Keeping promises

Not my experience with Yoga but there were some similarities

With Thanksgiving as a signpost towards Christmas and eventually the New Year, it seems an unlikely day to check off a resolution that I made for 2012. Let’s be honest, who even remembers their New Year’s Resolution by St. Patrick’s Day? A slim few, most have forgotten them before heart-shaped box of candies are swallowed before the Altar of Honey-Boo-Boo but nevertheless, I checked something off my list I thought I’d never do: I participated in a Yoga Class.
“Don’t worry if you can’t do all of the poses, just do what you can,” said my instructor, Theresa Conroy, owner of Yoga On The Ridge.
Conroy, a former Daily News scribe, opened her yoga studio a few years ago. She recently moved its location to Domino La this year. She and some mutual friends had often repeatedly asked me to join in taking the class. I relented until a few days before Thanksgiving when I received Theresa’s Newsletter that offered Thanksgiving Day class for only $10. For $10? Why not? I had nothing else planned except an evening of awkward silences, superficial conversation and moderate gluttony.
Theresa was definitely surprised to see me.
It has been a year of great highs and lows. I had finally overcome seizures that had been plaguing me since the summer of 2011 and therefore received by Driver’s License. I had become gainfully employed again. I had been diagnosed with Sleep Apnea and my therapy had made me more energetic to the point where I try to exercise regularly.  But there are always two sides to every coin. My mother is fighting cancer that has metastasized to her lungs and liver. She had lost an eye to melanoma the previous year. I was also dealing with some more immediate repercussions regarding my own tactless nature that may destroy a friendship. So taking a yoga class couldn’t hurt.
Now, I realize that there are a multiple of Yoga styles. Theresa’s style is “kind of a hybrid--mostly Vinyasa, with a good smattering of Iyengar and Core Strength Vinyasa.” (I don’t know what any of that means either.)
So what is it like to take Theresa’s class? Well, if anyone remembers warm-up stretches before sports practice; it’s kind of like that but in Very, VERY slow motion. The class was heavily attended. I placed my purple mat near the front. I realized that this meant that many in the class would see my posterior (upon which IMAX films could be screened), but I think it sexy enough compared to others that are out there.  My spot was also near a wall. This was advantageous since I am built like a Weeble-Wobble but unlike that particular toy, I will roll over anytime. (And I almost did a couple times.)
While I was taking the yoga class, I noticed how warm the room was but also the calming mix of music was interesting. I often play Genesis when I am relaxing.
I learned holding some of these poses was hard. My arms shook with effort to hold my body up at times. My knees still hurt for a few days afterward. I also learned trying not to look at the curves of soccer moms and dads was even harder. (Note to self: Next time I do yoga, I wear sunglasses.)
Often Theresa would mention “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we are going to…” which I think was an excuse to be easy on us or she just was not fussed on doing her regular poses either; which is naturally understandable since this often a day off for working stiffs (with one or two exceptions).  As an added bonus, she even asked the class to participate in a chant, something she never usually does but since this was Thanksgiving…
During this chant, I devised a theory that the English decided to conquer the Indian subcontinent (and the Welsh) not just for shear spite, gold, glory and in search of sunshine but also that they believed that these cultures used far too many syllables to name things and that was just not cricket.
During the cool down phase, I felt like I melted into the floor. I had never felt so relaxed before.
Theresa read Howard Thurman’s poem, “Blessings At Year End’. A piece of which resonated with my and soothed my disturbed emotions that day:

“I remember the new people I have met, from whom I
Have caught glimpses of the meaning of my own life
and the true character of human dignity.

I remember the dreams that haunted me during the
Year, keeping me ever mindful of goals and hopes
which I did not realize but from which I drew
inspiration to sustain my life and keep steady my
purposes.”

Will I return to the yoga mat for another session? The 2013 resolutions have not been written. We’re waiting for the Mayans to clear their calendar.

Overbooking the Social Calendar

I took a fashion tip from Jeremy Clarkson for this event.

