Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The birthday bourbon


Today is Howard's birthday! Last night I gave him an early birthday present. It is traditional for Howard and me to present each other, on our birthdays, with yummy bourbons which we sip slowly over the course of the next year. So I gave Howard a bottle of Elijah Craig.

I love that name, Elijah Craig! I love those hoary old 18th century names out of Kentucky.

And I liked the unusual bottle with its wide cork. When we are finished with this bottle I can use it for salad dressing or something.

But the most important thing was, this Elijah Craig whiskey, which I had never heard of, got tremendously high ratings. The reviewers all said it had a wonderful butterscotch taste, it lingered, it was smooth and honeyed and delicious.

And it was!

While we sipped it we read the little tag that came with the bottle.

The little tag tells of the Rev. Elijah Craig who was "the father of bourbon." Imagine having that title. And this is funny: Yesterday two "the father of" situations figured in my day. Just a couple of hours before giving Howard a bottle of bourbon bearing the name of the father of bourbon, I was making a pot of Sen. Barry Goldwater's Arizona Chili out of this cookbook I have. Barry Goldwater was the father of modern conservatism! That is what Howard told me.

Working on my book I should declare Leonard Pennario the father of something. I will have to think on how to word that just right.

Speaking of fathers, you have to wonder if the Rev. Elijah Craig, despite his frontiersman name, was a Catholic priest. I mean, would a Bible belt pastor be making whiskey?

I will have to scour the fine print to see if besides making whiskey he held Bingo games.


Monday, August 29, 2011

Cracking up


One important reason I got along with Leonard Pennario was that we were both Laurel and Hardy fans. So. The other day, there I am, hard at work, and I go to refer to a Pennario recording on YouTube. And you know how YouTube gets to know you pretty well? And it has suggestions for you?

YouTube hit me with a suggestion for Laurel and Hardy's cameo appearance in "Hollywood Party."

Hahaha! There is something about that title, all by itself, that gets me laughing. It is like "House Party" or "Vegas Vacation." Gosh darn you, YouTube, I had to take a look!

I told myself Pennario would have wanted me to.



Let me tell you this, I was laughing so hard within 15 seconds I was actually crying.

Just the beginning of this thing, how they waste no time in setting it up. Ding-dong, goes the bell. All these glamorous people turn to look. By the way, what a great glimpse of a glamorous, 1930s-era party. You just want to stop the video and take a good look.

"I wonder who it is?"

"Perhaps the Barrymores."

"Maybe Garbo."

Laurel and Hardy films always have great peripheral characters. This butler, his sense of timing is perfect. Then, the way the attendants line up and bow down. I was dying.

Then later, the egg episode. For a story I wrote about Lucille Ball a few weeks ago I was watching the Lucy grape-stomping episode and I can see she used a lot of the same tricks, the same expressions. Anyway, great, great vaudeville.

Howard is more of a Three Stooges guy so for his sake I watched the Three Stooges. We picked out this one on YouTube. It ended up Howard had not seen it before.



Ha, ha! It is funny, maybe I am more demonstrative than Howard but again, I was totally on the floor. Howard was sitting there kind of quietly appreciating it and I was honestly howling, I was laughing so hard. Honestly howling, that is not a phrase you hear every day. But I was!

Just the way they exploit everything that comes into their path. The giant saw. You could just see the potential of that, snapping this way and that. By mistake they start cutting the one Stooge's head and it ruins the saw.

Then when Curly winds up on top of the oil well gusher. You can't even describe it.

Even the bad puns, I love them. "The oily bird."

Ah, vaudeville!


Friday, August 26, 2011

Hard-hatted Howard


Howard, that megalomaniac, is all over the news today talking about the Statler. There was a media reception yesterday and he was interviewed by the radio. They are talking about how Howard was the one who advertised the Statler for sale when no one was selling it, and who brought in interested parties, and who talked the new owner, Mark Croce, into buying it.

That is Howard in a hard hat up above!

I wish the radio had interviewed me too so I could have worked in something about Leonard Pennario.



All is not lost because today at noon I get to go on Live Chat again on our Gusto Web log at work.

Although, with all this excitement, I am going to have to have a few more cups of coffee before I am ready for that!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Phantom peppers. and other mysteries


Today after work I was at Tops, picking up stuff for my mom, and you know how you get those clueless cashiers sometimes? They are not all clueless but some of them are.

I am looking at the screen where they ring up your purchases and he has: "Hungarian Hot Peppers, $6.99."

