tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23473305800963869572024-03-05T00:23:34.493-05:00...how way leads on to way...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger423125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-4170365477339335992017-07-19T15:36:00.000-04:002017-07-19T15:36:39.040-04:00The End of This Blog<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">another tick stuck in my leg.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had a memorable mother’s day, with some of my kids around and a lot of time in the yard. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The next morning I found the tick.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did:</b> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> about ten days later I woke up with a high fever, with intense body aches. I went to the doctor and she ordered a lot of blood tests, which were negative. She concluded I had the flu. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I felt better after about 4 days and resumed my life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I was sick again with fevers and body aches a week after that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I went back to the doctor, who re-ran some bloodwork, which was still negative, but somehow in my bleary-eyed limpness we managed to agree that we should treat it like it was Lyme, a</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">nd I started a course of doxycycline. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By the time the June horse show rolled around I was still light sensitive and feeling sort of ok but not 100%.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>How I napped: </b></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">there had been a good chance I wasn’t going to make it to the show at all and so when I did make it there I took each day as carefully as I could. </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saturday I had two classes, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, and in between I had horse-show breakfast and stopped in my car to put something back and it was breezy and delicious there so I opened all the car windows and took a nap in my car. As I dozed </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I listened</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to the sound of horses walking on pavement. </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sunday my schedule was the same, with a class first thing and then another six hours later. I was, in fact, going to be the last to go from our barn, so I knew everyone was waiting for me. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">my last test was Level 1, Test 1, which I've only done a few times. We started out fine, but when I asked Hado to lengthen his canter he kind of blew me off, so I had to get after him. The second canter lengthen was much more like what I’d asked for. And, i</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">n between the canters I started to feel we were riding the test, not just trotting at X and cantering again at C, but connecting the pieces. And doing it together, not me sitting on and steering a bicycle/horse but both of us as a unit.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I cried: </b>when I halted and thanked the judge, I felt a wave of relief and gratitude. </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A week before it didn't seem like I'd be able to show. </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A year before we weren't doing this level. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A couple of years ago, Hado was kicked in the knee by another horse and had to spend several months doing nothing but stand in his stall. We didn't know if he'd heal from that. When he was cleared to start walking around he had lost so much muscle in his top-line I compared him to a sweater that hung too long on a hanger. It took two years to get him completely back in shape.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And a few years before that I had taken on the challenge of learning to ride him believing he was too much horse for me, and worried that it might not work out.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So after I turned and headed out of the ring, I thought about how great it is to have a horse to learn on, what a privilege to have the time and money to go to shows, what a joy it is to have a partner like Hado, and how a lot of things conspired to stop us but we kept going. I started to cry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Who was waiting for me:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> P., one of the grooms at the barn, came along as an extra pair of hands at the show. She had water, and she listened with understanding when I had something to tell her. </span></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What it is: </b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">this is the last post of this blog. All of these posts (except this one) and all future posts can be found <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/" target="_blank">at another site</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why this blog is ending: </b>the new site is on Wordpress, so I will be </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">able to add features.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that are (a little) funny: </b>when I interrupted my regular writing to take a class, people noticed, and asked. When the class ended, I was out of the habit of writing and posting and had </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">trouble re-starting. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that are not funny:</b> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I promise to try to keep blogging.</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Please come with me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Who should see it:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> you. Thank you for reading this blog. In the beginning, you went to <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2009/09/07/tigre-contro-tigre/" target="_blank">Italy</a> with me. You came with me to find treasures in my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2011/06/12/things-i-find-in-my-basement-34/" target="_blank">basement</a>. You <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2015/07/16/cracking-eggs/" target="_blank">ragecooked</a> with me. You read about my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2013/10/13/cats-on-the-roof-and-he-wont-come-down/" target="_blank">pets</a>, my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2015/06/30/the-moth/" target="_blank">headaches</a>, my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2011/05/30/good-neighbors/" target="_blank">neighbors</a>, and my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2011/04/07/how-i-learned-to-ski/" target="_blank">childhood</a>. You read about the <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2016/11/16/i-have-resting-bitch-face/" target="_blank">Bacon Provider</a> and <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2016/11/14/i-got-a-text/" target="_blank">my kids</a>. You read about the <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2016/08/15/i-saw-hamilton/" target="_blank">plays</a> I saw. You got a fuck-ton of my <a href="https://almosteverythursday.com/2015/06/20/tall/" target="_blank">opinions</a>. Some of you found typos. Some offered words of encouragement. Some of you make me think that someday I really will get around to writing a book (or three). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw a few days after I got home:</b> a photographer (and friend) caught me as I finished at the show. When she posted this photo on her Facebook, I didn't immediately recognize myself. I didn't even recognize my horse. What I did see was the story, captured in a moment. And I just happened to know the story.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-3697288401712612882017-05-19T10:56:00.000-04:002017-05-19T10:56:07.844-04:00I saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Why I haven't been posting blogs: </b>I am taking a class and working on improving this website. The class meets twice a week and has actual homework and requires me to give up two entire afternoons and their adjacent whole evenings every week and, oh, also there is the extra time spent dreading leaving, seconds blown complaining about leaving, minutes frittered away leaving, hours squandered riding the train, and stretches wasted panicking about having only half of my homework done. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," a new Broadway musical, with some songs from the first movie (but not all), at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> pilates, chased down a $289 error while balancing the checkbook, baked the bread dough I made the night before, met with a tree guy in the drenching rain, riding lesson, drove to S's new house, took the inaugural shower in my friend's new guest bathroom, got dressed, talked to Radar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>Chinese-made Australian boots, James jeans black micro-cords, Danner belt, Eileen Fisher brown jersey go-to top, mushroom-colored cardigan with fringe, the Indian scarf from the gift shop of the Folk Art museum, black parka </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> S., her husband, their two kids and au pair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> S.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Why I saw this show: </b>all the nights in 4th grade I spent when I couldn't sleep, and didn’t stop reading until Charlie got his golden ticket; being able to sing all the words to all the songs in the original movie; knowing someone with kids who was going. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> front row, second mezzanine, between S. and her younger child L.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were good:</b> spending an evening with my friend S. and her family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>Augustus Gloop is still a strange, fat, hungry, carnivorous German, but other characters have been “updated” to include some Heroes of the Internet and a Russian mobster/billionaire. This remake didn't have time for my favorite song, Veruca Salt's "I want it now." L. was upset that two of the bad children seemed to have been killed (one exploded, the other torn into five pieces). I have to say that I enjoyed my friends' company more than the show. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were funny/not funny: </b>Grandpa George's jokes about wishing he was dead, the (unintentionally) comically undersized sets (think Spinal Tap's Stone Henge), my laughably sincere hope that the Oompa-Loompas will be the last of the tiny-yet-jolly enslaved people portrayed in children’s literature (no longer orange-skinned in this production); g</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">rade A performers with a C+ script.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>Shake Shack with S.'s fam.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What it is: </b>proof that this children's book classic should not be remade anymore. People should read the book, watch the original movie and leave it at that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> unintelligible to anyone who hasn't seen the movie(s) and/or read Roald Dahl's classic children's book. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>a distracting, decorative throw pillow on the side of the road.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-50325659559269668472017-03-15T22:28:00.005-04:002017-03-15T22:28:54.400-04:00I saw “Present Laughter”<div style="line-height: normal;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQabCVdmcSXl9aNkMRwjNw4FGNdXnOeFI9So_5Nm8SD9t0bMBiTiFRj7C1PPCbSz3T6S_oTNZvYQj4Cz_N1KHim5HZsbqMQhhXXokz-tWnG05mmtZyMdTWP__yib7AiRvl7VIhswlkNVs/s1600/presentlaughter1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQabCVdmcSXl9aNkMRwjNw4FGNdXnOeFI9So_5Nm8SD9t0bMBiTiFRj7C1PPCbSz3T6S_oTNZvYQj4Cz_N1KHim5HZsbqMQhhXXokz-tWnG05mmtZyMdTWP__yib7AiRvl7VIhswlkNVs/s320/presentlaughter1.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> “Present Laughter,” a revival of a Noël Coward play, starring Kevin Kline at the St. James Theater on West 44th Street in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> dinner at the upscale and modern Chinese restaurant Hakkasan at 311 W 43rd St. Some reviews dismiss it as being part of a chain. Pre-theater dinner options are limited, and this place is very good. Show up early and grab cocktails in the bar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>a weird combination of a new sweater and tweed skirt, with tights. I should have worn wool tights, but I don’t have black ones. And a black Barbour down coat that is too tight in the arms and shoulders when worn over a sweater. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> the Bacon Provider and a lot of eager Kevin Kline fans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> online, from Ticketmaster. Alas, they require you to pay quite a bit extra to get physical tickets, so I had to do the print-at-home deal. My preferred plan is to pick up tickets at will-call, so I don’t have to wait for them to come in the mail, store them, and remember to bring them. An 8 1/2 by 11” sheet of paper from my computer's printer with a bar code and some boxes of text describing the event is no substitute for actual tickets. Real tickets are <a href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/memorabilia" target="_blank">memorabilia</a>. E-tickets are trash.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> I grew up in the same suburban St. Louis neighborhood as Kevin Kline, and back in the 80s I thought he was hilarious and brilliant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Mezzanine Row A, seat 109, between my husband and a distracting woman who took up a lot of oxygen if not space.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> the acoustics were meh. I think the play would be better in a slightly smaller venue. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> the chain-smoking Swedish housekeeper, the aggressive Trump-style injurious handshake of the wacky playwright, the baby-men business partners, slamming doors, ringing phones and doorbells. Kevin Kline is still hilarious and brilliant. What a joy to see great physical comedy live on stage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> the actor who played the secretary seems to have been injured in the first act, and was wearing a bandage on her left wrist in the second act. The coffee that was served onstage over and over was said to taste like curry but in my excellent seats I could see plainly that it was water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> another vehicle for an aging-but-vibrant actor; also a funny mid-20th Century farce from a true master of the genre about an aging-but-vibrant actor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> backstage comedy devotees, Kate Burton buffs, dressing gown enthusiasts, forties fashion fanciers, fools for redheads, Matt Bittner freaks, Ellen Harvey hounds, latchkey lovers, hat mavens, Noël Coward nuts, suckers for the mellifluous baritone of Peter Francis James, Reg Rogers regulars, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kristine Nielsen groupies; admirers of Tedra Millan (it’s her Broadway debut), Kevin Kline cultists, disciples of Cobie Smulders, and Bhavesh Patel boosters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> jackhammers</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-6754426983509120472017-03-09T10:01:00.001-05:002017-03-09T10:01:10.576-05:00I saw “The Light Years”<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmuYY-byZ9LXfZXffWJADY3veY_Tsy7qDJvR3NtDw-ScDfepIiL8yUA-NUywb17-ztMLdZnxiLeTqP0t_j5B17PCVPK8HBQ7icd75YY0v1cX3SzREYgthnaPwQh23gCyKiC2YbNupnP8/s1600/lightyears2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmuYY-byZ9LXfZXffWJADY3veY_Tsy7qDJvR3NtDw-ScDfepIiL8yUA-NUywb17-ztMLdZnxiLeTqP0t_j5B17PCVPK8HBQ7icd75YY0v1cX3SzREYgthnaPwQh23gCyKiC2YbNupnP8/s320/lightyears2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw: </b>“The Light Years,” a play by The Debate Society, at Playwright’s Horizons, 416 West 42nd Street, in Manhattan, on the south side of the street after the scaffolding ends but before the Hudson River, on that weird off-Broadway strip of theaters I can’t keep from confusing with each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">What I did beforehand:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> the first year we lived in New York, I thought that coming into the city on a MetroNorth train was like riding an futuristic satellite elevator from an orbiting space station to the surface of the planet. The atmosphere was different. And the gravity. The conductors needed shiny silver suits, of course, but I used my imagination Five years later, I don’t feel like a prisoner here as much as I did then. Still, the way the train dives under the streets just south of Harlem means the commuters have to emerge from under the city’s skin, like parasites hatching. I brought homemade beer, anyway.