Yet again, it seems my calendar is filling quicker than is possible to handle. But this usually happens in the Autumn…at least, I won’t have to run six blocks in a suit this time to perform on stage at a local theater then go to a nearby dance. Only a regretful decline is necessary. And is there enough to regret but so much more to enjoy.

With Oktoberfest (actually in SEPTEMBER) as a primer, October is when events get into high gear before the Holiday Season is upon us. With the political scene in high gear due to the Presidential election, things get really busy.

Already this month, I’ve been to a debate party; a Memorial fundraiser for Philadelphia Police officers and just recently, I tried some two Guinness varieties now available on the American market.

Today alone has no less than THREE events that range from a 25^th Anniversary Celebration in Manayunk, a Concert at the Kimmel Center with the after-party scheduled for XIX at the Bellevue and a Hendricks Gin event in Old City.

Garnish with veggies not citrus

On the plus side, the man playing the Kimmel Center, Jeff Bradshaw, I have seen one multiple occasions at various venues. If you’ve not seen him live, get out there. Or better yet, if you’re an R&B fan, buy his album. It’s quite pleasant. So I can skip that event without him being too mad. The only draw for me is to be in the Kimmel Center which I have yet to enter, but there is plenty of time.

The Anniversary celebration I’m a little saddened to be not attending. It marks the 25^th year of Jake’s Restaurant and Bruce Cooper’s investment in Manayunk’s Main St. I’ve gotten to know Bruce from my time at the paper but his reputation stretched into my early days working in Derek Davis’ restaurants while going to high school, then college. Many waiters that I worked with used to hold Jake’s as a model of how a restaurant should be run.  Now Bruce has Jake’s and Cooper’s Wine Bar and neither disappoint.

Bruce personally reached out to me last night to invite me to the celebration tonight. I will certainly try to stop by later in the evening.

Like drinking a peat bog...SMOKY!

But the event I will be attending involves an unusual kind of gin. I first had Kendrick’s while interviewing Sandra Day and the late Jim Wiest after the Delaware Valley Opera Company were forced out of their 20-year home in Fairmount Park. Jim served me a full glass of Hendrick’s with some ice and a slice of cucumber. No water, no tonic. Straight gin. I have been a fan ever since.

Those who know me know that once I give my word, I carry through. So when a friend asked me to join her for this Hendrick’s event, I accepted. Dinner in Old City then a “Voyage into the Unusual”; should be an interesting evening after all.

 

Update: I have just been invited by another friend to an Ardbeg event on Delaware Ave on Tuesday. Apparently, there will be a rocket involved. I wonder if Dan Dare or Buck Rogers will be there.

This is MY cigar

Yes, I own that sweatervest and I wore jeans on the golf course.

Yes. I made a cigar. Well, strictly speaking, I blended it. I am thrilled that it has been a VERY popular item in my local cigar shop. As a cigar aficionado, it is a culmination of something or other. It was all luck to be honest. Luck to get a spot on a trip to Honduras to start.  Here is what I wrote in my diary of that trip:

I had a definite blend in mine. Many worked from the inside out. I went the opposite way. I saw the wrapper I wanted and went from there. I wanted a cigar with a candela wrapper but was also full of flavor and distinct body. The candela wrapper was all the rage in the middle of last century. It was a distinctly green color from the captured chlorophyll because the leaf is picked early. It is seldom seen nowadays with only a few top brand names carrying them. (Fuente makes an 8-5-8 in a candela.) The wrapper was paying homage to my late grandfather who smoked Lord Beaconsfield Rounds, a short filler cigar in a candela (called Double Claro) wrapper. Even this cigar no longer comes in Candela. It is very mild but I find and earthy nuttiness to it. One of my friends compared it to "smoking spinach leaves."
To give my cigar some flavor, I chose to two ligero (full-bodied) fillers and smoothed it out with a seco filler (mild) and chose a viso (medium-bodied) binder to polish it off. My only hope was that this cigar wouldn't taste awful. Many of the guys made their cigars very full bodied, one made it very mild. Their choices included maduro wrappers or even wrappers from Cameroon. (Yes, Tobacco can grow almost everywhere.)
My recipe came as a surprise to everyone including Gustavo, the quality control manager who asked out loud, "Who the hell ordered the candela wrapper?"