And I have bought no Hungarian hot peppers!

What, am I radiating the presence of peppers because of my experiences over the last few days? Perhaps.

But anyway, I am standing there politely, afraid to speak up, afraid to sound like a fussy customer. Finally though I could not help it. Sometimes ringing something up they call something a different food, the idea being that the price is the same. Maybe that was what happened.

In any event I spoke up lightly. "What's with the Hungarian hot peppers?" I asked.

"Huh?" the kid said.

"Hungarian hot peppers," I said, pointing to the screen.

"Uh.... oh."

He took the Hungarian hot peppers off the screen. Apparently he had rung up the romaine lettuce as Hungarian hot peppers. He put the romaine on instead and that saved me something like four bucks. Of course, no big apology, no, "I'm sorry I almost overcharged you four bucks."

This seems to be happening to me everywhere and it makes shopping stressful.

I was in Walgreen's the other day with my mom. Normally I do not shop Walgreen's. And I bought a couple of things on sale, things you got most of your money back for in their "register receipts," which is like the CVS Extra Bucks.

One of them was this nail polish. Walgreen's has this arcane coupon system and I was not sure if I needed a store coupon. The cashier said I did not but then she asked to see where it was in the sale flier. I'm thinking, why do they have to see it in the flier? Shouldn't the cash register just ring it up automatically? But no, apparently they do not. I had to hang over her shoulder to make sure I got the $3 register receipt. "Oh, there it is," she said when the receipt printed.

But guess what?

The bottle of shampoo I bought, because I was not hanging over her shoulder on that one, that did not print. So I was ripped off $3. It made me mad because I would never have bought this stupid shampoo ordinarily. And I was too stressed out to go back in and argue. I should have. At the moment, though, I had just had it. I had my hands full. They had caught me at a moment of weakness.

This has happened to me before at Walgreen's and now I am thinking they might do it on purpose. I am thinking they count on people not wanting to argue, not wanting to appear impolite or fussy. Also they count on us not watching, not noticing. And often I do not! I have Pennario ...



... on my brain. I go through life in a daze.

Hereafter when I go shopping I will have to wake up.

It is dangerous if you do not!



Monday, August 22, 2011

In the night kitchen


My crusade continues, to get through all the peppers I bought. I deserve a gold medal because I got around to putting all the roasted eggplants and peppers in the blender, and buzzing them down. And now I have this yummy dip.

Also last night I roasted three trays of peppers in the oven. You have to say this for peppers and eggplants: they cook down to nothing. You could fill your whole kitchen with peppers and roast them and you would have, oh, one medium-sized mixing bowl full.

That is lucky!

But here is something that is unlucky. The job of peeling roasted peppers. 

In no cookbook do I see it acknowledged, what a toil this is. 

Oh, I know, you are supposed to put them in a paper bag, steam them and the skins slip right off. Right. 

The skins do not slip right off. It is this long messy annoying job. All for your little mixing bowl full of roasted peppers! And this is what kills me. Cookbooks and cooking magazines, they always act as if things that are easy are a big deal. Things like roasting potatoes. They tell you to buy something called Simply Potatoes. Or they say "Buy pre-cut vegetables." As if chopping up a zucchini or cabbage is hard work. It is not!

Then these same books just toss of roasting peppers as if it is nothing.

"Roast and peel peppers," they say, before proceeding with the recipe.

La la la la la la la.

Let me tell you, it is easier to write the authorized biography of Leonard Pennario than it is to roast and peel a few trays of peppers.

Speaking of which, when I get done with this book, I will have to write a cookbook.

It will tell it like it is!

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Pepper rally


Today I went to Corpus Christi to judge pierogi. One thing I learned is that it is one pierog, two pierogi. From now on I will say that correctly!

People were filling me on on that situation with the priest that I wrote about yesterday. It appears that there was, ahem, a lot I did not know, let me just say that. My heart goes out to the good people of Corpus Christi. My prayers go out to priests. And so on to other important matters.

Such as the peck of peppers that I picked, zut alors.

Besides judging pierogi I went to the Clinton-Bailey Market and there was this truckload, honest, of peppers I could not resist. For $4. I bought them. And that farmer I bought them from, he had this funny look on his face. You know how in "Deliverance," there is that brief interlude of levity when the one guy plays the banjo duet with the guy on the porch? This farmer had the weird inscrutable look that the guy on the porch has at the end of the banjo duet.

When I got home I realized why. There were about a thousand peppers in this box!