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZaW98qE-fSJtS7d3Hm4M3WREX9-ffUwcqYMojQnJHNZbIYcRpb440AkQJVbB6aw4X8P2zq-BBI0Zva6N9PzLfx9T2EigaWuQQj2DlxvlQYwkItctsefWwiud88wGd5Wv2eKfDSx6maz0/s1600/lightyears3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZaW98qE-fSJtS7d3Hm4M3WREX9-ffUwcqYMojQnJHNZbIYcRpb440AkQJVbB6aw4X8P2zq-BBI0Zva6N9PzLfx9T2EigaWuQQj2DlxvlQYwkItctsefWwiud88wGd5Wv2eKfDSx6maz0/s320/lightyears3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not The Graduate. But almost.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>Chinese-made Australian boots, new James skinny jeans, black Brooks Brothers fitted cotton blouse, too long Eileen Fisher cardigan, hoop earrings, gold bead necklace, black parka, favorite rag & bone scarf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>The Graduate and his gf S; she liked my jewelry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>about a week ago, online. They were the last three seat available.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> it was billed as a “spectacular tribute to man’s indomitable spirit of invention.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row B, Seat 5, next to two unoccupied seats on one side and a woman who laughed too much on the other side. I, also, laughed too much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>[spoilers]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> lightbulbs, songs, monologues, promises, and a bucket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>this one time I was brushing my teeth and I went to put the toothpaste back in the medicine cabinet and got shocked by it. This is the primary memory I have of the place we lived in Salt Lake City in the mid-80s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> a bag of peanuts in the lobby</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YxdUqJG48XomqFa4mjqAZsIRMzMQq3YOwrysKySmEDFf5nRY_1Ipyn0GkWzkPYLEkU-iw8-qa_QnUZXdGm4uXqK29eiYzdEYxMbnvufowS24I71SMan84X6O0H4Ml7-hBFFzNYj2I1I/s1600/lightyears5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YxdUqJG48XomqFa4mjqAZsIRMzMQq3YOwrysKySmEDFf5nRY_1Ipyn0GkWzkPYLEkU-iw8-qa_QnUZXdGm4uXqK29eiYzdEYxMbnvufowS24I71SMan84X6O0H4Ml7-hBFFzNYj2I1I/s320/lightyears5.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a food museum near the theater</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> an unusual play about the creators of the 12,000-seat theater called The Spectatorium for the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it: </b>electricians, Chicago aficionados, history buffs, aluminum evangelists, love story bugs, theater nerds, devotees of the Depression, bicycle enthusiasts, folding attic stairs fanatics, dirigible fanciers, soliloquy fiends, junk junkies, lovers of lightbulbs, milk maniacs, World’s Fair nuts, suckers for jingles, impresario connoisseurs, and anyone who’s ever wondered if there’s an inventor living in their attic</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home</b>: the ceiling of Grand Central Terminal, with its light-bulb constellations .</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-25898292799797756652017-03-08T14:20:00.000-05:002017-03-08T14:20:11.037-05:00I saw "Sweat"<div style="line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> "Sweat," a play, at the theater known as Studio 54, on West 54th Street in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>PT on my right knee which I found out this week hurts not because of a ligament tear (hooray!), but because of arthritis (boo!). I was happy about this for perhaps 12 hours, until I realized it meant that instead of surgeryI was facing some amount of knee pain for the rest of my life, which I would get to manage henceforward. Then I went and got my hair cut. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>plaid wool dress, ripped tights and Fluevog boots. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> B., a friend of my parents, who I've known since I was a kid, and haven't seen since 2004.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>online as soon as the new venue was announced after missing the chance to see this show's sold-out run at The Public Theater. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> rave reviews.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row A, on the end, with no one in front of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>this perfectly paced play is about the destruction of working class lives thanks to the relentless forces of unchecked American capitalism. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> it is not a funny play, but it is not without humor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>the venue shows evidence of having been painted, as if current management accepts that audiences look askance at obvious shabbiness, but it’s like someone’s brother-in-law got them a really good deal on many gallons matte black paint and the paint was applied by people who’d never painted before, and as quickly as possible. Crumbling theater venues can do shabby gloriously, like BAM’s facilities. Studio 54 looks like the party ended in 1980, and they just woke up and swept a little.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> confetti eggplant and filleted whole durade, part of a really fine and fun meal sitting at the bar of Taboon, on 52nd and 10th Ave. When you go, make a reservation. Share the entrees and order lots of meze plates. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_NJNkHqylCXXfuAC51r76yF9vkpOO6iSJ3-SzZPflnghIUVQJlGaJyNAQn_P7jK5AriV_P-MDb65nuJ3ck3Wo3nmNFNeVV6eWIsCGmwaEQAIJn4bjQeKxFxpxMP3UBmcXdj-dgFbF1k/s1600/sweat4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_NJNkHqylCXXfuAC51r76yF9vkpOO6iSJ3-SzZPflnghIUVQJlGaJyNAQn_P7jK5AriV_P-MDb65nuJ3ck3Wo3nmNFNeVV6eWIsCGmwaEQAIJn4bjQeKxFxpxMP3UBmcXdj-dgFbF1k/s320/sweat4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a big (and by this I also mean important), serious play with a strong ensemble cast. If this was not the best play I’ve seen in the last year, it was certainly in the top five. Tackling issues of economic uncertainty and race relations in America with fully fleshed-out characters and meaningful stakes, “Sweat” engages on all the levels the talking heads on TV don’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> line workers, strugglers, bartenders, union members, strike breakers, white supremacists, people who’ve done time, conservatives, drunks, survivors, managers, liberals, know-it-alls.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MvTBR1e8CVYTW4nvdwcyN4ucn7MKTfeJsLL-BgPKRteRWpMTXWPruPcuIUzUeQNbXTpCItldBriixJgEc-kCKqZ_KXwG_ryFR7ALg46BAfDcaMispqdNIeudiv_vcBOO2Me_EoFJFpI/s1600/sweat8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-MvTBR1e8CVYTW4nvdwcyN4ucn7MKTfeJsLL-BgPKRteRWpMTXWPruPcuIUzUeQNbXTpCItldBriixJgEc-kCKqZ_KXwG_ryFR7ALg46BAfDcaMispqdNIeudiv_vcBOO2Me_EoFJFpI/s320/sweat8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>the dark Saw Mill River Parkway, built with bridges too low for buses, so only passenger cars could use it and specifically buses could not, stretched out before me in a familiar blur. This road is like everything we’ve ever done in America.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-16542567088541197202017-03-06T22:03:00.000-05:002017-03-06T22:03:20.389-05:00I saw "Sunset Boulevard"<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> “Sunset Boulevard," a musical, on Broadway at the Palace Theater at Broadway and 47th.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxnJrEuti0UqhXSWQ3D-1vOX10pnrY__tObnh_OeVGsaHPbzhwvqB2RrZ06Lg9cgw9yJGarSbrX4JudrDw-nnWmPMNE43OdALfocRCyQFHeaJba8uV4kNdmqlDwYtM0RRLmeYvJFad5A/s1600/sunsetboul5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxnJrEuti0UqhXSWQ3D-1vOX10pnrY__tObnh_OeVGsaHPbzhwvqB2RrZ06Lg9cgw9yJGarSbrX4JudrDw-nnWmPMNE43OdALfocRCyQFHeaJba8uV4kNdmqlDwYtM0RRLmeYvJFad5A/s320/sunsetboul5.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>riding lesson, dog walk, shower; drove to town, walked to train station, waited on the platform outside because the heated waiting area smelled like farts, heard an announcement that the train was running 15 minutes late. Heard a Connected Teen say “Whoa. Like, the next train is at like, Goldens Bridge and like, running 40 minutes late.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I texted the Bacon Provider. He encouraged me to like, bail on the train and drive. So I did. It was a relatively quick drive to the city, followed by a slow crawl while I figured out parking. Never trust navigation software about getting places within NYC. They’re all wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>yellow Fluevog men-styled oxfords, black mini-cord pants, purple Eileen Fisher sweater, dangly gold earrings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>my friend S, who also wore purple.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets/Why I saw this show:</b> S suggested it, and booked them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> Mezzanine Row E, somewhere in the middle of the row, between S. and a French-speaking woman with a Québécois accent who was writing things down in a notebook during the production, took out her phone and caught a photograph during the first act and failed to suppress her flash. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rJhUIVN4Aqy-o-9v3HHRlGkU839RhhpGGX24MpF0tmPHUOHmWmoY71gj9wBkFMtABbkHOYaV66q9GjRVVAqTaNbhWYziQ37QsyBQI0hizfZDrSVgh7rmfnc2GPoV4IzJ9v60nDRBkMM/s1600/sunsetboul7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rJhUIVN4Aqy-o-9v3HHRlGkU839RhhpGGX24MpF0tmPHUOHmWmoY71gj9wBkFMtABbkHOYaV66q9GjRVVAqTaNbhWYziQ37QsyBQI0hizfZDrSVgh7rmfnc2GPoV4IzJ9v60nDRBkMM/s320/sunsetboul7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> we were scolded, as a group, for having and using phones by an irate usher during intermission. The woman next to me, who was the one who took the flash photo, sat calmly eating from her bag of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ROLD GOLD® Tiny Twists Pretzels and made no indication that she heard the usher at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>the original movie version of Sunset Boulevard is a Hollywood classic , directed by Billy Wilder. The dark and slightly campy film-noir inspired many zingers and spoofs over the years, and any time a classic line is uttered in this production the audience burst into cheering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> when we left, there were a number of pretzels on the ground next to my seat, broken and ground into crumbs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>meatballs at the Marshal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>a big, glossy Broadway vehicle for the aging movie star, with soaring music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, a large, full orchestra, and most of the good lines fans of the original film are looking for. Maybe Glenn Close isn't quite the singer to deliver the songs as perfectly as they could be sung; certainly it mattered not at all, and maybe was better for her imperfect pitch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> Glenn Close groupies, film-noir aficionados, Broadway buffs, admirers of Andrew Lloyd Webber, Billy Wilder boosters, pretzel-loving Quebeckers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> mounted NYPD, but after that, just the road.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-44988317226727687912017-03-01T09:25:00.002-05:002017-03-01T09:25:55.881-05:00I saw “The Penitent” <div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw: </b>“The Penitent,” a new play by David Mamet, at the Atlantic Theater Company in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, on West 20th Street. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>baked bread, drove to the city, found on-street parking which was free and not illegal and it made the afternoon feel like winning a prize when you didn't even buy a raffle ticket, got cappuccinos at Grumpy's. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> Doc Martens, black micro-cord jean leggings from James Jeans, black shirt with white dots, shirt and sweater I found on my closet floor, parka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>the Bacon Provider</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>via phone, in December. I forgot to put it on the calendar in my phone and booked something else the night before and thought maybe we'd make a theater-weekend of it, but then other stuff came up and we just drove back and forth. Sorry, planet. Next time I will take the train.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show: </b>David Mamet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>row E, seat 9, behind the only empty seat in the theater and surrounded by old white people. I assumed the empty seat was saved for the director, or 44, or Jesus, and in the moments between scenes where they dimmed the lights onstage and re-arranged the table and two chairs and the women next to me whispered intrusively, I thought about what it would be like to have the director, or 44, or Jesus sitting directly in front of me and I decided I wouldn't be able to concentrate.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGoPRK4giSrKUbnixCGxlSli5ESEopvNrdNudsEfRkyCwhDpcl8qlLaFORAMacOwnsIactAxmGiucIQShaLWWUf7fnunYZsGF2Do2kjMmi8gcc3de_ken77TgL9VmkPeLtQKO0d3T2cc/s1600/penitent7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGoPRK4giSrKUbnixCGxlSli5ESEopvNrdNudsEfRkyCwhDpcl8qlLaFORAMacOwnsIactAxmGiucIQShaLWWUf7fnunYZsGF2Do2kjMmi8gcc3de_ken77TgL9VmkPeLtQKO0d3T2cc/s320/penitent7.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>the forces of evil in this play (homophobia, mental illness, media manipulation, capitalism, the legal system) exert their will upon the characters but cannot be confronted or thwarted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny/funny:</b> lawyers can be funny as all hell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>bread and cheese in the car on the way there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>another subtly brilliant Mamet play, which might feel like a masterpiece to those who've been sued, and might feel dry as toast to anyone else, with four actors and one brief intermission. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Who should see it:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> lawyers, libelers, therapists, ethicists, people who like crime dramas, language mavens, fans of Mamet, people who have been libeled. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">What I saw on the way home:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> we made excellent time, and were buoyed by the language of America's master playwright, but an especially big white SUV wandered menacingly linto our lane on the Saw Mill Parkway up around Elmsford, and I had to honk. </span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-7059712175897995242017-02-27T00:02:00.000-05:002017-02-27T00:02:29.969-05:00I saw “All the Fine Boys”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkmZTIOlPq_HUes12882BNKmg2sK0bX4rxwNW2iYwATtltTNGaCQL843qXkep-CJlZW0kqoK5QopOnvwzFC_EjlJLzvlwbCV9DRVzdlKIvQZFCeqk6v12uvETCt5Ywwoy3Jl2GyrI534/s1600/ALLTHEFINEBOYS4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkmZTIOlPq_HUes12882BNKmg2sK0bX4rxwNW2iYwATtltTNGaCQL843qXkep-CJlZW0kqoK5QopOnvwzFC_EjlJLzvlwbCV9DRVzdlKIvQZFCeqk6v12uvETCt5Ywwoy3Jl2GyrI534/s320/ALLTHEFINEBOYS4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> The New Group’s production of “All the Fine Boys,” a new play written and directed by Erica Schmidt at the Pershing Square Theater, on West 42nd between 9th and 10th in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>woke at first light realizing that I’d fallen asleep and left the bread dough in its bulk rise on the counter overnight so it was ruined, made new bread dough for party the next day, called favorite NYC restaurant seeking a reservation and failed to obtain one, glumly walked dogs, resignedly changed, absently drove to city, inadvertently made excellent time, parked in garage, walked to favorite restaurant, noticed they weren’t even open yet, got a table anyway on the promise that we’d be gone by 6 pm, ate a terrific meal, left an extravagant but not unwarranted tip, walked to theater, drank a tea and a beer because sometimes you need both.