I really do not miss the mustache

Not once but TWICE has my local shop sold out of this cigar. What made it even more interesting was that only recently that other cigar companies (outside of the Fuentes) have been pushing Candela wrappers. Only today, a friend looking for a good cigar said, “I’m looking for a ‘Bernard Scally’”. I gave him one of my small stash. Doubt I’ll be doing that anymore since I don’t know when more will come in.

National Pride

When asked about my television habits, I often tell them the truth. I really do not watch a lot of television. But I guess it is now time to confess why. There is only one event that I truly enjoy watching: The Olympic Games. Debate what you will about the commercialism and controversy all you like. While I’m still not happy about professional athletes creeping their way into the events, I am an unabashed fan of both the Summer and Winter Olympic Games. No other event glues me to my TV. Some of my earliest memories is watching the Games; cheering Team USA in hockey or the Luge in Albertville with my father or in Track & Field in Barcelona.

As I write this, I am slightly jealous of my parents. They are currently in London for the 2012 Summer Games. This is the second Olympic Games that they have attended. They were also witness to the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City. To be at the Olympic Games is certainly on my personal Bucket List.

Some of my fondest memories involve the Olympics in some way or another such as visiting Lake Placid during a summer holiday with my family, walking down the sled run, learning the evolution of bobsled design or discovering how many Olympic rowers were produced right here in Philadelphia. My family and I also went to the Ice Rink where Team USA beat the USSR then went on to win the Gold Medal. We watched as figure skaters practiced their routines.

As a child, when we had the original Nintendo Entertainment System, my father and I played ‘Ice Hockey’ during the Winter Games. He was always Team USA while I was either: Canada, Sweden, Czechoslovakia or the USSR.

We watch the dramatic stories of peoples’ desires to be an Olympian that sometimes lead to strange actions; such as Nancy Kerrigan & Tonya Harding rivalry with the twist that both were to be beaten by the younger Ukranian Oksana Baiul. I teared up when Muhammad Ali lit the torch in Atlanta 1996. I cheered when Usain Bolt (an apt name for a sprinter, if there was one.) demolished the World Record and threw his gold-colored shoes.

It was always exciting to see as World Records fell, no matter what country the athlete was from. During 2008 Summer Games in Beijing, I stood in bar and watched people scream and shout has Michael Phelps won his 6^th Gold Medal of the Games surpassing Mark Spitz. There was much hugging and celebration among strangers as our representatives at these Games made history.

Watching the Games inspired me to learn different sports, it inspired me to learn fencing while I was at university. I certainly gained a deeper appreciation for the sport while I learned what the training involved.

This year will be no different. I will be glued to my television set; with the added bonus of DVR to get specific sports that I want to watch when I’m not able to see them. Join me as we cheer on the world. I look forward to discussing the events with everyone. After these Games are over, my quota and tolerance for television will be full.  At least, until the next Games.