That is a picture I took of them up above.

Here is what I have done so far. I made a kind of dip you make by roasting eggplant and peppers in the oven -- that used up an eggplant too. Then I made peperonata. That is peppers fried up with onions and tomatoes. It is great on pizza or pasta, Howard and I just ate it South Beach style with chicken off the grill. Yum!

See those three green peppers in the picture? I gave them to my mother. She likes the green peppers.

So I got off to a good start. I am maybe a third of the way through these peppers? Like I need a project like this, you know? My Pennario project is not keeping me busy enough.

Oh, that reminds me. My mom and I went to one (1) garage sale. We were limited to one because also my mother had to go to Walgreen's. That is a tale in itself.

But this garage sale, it was my Facebook friend Jerry and his wife, Michelle.

When we walked up the driveway Jerry came out and said: "You know what, I had two rare Leonard Pennario records but we sold them!"

Ha, ha!!

Jerry will have his little joke!

Also I love how I have half the people in Buffalo not only knowing Pennario's name, but pronouncing it right.

It encourages me as I go forward!



Friday, August 19, 2011

Another one bites the dust


I am having a terrible time with priests.

It seems that so often whenever I run into one I especially like, something happens to him. I have this experience on a local and a not-local level.

On a not-local level I liked that celebrity priest Father John Corapi. I used to love his talks on Catholic Radio and they got me doing a lot of good things I might never be doing otherwise.

Then he went down in flames, spectacularly I must say, in a cloud of accusations of having a girlfriend and living with her, owning millions of dollars worth of boats and motorcycles, etc. As usual when you are dealing with the Catholic Church, the whole affair was shrouded in mystery and now it has faded to black and we will probably never hear how it comes out. But the long and short of it is, Father Corapi is gone.

On a local level there was a priest I especially admired who used to say the Latin Mass at Our Lady Help of Christians. His name was Father Bialkowski. I did not know him personally but I used to love his sermons and how he said the Mass and he always struck me as a very good man.

Remember, when I had that Mass said for Leonard Pennario, Father Bialkowski was the one who said it. I even mentioned him.

Then well, he was taken away. Because of a haze of accusations which, they seemed fishy to me, but what do I know. And what does it matter. The long and short of it is, Father Bialkowski is gone.

Now today I pick up the paper and I am warming up my computer and what do I see on the front page of The Buffalo News, albeit small and down in the corner, but there was this new priest at Corpus Christi I liked. Well, he was new last year. I mentioned meeting him on that wild Dyngus Day. Ha, ha! That is still one of my favorite posts. This picture ...


... I should win a Pulitzer for it. Note: That is NOT a priest, at least not to my knowledge. That was just a reveler on the bus.

But anyway. The priest's name was Father Matthew Wydmanski. A few months ago on Ascension Thursday I went to Mass at Corpus Christi and I was struck by the beauty of the Mass and how reverent he was. It was not quite a Latin Mass but it was close. Anyway, I liked this priest, Father Wydmanski, and I remember thinking how much good he was doing on Buffalo's East Side.

Today I read he got arrested for DWI and now he has fled back home to Poland.

That is just dandy, you know?

I had talked to him after Mass on Ascension and I was looking forward to seeing him again this weekend when I go judge pierogies at Corpus Christi. This is a bummer!

I mean, it is better than if he were stuck in the situation Father Bialkowski is in, but still.

The long and short of it is, Father Wydmanski is gone.

Not to sound like my great-grandmother, who according to my mother used to sit perpetually in the corner of the kitchen, praying the Rosary in German. But stuff  like this has to make you wonder if the devil is at work.

I believe the devil exists, I will tell you that right now, and I think he finds ways to rid us of the people who do the most good. Maybe it's this, maybe it's that, maybe they did what they are accused of, maybe they were accused falsely, it all comes out the same. The main thing is, these guys are gone.

Remember the creepy story about how the devil made a phone call?

If he can make a phone call he can do this.

In a weird coincidence not only will The Buffalo News' Web site not give me the story about Father Wydmanski to link to -- but the world "devil" is in the banger headline.

You got to wonder!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

My Robo-childhood


My sister Margie posts old family pictures on Facebook. That is us up above at Fort Niagara. I am second from left, as if you could not tell. My brother George was not born yet!

Notice how my dad has us all under control. Also, I love his mailman socks.

I would place that pic at about 1968.

George came along in 1969. Here he is with Margie.