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>90s-era black Doc Martens, favorite jeans (actually clean this time), almost enormous 80s black silk blouse, loose-knit black linen sweater, larger than necessary gold hoop earrings, ponytail, mascara</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>the Bacon Provider, who only likes plays with happy endings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>in December, online.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show: </b>I subscribed to the season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row A, Seat 3, between a guy who wanted my attention to tell me things about famous people in the audience, and my husband, who is indifferent to the seeing of and commenting on famous people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad/ not funny:</b> in a play where one character crossed the rapids of the river of adolescence by choosing a good stone to step onto and landed safely on the other bank, but another character chose a stone that looked just as good but was tragically wrong, there was not the happy ending the Bacon Provider prefers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> a soundtrack of 80s hits, a stack of 80s horror movies, snacking on Pringles and Twizzlers.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEltAJtYXbrfOyfjCqpAvloxOMiIozi-dzvBsjyld7EMvEzs2eQsK295bvGbvsY3fhnTXJi2hFoPOoYM0EMelcLWK7LpKvJ3sNQ1oC1DO3trgNs_bMKb2I5bye_np58iIeqREyfxLt9Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-26+at+11.40.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEltAJtYXbrfOyfjCqpAvloxOMiIozi-dzvBsjyld7EMvEzs2eQsK295bvGbvsY3fhnTXJi2hFoPOoYM0EMelcLWK7LpKvJ3sNQ1oC1DO3trgNs_bMKb2I5bye_np58iIeqREyfxLt9Q/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-02-26+at+11.40.01+PM.png" width="261" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> deviled eggs at The Marshal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>another good play with Joe Tippett in it, this intermission-free, 100-minute production moves quickly, tackles some very scary coming-of-age subject matter, and features three other fine performers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> people unafraid of strong, sexual subject matter with 14-year-old protagonists. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> a bit of rain as a cold front had moved in while we were at the theater.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-10834137141821528222017-02-18T11:40:00.000-05:002017-02-18T11:40:45.048-05:00I saw “Man of Good Hope”<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I saw:</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> “Man of Good Hope” at the BAM Opera House in Brooklyn, NY</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I think this is an opera house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">See how it says 'opera?'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> drove to Brooklyn, being re-routed twice, and arriving to discover that the parking garage described on the website did not exist (and there was a coupon you had to print out to use it). Also, there was a Rangers game at the Barclay Center, so the streets of downtown Brooklyn were full of sober, pre-game hockey fans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> Chinese-made Australian boots, favorite jeans, Tanner indigo belt, feelings sweater, earrings that kept trying to fall out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> my dear friend W., who was born in Zambia.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> online, when I realized I would not, as promised, be able to take her to the recent revival of “Master Harold and the Boys” because those tickets were $30 and they sold like hotcakes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> I am a sucker for a story about refugees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> Mezzanine Row A, seat 18</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> stories about refugees are always filled with death and fear and loss and terrible set-backs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny/not funny:</b> the part about the little boy living on the streets of Nairobi who went from one house to the next and every night had a dinner with a different family, and the song about how America is safe, how there are no guns here, how everyone drives big trucks and everyone is rich.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> hummus and pita chips, standing in the lobby, while trying to balance a beer in my other hand. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU5tSSg7_4eb9knPOOXhP6mbWYFKufAgmAYXH_geThH_A3M48CYBsOvNAB_thlzAzcXl9iyBii6AAgH-_0SS3D06Onk3Mgqtww4jZMjCD2XMwBUWwas4T71iLzCl-TVwGCejKY9u8Mcw/s1600/goodhope5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU5tSSg7_4eb9knPOOXhP6mbWYFKufAgmAYXH_geThH_A3M48CYBsOvNAB_thlzAzcXl9iyBii6AAgH-_0SS3D06Onk3Mgqtww4jZMjCD2XMwBUWwas4T71iLzCl-TVwGCejKY9u8Mcw/s320/goodhope5.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a profoundly moving, engrossing, and lively production, featuring African music and dance and a refugee story that is both utterly like and unlike any others. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityjpFv7TT7OpkVmR6fTBKnowMeX-tKCGQo7MYHSOXF0LTHlqUSrhxLjdsFcOF_553ho6yMVggSiknkry-k2bzKZcJdW1Z0xRqr1bL5yC4wyy5Bpx_djGXBAjPyefDxaFlUWnQiUDTM7U/s1600/goodhope2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityjpFv7TT7OpkVmR6fTBKnowMeX-tKCGQo7MYHSOXF0LTHlqUSrhxLjdsFcOF_553ho6yMVggSiknkry-k2bzKZcJdW1Z0xRqr1bL5yC4wyy5Bpx_djGXBAjPyefDxaFlUWnQiUDTM7U/s320/goodhope2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it</b>: people who, like me, believe that all shows should have live music; people who, like me, believe that if you are going to have live music you must place the musicians where the audience can see them; people who, like me, who are working very hard right now to remember what good things America is supposed to represent to people in the rest of the world; people who, like me, know and love several immigrants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw at home, two days later: </b>W. texted me that she was still thinking about it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am, too.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-743524424312619262017-02-17T12:41:00.002-05:002017-02-17T12:41:46.213-05:00I saw "Tell Hector I Miss Him" <div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What I saw:</b> "Tell Hector I Miss Him" a play at the Atlantic Theater Company in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> riding lesson where my instructor <a href="http://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2017/02/i-rode-robo-pony.html" target="_blank">reminded me</a> about the red failure signals I saw on the equine simulator, dropped the Bacon Provider's shirts at the cleaners, bought bagels, went home, showered, got dressed, walked my dogs until they pooped and then took them straight home again, changed shoes, told 19 I was leaving. Realized I hadn't checked the train schedule. Took off my shoes again. Set an alarm so I wouldn't be late. Sat down and posted <a href="http://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2017/02/i-left-cat-in-charge.html" target="_blank">a blog post</a>. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvaHKV74QD_Fb8lvCMXXkSV9-8BhojtNkPOCZRieh-0dLPzrpMWuiMCBEtW_9JeUd2TBD7-Ol2mAP-fiZmOso4kuGUZN41l9kK2G4-gIIu3vaEEbWBkIyd5zYbdLLJ-Uj_MMm6ZRSNk0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-17+at+10.43.21+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvaHKV74QD_Fb8lvCMXXkSV9-8BhojtNkPOCZRieh-0dLPzrpMWuiMCBEtW_9JeUd2TBD7-Ol2mAP-fiZmOso4kuGUZN41l9kK2G4-gIIu3vaEEbWBkIyd5zYbdLLJ-Uj_MMm6ZRSNk0/s200/Screen+Shot+2017-02-17+at+10.43.21+AM.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Drove to train station listening to the random song Apple Music picked for me, which was Simon & Garfunkle's "The Only Living Boy in New York," which I tried to sing along to but kind of sucked at. Got a call from one of the organizers of the auction we attended on Sunday about the week in a Miami condo I bid on and won. Rode the train. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">Got out at Grand Central. Took the shuttle to Times Square where I planned to take the 1. In the middle of the crowded station there were two, slim bespectacled guys with guitars and stylish, short-brimmed straw hats setting up. They had an amp. Their expressions were attentive, like they were waiting for something. Then they began to play. I paused; subway musicians are one of the things I actually like about NYC. A white guy in a knitted balaclava said something to me. I couldn't hear him. I leaned in.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">"It's fake," he said, shouting over the Spanish-inflected music. "I saw them setting up. They're not really playing. The amp is connected to an </span></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">iPod under that magazine, on top."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">I did not want to yell. I simply touched his arm in an effort to express my understanding and left him. As I descended the stairs to the platform I could still hear him, shouting at the musicians.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">This is what's happening now: angry white guys are showing up and shouting that what's happening is fake.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> new black James cords, Chinese-made Australian boots, gray Ibex wool top, black North Face parka, scarf a friend brought me from Scotland, dangly silver earrings, high ponytail </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> my niece, A., who came in to the city from Connecticut. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>many months ago, I booked tickets to this show but changes of plans made it necessary to trade them. As a subscriber to this theater, I have the ability to change what are usually non-refundable tickets. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> subscribed to the season. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KqgR9jII-fJoIGhRjBUUASbQ3rerNtvlNm8LFyb7C6GGucr7LSd5oYypWudBvGKSDnFbjgRy7ZRTCAque2BryPqdY_vGackhRA3mfqGmjW_L-JaLjNFcHI-7CnoMa1QgIQ0-BTFBL3M/s1600/hector3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KqgR9jII-fJoIGhRjBUUASbQ3rerNtvlNm8LFyb7C6GGucr7LSd5oYypWudBvGKSDnFbjgRy7ZRTCAque2BryPqdY_vGackhRA3mfqGmjW_L-JaLjNFcHI-7CnoMa1QgIQ0-BTFBL3M/s320/hector3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Where I sat:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> Row F, seat 107. Afterwards, my niece told me that this woman in the row in front of us plays the mother of one of the actors on "Orange is the New Black." Which is confusing because she's not actually her mom, but if she were she'd totally come to the play, and be all proud, because that's what moms do. This would be a time she could say, "I'm not her mom, but I play her on TV."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> this play is about some terribly lonely people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> eager adulterers, an eager teen, an eager young lesbian, eager drug abuse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>I don't understand enough Spanish to understand more than the most fundamental cuss words. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>a burger and fries at the Tipsy Parson, on 9th Avenue a few blocks other of the theater.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1-ilHIqRz2SVAZk0XhNR4-Es94mGI6bJCYZXjpQNFJCqGP-O7uiPEBglaRP68r2YCpR_1amp-iS7RPh86qsD5jHxOv8dkTHfTBGYtfVl-GQquIPK11X4YFXhM-FKjDsPf1Ttl4_LbcI/s1600/hector2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1-ilHIqRz2SVAZk0XhNR4-Es94mGI6bJCYZXjpQNFJCqGP-O7uiPEBglaRP68r2YCpR_1amp-iS7RPh86qsD5jHxOv8dkTHfTBGYtfVl-GQquIPK11X4YFXhM-FKjDsPf1Ttl4_LbcI/s320/hector2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With a delicious Other Half All-Citra IPA</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>a fine play on a small stage with a big cast of talented actors.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> fans of “Orange is the New Black,” people who know all the Puerto Rican cuss words, people who want to know all the Puerto Rican cuss words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> I got to my train before the doors opened, but once the doors opened I got on board and walked past the seats facing the right way and for whatever reason sat down facing the wrong way. But I didn’t even find this out until the train started moving and most of the seats had someone sitting there so I had to choose between sitting down with someone who'd be getting up before me or might try to talk to me about fake news or something, or staying put in my own row. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The other error I made was sitting too close to the bathroom. Really, you just don’t even want to sit in the car with the bathroom. I should have moved. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I didn't move. I didn't move because I would have had to choose between the other tired people, and most of them were men, and you know that one guy? He is out there. That one guy who thinks that because you've sat down next to him, you've chosen him. He's won you over. It's like you've accepted a drink from him at the bar, and now he's going to talk to you. You're going to get a piece of his mind. Or, worse. No. I did not want to sit accidentally with that one guy. I didn't move. It was too late at night to move. Without a better alternative, the seat by the bathroom was better than joining that one guy with the wrong ideas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">There was a parade of men using the bathroom, which was worth keeping an eye on in a furtive way. No eye-contact. Then some guy went in and was in there for a long time. Things quieted down. I forgot about the bathroom. I got absorbed in the pleasures offered by my iPhone But then there was the loud retching. Prolonged retching. Repeated retching. People went and got a conductor who was like, oh, yeah, there’s a guy in there barfing. Like that was the most normal thing that happens. A shaved-head guy in a suede jacket near me couldn’t take it anymore and moved to another car. Then suddenly the bathroom door opened and the barfing guy came out, sat down, and passed out. I could see his name and picture on his work ID, still clipped to his belt loop. Things got quiet again. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As we neared White Plains the barfer's phone alarm went off. A tall guy in a serious suit and overcoat stepped up to wake him. The barfer lurched to the door and disappeared into the winter night of White Plains. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">As the train pulled away from the station, a trickle of water rolled down the aisle. Soon the trickle became a long puddle. A new guy, with dark, loose curls framing his giant, babyish face came to use the bathroom. He opened the door and loudly announced his joyous complaint to no one and everyone, “Someone’s deliberately clogged the sink!!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I lifted my feet from the floor of the train car, but I still did not move. I can’t say why.