A cheeky pint or several

I love beer. I guess no more needs to be said but this time things are a bit different. I have written about beer and beer events now and again except this is probably the first time I have attended one after the onset of my present medical condition. (Having seizures in public is rather embarrassing and can be costly without insurance.) Having taken Saturday off in preparation for the annual Philadelphia University Fashion Show, I strolled down to Main St. for a bit of lunch. Checking my mobile social media device, I learned that some friends were attending the Manayunk Brewery and Restaurant''s 14th Annual Brew Fest. Not having been to the establishment since New Years Eve, I figured 'why not?'
Thankfully, I could still  purchase tickets at the door. This worried me because usually an event like this is sold out days before. The weather could partially be to blame since it was overcast and slightly chilly most of the days (with an all too brief period of sunshine).
"I would have liked to have sold 150 to 200 more tickets," said owner Mike Rose. "But you what, there can be a brew fest every week nowadays. When we first started this event, this place was packed because we were the only ones doing something like this."
(Disclosure: I originally bought a 'designated driver's' ticket for $25. Although, I could have gone for free, courtesy of Mike Rose, I believe that it was right to pay because it was a last minute decision. Eventually, my friends broke down my resolve and I tasted a few of the brews despite a large 'X' written on my hand.)
The crowd filled the outside deck where many breweries were located but it was not too hard to navigate through the crowd. Ticket holders received a food voucher, gift certificate for a 32 or 64oz Growler (with purchase to fill said growler) and $10 off coupon (if you spent more than $30).
"It's a good enough crowd for people to get through the event and not be uncomfortable and when they go home they can say that they had a nice time," said Rose.
Guests had plenty to choose from such as the sweet, summery flavor of Lancaster Brewing Co.'s Strawberry Wheat to the ticklishly pleasant Good N' Evil Golden Ale from Evil Genius Brewing Co. and so much in between. Homebrewers were also a part of the event bringing up their interpretations of India Brown Ale, Kolsch and India Pale Ales. But despite proper planning, there was plenty of blink-or-you'll-miss-it offerings.
Sly Fox's famous Renard D'Or disappeared in TWO minutes.
With all that was offered, my friends were a little deflated because there were so few standouts. Many brewers brought their main menu items but nothing that seemed to excite my friends.
"If you are coming to a brew festival, even if you have stuff that we like at least bring one item to excite us," said my friend.

Photo: Bernard J. Scally

Bring the Bento

Last week proved to be interesting. After some more paperwork including a press pass application for the City of Philadelphia and other tax forms, I was out covering stories. This one about the Food Co-Op will hopefully prove to be something big, real big. I often feel cynical about certain initiatives but I really think that this one will be great for the neighbor and has some real momentum.
After that event, I went to Deke's BBQ. You may remember as The Garage, the place where I met the late, lamented Phillies sportscaster Harry Kalas. Tucked away next to the Ugly Moose, off of Shurs La., Deke's serves a filling BBQ menu and a killer Pecan Pie. By sheer luck, I met up with some journalistic colleagues there and had a great time, despite a "hockey" game going on around us.
Speaking of make-overs, I stepped into Dream House Asian Bistro today. New owners took over the old Jade Court last year and realized a overhaul and facelift were long overdue.
Jade Court served mediocre/standard Chinese Takeaway fare. I have only two distinct memories of the joint. Once, in my high school years, my friends and I trekked across a frozen Ridge Ave in a snow storm to satisfy our collect craving for MSG and carbohydrates. We got to the old parking lot on Lyceum Ave. and ate right out of the carton.
My second memory is not so pleasant. My co-worker and I ordered lunch from there once. Neither one of us could come into work the next day for symptoms I refuse to describe here. So I never ordered from there again, despite it being so close to the office.
But sometimes, you got to take the plunge and see if change is for the good.
Immediately, I noticed there was a difference when I ordered. I was informed that lunch was served as a Bento Box and I would receive entree, garden salad, two crab rangoon, 6-piece California Roll, cup of soup and steamed rice.That is what I got. Perfect portion size for the worker on the go and very filling. The Sesame Chicken was standard flavor but not drowning in sauce. The California Roll was also standard but enjoyable. I was a little concerned about mixing hot and cold foods but that is the nature of the box where you are ording as a take out.
A quick glance of the interior showed that the new owners really put the facade of the old Jade Court behind them. There is a whole sushi bar with chef in attendance. But only tomorrow will tell me if their cooking as truly improved...and if I will eat there again. IF all goes well, I'll be sitting in for Bento or Sushi soon.

UPDATE: I survived with any problems, we'll certainly be ordering from Dream House soon.

Photo: Bernard J. Scally

Moment of silence

I was going to spend time talking about how it is great to start my second tour at the old firm and discuss the merger of the Catholic parishes but my heart is just not in it right now. (I can also save those topics for later this week.) It seems that every silver lining must have a cloud. I learned today that one of my colleagues from my firm's division died today. Her name was Emily Morris. Though I did not work with her very much or for very long, we got along very well.

