Franklinsanity

A crank's musings on family, drink, travel, food & life

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  • Manifest Destiny:  West, Here We Come

    Manifest Destiny:  West, Here We Come

    9:30 am ET, Sunday August 7 – Franklinsanity2016, Part Deux has commenced. And it’s been about three weeks since I blogged.  What can I say?  Life got too busy to catalogue and the sunshine was super bright. 

    In any case, after a superb interlude in the Far North Adirondacks – where we visited a family camp I had not seen in a decade and the kids and dogs fell in love with the boreal forest – we’re heading back to the Bay!

    Seven weeks flew by. Of course I was on the road just about every week – and time speeds up for ancients like me. Hopefully the kids and HHW had “slow time.”

    What did we learn on the East Coast?  Quinn got even pickier at meals and better at swimming, archery and art. Teddy got a possibly overzealous lesson in sportsmanship – when Dad pounded him 33-3 in Kickball because he was, as we say in tennis, hooking. HHW wrestled some big family issues at least partly into submission and became even more of a Dailey Method scheduling pro. 

    Mostly, though, we learned home is where the heart is. And inevitably, that takes us elsewhere. 

    So the journey begins again. Kingsley doesn’t know it yet, but he’s excited too. Oonagh doesn’t see like she gives two hoots; as long as she’s got her stuffed dragon to chew, she’s good. 

    Onward!

  • MetroCard Vending Machines

    MetroCard Vending Machines

    6:42 am Tuesday, New Haven CT:  seventeen years in, can we give a shout out to the venerable but still durable and amazingly well done MetroCard vending machines?

    Growing up in NYC, I hadn’t given much thought to these things since ’99, when I think they were introduced (sorry, too impatient to check Wikipedia, which is a whole other problem). 

    At that time, I remember thinking a) that they were cool in their retro massiveness and apparent indestructibility; b) that the touchscreens functioned unusually well; and c) that they were a lot easier to use than, say, the DC metro ticketing technology (which for some reason I continue to find nearly incomprehensible and alarming). 

    Now, I have a new appreciation for them. This is not just because, when I return to NYC or its environs, they still work exactly as promised – and their quirky mix of stainless steel and primary colors brings a smile to my face. Rather it’s because they are SO MUCH BETTER than the machines I have to use in SF to purchase or refill my mass transit card equivalent for the ferry. 

    Now, many have pointed out to me that the fact I use a machine at all to recharge a commuting card is fairly embarrassing for a tech guy. All that could be happening online. 

    But, see, I like the machine transaction. Or rather, I used to. In NYC. Now I am just being stubborn. 

    The SF machines are just so bad – their user interface is impenetrable, for one. While, for instance, there are always a few tourists in NYC struggling to order what they want, that is nothing compared to the clumps of rage-filled folks fussing over the SF ferry ticket machines. 

    Even if you use them regularly, they still f*** with you. Forgetting about interface design, many of them just don’t work right – buttons stick, card readers fail, and in fact they don’t accept all credit cards. 

    It’s as though the Zen of a ferry ride across SF Bay has to have an extra karmic price to it. Whereas the relative hell of an NYC subway ride earns a karmic bonus instead. 

    The payment system giveth. And the payment system taketh away. 

  • How to get your spouse to encourage you to drink scotch

    How to get your spouse to encourage you to drink scotch

    6 pm Sunday, New Britain, CT:  

    Step one:  buy – or get gifted – a whack-ton of scotch. Preferably single malt. 

    Step two:  stash it where it is accessible and visible. Possibly somewhat in the way. 

    Step three:  whether by luck, or otherwise, engineer a situation where, temporarily, there is no other easily accessible alcohol. Like, say, a bottle of beer or wine. 

    Step four:  go out to a great dinner, albeit one that ends slightly early. 

    Step five:  settle down on the couch, and suggest that maybe a final glass of wine is in order. Offer to open and fetch said wine. 

    Step six:  be amused and gratified when s/he says it seems like a waste to open a whole bottle…and why don’t you have some of that scotch that is taking up so much space?

    Step seven:  enjoy a fine single malt, the peatier the better, drinking to your spouse’s health. 

  • Bee Gees, Sancerre – Grateful

    Bee Gees, Sancerre – Grateful

    8:16 on Saturday, New Britain CT:  As the world appears to be returning to some kind of mid-to-early-twentieth-century upheaval (or even earlier), I appreciate more than ever the chance to sit with family, eat a ton of food, fob the children off on bouncy houses, and listen to old people music (as my kids call it). 

    Still, I’d really argue that “More Than a Woman” is pretty timeless. Kind of like the sunset. Bruno Mars? We’ll have to see. 

    My son tells me the Red Sox beat the Yankees today. For the second straight game. 

    Strange times. 

    Maybe another white wine will help?  Maybe Bruno has it right:  uptown funk you up. 