Ha, ha! As I wrote on Facebook, George still has that look.

Here is Margie riding the fishies at Crystal Beach.


It is funny that no one in Buffalo can get over the loss of Crystal Beach. Margie founded a Facebook group dedicated to it and people are just pouring in. Crystal Beach was not even in Buffalo -- it was across the river in Fort Erie, Canada -- but it was ours, and we loved it.

When I first talked with Leonard Pennario it took him maybe three sentences to bring up Crystal Beach. I may not have known his thoughts on Anton Rubinstein's piano concertos but I know what his favorite rides were at Crystal Beach. And he knew mine. Hey, what can I say, we had our priorities.

One more picture shows that even as a little kid I already had that aggravating wave in my hair that torments me to this day.


Now if I had my act together I would be able to post Pennario playing Schumann's "Scenes from Childhood," or "Kinderszenen" as it is in German. But alas, that is not yet on YouTube.

But there is this. Hahahaaa... I love how that one guy three months ago comments simply: "PENNARIO!"

My thoughts exactly!

Where was I? I was talking about my childhood. My friends used to kid me that I was a little space cadet but I guess all of in the family were little space cadets. Do you still use that phrase space cadets? Anyway, what I mean is that we lined up and obeyed like the Von Trapp kids.

No kids seem to behave like that nowadays and very few did back then, too. But that is how I know that it is possible that kids can behave. Because I was a kid and I remember that we did. There were things I was allowed to do and things I could not.

One more picture, of an orderly picnic.


I wish I were going on a picnic now instead of going to work!

And you know what, looking at that picture, I realize everyone else in the picture -- aside from my dad, who has passed on -- could go on a picnic today. I am the only one working!

Where did I make my wrong turn in life?

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Mind over body


This week I have had to police my sleep. You know how once in a while your sleep gets dodgy (to borrow a word from my Australian-speaking sister-in-law, Nat). Last week and the week before that, my body was pulling this thing on me, I would wake up every night in the middle of the night.

Sometimes I would go back to sleep and sometimes I could not.

Often the book would be roiling around in my subconsciousness. I would be rearranging some chapter in my mind. It is not funny how often I wake up thinking about Leonard Pennario. It is as if he has taken residence inside my head.

It's not as if it is always a drag when you wake up in the middle of the night. Remember the business about Andy Warhol and cooking a chicken inside a squash?

But after a week or so you have had enough. So this week, there have been some changes made.

For a week now I have been getting up at 6 a.m. I mean, usually I get up pretty early anyway, but now I am being absolutely consistent. I even put the alarm clock, i.e. my cell phone, across the room so I have to get up.

Sometimes that is agony. It is like being born! One minute you are all warm and comfortable. And the next minute: Waaaaah!

Yesterday I was a complete zombie and it was not pretty.

But I will tell you one thing, I no longer wake up in the middle of the night.

Sometimes you have to show yourself who is boss.


Saturday, August 13, 2011

Wheeling and dealing


Today I went to Zumba class and this was a brand-new Saturday morning Zumba class and there were only three of us.

It was an African-American girl, a Latina girl and me.

Guess who was the square?

OK, the instructor was white too although she is not so nerdy -- or as lucky -- as to be writing the biography of Leonard Pennario.

Well, we all had a lot of fun and I think we all got a kick out of the situation. A small Zumba class is one of life's great pleasures and surprises. You get attention from the teacher and each other. We worked a little harder on our steps than I think we would have otherwise.

Anyway, nice class! After that I went to the Clinton-Bailey Market with my friend Jane. I shrink from thinking what we bought. Tons! It is great to go with a buddy to the market because then you can buy in bulk and split it. Our greatest score was a major haul of zucchini and yellow squash all for $2. It was about 20 squashes!

Also, tomatoes. They are new in season but we split a $5 basket which was the biggest we saw anywhere for that price.

Cukes and cantaloupe for my mom and Swiss chard for me. A good day! And beautiful weather for the market. There was a ton of Muslims! I kept imagining I was in Morocco.

That is a picture up above of a Moroccan market. Here is another.


Get out, they sell all those great clothes in Moroccan markets? How come all these immigrants do not sell these clothes here? I wish we had markets like that. Imagine the look I could put together for Zumba!

Oh well. Back to the Clinton-Bailey.

The honey woman said she had seen my brother George so good, that meant he was back from Chautauqua. Last night when I was having a beer with my mom at the Glen Park Tavern we called him and that was where he was.

