Hope Your Road is a Long One

Many thanks to my good friend Susan Cain, who emailed me and reminded me of how much I have always loved the poem “Ithaka” by C.P. Cavafy. I needed that reminder.

Oh, and here’s hoping your road is a long one

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn’t have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

It’s Hot

I recently had an intellectual discussion with a colleague concerning the recent heat wave and its connection to global warming, and he was so fascinated with my scientific acumen that he suggested I publish it here.

Him: It’s hot.

Me: It’s summer.

Him: I mean, really hot.

Me: That happens in summer.

Him: Phoenix is, like, 115 degrees.

Me: Oh yeah, it often gets hot in the desert in the summer.

Him: Babies and dogs are dying in overheated cars.

Me: It’s not a good idea to leave babies and dogs in hot cars. You know, it being summer and all.

Him: The secretary general of the World Meteorological Organization said, and I quote, “the extreme weather which has affected millions of people happened in July.”

Me: Well, July is part of summer. Summer gets hot.

Him: He said the world has entered what forecasters warn could be a “long period of exceptional warmth.”

Me: That’s usually June- August. Those are summer months.

Him: Supposedly untangling the specific factors behind this heat wave will take time.

Me: By that time, it should be cooler. Once summer is over.

Him: Scientists need to understand whether we’re going to be seeing this again next year, or 10 years from now.

Me: I think we will. Summer tends to happen once a year.

Him: It could make subtropical regions susceptible to greater heat and drought.

Me: Yeah, those regions get hotter than other areas in the summer.

Him: Once verdant Mesopotamia is running dry

Me: Excuse me?

Him: The Fertile Crescent is the cradle of civilization.

Me: So?

Him: The word itself, “Mesopotamia,” means “land between two rivers.” The rivers are drying up. People are moving away.

Me: They probably don’t like how hot it gets in the summer.

Him: The ocean in Florida is up to triple digits. People say it’s like swimming in soup.

Me: Yeah, Florida gets really hot, especially in the summer. Summer gets really hot. Summer is hot.

Him: I can’t talk to you.

Me: Have a good summer.

Golf Hacks

What are we in now, mid-summer? My goal is to get out on my boat and onto the golf course more than I have been.

Need some golf hacks? I just read a great article about mistakes we are all making with our golf games. Here they are:

  1. Impatience to practice small swings. Using your Big Dog off the tee isn’t everything, you know. Foreplay is just as, if not more, important. Sigh: I used to have this beautiful little approach shot with my pitching wedge with this pretty little half swing my husband taught me. Something happened, and it doesn’t work anymore. I need a new strategy, I’m either flubbing it or going over the green.
  2. Intolerance to errors. How many success gurus do we need to listen to before we agree: mistakes are how you get better. Failure is not only an option, it’s necessary. Sheesh.
  3. Reluctance to use training aids. Training aids may not improve your game right away, but if used consistently, could help down the road.
  4. Taking advice from friends rather than a golf coach. I’ve received three excellent pieces of advice in my lifetime, advice that drastically improved my golf game: one from a friend, one from a golf club demo guy, and one from my son. My point? You never know where the good advice will come.
  5. Refusal to use video or hear swing feedback. The first time I watched a video my husband took of my swing off the tee, I watched him trying to keep a straight face. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked like that?” I asked. “Looked like what?” he replied, innocently. “Um, like I’m having a convulsion?” I said. “Oh, that,” he replied. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” “Oh, but humiliation is better? I suck.” I pouted. He put the phone down, took my hand, looked in my eyes, and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you do.” Hey, honesty is the best policy.
  6. One and done lessons. Buy a package. One lesson won’t do shite.
  7. Can’t identify their strengths and weaknesses. My strengths: any shot with a seven iron, chip shots, driving a par-three, putting, having cute pink balls that match my cute pink shoes, tending the flag in a responsible and authoritative fashion, and chugging a cold drink after quitting halfway through 18 in frustration. My weaknesses: Water. Sand. Woods. Trees. Bushes. Rough. Rocks. Geese. Scat droppings. Cart paths. Groups standing behind me watching me tee off.
  8. Failure to practice after a lesson.
  9. Wrong practice routines.
  10. Overgeneralizing errors. Why have you bladed a chip? Why did you top your drive? Why are you so rude to the cart girl? She’s just a young gorgeous college student trying to earn money, why do you have to be such a douchebag? I hope her father and brothers come and beat the shit out of you for calling her a “beer whore.”
  11. Being a range rat. Spending too much time on the range is golf porn. Stop watching and envisioning, and go do it.
  12. Trying to hit a draw when a fade comes easily. I don’t know what this means.

Bear Story

*Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Every human should have a bear story.”

