columbarium, a black butterfly lands at my feet; I know it is a sign from Ruth-there are no other butterflies around and this one came to me. In her recently published book- Messages, http://abcnews.go.com/2020/excerpt-messages-bonnie-mceneaney/story?id=10889376 Bonnie Mceneaney mentions appearances of butterflies, doves, birds at funerals and at cemeteries and at memorials. So having just finished Bonnie's book, I was not surprised to be visited by a black butterfly. Psychics suggest butterflies and birds carry messages from the other side. We continue up the slight hill and enter the Columbarium, knowing exactly where we are going, hearing only sounds of birds and gently plopping water in the fountains in each courtyard. Next pic, Ruth and Charlie's courtyard
I want so much to see Ruth's name, to have it done. it meant so much to her to have Charlie here in this incredibly sacred cemetery with all its remarkable history. Since we have last been here Teddy Kennedy has joined his brothers, the anniversary of his death is August 25 and we plan to walk by him after this. We find the niche. Just the week before I had received a card announcing that the marble covering with Ruth's info had been put in place. I mentioned to Paul at the time "Imagine, I thought it had been done, long ago, I mean she died March 24th! So glad it was completed in time for our visit." I see her name there and comment "Figures, my father gets his full name, she gets wife, Ruth." And I take a cell pic and then keep looking. Paul is acting a little odd, I think. Not sure why. I take out my camera-I have to record it, that is what I do. A few more minutes go by, Paul says "Don't you see?" And then I do. My mother's year of birth is shown as 1913, not 1923. Oh No! How could this have happened! A huge mistake, ten years. Suddenly I don't want to stay. This is not right. A very kind landscaper listens to our problem and expresses appropriate horror and suggests we go to the Administration building, which we do after soaking up all his sympathy. As we walk down the hill, the black butterfly appears in the same spot and lands at my feet. So that was it. Sorry Mom. I get the message, I am on it.

We go to the Administration building, there is a form, much photocopied, guess there are lots of mistakes. Many apologies. I am humble and appreciative, knowing that the correction is not in my power; being gracious almost obsequious is the way to go here. Ruth's birth date is 1/1/23. Guess the first two 1's got the inscriber into a rhythm and he carved a third 1 instead of a 2.

We visit the Kennedy brothers, and marvel at the simplicity of the crosses marking their graves, echoing all the other less famous. Teddy's grave next pic

We return to the Hyatt, go to the lounge and spend a pleasant hour with a newly met companion, having great discussions on many topics, and find we agree on most, so nice to have a safe smooth time. Of course I started with the story of Ruth's incorrect year of birth. This comforting time of connection mutes the disappointment of the day.
The mistake will be fixed, this is Arlington National Cemetery after all! A national landmark, they will be on top of this.

It seems though that our discovery has led to an mammoth investigation of wrongdoing.

This week, on Tuesday, August 24, an article appears in Newsday about all the wrong dates and blank inscriptions at graves and also about the mismanagement of huge amounts of money with no one overseeing its disbursement properly, hinting at a scandal of huge proportions and suggesting the VA take over the management of Arlington. No wonder there is a form and it is much photocopied. Ruth might be older for longer see Veterans groups seek VA to run Arlington Cemetery or this link if that is not successful
http://www.newsday.com/news/nation/veterans-groups-seek-va-to-run-arlington-cemetery-1.2232334

And a black butterfly who had a message started it all. It may not be fixed for a long time. Things are a mess at our national landmark. Shame.

The trip home starts out in a monsoon, then mutates into a sun shower, then fog, then sun through Staten Island to the Belt Parkway, The leaving Brooklyn Fuggedaboutit sign is so right as this stretch is interminable.

We enter our driveway, park, and I go right to Ruth's Rose garden. I had left it on its own, hoping it would survive the two hot days without watering. It was a tangled flourishing mass of flowers and wild strawberries. And there was a Monarch butterfly resting on the ground on top of one of the patio mosaic stones. It left when I approached. First one this summer.

Late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning I looked out the second floor window to see my solar lights, a butterfly and dragonfly, morphing from red to green to blue and back. They are in Ruth's garden and flicker on when darkness comes: earlier and earlier as the summer days grow shorter. I pulled down the blinds for the night. All was peaceful and calm in Ruth's garden.

Thursday morning, I hear Liam barking and pawing at the window upstairs. I look out and something has occurred in Ruth's Rose Garden, The heavy cherub statue is overturned and on top of it is the sign, Ruth's Rose Garden face down. There had been no storm, no wind. I go outside with Liam. No animal tracks, but also no hole where the sign had been. The sign had been securely fitted into a slim deep hole, buttressed by bricks and supported in front with the angel statue. Liam helps search for clues. Fallen statue and back of sign in next pic to the left of the pot at the right.
A dear friend commented Ruth is really angry about her incorrect date of birth at Arlington.