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">As we neared my stop, I tip-toed in my manure-proof, Chinese-made Australian paddock boots to the other end of the car. A tired man in an ironic working man's knit cap and leather dress shoes stood at the edge of the puddle. I encouraged him to step back. Without acknowledging me, he was able to exit in two great long strides. I had to wade through it. </span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-11824745496024427492017-02-16T14:17:00.000-05:002017-02-16T14:17:04.537-05:00I left the cat in charge<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did:</b> like you know, last year, a barn friend, S., invited me to join her on this trip to Florida to watch the winter circuit horse show, shop, and do sunshine; I was like, "Pick me," but then couldn’t get shit organized at home. I have pets and sourdough to feed, don’t you know. This year, I said yes, and left the cat in charge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>you don’t have to leave written instructions for the cat. I figured the dogs would let him know when they were hungry or needed to crap someplace other than the kitchen floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I packed: </b>sunscreen, gray jeans, white J. Crew linen swimsuit coverup, bathing suit, yoga clothes, three polo shirts, underwear and socks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I packed and didn’t wear:</b> a sun hat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ran out of: </b>shirts.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmK2yXJ6R3Esy_PPatHvDEqwP2ZZD8W-2QhZtjuGDl947dfsxpawguP0hSpspcfwlC7QQWh6qSNPa2UtP9Baro3nAUrRxpB0G0uV6dYUEM7q2JrLNnXzGAvx-pu7CvwvN2frXLz6tzDo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-16+at+1.07.51+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmK2yXJ6R3Esy_PPatHvDEqwP2ZZD8W-2QhZtjuGDl947dfsxpawguP0hSpspcfwlC7QQWh6qSNPa2UtP9Baro3nAUrRxpB0G0uV6dYUEM7q2JrLNnXzGAvx-pu7CvwvN2frXLz6tzDo/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-02-16+at+1.07.51+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>S. and K. from the barn. S.’s friend D. joined us from Germany. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>online, from JetBlue, at the end of November.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2lSQtKtuPWGyM_OPTImSqoCzbJBWyvHnUV2IdiNRApAp3HdY9tZsHSwQ-Jk_EY5qoaVZzu7-wFbdC-wT65_icHKBMlbKQdq6pJ9r-AyuzFLnp8y7UTfze6I8ApEHAzXPYe_xn1ftO3I/s1600/casa6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2lSQtKtuPWGyM_OPTImSqoCzbJBWyvHnUV2IdiNRApAp3HdY9tZsHSwQ-Jk_EY5qoaVZzu7-wFbdC-wT65_icHKBMlbKQdq6pJ9r-AyuzFLnp8y7UTfze6I8ApEHAzXPYe_xn1ftO3I/s320/casa6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> I think S. wanted us to be able to see the FEI Grand Prix CDI 5* at the 2017 Adequan® Global Dressage Festival in Wellington, FL, which we saw, in addition to the Grand Prix freestyle competition. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqsQfxZggDzF1B-dv5hrkJD37AIgMT83NrQkA7mumqRNS6PBMOI9kZyQMY8sw8JlvhXd7_FrhpsD9wlHawvF7-2D5SekWsPdmOQA0XEEL3zxTb_DTqbZ4EQCbEdfqezMS0leqBx6O5w8/s1600/casa10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqsQfxZggDzF1B-dv5hrkJD37AIgMT83NrQkA7mumqRNS6PBMOI9kZyQMY8sw8JlvhXd7_FrhpsD9wlHawvF7-2D5SekWsPdmOQA0XEEL3zxTb_DTqbZ4EQCbEdfqezMS0leqBx6O5w8/s320/casa10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> in the bleachers and in the VIP tent, because S. is well-connected through volunteer leadership work she does for the Jewish World Games. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I stayed:</b> at the Casa </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Passivo-Aggressivo, a bed and breakfast in West Palm Beach which you should not confuse with the nearby Passivo-Aggressivo Bed and Breakfast, just a couple of blocks away. And don't mention the confusion to your hosts, because the rivalry is old and bitter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were told we couldn’t have breakfast, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">which was included with our rooms, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">because we didn’t tell them the night </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">before what time we wanted it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> hearing S. explain that the Jewish World Games have been around since the 1930s and how Jews might want their own international sports competition, and, of course, why. She’s quite upbeat and polite. Then there was like this famous trainer who I met at a barn visit on S.’s World Jewish Games business, who was sure we’d met.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were interesting:</b> S.’s friend D. whispered to me all about what to look for in a correctly ridden and trained Grand Prix horse and told me that she thinks this one famous U.S. Olympic Dressage rider SP is an artist; he took third in both classes we saw him compete in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sort of funny:</b> K.’s connections got us seats at a super cool fundraiser where we were assigned to sit at SP’s table. I could only imagine myself saying something I would regret, so I didn’t have the courage to talk to him, but S. did. He was very nice, and so was his staff who also sat at our table.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not actually funny: </b>a second snowstorm rolled into New York while we were all in Florida and our flight back on Sunday was cancelled. JetBlue sent us emails saying they’d re-book us, but we didn’t trust them to get us home in time for our obligations so we all scrambled to get back on the same flight only on Monday. By the time we heard from JetBlue, they'd booked us to leave several days later.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That thing where you go for a goofy selfie <br />and your friend doesn't </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were cool: </b>S. wanted a ride to the show grounds on a golf cart because she wanted to experience everything, and we got it on the bonus day. The benefit show featured a group that works horses at liberty, up to eight at a time. It was beautiful and exciting and I could hear horse people at other tables comparing the performer’s control over her herd to their own horses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> there were these short-rib empanadas being passed by a woman carrying a tray that we had to chase around the room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I didn't eat:</b> breakfast at our B&B.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Casa Passivo-Aggressivo hospitality </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">included notes that appeared on the doors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> fans of dressage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> the Atlantic Ocean, which is <a href="https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-ocean-acidity" target="_blank">acidifying as a result of global warming</a>. The last half hour of the flight was super bumpy because of a windstorm, but the flight attendant said they knew what they were doing so I just tried to close my eyes and deal with it. A woman in the row ahead of me whooped and commented about the bigger bumps. I wanted her to shut up. At least the kitchen floor was clean when I got home.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-45680110089841688202017-02-15T15:22:00.001-05:002017-02-15T15:22:46.357-05:00I rode the Robo-Pony<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did:</b> rode the Robo-Pony (not its trademarked name), a mechanical horse with computerized controls and feedback, available for one-on-one lessons with a professional instructor. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCReu85ubDGfxd600XZVfgLE_lA7Lbas0Q_0YafkEbYXZCMa-l151rBXbA4GEkIWFYZANsPkneSOF2yN8PY0WkvjQZeBWV8276t2o99RtX4uqdB0tV0gMIfbNaOJ-jBItwHveIMONzac/s1600/robopony1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCReu85ubDGfxd600XZVfgLE_lA7Lbas0Q_0YafkEbYXZCMa-l151rBXbA4GEkIWFYZANsPkneSOF2yN8PY0WkvjQZeBWV8276t2o99RtX4uqdB0tV0gMIfbNaOJ-jBItwHveIMONzac/s320/robopony1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Who went with me:</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> S. and K., my barn friends. We took turns.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> watched the FEI Grand Prix CDI 5* at the AGDF Wellington, Florida </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> new running bra and breeches, purchased for the experience. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4O1vWRektEd7_eVMuo7FxUId0_ooo2xYpVNOl4V24k7x3vA9iC2ASrCctgn0D7ZC2ll8IlUD4XgUjkiZEbIoJfVMbrzC53L0J2WVmGIL-kw3KZH0YF8AEPAECPX1tncy27S2GwM-Z6P8/s1600/robopony2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4O1vWRektEd7_eVMuo7FxUId0_ooo2xYpVNOl4V24k7x3vA9iC2ASrCctgn0D7ZC2ll8IlUD4XgUjkiZEbIoJfVMbrzC53L0J2WVmGIL-kw3KZH0YF8AEPAECPX1tncy27S2GwM-Z6P8/s320/robopony2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>we just, like, you know, walked up to this vendor’s tent, and saw a woman having a lesson on the Robo-Pony, stuck our heads in and started asking questions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I tried it:</b> it looked like fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>slightly left, as I do, according to the sensors, and spent at least five minutes getting used to the terribly uneven feeling of sitting symmetrically in the saddle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Things that were sad:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> someone had yanked the left rein and broken the sensor, so the Robo-Pony was completely dull on the left side of its mouth. Also, I forget its name. Also, we had to pay the full amount, even though the Robo-Pony was kind of busted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny</b>: I clucked at the Robo-Pony to get it to go. K. patted it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>we were not supposed to kick the Robo-Pony to make it go. K. struggled because her long legs were below the sensors on its sides. Both S. and I kicked the Robo-Pony to make it go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I bought:</b> new Pikeur breeches in a lovely shade of French blue</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">What it is: </b><span style="color: #454545;">an opportunity to ride an equine simulator and see on seven sensor screens some feedback about your position when riding, but probably not a substitute for real riding. The Robo-Pony revealed many of my known positional flaws, including my tendency to drop contact with the bit when I ask the horse to go forward; dropping the reins made the Robo-Pony stretch out and down and the computer screens filled with red bars of failure signals. Of the three of us, I am the least experienced dressage rider, and probably the only one interested in trying it again. I thought it was fun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> bored and curious visitors to the 2017 Adequan® Global Dressage Festival </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw after:</b> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2016 Rio Olympic Games </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">bronze medalist </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Laura Graves riding her </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2002 Dutch Warmblood gelding </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Verdades, in the “Friday Night Stars” FEI Grand Prix Freestyle CDI-W, with the winning </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">score of 80.728%.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-84919628702876482802017-02-14T20:48:00.000-05:002017-02-14T20:48:31.673-05:00I burned the bread<div style="color: #454545; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did:</b> soaked 125 grams of whole spelt grain in 125 ml of water for two hours;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rinsed,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">aerated, and rested</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> every 6 hours </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">until it sprouted (about 18 hours); mixed it into a batch of sourdough bread dough, let it rest overnight in the refrigerator, got up in the morning and baked it, and burned both loaves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> took pictures of the cat </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> "MAYBE I LITERALLY CAN EVEN" t-shirt, pajama pants, Birkenstock clogs</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>the dogs</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got distracted:</b> looked at the news</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> you bake enough bread and the stuff you can buy will never be as good as what you can make.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> just out of earshot of the oven timer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> no bread for dinner; no bread to take to the barn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>my brother suggested I cut off the crusts. What remained looked like a crouton the size of a large eggplant.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> the burnt crust shattered when cut, and black crumbs large and small flew in </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">several directions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> not this bread.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvr5NwLhMjYCAB7memztUqH5HMWSgOvq2l3WsI7Zvwq3MdzvA4xiwbYj1lRDLbOFNHuvpbvylUdoqGsbm7JJWJ_L1G7OEiXkJ1k8Ru88awMS_ha9PbqPJ9udBxrXyD9GEyu1qHn-ep0o/s1600/burned1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvr5NwLhMjYCAB7memztUqH5HMWSgOvq2l3WsI7Zvwq3MdzvA4xiwbYj1lRDLbOFNHuvpbvylUdoqGsbm7JJWJ_L1G7OEiXkJ1k8Ru88awMS_ha9PbqPJ9udBxrXyD9GEyu1qHn-ep0o/s320/burned1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>200 grams home grown sourdough leaven, dissolved in 800 ml water, plus 200 g spelt flour and 800 g bread flour, plus 25 g fine sea salt in a almost-no-kneading technique. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it: </b>fans of </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">rage cooking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw at the end:</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihx37EPucR99s6ifdfdZsqkL5qiSr7Y9ZtTTPXzr4aCb-KJcZ83VhB94BnoYHW_AZrebYnylKdg1uAJRLqt7pI9zSO8Rbnizn0mGfoc6ZhW_pIS9hNeEBafhWyBhEt0c5rfy77bA3sNbk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-07+at+7.54.43+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihx37EPucR99s6ifdfdZsqkL5qiSr7Y9ZtTTPXzr4aCb-KJcZ83VhB94BnoYHW_AZrebYnylKdg1uAJRLqt7pI9zSO8Rbnizn0mGfoc6ZhW_pIS9hNeEBafhWyBhEt0c5rfy77bA3sNbk/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-02-07+at+7.54.43+AM.png" width="254" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-45579708933527038842017-02-13T19:41:00.001-05:002017-02-13T19:41:31.093-05:00spa days<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrfl4dUiW-CtDSVj6Ih-cyBG3LlCoqftmxvplVNKVx0D7Btef3DibisYJi6Vvr7FGuiU_G7tULY61L0V0na8EyHFJHcZ9JRg7fAppIf5AH1OPhkDKzEqKRO9zP7R2TrdwwFdSjK1lVxE/s1600/spaday9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrfl4dUiW-CtDSVj6Ih-cyBG3LlCoqftmxvplVNKVx0D7Btef3DibisYJi6Vvr7FGuiU_G7tULY61L0V0na8EyHFJHcZ9JRg7fAppIf5AH1OPhkDKzEqKRO9zP7R2TrdwwFdSjK1lVxE/s320/spaday9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did: </b>spent a day at an upscale spa in an uncomfortably Trump-y part of Florida (Air Force One sat on the tarmac of the local airport while we were there, and can you believe that 45’s had it trimmed in gold leaf!? #FAKENEWS). And then, when our flight was cancelled by a snowstorm, we went back for a second day.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFpQ-_0VvHxD0f2n4QxBBFMsYov5AmgfNsedOGK4jIQGcuyy6yFGrHr-PzK79cTIK24Y9IaCO73CCnNnW1t52_mC5CyTvDAgV4qdNVbVjgb1GWfZXPP0ujlQH_fA4WRgQBLz-23jTawE/s1600/spaday4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFpQ-_0VvHxD0f2n4QxBBFMsYov5AmgfNsedOGK4jIQGcuyy6yFGrHr-PzK79cTIK24Y9IaCO73CCnNnW1t52_mC5CyTvDAgV4qdNVbVjgb1GWfZXPP0ujlQH_fA4WRgQBLz-23jTawE/s320/spaday4.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand: </b>the heavenly theme of this spa requires that you have a near-death experience to visit. It’s ok, though, because as long as you exit through the gift shop you can resume your life. You’ll just be all refreshed and shit, and maybe have a fresh coat of turquoise toenail polish.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZcC5XZlgqmz8GEx65WpRccqQFnwnSFtVnt8kqTXPUYd0LDJhIIMV6uWpDqm2Sx1VF9eSF3MZ9cXC1kS0NxU3ZcPo7FJb-hDgiuHzq1mk0wruetldUFadxQgldVUsg1VjB7XX78ovvL0/s1600/spaday8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZcC5XZlgqmz8GEx65WpRccqQFnwnSFtVnt8kqTXPUYd0LDJhIIMV6uWpDqm2Sx1VF9eSF3MZ9cXC1kS0NxU3ZcPo7FJb-hDgiuHzq1mk0wruetldUFadxQgldVUsg1VjB7XX78ovvL0/s320/spaday8.