You can read the details of her passing here.
I send my condolences to her family, friends and fellow colleagues who knew her better.
Montgomery Media loses a great staff member. Journalism lost a shining light. RIP Emily Morris

Break out the linen

Well....maybe just not yet despite the recent warm trend. But I certainly engaged in a picnic in this fine weekend weather with some friends in Fairmount Park on Sunday. The annual Cherry Blossom Festival was held in the Horticultural Center and was a lovely occasion...despite the lack of many Cherry Blossoms.
It was a good day of listening to traditional Japanese music and watching people. Thankfully, my friend, Jen, warned me what people would also be prime targets for watching. Yes, my friends, Cosplayers attended the festival and were highly entertaining and disturbing at times. I personally opted for the linen and sandals that encompasses my 'beach day' attire and proved a good choice considering the sunburn on my nose. I even caught a glimpse of my future. I chatted with one finely dressed gentleman in straw boater and ascot. His ensemble, complete with pencil mustache, was quite interesting. (I still have no regrets of shaving mine off...yet.)
"It is a wonderful day to get dressed up," he told me.
Not as many people than I would have thought but after detouring through the Park and seeing a regatta on the Schuylkill River and knowing that there was a Flyers game AND Phillies game, I really should not have been so. (Congrats on the wins as well, guys.)
In all, it was a suitable occasion to end my period of under-employment. Tomorrow, I return to the Old Firm and there is no lack of news to cover. Huzzah!

Viva Jazz!

Nothing is more depressing than an empty bar bar during open hours. Well, an empty one when there is a decent jazz band playing is probably worse.
I stumbled into the Dawson on thursday night and heard the Tal Shtuhl Trio performing. One advantage of an empty bar room, well, nearly empty, is that no one will sing with the band as two of six customers did that evening, One worried because she was wearing sweat pants. (Never knew there was a dress code for jazz.
The music made me wonder what places are left to enjoy a jazz ensemble. I admit I came to jazz pretty late (late teens/early 20s). A bartender at the steakhouse I was working at at the time loaned me a few albums. I still enjoy them today. Recently I was fortunate enough to witness Christian McBride, Lisa Henry and the 'Jazz Ambassadors' from the Thelonious Monk Institute perform for students at Shawmont Elementary. (Read that story here. Video is posted below.)
But with Philly's deep roots in Jazz music and culture, what is left, besides Chris' Jazz Cafe? With Ortlieb's gone, will and do bars like Dawson fill in the gap? In this era of electro-auto tuned, strip-pop and cover-bop, will anyone go to listen to good jazz anymore?

Oh, how sweet it is.

The day after Easter, an annual event occurs that only the strong or idiotic or hungry participate in. At Dawson Street Pub, it was the annual "PEEP OFF" competition. The event was the brainchild of a bar bet between regular patrons John Brown and "Ozzy".
"John Brown said one day how much he liked Peeps and Ozzy told John that he could eat more and he didn't even like Peeps," said event organizer, Anthony Hennessy.
That year, Hennessy out ate John Brown. The year after six people joined in the action. The Peep off has had some interesting history. The rules were fairly simple. One 20-minute round of eating, followed by a wait of 15 minutes. You heave, you leave. Other rules included 'No dunking' and 'No blenders'. The 'No blenders' rule was instated after participant Vince "Prof. Peep" Fumo Jr., used science to beat the competition. Fumo dissolved his Peeps in lemon juice and drank the result while other competitors swallowed the sugar-coated Marshmellow treats the old-fashioned way.

Let the eating begin

This year's crop of com"peep"itors included Hennessy again, dubbed 'The People's Champ". The field included four others: (I shall use their titles in order to downplay the shame of their gluttony.) Peep-to Bismol, Peep-B-R, Peep-in' Ain't Easy, and Peep On Peepin' On.
Each contestant had a total of 60 Peeps at their station, one bucket, and water available. Plastic tarps covered the playing area.
"Slimy, sugary puke is hard to clean up," said DSP owner David Wilby.
To be honest, having been a veteran spectator of three Wing Bowls, I was a little disappointed at the leisurely pace these com"peep"itors brought to the table. There even included banter between themselves. Spectators got in on the action asking the field if the soft yellow, bird-shaped candy "was hard to swallow?" For some, it was a challenge, for others, it was not so much.
At the end of time, the People's Champ was on top with 56 Peeps; Peep On Peepin' On with 46; Peep-to Bismol, 42; Peepin' Ain't Easy, 30; Peep-B-R, 27.