After the market I brought the cucumber and cantaloupe to my mom and took her to the Audubon Library. Zut alors, I got lost! I do not know my way around East Amherst. And fatal error, I detoured to a garage sale and got tangled up in a series of cul-de-sacs. I had to go to that garage sale! I could not leave that garage sale alone!

It was like driving to Ohio but we finally got to the library. I borrowed two cookbooks.

I am going to need them to get through everything I bought!

Friday, August 12, 2011

Score!!


Thanks to my focus on Leonard Pennario, my normal life gives me no time to play actual games, like Sudoku -- much as I love Sudoku -- or Angry Birds. So I have to work games and puzzles into my everyday life.

Sometimes I play the coupon game. It is a little like Scrabble and its Double Word or Triple Word scores.

When I write concert reviews I consider that a game and that helps me deal with the deadline. You have half an hour to come up with something .... go! That is the game. Sometimes I play this game at work even without a deadline. You have an hour exactly to get this story knocked off. The timer is ticking. Go!

I am even playing a game with the Pennario book right now. I have decided I want a good draft done, one I can pass on to my friends who are helping me edit it, by Labor Day. It is a special challenge because whereas summer is a relaxed time for everyone else on the planet, it is a terrible time for me. My work schedule is crazy and my neighborhood is deafening and there are all these events I have to be at. But still.

So it is tough. That is the game! It is like playing suicide Sudoku as opposed to easy Sudoku.

Yesterday I played the Vegetable Grab Bag game.

I was rushing past the downtown farmers' market. I do not buy much at this market. The prices are high. They expect you to pay $4 or something for a little basket of green beans. Forget that! But yesterday one of the merchants offered a grab bag -- well, a grab basket -- of use it-or-lose-it vegetables. For $2. I purchased it.

Included were two pale green summer squash, three bright yellow crookneck squash, two tomatoes and a hot pepper.

The object of the game was to use them all in one dish. That is what I decided. That was the game!

Solution: Enchiladas!

Not only did it use up the basket but it used up leftover tomato sauce from the other day, the other half of a stick of cheese that went uneaten at the last Jazz at the Albright-Knox, and a bunch of whole-wheat tortillas that had been going begging. Plus the enchiladas are vegetarian -- I served sausage on the side -- so today, Friday, I can eat the leftovers.

Bingo! I win!

I do not think Howard recognized the genius that went into this dish but I sure did! That is one thing about playing games like this. They are mostly in your head and you have to get used to that. In most cases you will get no public recognition for your victories. You must be your own cheering section.

I wonder what challenges today will bring.

Thinking like this kind of makes the day exciting.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Remembering the War


My friend Missy is Tweeting from the Pennsic War. That is the war down in Pennsylvania that I used to go to when I was a kid. I think the last one I went to, I was 22. No, 23. I don't know.

Every once in a while I think about going again but there is Leonard Pennario and I cannot leave him, alas. I mean I cannot leave this project until it is done, I am sorry.

I admit there are things about the war that I miss. This is the Society for Creative Anachronism, which more or less recreates the Middle Ages. I miss waking up in the tent and hearing the sound of people in armor tramping past. Well, sometimes I had to go out and put on armor and be among them. I did not like that!

I miss people bowing and scraping to me which happened when I was the Queen of the East and led troops into battle.

It was fun to sit around campfires at night. Missy tweeted something about listening to recorder music and drinking 18-year-old Scotch that made me wish I were there by her side as in the old days.

Most of all, the long days of doing nothing.

La la la la la la la.

You would sit and watch the medieval world go by.

It was fun, the commitment everyone had to it. Once at a campfire I ended up drinking beer with this girl who had hitchhiked to the War all the way from Israel. Imagine hitchhiking from Israel! I could not imagine that then and I can not imagine it now.

Not only that, but she had lost all her bags somewhere. They had been stolen or something. But this Israeli girl did not care!

She said: "The important thing is, I'm here."

What a great attitude toward life! We should all have it.

That is me up above playing with medieval, ahem, balloons. I am on the right and that is my friend Jacquetta with me. She is probably Tweeting from the War too! I will have to go check. Jacquetta still looks exactly the same.

Here I am with my friend and now Facebook friend Severin.

I was kind of a goof-off in the SCA but still when you were in it, the Middle Ages had a way of working its way under your skin. You learned, whether you wanted to or not. For instance I joined the SCA on St. David's Day which was in the spring. People would ask me when I joined and I could not remember the date but I did know it was St. David's Day. And that was before I knew saints' feast days.