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> a black lady’s bathing suit with a built-in bra and a shirred bodice that I bought from Nordstrom years ago when I was a loyal customer, long before the latest kerfuffle where people were all pissed that like Nordie was carrying the Pussy Grabber’s Major Love Interest’s clothing line and so I and a bunch of other pearl-clutching, freaked out ninnies got all upset about the Dignity of the Office and cancelled our accounts with them via unnecessarily tart emails but then I guess like Nordie figured out that their customers don’t buy Ivanka’s crap anyway so now the Moneyed Liberal Ladies of America have released their collective grip on the pearls and are shopping at Nordie’s again. I mean, who can keep up with this shit? But also, the spa provided white robes to wear, and wear them we did.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgTc5auFKu9zN89zSizkFn1XsHcFv5SF7mYWUzRm4-QYm1fp2vqgAkqmgcI6PC7HMu65zJifoSsc5SMJ24-6Q2HeHkepOZKrd_9B2MhY5OLmqSPrh4wHx5YGi255jSfdTp4fxTjxYX_0/s1600/spadays2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgTc5auFKu9zN89zSizkFn1XsHcFv5SF7mYWUzRm4-QYm1fp2vqgAkqmgcI6PC7HMu65zJifoSsc5SMJ24-6Q2HeHkepOZKrd_9B2MhY5OLmqSPrh4wHx5YGi255jSfdTp4fxTjxYX_0/s320/spadays2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was fizzy. And pink.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> my barn friends S. and K. our new German friend D., and S.’s old friend L. We were supposed to make this wish and put a floating candle in the little pool and stuff but like I threw my wish away on someone else the first day so it was a good thing we went back so I could make that wish just for me me me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got there: </b>the first day was planned, the second was on account of weather-related re-grouping.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbhQ5dM59oppPHAXzRdHcan7RP17foA_RwxVylh8i0EV9QAeEEulnO0a6MUhO7IygycgpJXiC1f9kMwDLn9HjcX9fygcfG5NlfwDzP-XOS4GRk_757PG0OD_c0ZI5z72suydMxv_DeAA/s1600/spaday10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbhQ5dM59oppPHAXzRdHcan7RP17foA_RwxVylh8i0EV9QAeEEulnO0a6MUhO7IygycgpJXiC1f9kMwDLn9HjcX9fygcfG5NlfwDzP-XOS4GRk_757PG0OD_c0ZI5z72suydMxv_DeAA/s320/spaday10.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> I’ve been thinking about the Welcome to the Afterlife Teas my mother has been hosting with Oliver Sacks, and thought this might be where she sees Julia Child for planning meetings and then gets a facial and a manicure with her signature clear polish.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFOITuLWA64Zf47u5r1ysGNosdHwphhg2xEs3jlkVnSl-k0llmAT06yPNZpin0wPDFDv2q755CAeAx9hAcjpGY0i7wwNta7Iw1sCJTK-vXzmCpJKMmukla32AlYiXFRVPLsUILaIarhE/s1600/spaday7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFOITuLWA64Zf47u5r1ysGNosdHwphhg2xEs3jlkVnSl-k0llmAT06yPNZpin0wPDFDv2q755CAeAx9hAcjpGY0i7wwNta7Iw1sCJTK-vXzmCpJKMmukla32AlYiXFRVPLsUILaIarhE/s320/spaday7.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>on a heated chaise made of tile, on a swing over a fountain, on a pile of green throw pillows, in the steam room, and on a pedicure throne.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bBEP1OGqOFxg3EhboGNmERdKoytz_Ngb1ItTGr7Wy9m6KPtCyzcdFM5fyrjZMZ5dcTaKIB4GD15dD2jMEs3PBH8MhVGl8SLnvzF_btvYo8YIfgghUEVSkgXBfZgMmniv5BrUrliDxCE/s1600/spadays4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bBEP1OGqOFxg3EhboGNmERdKoytz_Ngb1ItTGr7Wy9m6KPtCyzcdFM5fyrjZMZ5dcTaKIB4GD15dD2jMEs3PBH8MhVGl8SLnvzF_btvYo8YIfgghUEVSkgXBfZgMmniv5BrUrliDxCE/s320/spadays4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> that it had to end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>the Self-Centered Garden. Staff wearing fairy wings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>there is no longer truth or fiction. There is just alternative facts. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qDpDBHCjZw_2NC4FFCtr5sEFSp6SMAjvf9z2_jxTyR2qgy-_0Jv8i8QuZ-ns5hpvH-KAi0DrDBOgDf8pBet2IZ3zIo-npozGRteqYqhmXe3fRivLPNOfAJr9877ZBCgpsE8Z2U1B9aY/s1600/spaday6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qDpDBHCjZw_2NC4FFCtr5sEFSp6SMAjvf9z2_jxTyR2qgy-_0Jv8i8QuZ-ns5hpvH-KAi0DrDBOgDf8pBet2IZ3zIo-npozGRteqYqhmXe3fRivLPNOfAJr9877ZBCgpsE8Z2U1B9aY/s320/spaday6.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> a lobster roll on the beach, with Due South Brewing Caramel Cream Ale 5%.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY6Ix7omcYLsnkvTgb_I8LnRQoklYx7qq7QT0mtcQJb4xD4tZRduhyn9-SeNvk3QQIsFNCXAYy1kIXAmz2g31JWAhQDRMqC44K6h_2puoJzSX-gD7yfVpBhoiRQqSWYc8ebPAmSYna1s4/s1600/spaday3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY6Ix7omcYLsnkvTgb_I8LnRQoklYx7qq7QT0mtcQJb4xD4tZRduhyn9-SeNvk3QQIsFNCXAYy1kIXAmz2g31JWAhQDRMqC44K6h_2puoJzSX-gD7yfVpBhoiRQqSWYc8ebPAmSYna1s4/s320/spaday3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a deluxe resort and day spa called Eau Spa, in West Palm Beach. Right on the ocean, with several restaurants, and a pool, this hotel looks pretty luxurious (we didn’t see any guest rooms on our visit). I did see the gym facilities and take a yoga class by the beach, which was well-attended and skillfully led. I found it challenging to hear the instructor over the roar of the surf (this is actually praise and not criticism). The spa is a world into itself, with a women’s side and a men’s side (that one of my friends wandered into accidentally and was escorted out of). They have a full-service salon, hot tub, steam room, sauna, relaxation garden, and cupcakes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> babymooners, bachelorettes, reunion attendees, equestrians, and spa aficionados who expect the fullest of service experiences.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home</b>: one last look at the ocean.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-28783295614329181912017-02-06T19:49:00.003-05:002017-02-06T19:49:53.056-05:00I saw "Dear Evan Hansen"<div style="color: #454545; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; line-height: normal;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9FVKweV4l8aWcQZuxcE1sok-XvlpIx_7JcNlvAW0VdPe3RchHDxwKItgahDS_27oMDNVpoZsuVauhN8orBo53yBC_u3uasKrHP2nzlm-jAQqKsPlN4vp5X0GScQo4Hcuy6ie8YZVnvg/s1600/DearEvanHansen1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9FVKweV4l8aWcQZuxcE1sok-XvlpIx_7JcNlvAW0VdPe3RchHDxwKItgahDS_27oMDNVpoZsuVauhN8orBo53yBC_u3uasKrHP2nzlm-jAQqKsPlN4vp5X0GScQo4Hcuy6ie8YZVnvg/s320/DearEvanHansen1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I saw:</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "Dear Evan Hansen," a new Broadway musical, at the Music Box Theater on West 45th near like, I dunno, 8th Ave.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> saw this guy worshipping the clothes in a store, and then met up with my friend Bill from the Internet, and we had drinks. It was hard to feel like we weren't toasting the life of our dead friend, America. RIP, America. We knew you when.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> two black shirts with jeans, hiking boots, big parka, the earrings before I broke one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> white people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>How I got tickets</b>: just a couple of days before, online, for about $400.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> I wonder if the world is divided into the bullies and the bullied, with some overlap. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Where I sat:</b> Row H seat 106, between this guy whose plane from LAX was three hours late making him miss the opening song so he had to sneak in courtesy of an usher with a flashlight and slide past me with his butt in my face after the show had started and, oh, him, and a group of three empty seats on the other side of me that were sold when I checked online. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> I cried all the mascara off my eyes in the first act.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> people checking their phones at intermission, during a play (partly) about the power of social media.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kAv5l4x3MX4HZQBZlYpazcRiIW66EF8iYijk92nPOpQY8li27gYk5nfxi8TFWDn5JStI5naPCTD_RscjNmVg2JDixNzlKrE_emeviNddaDwPIZ_ZSACbMkWO0GL_T_Ce60OzK1eca2s/s1600/DearEvanHansen7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kAv5l4x3MX4HZQBZlYpazcRiIW66EF8iYijk92nPOpQY8li27gYk5nfxi8TFWDn5JStI5naPCTD_RscjNmVg2JDixNzlKrE_emeviNddaDwPIZ_ZSACbMkWO0GL_T_Ce60OzK1eca2s/s320/DearEvanHansen7.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> I took off my glasses at intermission (to look at my phone) and they fell off my head and I didn’t notice until the lights dimmed for the second act, so I had to sit there, not able to see perfectly, waiting for the end so I could turn on my flashlight and crawl around. I started looking as soon as people started clapping, but couldn’t find them, and as poeple left the theater a few of the people around me noticed I was looking and pitched in. The person to find them was a house manager. I thanked him, but it felt like it wasn’t enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>homemade chips at Joe Allen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a fine, energetic musical about a lonely, anxious teen. With moments of great truth about trying not to suck as a parent and featuring a cast that seems to embody their roles, every one of them. Highly recommended. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> liars, teens, parents, people who cannot imagine that social media has a positive impact on the world. People who can't imagine what a middle class white kid in America might be anxious about. Fans of American musical theater. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>too many ads, which is to say, nothing. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-32508676151242252402017-02-02T20:56:00.000-05:002017-02-02T20:56:11.130-05:00I stayed at the Waldorf Astoria <div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elevator Selfie Ceiling </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I stayed</b>: the venerated art-deco icon Waldorf Astoria. On Park Avenue at 48th Street in Manhattan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> baked and didn't burn the bread, riding lesson, shower, dog walk, drove to town, dragged a wheelie bag along the freshly salted sidewalks, made the train with seconds to spare. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> James jeans, black shirt, gray cardigan, Danner hiking boots, big parka, antique earrings that I broke when I took them off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> the Bacon Provider (see photo, top)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got there: </b>walked up the Northwest Passage from Grand Central, taking two elevators up, one down, and a huge flight of stairs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I stayed here:</b> the Bacon Provider had an action-packed schedule in the city this week, with meetings starting at 7:45 a.m. and lasting until after dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I slept</b>: here.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNs7yPG4xRBqRj9VxIqCUhZ0tOvdEyj-LN-_bItYmYsAf0SwCtr-EF3iw0h-aSonTOImhYxOiq88WCpC77_isuK8KKO8vLfpQZJWbNbgBDvhH_n48Fu7G3AuuzUG8znHORIo9EPAnrJcs/s1600/waldorf7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNs7yPG4xRBqRj9VxIqCUhZ0tOvdEyj-LN-_bItYmYsAf0SwCtr-EF3iw0h-aSonTOImhYxOiq88WCpC77_isuK8KKO8vLfpQZJWbNbgBDvhH_n48Fu7G3AuuzUG8znHORIo9EPAnrJcs/s320/waldorf7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad</b>: the carpets are tired and stained. The lobby is poorly lit. Once, this was my father's favorite high-end hotel in New York. I stayed here with him on the college visiting trip he took me on in 1980. We ate dinner in the hotel and there was a woman in a gown playing the harp. It had never occurred to me that anyone other than cartoon angels and Harpo Marx actually played the instrument before. Also, people looked at my dad and I kind of funny, not like we were a dad and his college-bound kid, but like he was a creepy 40 year old, and I his jail-bait girlfriend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny</b>: paying $25 for a champagne cocktail, and even ordering a second one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> the serious guy carrying his fancy poodle to breakfast in a suitcase; the lack of outlets; finding a charge for a $36 shoe-shine on our bill at checkout. The Bacon Provider is extraordinarily particular about caring for his shoes, takes great pride in doing it himself, had no such shoe shine (which I knew without asking him), and when I disputed the charge the receptionist did not believe me, said that a charge like that could only appear on the bill with a manager's approval, and did not remove it, despite telling me that she would.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQm6uBRpsrcbELYC1P4u661221naLySuxVSPTZDa3Ewd3J8wj8c5x59g4CkH2mKv1ZtX0x81YsowMVWB-BRQYJGuiinVHPMYR5GmLVWx-eYyfrbgX318XcjX3pOP-yJjuhcsyOTtgiqo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-02+at+7.31.57+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQm6uBRpsrcbELYC1P4u661221naLySuxVSPTZDa3Ewd3J8wj8c5x59g4CkH2mKv1ZtX0x81YsowMVWB-BRQYJGuiinVHPMYR5GmLVWx-eYyfrbgX318XcjX3pOP-yJjuhcsyOTtgiqo/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-02-02+at+7.31.57+PM.png" width="262" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate</b>: continental breakfast</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybrWY9jiaEd6lXMdqATQqQVLxe-B4n5kaP0w2qZrPA2nccWtAGF4gRj88GXgc40AOEKL7NU4Z4jLmmo21ljQuaknL18nGxllauOvoEfpghjObdaDuBTVm4PhI6b9hQqssO7NyRBWXARA/s1600/waldorf4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybrWY9jiaEd6lXMdqATQqQVLxe-B4n5kaP0w2qZrPA2nccWtAGF4gRj88GXgc40AOEKL7NU4Z4jLmmo21ljQuaknL18nGxllauOvoEfpghjObdaDuBTVm4PhI6b9hQqssO7NyRBWXARA/s320/waldorf4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">What it is:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> a fine, old, fancy hotel that will close in a few weeks for remodeling; most rooms are expected to become condos. The hotel was purchased for <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2016-06-26/nyc-s-waldorf-astoria-said-to-close-in-2017-to-convert-to-condos" target="_blank">almost $2B by a Chinese insurance company</a>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> anyone who wants to reminisce about what seemed like classy, old-money luxury in the 1980s. Hurry.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The painting has a hole in it</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>the bright winter sunlight made me carsick on the train. Or maybe I was just hungover. When’s the next election?</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-43656165653688723572017-02-02T00:36:00.000-05:002017-02-02T00:36:03.116-05:00I stayed at the NU Hotel in Brooklyn<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I stayed:</b> the NU Hotel, in Downtown Brooklyn at 85 Smith Street, amidst the bail bonds places serving the nearby Brooklyn House of Detention.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> tried and failed to sleep in, had bad feelings about things, put pajamas and a toothbrush in a bag, did some driving, arrived and shit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> a feeling of dread.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> the Bacon Provider. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got reservations:</b> online, a few days in advance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I stayed here:</b> we had tickets to <a href="http://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2017/01/i-saw-beauty-queen-of-leenane.html" target="_blank">"The Beauty Queen of Leenane,"</a> at BAM.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I lounged:</b> the room had a hammock. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> I have had to learn to drink scotch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> sleeping in a leather upholstered compartment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> how happy I was that there were two sinks.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRrZWO3AdrmMGaCXVK1flFi48kOmc1VOJkK1mUJbFNZXfWRPWL1Ajaj7i0l8_HYBi7udrK_MKEsbVxiwR3NqpAHoZgahUyX7mqJOWu8DG1LkIHrfRLHlXmpDgDxs7NAU1CCtrASiTBIzo/s1600/nuhotel10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRrZWO3AdrmMGaCXVK1flFi48kOmc1VOJkK1mUJbFNZXfWRPWL1Ajaj7i0l8_HYBi7udrK_MKEsbVxiwR3NqpAHoZgahUyX7mqJOWu8DG1LkIHrfRLHlXmpDgDxs7NAU1CCtrASiTBIzo/s320/nuhotel10.