A colorful ending

Now, the waiting started. Contestants discussed with each other techniques on eating peeps. Hennessy remembered a competition when one of the eaters light up a cigar, in effort to smoke out the competition, made himself ill and was scratched in competition.
In the final moments, nothing happened and the score remained as it was. Hennessy announced that he was retiring from the com'peep'ition. He would continue to run the event but no longer eat. He was happy to go out on top. No longer than a minute went by when the contestants filed out of the pub to the street to purge themselves of the surgery holiday snack.
Bright, foamy, sometimes chunky expurgation landed on the sidewalk to be washed away in the next rain or eaten by local felines as is tradition.
"It tasted better coming back up," said Peepin' Ain't Easy. "It was like a foamy milkshake that wasn't so gritty."

Resurection?

After skipping the mushy sentimentality of February and the drunken, amateur antics of March, we come to April where Spring is truly blossoming and luck seems to finally be coming my way. Since I shave my mustache, in mourning of my friend Christopher Schenk, I have certainly been more productive and lucky in recent weeks. I've not had any seizure episodes since mid-February and my new doctor and medication are working out well. After a protracted engagement with the Department of Welfare, I have been some assistance and now regular employment seems to also be on the horizon. My goal of visiting California for my 31st Birthday seems well within reach. Huzzah! Huzzah!

She Said, He Said - For the Love of 'Fluffy'

Hello, my freaky darlings,

Sorry to have been away from you all for too long but sadly my medical condition has flared considerably this month but we'll discuss that soon enough. Today, I wanted to share with you a funny story from some friends of mine, Lisa & Nick Lutwyche, who live in the woodland wilds near the Delaware border. it is a heartwarming tale about the deep bonds between a couple and their pets. It is a story that can only be told in the manner of 'She said, He Said.'

It is on that great internet crossroads known as Facebook that I found Lisa's story. (All photos are courtesy of Nick and Lisa Lutwyche.)

Lisa Said: (Emphasis is hers)

How NOT to get a Siamese cat out of a tree: not just any tree, but a hickory, with no lower branches, and the cat is 1 1/2 stories HIGHER than the roof of the house...

1) the fire company will NOT help, even if you offer to pay them (despite the fact that you have no money to speak of, you'd find a way somehow)

2) do NOT tie 2 ladders together and attempt to climb them while your wife is out getting burgers to sustain your heroics. (You will fall down & you did!)

3) do NOT attempt to rig, with ropes & pullies, a box with cat food & a flashlight inside it, unless the box ends up DIRECTLY below the cat & not at an angle

4) do NOT underestimate the power of hope

5) do NOT think that you can stop a bloody-minded, soft-hearted Englishman from climbing two stories, tying ladders to trees, sliding an impossible box & wood contraption up the tree to a cat, who, impossibly, steps into the box!!!

You do NOT get the cat down if you believe what the fireman told you, "They always come down on their own." After 7 hours, after the sun has set and the wind is blowing and the moon is shining behind him, what gets the cat down from the tree is STUBBORN LOVE.

Nick, described by his wife as the 'bloody-minded, soft-hearted Englishman', (also seen below at the 'ladder') commented on this status in his defence:

Tried the food. Got a cardboard box in a sling close to him by getting a line over a high branch about 18" below him at 90 degrees to the fork where he was stuck. Fishy cat food in the box. Because it was a down hill, round the corner, for the cat to get into the box he could not make it. I got the line in place after several attempts by attaching it to a 2lb hammer which I hurled up into the tree.

I was worried about overshooting as the hammer would then end up through the double-glazed kitchen window and things would have degenerated into a Chevvy Chase-like family movie. Got Lisa to go to 5 Guys and bring back our supper, as we had not eaten since breakfast. I rigged my 15'ladder on top of 6' step ladder, joined with rope and leaning on the tree which by now is swaying gently in the wind, creaking in unison with the howling cat.