We put it all back as it was

And the next night I check on my solar lights. Only one is lit. The butterfly. If it is sunny, both come on. If not sunny (seldom this summer) neither lights up.
They work as a team. Not just one. I waited as sometimes one lags behind the other; no, only the butterfly chose to come out Thursday night.
Butterflies. Arlington, New Hyde Park. Messages? A sign from a sign. Butterfly messages. Spiritual visits. Psychic phenomena?
or
just, stuff happens?

Liam ponders all this inside and out

Woof, woof.

A Pair of Peridot Pals Play

Girls just want to have fun

I come home in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh mother dear we are not the fortunate ones
And girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun

Cyndi Lauper


On Sunday, Dogust 1, as Liam stayed home celebrating his third birthday
I made my way to a city day celebrating shared August birthdays with a dear friend. That is where the title word Peridot comes in.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peridot That would be the green stone assigned to August, loved by me, despised by my friend. See what you think, my jewelry modeled by our Vermont Teddy bear
there are many peridots there
designed by Jacgues Hemsi for me for this new decade birthday in a new decade 2010
http://www.jewelryofchardavogne.com/

I was, as usual taking the LIRR in to NYC . I chose to subway up to Lincoln Center, our first destination. We are seeing a play there. Not sure why I did not walk, I think the threat of rain and higher than usual sandals. I arrived at W66th Street stop and emerged on my favorite trickster street Broadway, doing its devious, hypotenusing again, crossing Columbus, trying to go east. But Lincoln Center is so big, that even Broadway cannot lead me astray this time.

I search out the theater. There are many venues in Lincoln Center, many arenas for performances, outdoor sitting for displays, for meeting. Of course, the fountain. I find the theater and with an hour to wait decide to go to Starbucks at Broadway. I get my latte easily (sometimes there is a problem with the crowd control). I walk back to Lincoln Center complex and find a huge outdoor seating area. I join the group who most likely are waiting for any one of the three plays or concerts or operas starting at 3PM. I have the NY times, a book on Buddhism (from which I can only read one page at a time, only on a trip to the city, and only one time in a week).
Why? Each thought is too big for my brain and I respect each concept too much to flip through.
I have my latte, a great perch from which to people watch. and time flies.

My friend texts, she has landed, we are meeting inside. I gather my belongings and move off the sitting area. I begin walking and suddenly I lose my balance and know that I will fall. One hand has a latte, each shoulder has a bag, I am suddenly off kilter, wobbly and might be looking at the pavement quickly. But no. I do what I term an upward fall in place. That is when everything flies up, and your body struggles mightily to stay erect and does, but with consequences. My latte shoots up onto my face and a second eruption soaks my shoulder, my ankle twists a bit, and then it is over like a mini quake. I am still standing. The damage- wet face, latte shoulder, shaky ankle. I continue walking and looking at the ground as if there is a giant crevice. I cop this attitude to alert all watching that none of that was due to any thing I did. No worries.
Hey, It is NYC, no one cares.

The play - The Grand Manner
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/theater/20gurney.html

The play is okay. The real treat is Kate Burton, especially the last scene, and the company of my pal as well as roomy seats and no too big heads in front of us. Add the upper scaleness of Lincoln Center and the culture I feel and it all is a plus.

The dinner Perilla's
http://www.perillanyc.com/

The restaurant is Harold Dieterle's, winner of Top Chef, the first season. He is from Long Island. Peridot Pal and I are both Top Chef aficionados and hope to see Harold.

We decide on the Summer Prix Fixe menu and here are our choices in words and pix and unintentionally mixed fonts

Appetizer
Hearts of palm and Bibb salad
if you are a foodie read on-manchego cheese, mango and toasted macadamia nut vinaigrette-
how creative and all ingredients complimenting each other

Entree
Sauteed Skate Wing-quinoa, wood ears, heirloom tomatoes, sweet and sour eggplant basil sauce
astonishing!


Side-Farro risotto, artichoke confit, parmesan and chili grape salad
OMG (that is from me)


Desserts local blueberry crisp-almond streusel and ginger ice cream
sorbets, peach, strawberry, plum all luscious



No Harold. No matter.

I arrived home at NHP station around 9:30. Met by the boys, Paul and Liam. Happy to have had a pawfect boy day-Liam watches Paul plating dinner in the Top Chef kitchen

And I was happy to have had a pawfect peridot pal day.

All birthdays celebrated in a Grand Manner, and the new decade birthday celebrations to continue.
A little change in Cyndi's lyrics to best describe our experience.

Girls just want to have fun
I come home in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh mother dear we are the fortunate ones
And girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun

Liam has fun with his peridot birthday gift ball
Woof Woof