And that St. David was the patron saint of Wales. I learned that in the SCA. Also I seem to remember it was March 1. That just came back to me.

It is not as if the SCA was religious. Far from it, trust me. And it actually should have been more religious, because what was the medieval era without religions?

But whatever, you cannot do the Middle Ages without some things sneaking in. Also I learned to embroider, more or less, and to do three styles of calligraphy. I could do Roman Uncial, Celtic Roundhand and Gothic. These are skills I still have.

I learned how to illuminate manuscripts by drawing strings of twisting vines and leaves and flowers. When I am on the phone this is still my go-to doodle. I will start with a twisting S shape and then add the leaves and the flowers. I learned how to draw curvy leaves so you see the up side and the down side.

What else did I learn? Once at the War, there were a few Catholic priests who were in the SCA and they were all saying Masses on Sunday. The priests got into the spirit of things and this one year, you could choose among an ordinary vanilla modern Mass, or a Latin Mass -- so I guess there was my Gregorian Chant -- or a Mass in the Byzantine Catholic rite.

I went for the Byzantine Mass! It was the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. Mozart was born on Jan. 27, the feast of St. John Chrysostom, and that is why he was named Johannes Chrysostomus. We should all go back to naming our kids after the feast days they are born on, you know? You do not even have to use those names. Just tack them on the way they used to do.

The priest at the Byzantine Mass had the most beautiful sky blue vestments, as I remember, trimmed in gold. Actual gold, I seem to think, although maybe I am embroidering it, so to speak, in my memory. Before Mass he explained the vestments to us as we all gathered around.  They were very valuable, heirloom vestments. This priest, he was so nice. We were used to him drinking beer with us and stuff but all of a sudden he was very reverent and so we just sat and listened. It was like seeing him in a new light.

He had really done his homework for us, now that I look back. He had copies of the liturgy all ready to hand around and we got to keep them. I took mine home. I think I still have it somewhere. I always remember one line: "Oh, God, forgive me, for I have sinned without number."

That has such a "Dr. Zhivago" ring to it!

Mass went for about two hours, with me sitting there with my friends, in my gown and veil. It is funny, I am wearing a veil again at Mass now. I do think about the SCA sometimes at the Latin Mass because with all the Gregorian Chant, it is like going back to the Middle Ages. In  some ways it is more vivid.

I could walk into a cathedral in 1100 A.D. and participate in the Mass! I could pray and competently sing along. Imagine that.

It is a funny thing about the medieval era.

It never quite leaves me alone!


Monday, August 8, 2011

Adventure on Transit Road


The Vic had to go into the shop a couple of times over the last few days, which threw my life off kilter. The Vic's shop is way out on Transit in Amherst and for me it is like going to Ohio. I used to go there several years ago because Howard had an apartment on Transit, back before he married me, when his life was suburban Perfectville. Boy, did that change! Now I am just not used to going to Transit any more.

But in a way it was kind of fun because I ended up mixing up my routine a little, going places I normally do not go.

The first time the car went in I took the opportunity to hit a Zumba class out at the Eastern Hills Buffalo Athletic Club. I never go to that club. So it was a different teacher, different gym, different class, different classmates to gab with in the locker room afterwards. I normally like going to the downtown BAC, the flagship gym, the gym where Pennario used to go. But it is sort of fun to go to a different gym where you do not know your way around.

The second time the car went in was on Saturday and they told me six hours. Six hours! Zut alors! But my mom drove in and met me. We went shopping and then we went to Chili's for lunch. And then we went to T.J. Maxx and shopped some more. My mom was driving us around which was funny for me because usually I am the one driving us around. So that mixed up my life a little bit more.

Also, Chili's.


I never go there! It was garbage food -- the chicken tacos ended up being this fried crunchy chicken. I mean, who ever thinks of that? It had said "crunchy" on the menu but I am naive and I was just thinking they meant it had crunchy lettuce or carrots in there or something.

You really have to order defensively, you know? The world just throws all this crud at you.

But still. We had fun, you know? We were sitting around laughing about stuff. The staff at Chili's is really nice, is another thing. They actually have guys waiting at the door to hold the door open and say "Welcome to Chili's," and say goodbye to you when you leave. Unusual, that.

On top of that my car was done three hours ahead of schedule. Howard was mad because it turned out they had not done everything to it that he had asked them to. But you know what, that is what happens when he makes me take care of stuff like this myself. It will not be perfect.