Here’s mine:

By the third or fourth day at bear camp at Kachemak Bay State park in Alaska during summer 2021, I desperately needed some quiet time. Days spent socializing, smiling at idle chatter, and imbibing at boisterous group meals had left my social battery severely depleted.

So when our camp guides were informed that there was a particularly large bear in the area, and guide John decided to escort my group to the bear tower for the fourth time that day, I bowed out. I needed to shut my eyes near the firepit, take in the scenery, and maybe jot down some notes.

Our bear camp was cordoned off with a perimeter fence on the beach, and bears knew not to approach it. Supposedly. So as the group ambled away, the guides reminded me to stay in the perimeter, and not wander off.

As if.

I walked to the refreshment tent for a hot cup of coffee and eyed the hot chocolate. Mm. Never a huge fan of the sugary beverage, it somehow appealed to me in the below freezing wind chill. I walked back to the firepit area with my hot chocolate and settled in to relax.

(Note: I had forgotten the rule of never bringing any snacks or sugary beverages out of the refreshment tent. Black coffee and water only. Bears have a great sense of smell, if you haven’t heard).

Sipping my beverage, about ten minutes later I heard the walkie-talkie screech.

“Must have been a false alarm. No bear here. We’re headed back.”

I opened my eyes in annoyance, as I had expected more time to myself. Oh well, I thought, better than nothing. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I spied something moving down the beach towards me. A big something.

Yup.

Completely alone save for the chef and the yoga instructor in their tents, I had a front row seat to an extremely large Alaskan black bear walking straight toward our perimeter. He was very very close to me. I was frozen, and could not speak or move.

I heard my name being hissed. My group had arrived back, and was beckoning to me. Forgetting that I was holding hot chocolate, I crept toward them on the trail behind the tents. By this time, the bear had left the beach, so our guides were hoping that he was headed for the tower.

We tiptoed along the trail, whispering. Suddenly John gestured towards my mug.

“What is that?”

“Hot chocolate. I’m sorry, I forgot I was holding it.”

He shook his head, grabbed it, and passed it down the line until it reached guide Mark, who immediately turned to bring it back to camp. We followed this process with our heads and turned to see that same black bear right behind us, looking very alert and interested.

John instructed us to get down low, and he kept his hand on his bear spray. The bear eventually ambled away to the tower, and we got to observe him from a safe distance.

That evening it was agreed upon: the bear had been following the scent of my hot chocolate.

*Theodore Roosevelt said no such thing. But he should have.

Journey

I tried this material out on my friend Laurie after we had just attended the Journey concert in Phoenix last month:

“Laur, can you imagine the interview, once Arnel Pineda got the job as front man for Journey?”

Bandmates: Arnel, we’d like to offer you the job as front man for Journey. Congratulations. We just want to make sure you understand what the job entails.

Arnel: What do you mean?

Band: Well, please understand, Journey fans want Journey songs. Journey music. And above all, they want Steve Perry’s vocals. Nothing more, nothing less. Steve Perry. Period.

Arnel: Well, can I be creative with the lyrics?

Band: No.

Arnel: Can I do my own material?

Band: No.

Arnel: Can I sing in different keys and octaves? I have my own range.

Band: Sorry, no. We expect you to sound exactly like Steve Perry. So whatt’ya say?

Arnel: I’ll take it.

I can’t remember exactly, but I’m sure Laurie laughed. Politely.

The Journey concert that night was very special for me, as it capped off an incredible year. My TED talk was the second to last event in my professional crown of 2022, and the most important. I was both drained and elated, filled with energy, but sleepy too, and still a little under the weather. I threw on a cute black dress for the concert, but I didn’t do my hair or makeup. I was so happy with myself and my talk, I didn’t care about primping.

The arena was packed- I had never seen so many middle-aged well-dressed dorks in one place in my life. Maybe you were allowed to attend concerts in high school, but I wasn’t, so whenever I go to concerts as an adult, I feel like a little kid who managed to sneak out of the house on a Saturday night.

When Arnel Pineda came onto the stage, everyone got on their feet, and pretty much stayed there the whole night, except during slow ballads like “Open Arms.” And while I was aware that the new front man for Journey supposedly sounded a lot like Steve Perry, I wasn’t prepared for the uncanny way in which Pineda channeled Perry. Journey was my favorite group growing up, along with Foreigner, and ACDC, and Styx, and there were many of us in tears listening to songs that brought us back to high school.

I wondered to myself if Pineda resents having to perform Journey songs over and over. I wondered if he goes home at night and listens to gangster rap. But no. In an interview, he remarked that singing Perry’s vocals is a dream come true to him, and that meeting Perry was the greatest honor of his life.

If you get a chance, go to a Journey concert. Oh, and don’t stop believin’.