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> brunch including Eggs Louie and duck fat potatoes at French Louie, around the corner.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjXt4Pl93amqDSY6U3iz-ASylWBz9i16KTmUoB9gWRGG4p2TWovnOyboZI1qVmGBbgYZ2IeaAIj0Wx1gjSoAQpZMKvtzDVW5BHRg9ubSPvOy05U710dsPIl6fQZHvz_eN1ZdgkDLPRiI/s1600/nuhotel7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjXt4Pl93amqDSY6U3iz-ASylWBz9i16KTmUoB9gWRGG4p2TWovnOyboZI1qVmGBbgYZ2IeaAIj0Wx1gjSoAQpZMKvtzDVW5BHRg9ubSPvOy05U710dsPIl6fQZHvz_eN1ZdgkDLPRiI/s320/nuhotel7.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a more stylish hotel than the nearby Hilton, at a deep discount compared to a similar place in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2dJqjEdzBSnCDESyuEuuodbU91-EHWfsP-VIZsf9dfFBL450-vVMPPMRLYzfsgMV7Rgq0droI-7sVvZnui4qXMOWWh6cV2f2XU6xP_dpKsiz9-3d6PH3MO9Nvxvdm7Knlq8IFG-3VH0/s1600/nuhotel15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2dJqjEdzBSnCDESyuEuuodbU91-EHWfsP-VIZsf9dfFBL450-vVMPPMRLYzfsgMV7Rgq0droI-7sVvZnui4qXMOWWh6cV2f2XU6xP_dpKsiz9-3d6PH3MO9Nvxvdm7Knlq8IFG-3VH0/s320/nuhotel15.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it</b>: folks in need of a downtown Brooklyn hotel, easily accessible to many subway lines into Manhattan.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Tger6GBOiqZAaTri2xlNAEbh71AYcYX_eCxn2Fd2Fj8aZVpOVVfYdDvMgKBWpaoyaehqgcsTumP7Zilzum9LBTI0dhiEkXwNxxm1upuk8DoQwLdBEuTJ6RwlrcYiOovofJmY29mOO7E/s1600/nuhotel5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Tger6GBOiqZAaTri2xlNAEbh71AYcYX_eCxn2Fd2Fj8aZVpOVVfYdDvMgKBWpaoyaehqgcsTumP7Zilzum9LBTI0dhiEkXwNxxm1upuk8DoQwLdBEuTJ6RwlrcYiOovofJmY29mOO7E/s320/nuhotel5.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw when I got home:</b> my job as toilet paper replenisher is secure.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-16792458640831099962017-01-30T20:19:00.003-05:002017-01-30T21:16:13.360-05:00I saw “The Beauty Queen of Leenane"<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I saw:</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "The Beauty Queen of Leenane" at BAM on Fulton Street in Brooklyn, a venue that appears to be a crumbling relic but it turns out that's ok because it's a decorative choice.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OU4TUPwlXeXACCng9znP3hjPE5MlDHTmEhVHO2BP7oHwmUYgTXlttZOhjiWsegHjLcwEdZmWjPrpIqb8SBphZJrm23enCxtQNLbphcoWDJ7kQfc8O8xmbDxJL97Ry_USBMmgJuRjIpQ/s1600/BeautyQueenofLeenane1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OU4TUPwlXeXACCng9znP3hjPE5MlDHTmEhVHO2BP7oHwmUYgTXlttZOhjiWsegHjLcwEdZmWjPrpIqb8SBphZJrm23enCxtQNLbphcoWDJ7kQfc8O8xmbDxJL97Ry_USBMmgJuRjIpQ/s320/BeautyQueenofLeenane1.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Used to be called the Triboro Bridge</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> drove down from Bedhead Hills, ate at a Korean brasserie, because this was Brooklyn. Probably had too much rice wine, or dry riesling, or maybe it was whatever they brought us after dinner because they thought it was the Graduate’s birthday, even though the only reason he got a present from me was this wooden mallet had been backordered at Xmas.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRYMU35g25F5zK2sqY2sBBrGVhWEl00Rm9c3OWRFErFbmeRpmcmiXt8Ou7nEN8RjA5N8MZMYz0FfQe33hjrzpxsER2EmCUeXT-s3sVDHX5X9Qvb1r8ykYABAt9CrbwzwBEiRFUtmOYcg/s1600/BeautyQueenofLeenane8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRYMU35g25F5zK2sqY2sBBrGVhWEl00Rm9c3OWRFErFbmeRpmcmiXt8Ou7nEN8RjA5N8MZMYz0FfQe33hjrzpxsER2EmCUeXT-s3sVDHX5X9Qvb1r8ykYABAt9CrbwzwBEiRFUtmOYcg/s320/BeautyQueenofLeenane8.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not my cocktail, tho</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">What I wore:</b><span style="color: #454545;"> gold hoop earrings from the 80s, black Doc Marten shoes from the 90s, James jeans, black tissue weight Proenza Schoule dotted tee, my mother's bracelet, black summer-weight Eileen Fisher cardigan because climate change is real, a Marimekko scarf because Finland has </span></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">a representative democracy with principles of parliamentarism</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, and the scowl of crushing despair that we fucking don't. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDuAdZNAcqz3uG26LWA8ey4aPOwFowsNkv4_6n10Njy1sIihB0MaOj0hbsH9OH53VIU7MFhyphenhyphenzD8OAIRPiZW9Mu6lp2I5LCopelroXP_ktzzXcnfIwhecdY-Z_VE3AMW5dQyuVUy2WvZk/s1600/BeautyQueenofLeenane12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDuAdZNAcqz3uG26LWA8ey4aPOwFowsNkv4_6n10Njy1sIihB0MaOj0hbsH9OH53VIU7MFhyphenhyphenzD8OAIRPiZW9Mu6lp2I5LCopelroXP_ktzzXcnfIwhecdY-Z_VE3AMW5dQyuVUy2WvZk/s320/BeautyQueenofLeenane12.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just in case you think I kid</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> the Bacon Provider</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> online, in mid-December, when people were still able to pretend that maybe everything was gonna be ok somehow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> this ad. Their expressions. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDt07KHH9ZsxVujaklN2h3Jm6AWm1w_oSQ45BUuQ5actJj3I-dGQGc96i1__EHmev0hDthwEKTvbSXetdHyilkhHiB_WZdnLOdaP4ZgL6JFAlK3_aCFzNfQIj-wFboy2cXvtlijAqRY0U/s1600/BeautyQueenofLeenane4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDt07KHH9ZsxVujaklN2h3Jm6AWm1w_oSQ45BUuQ5actJj3I-dGQGc96i1__EHmev0hDthwEKTvbSXetdHyilkhHiB_WZdnLOdaP4ZgL6JFAlK3_aCFzNfQIj-wFboy2cXvtlijAqRY0U/s320/BeautyQueenofLeenane4.png" width="190" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row G, Seat 2, next to a couple that was arguing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNBuIw6jDaTo3LK4BaAndn12HJTIgCkIOVxqIMHqgz7vMmCsoKzd1U1Hn1yrFIhhKZlKoAf5RanTXrY0q0K1gw-UpCnQQJcK97bBs_c5ORiSqPCxux-y0P1Vr_YbZa1w6gNhiAp4ii9s/s1600/BeautyQUeenofLeenane7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNBuIw6jDaTo3LK4BaAndn12HJTIgCkIOVxqIMHqgz7vMmCsoKzd1U1Hn1yrFIhhKZlKoAf5RanTXrY0q0K1gw-UpCnQQJcK97bBs_c5ORiSqPCxux-y0P1Vr_YbZa1w6gNhiAp4ii9s/s320/BeautyQUeenofLeenane7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>the play, like all plays (according to my cousin) was about loneliness. Also, just how crazy we are just under the surface.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0VhUSdqqIy-bTO9MtPp2OX9Q3Q5zk9EUtgeuev1G5dxjQgtM7-xwgQdK6TukHBT9_tG-ABXWrOKtP9Lox2lBww9FsgQrnP1r1RuTeaJrLQl5VKSE89QVhwDttDKwjW48wqZ07Bi_NhA/s1600/BeautyQUeenofLeenane3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0VhUSdqqIy-bTO9MtPp2OX9Q3Q5zk9EUtgeuev1G5dxjQgtM7-xwgQdK6TukHBT9_tG-ABXWrOKtP9Lox2lBww9FsgQrnP1r1RuTeaJrLQl5VKSE89QVhwDttDKwjW48wqZ07Bi_NhA/s320/BeautyQUeenofLeenane3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd rather get a picture<br />
of someone getting a picture</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> quite a bit of funny business, including quips and gestures. Really, it was a master class in actors making exquisite choices for their physical expression. Surprises, weirdness, simultaneously natural and unnatural. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VP245HKiwJm4R45iH-o9Yw0ozUOL6UTmy6ROiXZZxBMVFn8i6UBA8sfxgfxWhPDvnSEkpHKuK2CDLKMl981QJx1HXf9zFw9d-a5ufQNtaAG8UO2_eUNwWpO1gW-G8O-fa65wtmhNPjg/s1600/BeautyQueenofLeenane2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VP245HKiwJm4R45iH-o9Yw0ozUOL6UTmy6ROiXZZxBMVFn8i6UBA8sfxgfxWhPDvnSEkpHKuK2CDLKMl981QJx1HXf9zFw9d-a5ufQNtaAG8UO2_eUNwWpO1gW-G8O-fa65wtmhNPjg/s320/BeautyQueenofLeenane2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theater may not be as decrepit as it appears</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> in this play, Chekhov’s gun is portrayed by a fire poker. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>I think it was halibut. Or maybe flounder. One of those. It was white. Did I mention they brought these little shots at the end of dinner, because they thought it was the Graduate’s birthday? Also, carmel-popcorn on ice cream, which I have to now learn to make.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aQlTua5DS3uRyiI5vMcS5xtv3TTlYPD1DrAIA9p2veSfxHGYBl8X58_0PsIPzdDFwmgmRyeCGLvoei73ulBOFCeKgISMz2AiZRxRBfwJG4xXDCFNsqKXzbSTu3yvbkRwjNKyPzHVI9U/s1600/BeautyQUeenofLeenane6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aQlTua5DS3uRyiI5vMcS5xtv3TTlYPD1DrAIA9p2veSfxHGYBl8X58_0PsIPzdDFwmgmRyeCGLvoei73ulBOFCeKgISMz2AiZRxRBfwJG4xXDCFNsqKXzbSTu3yvbkRwjNKyPzHVI9U/s320/BeautyQUeenofLeenane6.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When you're this Brooklyn,<br />
it's always your birthday</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a disturbing, much-celebrated play, from the mid-90s. Set in the gritty sort-of-now-ish Ireland where everyone is poor and almost unintelligible to an American audience, and where everyone is fecking nuts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> theater lovers seeking the sort of two hour and fifteen minute escape that will not restore their faith in humanity in any way</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>one couple that wasn’t fighting, and one that was.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-39977355957826123682017-01-22T16:24:00.000-05:002017-01-22T16:24:08.428-05:00I went to the Women’s March on New York City <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0BJMsPU_G0jAp3R60aSl0ncV_A1SH8w84N-_OguENJ9sHh_yYv1EjmGRDR-s3wX2yj6KkjsemBtTG4g87PZs6v745VpZqb1mOJm1H1U6EOQ-ll8IRfSV9aMJqjjWDpHzwobFxq4jvs0/s1600/WMNYC24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0BJMsPU_G0jAp3R60aSl0ncV_A1SH8w84N-_OguENJ9sHh_yYv1EjmGRDR-s3wX2yj6KkjsemBtTG4g87PZs6v745VpZqb1mOJm1H1U6EOQ-ll8IRfSV9aMJqjjWDpHzwobFxq4jvs0/s320/WMNYC24.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I did:</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> the Women’s March on New York City on Saturday, January 21, 2017</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> got a restless night’s sleep, waking early. Decided that if I wasn’t going to march today, I was never going to march for anything. Walked and fed the dogs. Charged a camera battery. Ate breakfast. Wondered what kind of bra you wear to a protest march. Made a pussy hat, improvising without a pattern from the polar fleece I had on hand, with cat ears that turned out too pointy and looked like devil’s horns. Decided the hat was pretty much perfect that way. Told my husband I was going and rushed off to catch a train.</span></div>
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We sat together on the train. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore</b>: favorite jeans, Sweaty Betty striped exercise top, homemade orange hat, black parka, Smartwool hiking socks, Asolo hiking boots that I had re-soled last year and I wear to walk my dogs every day (with very old custom orthotics, because this old lady has bad feet). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>my friend Bill from the Internet met me under the clock at Grand Central. There were a billion, jillion people in Grand Central when my train got in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>I didn’t need tickets to this protest march, just good walking shoes, a day off, and the ability and will to stand up for what I believe in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show: </b>because our latest presidential election resulted in a wholly unqualified, unsuitable, woman-hating, race-baiting, vindictive, impulsive, lying monster assuming power, and I and a whole lot of other people are ready to do something about it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>on the train. At a march you have to rise and walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> this is only the beginning. We are going to have a lot more work to do, if he doesn’t kill us all first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>lots of signs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="color: #454545;">Things that were not funny: </b><span style="color: #454545;">the feeling, as we stood on 2nd Avenue waiting for the march to start, that there was a river of human beings stretching up the street as far as I could see in either direction, and that with the people in front of me and behind me and next to me on both sides there was no way for me to remove myself from the situation speedily if I wanted to. When I moved to New York in 2011, I might not have been able to keep my shit together in such a crowd.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>a stale untoasted bagel from Grand Central Market, because if I would have asked for it toasted I would have missed my train home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is: </b>old women, weirdos, young women, union reps, young men, hipsters, young women, little kids, babies, middle-aged white people, posers, young people of color, people in professional attire, people covered in social justice slogans, old men, they all showed up in NYC united against our hateful new president and what he represents. The mood was defiant, but not quite angry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> anybody who thinks that this isn’t normal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> the train home was almost as full as the one there, where it had been standing room only. It’s going to be such a long four years.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-11584376351719346682017-01-14T14:56:00.000-05:002017-01-14T14:56:14.016-05:00I stayed at the Plaza Hotel<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did:</b> spent a Thursday night in the Tower Suite at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ipMz8w-mohwnMX6n0Mqt0J6FIUxE2YPMhrfRD9gLq9fYtEIrOfGYtD5lUMi6MGXSYfN3Ys4LiENdIqSUDNfmPtn54iKjlr2D6UlfCuFrPPEMKXSxI3ufcwiqB2BXCsIl-l7aOqm1ias/s1600/plaza2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ipMz8w-mohwnMX6n0Mqt0J6FIUxE2YPMhrfRD9gLq9fYtEIrOfGYtD5lUMi6MGXSYfN3Ys4LiENdIqSUDNfmPtn54iKjlr2D6UlfCuFrPPEMKXSxI3ufcwiqB2BXCsIl-l7aOqm1ias/s320/plaza2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of 58th St. from our 18th floor room</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> rode the train into Grand Central Terminal thinking about , walked up 5th Avenue penned in by block after block of police barricades.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> James jeans, black suede Puma sneakers</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSulbUiAOpYhO3J1vhzbjllRwdjZeYLJj6ZliKOsY2VhiwNcc5HBGMol_9B4138_UeCh_MTltm3eU_kBYGS4BV2ZD64cwIl4C9TR7wMarr1GCQKu6D3b1Ireqm5MvgLT_RU0Wqrgpdds/s1600/plaza6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSulbUiAOpYhO3J1vhzbjllRwdjZeYLJj6ZliKOsY2VhiwNcc5HBGMol_9B4138_UeCh_MTltm3eU_kBYGS4BV2ZD64cwIl4C9TR7wMarr1GCQKu6D3b1Ireqm5MvgLT_RU0Wqrgpdds/s320/plaza6.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tower Suite has a round, king-sized bed</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me</b>: my husband, the Bacon Provider</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;"><b>How I made the reservation</b>: online (directly with the hotel), about a week ago</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tower suite has a domed ceiling </td></tr>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I stayed there:</b> I was planning a single night in the city, starting with the tickets I had just booked to see "<a href="http://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2017/01/i-saw-made-in-china.html" target="_blank">Made in </a></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2017/01/i-saw-made-in-china.html" target="_blank">China</a>," a funny and raunchy puppet musical with a human rights message at the 59 East 59th Street Theater. I looked at a map online, and compared prices and availability of a couple of high-end hotels nearby, including the Pierre and the Four Seasons. The thing is, though, that the book <a href="http://www.theplazany.com/eloise/" target="_blank">Eloise</a> was one of my favorites as a child, and all I had to do was think about Eloise pouring water down the mail chute or feeding her mother's attorney rubber candy, and the decision was easy. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgElLPpgXaVs8FsmuAij5F1mUCmKFQW46_WcnU0w_FLY43E2ZkBefln9vZwbWivqTiPqvNbIj4lhsRn96i4oPBXPc-QrkbjTaVSsIb2s_KxusUFwqXnGbe2Q2XU17Xf8N2VpGExocw9yI/s1600/plaza10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgElLPpgXaVs8FsmuAij5F1mUCmKFQW46_WcnU0w_FLY43E2ZkBefln9vZwbWivqTiPqvNbIj4lhsRn96i4oPBXPc-QrkbjTaVSsIb2s_KxusUFwqXnGbe2Q2XU17Xf8N2VpGExocw9yI/s320/plaza10.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best lobster roll I've ever had</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;"><b>Where I sat: </b>I had a classic champagne cocktail and a snack in the Champagne Bar, which has chairs so comfy I want to get some like them for my new dining room when the big, bad upcoming remodel is done.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>we got back from dinner too late to have a drink in the <a href="http://www.theplazany.com/dining/the-rose-club/" target="_blank">Rose </a></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.theplazany.com/dining/the-rose-club/" target="_blank">Club</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny/not funny:</b> we did manage to sneak in a scotch in the <a href="http://www.theplazany.com/dining/the-palm-court/" target="_blank">Palm Court</a> before last call, and were overheard by the bartender as I compared the </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">unpresident-elect to both Hitler and Stalin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> a lobster roll in the Champagne Bar, and breakfast in the Palm Court.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3PJGT4CqI94ZQ0U9f0-4TiHL1uiqSGq2RIj_GORrPaHgnfaPGJNvS64ru-efFyCdR7GmZNkYfYNyLBf3t9PQXGDWjD6ih1mC9kjoi8koBDG-ilxcMXZQrjTmSohnior6rzWz6sN2mYw/s1600/plaza4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3PJGT4CqI94ZQ0U9f0-4TiHL1uiqSGq2RIj_GORrPaHgnfaPGJNvS64ru-efFyCdR7GmZNkYfYNyLBf3t9PQXGDWjD6ih1mC9kjoi8koBDG-ilxcMXZQrjTmSohnior6rzWz6sN2mYw/s320/plaza4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #454545;"><b>What it is:</b> over 100 years old, but meticulously remodeled in a way that maintains its grand style, the Plaza Hotel is a beautiful, sumptuous throwback to a past New York when rich people were expected to have exemplary manners.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtcIfxxxt_dihy5Knf19KqR63E-B-E5XpNBp96vFqWXtGaIy2xGvF-aMenjdTlQs8hsbaUjwUgS7CsJ_KCIpYh2PgqRCgISBEEzbB5-jLOdJYenK8fasnSfluaoghAApIPzvHA9VE0u4/s1600/plaza11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtcIfxxxt_dihy5Knf19KqR63E-B-E5XpNBp96vFqWXtGaIy2xGvF-aMenjdTlQs8hsbaUjwUgS7CsJ_KCIpYh2PgqRCgISBEEzbB5-jLOdJYenK8fasnSfluaoghAApIPzvHA9VE0u4/s320/plaza11.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bathroom had a heated floor</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it: </b></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">aesthetes, </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">connoisseurs of historic hotels, parquet </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">aficionados, high-end Victorian cos-players, architecture buffs, Eloise enthusiasts, gold-trim fanciers, luxury freaks, marble junkies, suckers for an exquisite attention to detail, and </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">money-spending fools.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjlMrMdm50XIxQokniH-2Z9h0XVXm91ZLolFe-39mhyfKr1u_Kmq4LxMciyWoA-uj-LlyweemXGVfq-cQTGJoWQp0ggesLRC8hr_8chYKvm6MxTGSemrL3dX9TD2GaNyrRmcMCbWEpio/s1600/plaza5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjlMrMdm50XIxQokniH-2Z9h0XVXm91ZLolFe-39mhyfKr1u_Kmq4LxMciyWoA-uj-LlyweemXGVfq-cQTGJoWQp0ggesLRC8hr_8chYKvm6MxTGSemrL3dX9TD2GaNyrRmcMCbWEpio/s320/plaza5.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The marble mosaic elevator floors</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>thousands of NYPD assembling on 5th Avenue for the funeral of </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://nyti.ms/2irTwuc" target="_blank">Officer Steven McDonald</a>, a man who believed in forgiveness. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-24975987453555205052017-01-13T19:51:00.000-05:002017-01-14T23:37:13.928-05:00I saw “Made in China”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXj0nxhb0yUzNFAdp7O8ezniW2_fGHjO0z8JKsAPOU1k5hwoNoTnjiOTby4u1pxv7p7Mt6TXYMx3MB_8NWJcTOLa84jZkurzw3Ao8VayVaaLhp3z64JZb9pqypCropTLQUvyESRhmg96E/s1600/madeinchina1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXj0nxhb0yUzNFAdp7O8ezniW2_fGHjO0z8JKsAPOU1k5hwoNoTnjiOTby4u1pxv7p7Mt6TXYMx3MB_8NWJcTOLa84jZkurzw3Ao8VayVaaLhp3z64JZb9pqypCropTLQUvyESRhmg96E/s320/madeinchina1.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw: </b>"Made in China," a puppet musical for adults, at the 59 East 59th Street Theater, way off-Broadway, in New York City.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK32ZUJiIKRLlwD_EqWaXpzczndtSr-3vaW3rPJYTBQ5v9OXwDgx7-2muLEjXhJwCudJF8ly4cfKqznUI3iwP2BJhJe6N2f7nX3ok4dzSpWti45WDN0fpZKJAZU2neAwXoh1yJdqxfCY8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-01-13+at+7.27.10+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK32ZUJiIKRLlwD_EqWaXpzczndtSr-3vaW3rPJYTBQ5v9OXwDgx7-2muLEjXhJwCudJF8ly4cfKqznUI3iwP2BJhJe6N2f7nX3ok4dzSpWti45WDN0fpZKJAZU2neAwXoh1yJdqxfCY8/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-01-13+at+7.27.10+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I did beforehand</b>: riding lesson. Shower. Frenzied packing. Brief dog walk. Train ride, where I had a haunting thought as we pulled out of the stop at White Plains, and chanted silently to myself, “we should have done more to stop him,” the whole way to Harlem. Walked up 5th Avenue, behind block after block of police barricades, as if I needed more of a reminder of the disaster we didn't prevent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I wore: </b>Fluevog boots, James jeans, two black tops I bought at a boutique in TriBeCa and cut the tags out of, vintage earrings, scarf the Bacon Provider bought me from India, Eileen Fisher summer weight cardigan because it was unseasonably warm, black parka just in case.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who went with me: </b>the Bacon Provider.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>How I got tickets: </b>I got two of the last seats available about a week ago, online. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> a positive review in the New York Times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row B, seat 13, on the end, behind my husband. Next to me was a stylish young woman wearing shoes I envied and a menswear hat; she was telling her companion about this powerful and sexually voracious woman at work who sexually harasses everyone, young men and women alike. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>another play about lonely people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>naked puppets, cussing puppets, wrestling puppets, puppets on (and in) the toilet, a puppet dog humping another dog, a puppet dog with a real retractible red rocket, puppets having sex, a song about impulse shopping, another song featuring a familiar pussy-grabber’s stump-speech snippets about China, and </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">my laughter making the woman in the hat next to me laugh even louder than I was. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wJbEKfizt_b8hNfbpkJMWshNmLgDiejptzcXD_CfBBsE70cTco4Jxds8haOKV3QJ_aJa5V8NAHJy8vmK1mSrcqCpTydSvrLOpx5skEOzmxcuPopgdVuFKd2Zz8sUSZugXbHz1urSj_U/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-01-13+at+7.26.13+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wJbEKfizt_b8hNfbpkJMWshNmLgDiejptzcXD_CfBBsE70cTco4Jxds8haOKV3QJ_aJa5V8NAHJy8vmK1mSrcqCpTydSvrLOpx5skEOzmxcuPopgdVuFKd2Zz8sUSZugXbHz1urSj_U/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-01-13+at+7.26.13+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Also, when we got a beer at the bar before the show, I offered the bartender a pocket copy of the U.S. Constitution, because I carry a stack of them in my purse. "Oh, yeah, I might need that," he said. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I got mine from the <a href="https://shop.aclu.org/product/ACLU-Pocket-Constitution-of-the-United-States" target="_blank">ACLU</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Things that were not funny: </b>references to human rights abuses and our reliance on cheaply made Chinese goods.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Something I ate: </b>a whole roasted branzino at the nearby Rotisserie Georgette, where four other tables were celebrating birthdays.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What it is: </b>a funny and weirdly fantastic musical about loneliness, human rights, consumerism, and getting along with our neighbors. lasting about an hour and a half, with no intermission.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Who should see it: </b>people who watch TV naked, fans of Avenue Q, kung fu film buffs, devotees of dragon dancers, toilet humor fanciers, Trump satire freaks, human rights experts, disciples of anti-consumerism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> a Windows Media error message on a number of large monitors in a shop window on 5th Avenue, which made my husband laugh.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-71556999074120636952017-01-12T17:20:00.000-05:002017-01-12T17:20:14.494-05:00I saw “Hidden Figures”<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw: </b>“Hidden Figures,” a movie, at a local theater in Mt. K.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> riding lesson. Bacon and eggs. Dog walk. Watched my husband polish his shoes. Kissed the Bacon Provider goodbye (again). Sewing. Bought a ticket online so I wouldn’t be too lazy to go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I wore:</b> very dirty jeans. Snow boots. Two coats. Mittens and scarf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who went with me:</b> about 50 white people and 2 African Americans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> online, a few hours before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> because my friend H. said to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where I sat: </b>towards the front, right behind the only people of color.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> I sometimes remember not to be a completely disagreeable person. But generally speaking if you want me to stay away from a movie, tell me it’s inspiring. I believe this is not a movie about exemplary women doing exceptional things. I believe this is a movie about black women saving everyone's asses and never getting credit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> did the women whose careers at NASA were dramatized in this film start a new, great tradition of American female engineers and mathematicians? No. No, through no fault of their own, they did not. Women were still underrepresented in the sciences when I tried to get a PhD in math in the mid 1980s, when I couldn't get a female professor as a mentor because there weren't any. Yes, we have female astronauts now (since about 1978), and people of color do become engineers, but it didn't stop one of my master's examination board from (successfully) getting me to crack during my orals, and it didn't dissaude the President of Harvard from saying <a href="https://www.thecrimson.com/article/2005/1/14/summers-comments-on-women-and-science/" target="_blank">publicly</a> that under-representation of female scientists at elite universities may stem in part from “innate" differences between men and women (and not only did he never have to take it back, his <a href="http://www.forbes.com/2008/11/30/larry-summers-obama-oped-cx_drh_1201henderson.html" target="_blank">career</a> continued to flourish). Things are better, but they aren't good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>straight talk about Jim Crow laws.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Something I ate:</b> popcorn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What it is:</b> a likable story about NASA in the 1960s, racism, the failures of white feminists, misogyny, and how technology destroys middle class jobs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Who should see it:</b> people who need to forget about a real or imagined episode involving urine, Russian women, the president-elect, and a hotel room; space buffs, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">math nerds,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">engineering enthusiasts, middle school social studies teachers, chalkboard fanciers, arithmetic fanatics, movie fiends, car-stuck girl junkies, NASA nuts, aficionados of scenes of women running in high heels.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What I saw on the way home:</b> I stopped for pho and bubble tea to take home to 19. There was a football game on the TV. A guy was sitting with his dad, their table crowded with plates, introducing him to Vietnamese food. He asked the waiter for the yellow sauce. It took the guy behind the counter a couple of tries before he found the yellow sauce the guy wanted. “What’s it called?” he asked. “So I know next time.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Fish sauce,” was the answer.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-55500800267644332452016-12-31T13:10:00.000-05:002016-12-31T13:10:21.992-05:00Almost All the Books I Read in 2016<div class="p1">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Here is a list of almost all the books I read (and finished) in 2016, in approximate order</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Raymond Chandler’s “The Big Sleep,” one of many books my brother recommended.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Raymond Chandler’s “The Long Goodbye,” because his dialog absolutely crackles with energy, and I couldn’t get enough of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Ron Chernow’s ponderous and highly illuminating “Alexander Hamilton”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Raymond Chandler’s “The Lady in the Lake”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">James Salter’s exciting novel about fighter pilots, “The Hunters,” also recommended by my brother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Raymond Chandler’s “Farewell My Lovely”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Matthew Thomas’s extraordinarily sad, “We Are Not Ourselves”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Mark Haddon’s “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time,” because I was about to see the <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/02/i-saw-curious-incident-of-dog-in-night.html" target="_blank">play</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Robert Stone’s terrific Vietnam-era novel, “Dog Soldiers,” also suggested to me by my brother.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Patricia Highsmith’s “Ripley Underground,” because I had read “The Talented Mr. Ripley” in 2015 and it had blown my mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">J. G. Farrell’s “The Siege of Krishnapur”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Sally Denton’s damning portrait of Bechtel’s evil empire, “The Profiteers”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Patricia Highsmith’s “Ripley’s Game”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">C. J. Chivers’s stunning portrait of the AK-47, “The Gun,” a book I highly recommend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Neil Gaiman’s “The Ocean at the End of the Lane”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Andrew Cockburn’s “Kill Chain”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Marlon James’s “A Brief History of Seven Killings”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Andrew Solomon’s revealing, honest, and oddly undressing “The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">E.L. Doctorow’s “Homer & Langley”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Mary Norris’s lovely memoir, “Between You & Me,” a gift from The Graduate.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Patricia Highsmith’s “The Boy Who Followed Ripley”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Andrew Solomon’s illuminating collection of essays, “Far and Away: Reporting from the Brink of Change”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Alan Bradley’s “A Red Herring Without Mustard,” third of the series of entertaining Flavia de Luce mystery novels</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Edwidge Danticat’s “Brother, I'm Dying”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Julia Alvarez’s “In the Time of the Butterflies"<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Maggie Nelson’s “The Argonauts”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Viet Thanh Nguyen’s “The Sympathizer: A Novel”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Gloria Emerson’s “Winners and Losers: Battles, Retreats, Gains, Losses, and Ruins From the Vietnam War,” from my brother’s Vietnam War reading list.