The important thing is, I am done for now with going to Transit Road.

Life goes on!



Saturday, August 6, 2011

Adventure on Transit Road


The Vic had to go into the shop a couple of times over the last few days, which threw my life off kilter. The Vic's shop is way out on Transit in Amherst and for me it is like going to Ohio. I used to go there several years ago because Howard had an apartment on Transit, back before he married me, when his life was suburban Perfectville. Boy, did that change! Now I am just not used to going to Transit any more.

But in a way it was kind of fun because I ended up mixing up my routine a little, going places I normally do not go.

The first time the car went in I took the opportunity to hit a Zumba class out at the Eastern Hills Buffalo Athletic Club. I never go to that club. So it was a different teacher, different gym, different class, different classmates to gab with in the locker room afterwards. I normally like going to the downtown BAC, the flagship gym, the gym where Pennario used to go. But it is sort of fun to go to a different gym where you do not know your way around.

The second time the car went in was on Saturday and they told me six hours. Six hours! Zut alors! But my mom drove in and met me. We went shopping and then we went to Chili's for lunch. And then we went to T.J. Maxx and shopped some more. My mom was driving us around which was funny for me because usually I am the one driving us around. So that mixed up my life a little bit more.

Also, Chili's.


I never go there! It was garbage food -- the chicken tacos ended up being this fried crunchy chicken. I mean, who ever thinks of that? It had said "crunchy" on the menu but I am naive and I was just thinking they meant it had crunchy lettuce or carrots in there or something.

You really have to order defensively, you know? The world just throws all this crud at you.

But still. We had fun. We were sitting around laughing about stuff. The staff at Chili's is really nice, is another thing. They actually have guys waiting at the door to hold the door open and say "Welcome to Chili's," and say goodbye to you when you leave. Unusual, that.

On top of that my car was done three hours ahead of schedule. Howard was mad because it turned out they had not done everything to it that he had asked them to. But you know what, that is what happens when he makes me take care of stuff like this myself. It will not be perfect.

The important thing is, I am done for now with going to Transit Road.

Life goes on!

Talkin' trash


Here is what I think is the epitome of trash thinking:

"Restaurant-quality" food.

"Now you can enjoy restaurant-quality meals any night of the week." I just read that in an ad for Stouffer's.

Uh, excuse me? Aren't restaurants supposed to imitate home cooking? I remember when I cooked for Leonard Pennario he said he loved it because all his life he had been eating in restaurants.

Which I loved, but it did not surprise me. Movies are full of men complimenting women on their home cookin'. Think of Clint Eastwood in "The Bridges of Madison County." "It's been so long since I've had a home-cooked meal."

When did home cooks wind up the underdog?

Another thing, just noticed today in T.J. Maxx but around for a while:

"Hotel-quality" sheets.

Doesn't that just kill you??? Aren't hotels supposed to try to make you feel as if you're home?

When did all this get backwards?

Friday, August 5, 2011

Mom food


Tonight I took my mom to Brennan's Bowery Bar, the uncompromising facade of which is pictured above. It has become our Friday night hangout.

Brennan's has what I think of as Mom Food: a great beer-battered fish fry, good cole slaw, good portions. They have lots of fish and vegetarian specials on Fridays, not that my mother would eat vegetarian but I do frequently. My mom and I both do the old Catholic thing of not eating meat on Fridays.

Also they have my mom's favorite beer which is ...


... Blue Moon. They have it on draft! That is a big plus. Blue Moon is a Belgian beer and they serve it with an orange slice. I have to say my mom is converting me to it. It is delicious.

They have this patio at Brennan's that looks out over Bed, Bath and Beyond and Barnes and Noble and a huge parking lot. And this is funny. Next door is this hoity-toity Ristorante Something Or Other, with a patio with a few tables and white linen tablecloths. And it is mostly empty. They must look over at Brennan's with its huge and noisy crowds and it must drive them crazy.

I was sort of smiling thinking of how taking my mom somewhere is beginning to remind me of going somewhere with Pennario. All I want is for the logistics to work out. I do not care about myself.  If my mother's food is great, that's all that matters. If my mom is happy, I am happy. As Howard puts it when I told him about it, all that matters is that the plane is flying smoothly.

Today they put us at this table on the patio that, my mom liked it, and that was all that mattered. My mom got the view over the parking lot. I got a view of an ugly serving station with a box of napkins. Who cares? Not I. I could not care less. If she is fine with the parking lot, I am fine with the serving station.