Stuff to Do

So this is the last serious weekend of winter, and don’t you even TRY to argue. President’s Weekend is all about getting in one last ski weekend or hitting some really serious sales in outlets and stores, some up to 80%. Next week we’ll start getting barraged with emails about Easter brunches, warm spring break destinations, and spring fashion lines.

But let’s say you’re not a skier or a shopper. Don’t worry, there are still plenty of things to do for the long weekend. So since today is like a Friday, this is my Weekend Planner, filled with local, regional and national stuff.

(No blog posts tomorrow or Monday).  

In Jersey: Try not to die of shock, but the local Patch just posted a feel-good article in place of its normal death, dismemberment and plague updates. It would seem that the Cape May County Zoo has welcomed some new family members. From the Patch:

“Our breeding pair ‘Mikey’ and ‘Budette’ just had their second litter of Capybara pups since June,” zoo officials announced Tuesday.

The babies were born Feb. 3 and Budette and the babies are remaining inside until the weather warms up, the zoo said. The pups are currently about 4 pounds and are expected to weigh about 100 pounds when they reach adulthood.

But just because the babies aren’t allowed outside yet doesn’t mean you have to wait until spring to see them. The zoo welcomes visitors all year round, and the weather this weekend will range from 46-52 degrees, with brilliant sunshine. Here’s some info:

The Cape May County Zoo is open year-round and while you may not see these new Capybara babies right now, you can see almost all of our other animals who are viewable every day weather permitting. The Cape May County Park is open daily from 7 am until dusk; the Zoo is open daily from 10 a.m. until 3:30 p.m. For more information about the Parks and Zoo visit www.cmczoo.com

In Philly: From visitphilly.com:

We have four words for you: Harry Potter: The Exhibition. It makes its world premiere at The Franklin Institute on Friday. Tickets are limited for opening weekend, but any aspiring Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins have until September to check out the exhibition.

In New York:

Met Opera. The Met is taking a breather right now. So why mention it? Because you can get tickets for Don Carlos for February 28th.

https://www.metopera.org/calendar/#/on-stage?year=2022&month=1

Another Jersey event at the Renault Winery. From the website:

If you missed the classic sounds of the Mummers String Bands on New Year’s Day, be sure to come out to Renault for plenty of strutting at this family friendly event. We’ll be featuring festive food & drinks in our indoor & outdoor restaurants, with a variety of food trucks & vendors in tow. Plus, enjoy Ice Skating, Mummers On Ice, Contests, Build Your Own Mummers Umbrella, Photos with Mummers & more!

Don’t miss this highly anticipated event. It’s free & fun for all ages!

Rain date Sunday, February 27th.

$10 event parking (includes $10 food & beverage voucher)

Reservations recommended. To book ice skating, restaurant reservations, cabanas, fire pits, “Champagne Bubble” igloos and more, please click below.

HAVE A GREAT PREZ WEEKEND!

Augusta

Augusta.

Sigh.

Yep, attending the Masters is on my bucket list.

If you’re not aware, you can’t just buy reasonably priced tickets to the Masters. You have to win a lottery. My dad went one year when I was young, but I think it was easier back then to attend. Now, I think it might be easier to nab an invitation to fly to the moon with Jeff Bezos.

If you watch the viewing gallery at the Masters, it’s like the good-looking section at Tiato’s, from season 10, episode seven of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” Everyone is beautiful, fit and well-groomed, nary a unibrow, humpback or protruding beer belly to be found. This is by design. God forbid the cameras pick up someone from the Ugly Section.

This is my opinion, of course, emanating from my twisted brain. But obtaining tix for the final rounds of the Masters are second only in difficulty to Super Bowl tickets. Keep in mind you can always pay on StubHub, if you have thousands of dollars to burn, but the lottery keeps prices within a reasonable range.

Here are some social media postings about the disappointment in finding out every July that you will most likely NEVER leave the Ugly Section. I feel all of their pain:

For the 18th year in a row, I got a disappointing email at the end of the first week in July. It looks like I ain’t going to the Masters tournament in 2019 either. Oh well. The sheer law of averages says I will have to win the ticket lottery one day.

Losing the Masters Ticket Lottery. A tradition unlike any other.

Bought myself $100 worth of stuff I probably don’t need on Amazon to make myself feel better about not getting in the Masters lottery. Life’s all about balance folks.

Can @MerriamWebster just amend “disappointment” to this rejection, already? Thanks. #Masters.

Everyone in our family has a separate account, and we all sign up using different addresses, because desperate times call for desperate measures. Then we have a contest to see who gets rejected LAST, because that person obviously had more VIP status then the Morlocks who came before him. It’s a fun time, to goad each other to see who is the biggest loser.