I climb the ladder assembly to test it - it fails and the top ladder slides down the tree trunk, rapidly, with me on it. I remember thinking that this would probably hurt, then everything stopped moving. I disentangled myself from the deranged ladder collection and stood up, just as Lisa returned with the food. Apart from a couple of scrapes on shins and thigh, no damage to me. Lisa berated me with a lot of choice words; we ate and thought about the next approach. I tried cutting some lumber to make steps to nail to the sides of the tree, but the narrow trunk and lack of long enough nails made that a non-starter. So this time we re-rigged the two ladders and roped the bottom ladder to the tree. Up I went, with Lisa steadying the step-ladder.

But the angle of the 2nd ladder was too steep and I describe a graceful parabola over Lisa's head backwards as the top ladder came away from the tree. Slightly bruised but otherwise undamaged, I climb more cautiously up the replaced ladders and tie the very top to the tree. Now I produce the piece-de-resistance. A large cardboard box with two downward projecting pieces of 2"x1" wood supports about 7' long. Climbing to the top of the ladders the cardboard box is pushed up the tree trunk until my arms are fully extended above me, holding the tips of the poles. I tell Lisa to look at how far below the cat is the box now, when I feel the weight of the cat in the box as Lisa watches him slide down into it. A literal leap of faith on his part.

I slowly climb down the ladders after lowering the box above me so as the hold it more firmly and with Lisa guiding me from step to step. We all arrived safely on the ground, and retreated to the house for a cold one or two; the cat was a bit shocked and tired but some food and a drink of water put him right; then he slept 18 hours. A bit croaky and walking a bit stiffly but seems OK otherwise. Another of his lives gone as he comes into his 12th year; not even going to speculate on mine!

But it is Lisa who gets the final word:

Of course, being a Siamese, he serenaded us for the entire 6 plus hours. There is nothing that impels a person more than the plaintive wailing of his/her beloved Siamese cat.

A new time of opportunity

Happy New Year to everyone. I hope you have had a pleasant and fulfilling holiday. With a new year just beginning, I reflect on a the year that was. On the whole, 2011 was a pretty rough year for yours truly. A good chunk of my woe was unfortunately self-inflicted for that I take full responsibility. My plimpton-esque debacle into politics, trying to run for Philadelphia City Council, is perhaps my final 'youthful indiscretion'. As I wrote in that press release when I withdrew from the race, I knew the challenge but did not take them as seriously as I should have.
Then the bomb dropped that no one say coming. My recent medical history is now well known among my friends. But upon first seeing me, it would seem likely that I would have some ailment that could also be self-inflicted such as diabetes, heart disease, sleep apnea, etc. Of course, I still might but part of my resolution for the new year is to combat those health problems before they start. We'll discuss those later. What took us all by surprise in 2011 were my epileptic fits. In August, they began. Thankfully, I have only had 4 total...and two of those I slept through. Thankfully, medication has helped in preventing many others. After a few visits with Einstein neurologists, we have learned that my condition is cause not by a malformed blood vessel but a bone 'growth' or something that touches my brain, setting off a seizure. It is hoped by 2012, this problem will be resolved.
But 2011 was not a complete trial or tribulation. I met many interesting people, was witness to other people's own joy and found how many people are truly my friends. I have played with my little cousins and enjoyed the company my friends' children. I have turned 30 years old, an age I once thought unlikely to achieve even when I was 18.
So when the new year, now this year approached, I struggled to solidify my resolve. Everyone makes annual resolutions, lose weight, act nicer, leap over the Eiffel Tower, etc. But this time I was inspired by a parody artist who wrote: '"You must do the thing which you think you cannot do."' I take that as my mantra this year. I have a number of resolutions to achieve this year. Lose 50 pounds by age 31 and keep it off, find a new job, publish a book of my best writing (both fiction and non-fiction) and be more interesting and fantastic. But how can a rotund, mercurial, Falstaff-ian figure like myself achieve this? Well, I guess we'll find out together. The clock is ticking...get your running shoes.