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Patricia Highsmith’s “Ripley Under Water,” the last of the Ripley-ad</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Maud Casey’s “The Man Who Walked Away,” because my brother asked me to.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Elie Wiesel’s “Night,” a re-read.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Hanya Yanagihara’s hard to read but ultimately redeeming, “A Little Life: A Novel”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Alan Bradley’s, “I Am Half-Sick of Shadows,” another Flavia de Luce novel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Nell Irvin Painter’s “The History of White People,” which I highly recommend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Alan Bradley’s 5th Flavia de Luce novel, “Speaking from Among the Bones” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Elizabeth Kolbert’s disturbing “The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Colson Whitehead’s “The Underground Railroad,” less because Oprah said to and more because I read his weird book about schools of elevator maintenance, “The Intuitionist”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Philip K. Dick’s sci-fi classic, “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” also known as “Blade Runner”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Rebecca Solnit’s “Men Explain Things to Me”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Tim O'Brien’s “If I Die in a Combat Zone</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">,” part of my brother’s Vietnam War reading list.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Another of Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce novels, “The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Tracy Kidder’s “The Soul of a New Machine,” which made me nostalgic for the days when my husband was designing and building new computer devices.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Anita Brookner’s gently crafted and absolutely amazing, “Fraud”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Jeffrey Toobin’s readable but ungenerous portrait, “American Heiress: The Wild Saga of the Kidnapping, Crimes and Trial of Patty Hearst”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Jeremy P. Bushnell’s hipster adventure, “The Insides”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Maxine Hong Kingston’s admirable “The Woman Warrior,” again on the recommendation of my brother.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Sandra Cisneros’s warm “The House on Mango Street”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Betty Friedan’s groundbreaking, but single-minded and dated “The Feminine Mystique”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Ottessa Moshfegh’s “Eileen”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Laura Olin’s “Form Letters”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Yet another of Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce books, “As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Erik Larson’s “Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of the Lusitania”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">D.G. Compton’s “The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">George Plimpton’s “Paper Lion: Confessions of a Last-String Quarterback,” which I wish I had read after “Out of my League,” below, and not before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">John le Carré’s “The Spy Who Came in from the Cold,” probably at my brother’s suggestion</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Robert A. Caro’s 1100+ page non-fiction epic, “The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York,” which I enjoyed every bit of, and came away finally understanding most (if not all) of the things I hate about New York. Highly recommended.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">John le Carré’s “Call for the Dead”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Sady Doyle’s funny modern feminist look at women in pop culture, “Trainwreck: The Women We Love to Hate, Mock, and Fear, and Why”</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">John le Carré’s “A Murder of Quality”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Small-town journalist Tom Ryan’s book about hiking with his dog, called, “Following Atticus,” which I was asked to read by my sister in law. Dog books always have sad parts, and funny parts, and this provides the expected. I strongly object to his style of dog-rearing, though, and would like to go on the record as saying that carrying your puppy around all the time for the first month is a certain way to raise a very spoiled dog. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">John le Carré’s “The Looking Glass War”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">George Plimpton’s very funny baseball book, “Out of My League” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Tommy Wieringa’s chilly novel, “These Are the Names”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Paul Beatty’s tart racial satire, “The Sellout: A Novel”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Graeme Macrae Burnet’s grisly and excellent, “His Bloody Project”<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Hope Jahren’s intimate and generous, “Lab Girl,” which I’d suggest you read this year.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">And, lastly, John le Carré’s “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy,” another George Smiley novel, and probably my favorite of them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Total Number of books, 67. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Total number of authors, 53.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">20 of the authors are women, and I think 9 are non-white.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">40 are fiction. 27 are non-fiction.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-11365485397662276412016-12-30T08:28:00.000-05:002016-12-30T08:28:28.458-05:00I thought I saw a dog in the dark<div class="p1">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I saw:</b> the other night, I hopped in the car to go get my kids from the train station, and as I pulled out of the garage I thought I saw a small, light-colored dog, cowering under the wheels of our truck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> grabbed my spare glasses because I couldn’t find my usual pair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I wore:</b> dirty jeans, Birkenstock clogs, parka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Who went with me:</b> after convincing myself that it wasn't an imaginary dog, I got out of the car and tried to call it; it was too scared. I went back in the house and got some dehydrated liver treats and coaxed it out; it had a collar but no tags. It took the treats from me and retreated behind the truck to eat them. I started to call it "Little White Dog." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>How I will get my next dog:</b> maybe I will get a vizsla puppy in the spring. Maybe I will take in a foster dog. Maybe I will wait until a dog finds me. Maybe my two current dogs are my last two dogs. I used to try to think about things like this, to quell my awake-at-four-in-the-morning thoughts. I'd make contingency plans, based on various disaster scenarios. The year my mom died I learned that impossible things happen, and 2016 has been another year of impossible things. I try not to make contingency plans, believing instead in the ability of my future self to know what to do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Why I saw this show:</b> the Graduate was here the weekend before, celebrating the Xmas holiday with us, and he brought along his girlfriend and she brought along her little dog, Snipe. They'd been gone several days when the Little White Dog appeared in the night. The Little White Dog was more stout than Snipe, and had shorter legs, but for one baffling instant I did think that somehow Snipe was still here. Or had come back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Where I sat:</b> the Bacon Provider went to get the kids at the train station while I tried to lure Little White Dog inside. I wondered if someone had dumped it on our road, the way they'd dumped an old <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/09/i-saw-something-in-woods.html" target="_blank">mattress</a> here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were sad:</b> I got the dog a dish of water and a bit of kibble and lured it into the garage but when I tried to close the garage door, Little White Dog was startled by the noise and bolted out, into the darkness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> our next-door neighbors have three dogs, a fat foxhound, a rowdy black and white Great Dane, and a small, fluffy white dog. I wasn't sure if this Little White Dog maybe lived next door, though I doubted it. I felt like this Little White Dog was bigger than the one I'd seen next door. I followed the dog into my backyard, still trying to lure it with food. Soon enough the Bacon Provider returned with the kids and we together decided that a car we saw driving slowly by might have been looking for Little White Dog. So we followed Little White Dog down the driveway and down the hill and up the neighbor's driveway. I rang the bell. A teenager answered, with his posse of three excited dogs, and the rowdy Great Dane blasted past, chasing Little White Dog back into the darkness. Some shouting followed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were funny: </b>at this point, the slow-driving car returned, and we flagged her down. Inside was an older woman who was looking for the dog. It belonged to her friend, and it had followed her when she drove away. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Little White Dog's name was supposed to be "Thumper," though when she called him he seemed as disinclined to join her as he had been to come to me.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">After some more pointless running around in the woods, I got a hand on him and almost had him when he decided that going back to his owner's friend was better than being chased by me, so she caught him and put him in her car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Something I ate:</b> too many Christmas cookies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What it is:</b> I have owned one dog and two dogs and three dogs and know for certain that three is exactly too many dogs.</span></div>
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When the Revolution comes, three will no longer be too many dogs.</div>
— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) <a href="https://twitter.com/hamsterRelish/status/537737685884866561">November 26, 2014</a></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Who should see it:</b> you should knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself when they move in. I should go knock on my neighbors' doors and introduce myself since they didn't do it first. Maybe next year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I saw when I got home:</b> my own dog, Captain, who has such deep feelings.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347330580096386957.post-21637051935684295552016-12-27T11:26:00.001-05:002016-12-27T11:26:46.384-05:00I saw “Sweet Charity”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim97mgDdAt7hPkY8joeck3YQqHdjKCVn5qLXvl0eXg-muaI5qkZr5eNxlDzfZDBI_WDjDnWgAJOTXui2rF5B3AwIvGZ7HmnsnAMHRsYpOtemy55BcmY6nOVdzdmPs5AysF5-S6opkt7y0/s1600/sweetcharity7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim97mgDdAt7hPkY8joeck3YQqHdjKCVn5qLXvl0eXg-muaI5qkZr5eNxlDzfZDBI_WDjDnWgAJOTXui2rF5B3AwIvGZ7HmnsnAMHRsYpOtemy55BcmY6nOVdzdmPs5AysF5-S6opkt7y0/s320/sweetcharity7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I saw: </b>“Sweet Charity,” at the Pershing Square Signature Center at 480 West 42nd, between 9th and 10th in Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I did beforehand:</b> took the train into the city, checked into the Library Hotel at Madison Avenue and 41st, had tapas with R.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I wore:</b> gray wool Ibex cowl-neck top, James jeans, navy cardigan, Chinese-made Australian boots, new black parka, pearl earrings, silver bracelets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Who went with me:</b> the Bacon Provider.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>How I got tickets:</b> online, a few weeks ago when I thought spending a night in the city a few days before Christmas would be fun and productive rather than inconvenient.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Why I saw this show: </b>I impulsively subscribed to the New Group for the season. It makes me wonder about the existence of free will and the power of advertising.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Where I sat: </b>Row D, Seat 10.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were sad: </b>this is another play about loneliness (my cousin recently pointed out elsewhere, "All plays are about being lonely."). And not all musicals have tidy, happy endings, even ones from the 1960s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were funny:</b> knowing so many of the songs but never knowing where they came from, the charming clumsiness of the main character, and realizing that this is the 5th show I've seen this year featuring people dancing in their underwear. <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-saw-wildness.html" target="_blank">Here</a> are <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-saw-king-i.html" target="_blank">links</a> to the <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/07/i-saw-sense-and-sensibility.html" target="_blank">other</a> <a href="https://howwayleadsontoway.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-saw-american-psycho.html" target="_blank">four</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Things that were not funny:</b> the coincidence of having unintentionally reserved the <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/digits/2015/06/01/ca-hires-new-tech-chief-in-bid-to-spark-growth/" target="_blank">New Media</a> room at the Library Hotel was only kept from downright creepiness by the gentle absurdity of many of the books being, with predictions about the coming revolution and dominance of interactive television, just old enough to be hilariously inaccurate. The Bacon Provider wrote a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Digitally-Remastered-Building-Software-Business-ebook/dp/B01M06P45N" target="_blank">book</a> about digital disruption this year, in fact. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I am happy to recommend the Library Hotel, just about a block from Grand Central Station and the main branch of the New York Public Library, to book-lovers and anyone seeking a small, quiet boutique hotel in mid-town Manhattan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Something I ate:</b> butternut squash soup, pimientos, and pan con tomate at the tapas place in Gotham West, over in Hell's Kitchen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What it is:</b> this musical is from 1966, and has been revived a number of times and was made into a movie in 1968. It manages not to serve a heaping helping of the nostalgic charm of a period piece and also not to be easily updated with modern seasonings. It is, nevertheless, a fine romp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Who should see it: </b>Fellini fans, students of mid-20th century gender studies, people who like to see actors dancing in their underwear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b>What I saw on the way home: </b>I think the pillow on our bed in the hotel room was meant to be fetchingly bookish. It seemed lonely and sad to me.</span></div>
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