  • A Hall of a Hotel

    A Hall of a Hotel

    440 pm Tuesday, Chicago, Illinois – The Langham is a fine hotel. Glossy. Spare. Elegant. Your check-in experience is conducted in hushed undertones. Or at least mine was. 

    The positive effects of all this were unfairly limited by the huge number of tourists and passers-by and police hovering around the building across the street. Which happens to be The Donald’s hotel. The Langham may be longing for an end to election year. 

    I know I am. 

    That said, with all the tough parts that come from leaving the family, the good part – perhaps one of the only ones – is being lucky and privileged enough to learn about, and stay, in new, sometimes classy, places. 

    It’s not home. But it’s at least nice. Not a bad slogan for a certain kind of business travel. 

  • Winging it

    Winging it

    9:45 am, Tuesday, Bradley International Airport. At long last, trying a new mobile work strategy from the East Coast:  the regional airport. With typical and brain-dead big metro area bias, for me this was an overlooked option for exiting CT. 

    It seems bigger is not at all better when it comes to airports, provided you’re flying somewhere a given airline considers significant. Like, Chicago and DC. 

    Perfectly nice regional jet. It’s not Virgin America. But then Virgin America isn’t even Virgin America anymore – it’s Alaska Airlines. So:  go United. The improvement in efficiency (30 mins and 5 minute security vs 2-plus hours and JFK) is absurd. 

    Back to work. 

  • Sonos

    Sonos

    5:15 pm: Stephentown, NY – there is a new, or perhaps not so new, dynamic in the realm of casual control over music at a party. 

    Sonos. Familiar with it?  Speakers that easily connect to iPhones and music. Meaning you have a communal playlist that anyone can adjust, cancel or modify. 

    Subtle power struggles ensue. 

    Sometimes, not so subtle. Depeche Mode?  Def Leppard?  CCR?  Enigma!

    It’s only 5 pm.  What could happen?

  • Whispering Angel

    Whispering Angel

    1:43 pm, Stephentown, NY:  hard court tennis on a rainy day. What could go wrong?  Rolled ankles. Wasps’ nests. Broken strings?  

    Wet balls. 

    Less offensively, fantastic to roll off the breakfast table and get on the court. Hearing the pop of balls off the strings, watching it soar onto the other side of the court…or into the trees, as the case may be. Sweating some of the prior night’s booze out, tubing an overhead and narrowly missing your opponent. Good stuff. Not country club tennis. 

    If nothing else, the exercise is a superb rationale for hitting the rose at midday. That’s roh-zay, since I can’t be bothered to find the accent feature here in WordPress. 

    Whispering Angel, I hear you calling!  

    (That is the name of the rose, people. Relax.)

  • Boys Against Humanity

    Boys Against Humanity

    10:59 am – Stephentown, NY:  it’s a dacha, only in upstate New York. And it’s therefore a perfect setting for not only family gatherings, but also a guys’ weekend. 

    BTW, is there any construction in English syntax funnier and more quietly disruptive than “not only…but also?”  Not and but alone are a funny combo. Adding in the emphasis of only and also, not to mention the way those sounds just go together…it’s a fun way to combine ideas that may be in natural tension, seamlessly. 

    What, you may ask, is entailed by a guys’ weekend in the woods, especially at our advanced age?  And especially on a rainy weekend when we’re not likely to be using the tennis court?

    Well, so far the activities this morning consist of:  

    • Watching YouTube videos of BASE jumping in squirrel suits
    • Watching Serena win Wimbeldon in about 20 mins
    • Discussing watching soccer
    • Debating the merits of yoga vs barre method-based exercise, especially in terms of the balance they bring to relationships with significant others
    • Jogging and also mocking the joggers
    • Swimming in the swimming hole
    • Drinking coffee
    • Arguing about the financial mechanics of streaming music services

    Let me tell you, this is a good time!

    In all seriousness, it actually is. While it’s not impossible to rule out, the imperative to do something quite stupid at this point in life, for laughs or some other reason, is pretty weak. 

    It’s all about the stories. And the cocktails and wine. And sleeping late. And the birdsong. And the gentle sound of water rushing over rocks. 

    But mostly, it’s about Cards Against Humanity. 

    What a fucking game. Totally idiotic yet clever – in fact the very definition of the fine line between clever and stupid. Easy to play when incoherently drunk.  Easy to play when sober. Filthy. Profane. 

    Frankly, it’s medieval – so of course I like it. 

    Time for more coffee. 

  • Commute 2: Rain

    Commute 2: Rain

    9:22 am, New Britain, CT:  rainy day. Heading into the city for meetings. Oasis on the radio. Very emo and moody and all. 

    Many emails and documents piling up. This of course is part of what commutes are for. Provided you have wifi, which I do. 

    HHW decided last minute to commute with – setting up dinner and drinks with friends. GNO.  Very different, I imagine, than my own *very businesslike* plans. 

    Can one say it is odd commuting with one’s SO?  Because it is. Especially on another coast. 

    Onward!