Successful Friday night, is all I care about!

Tonight I chalk up a victory.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Andy Warhol and me


Aaaaiiiee, last night I could not fall asleep. I don't know what was wrong with me.

I got up! I lay down. I got up. I lay down.

I got up again and sat around for a while and read this old cookbook I have, "Food in Vogue." Here is one interesting idea anyway that came out of last night. There is this story about how Andy Warhol cooked chicken inside squash. To do what he did, you need two huge squashes -- Hubbard squashes, I am guessing, or a big orange squash or pumpkin like this one.


And you cut off the top third as kind of a lid, and you scoop out the seeds and stuff, and then you put the chickens inside and you roast them both.

The writer, Maxime de la Falaise, said that Warhol cut one lid with notches at either end to secure it to the bottom of the squash, and the other he cut in a zigzag pattern.

That sounds like fun!

I am going to invite friends over in the autumn of my year and cook chicken inside a squash the way Andy Warhol did it. It is all because I was up last night!

I kept waiting for the cookbook to mention Leonard Pennario. It mentioned all these friends of his. Like Skitch Henderson. I have had this cookbook forever and I used to make Skitch Henderson's chocolate cake when I was living in my first apartment. My roommates and I would make it whenever it was anyone's birthday. It was funny because eventually I got to the job I have now and I had to interview Skitch Henderson. And I told him how much I loved his Oklahoma Sheet Cake! That broke the ice, I will always remember that.

Skitch Henderson has, alas, passed on. Oh, no, so has Maxime de la Falaise! In 2009. That depresses me, learning that. This cookbook has been part of my life forever. I did not know she had died.

Wow, I am reading about her family. Her parents had the most wonderful names. Her father was Sir Oswald Birley and her mother was Rhoda Vava Mary Lecky Pike. Of County Carlow, Ireland.

It is no wonder she got to be a cooking writer for Vogue and I did not. I mean, my parents were George and Dorothy Kunz. There is a difference.

Where was I? Pennario. He never did put in an appearance in this cookbook. Well, Pennario could not cook his way out of a paper bag. We used to laugh about that.

When did I finally get to sleep last night? I think it was around 6. Then I got up at 8 because I had somewhere to be at 9. It was not pretty, is all I can say. But I did it!

Then the day ended up being pretty nice. I had a good day at work and I got stuff done and then I made a trip to Tops and doubled four $1 coupons. Just now rethinking my coupon strategy I may have been able to do a little bit better but what I did was not bad on two hours' sleep.

La la la la la la.

There is something funny about when I cannot sleep that I have had to learn to watch out for. When I have not slept the night before, a lot of the time all I want to do is talk. When I get to work I sit down and immediately my eyes go to the phone.

Then I think: Mary. No.

You will make no sense! I mean, just look at this post.

Tomorrow I will make more sense.

I promise.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Long day's journey into lunch


Anyone else ever cook in the morning, I mean anything other than oatmeal and eggs?

It is weird!

I am stuck doing that this morning because yesterday I had one of those days when your feet never touch the ground. I mean, I was never home! I went to work and I was full of all this energy, accomplished a lot of things I had been putting off. And right before I left, I had 10 minutes and I thought, I bet I have time to write a Web log post. So I pontificated on the Gusto Blog about the BPO App.

After that I went to Zumba, which was a ton of fun, all these tremendous hip-hop dances I just am not designed to do. Then I went around the block -- I was at the downtown Buffalo Athletic Club -- to St. Anthony's. Because it was the anniversary of the consecration of St. Anthony's, founded in 1891. So they had a special Latin Mass and you know me, I had to be there.

The padre was talking about all the generations of people associated with St. Anthony's and you know me, all I could think of was Leonard Pennario. That reminds me, there has been tremendous drama on the Leonard Pennario front. But I cannot go into that now.

 After Mass I hooked up with Howard and we went to a jam session at our friend Gary's. I love going to Gary's and, long story short, did not get home until around 1 a.m.

So, today I have nothing for lunch and that is why I am cooking this morning.

Weird to be chopping up eggplants and squash. Then to open a bottle of wine at 8 a.m. It is not what you think! I wish it were. The truth is, I was just pouring a half cup into this stew.

Then, the tying on of an apron. That is something I always do at night.

I wish it were night!

Because then I could have some of the wine. Also it would go better with the smell of garlic. There is that too.

It is strange to turn the day upside down.

I am paying for yesterday.