I won last year. I was rejected last. Take THAT.

But I will never give up hoping, NEVER! 2022 is my year, I’m telling you…

Hard Labor

Why is shoveling snow after a snowstorm such a thing? I can see if you own a business, and you don’t want someone falling and breaking their neck outside your store and suing you, but why is everyone so hell bent on shoveling their sidewalks and driveways, sometimes while it’s still snowing?

Seems like a lot of unnecessary work to me.

My method is much easier. First I check the weather report, because in south Jersey you don’t have to wait too long for it to melt or get rained away, like it’s doing now. Then I put on my snow boots and clomp a path to my car, and continue to walk that same path for every trip to my car, until it’s clear. I clear the snow off of my car with a great snow remover, and then I pull out of my driveway a half dozen times to flatten the snow, and pull in and out until there’s a clear path.

Once I have cleared a path out of my driveway, that’s it. I will no longer deal with any snow on my sidewalks or driveway.

Arguments?

I have an elderly parent.

I want to walk to my car to go to work without my feet getting soaked.

Simple courtesy, you dumb bitch.

I happen to like the physical labor.

I don’t want it icing up.

All duly noted. I’m just saying for my purposes, I don’t need a clear driveway and sidewalk, not in this geographical area.

In my generation, we walked around our neighborhoods on snowy days and shoveled driveways and sidewalks for money. Times have changed. When my boys were young snow days should have been relaxing and fun; instead, they were shouting matches, because their father could not understand why they did not want to get dressed, grab shovels and make money like he and I did when we were young.

Every. Single. Snow. Day. A shouting match. After shoveling our property all my boys wanted to do was stay in their pajamas, play in the snow, come in and drink hot chocolate, play video games, have their friends over, and go sledding.

But we heard the same line Every. Single. Snow. Day.

“Must be nice to be rich, and not need money. I HAD to shovel when I was young, because we were broke.”

Yeah, right.

All four of them remained stubbornly devoted to their own positions, no one giving an inch. He would yell, they would ignore him. He would yell, they would put headphones on and watch a movie. He would yell, they would leave with their friends. He would yell, they would pretend to nap. He would yell, they would play Legos.

They did not want to shovel and make money. Period.

Maybe that’s why I don’t care about the sidewalks or the driveway. Because I listened to them argue about it for almost two decades, and now it’s a sign of rebellion. I’ve heard talk of some more snow headed our way.

I’ll believe it when I see it.

Inky Likeness

People are still talking about DST darkness, and news outlets state that commissions trying to abolish DST report that employees are less productive once DST starts.

How can that be?

I find that remarkable. I am much more productive in the late fall and winter. Less sunlight, and less pressure to make one’s life resemble a beer commercial 24-hours a day. Especially in a place like where I live. If you’re not on a boat, on the beach, on a bike, or having elegant cocktails on a deck, you’re a Morlock.

I love this time of year. Meditating in the pre-dawn chill of a dark morning, sipping a hot cup of coffee on my pitch-black patio while wrapped in a thick blanket, embracing the early darkness and thanking the sun for going away for a few months so I can get shit done. And I hate to state the obvious, but you knew it was coming:

Iceland only gets four hours of sunlight a day in the winter, and they enjoy one of the happiest populations in the world. Happiness just oooooozes out of people in Iceland. So perhaps people who get depressed and unproductive in the dark winter months should seek problems within themselves, rather than blaming nature.

But fine, I’ll play. Here are some ways to enjoy the late fall darkness:

Have a shag session. Obviously the best choice, and most fun.

Have a light saber war.

Light every candle in your house.

Have a séance.

Meditate.

Drink your first cup of coffee in the cool darkness of your patio or porch.

Take a twilight boat ride.

Go enjoy a well-lit bar.

Cook early. That way dishes are mostly done by the time your body and mind begin to shut down.

Take a walk around your neighborhood and peer in your neighbor’s windows.

Turn on every lamp in the house and then go outside to see how pretty your house looks from the outside looking in.

Play Hide-and-Go Seek.

Give everyone in the family flashlights and play a game in the yard.

Deal with it. You’re an adult, and it’s fall.

(I know, I’m petulant child when it comes to humidity. Listen, one of us has to be the adult here, and it ain’t gonna be me…)

And remember: in a few weeks, you’ll be able to walk around looking at Christmas lights.

Date Day

Not being a night person, I always liked day dates. Less pressure. Here are some fun day dates for you and your sweetie.

Weekend brunch. I’m partial to Cafe La Maude in Philly. I mean, Apple Pie Banana Pancakes? Steak Shawarma? Brisket Huevos Rancheros? Egads. Don’t forget the mimosas.

A City-Walking Tour. How about Savannah? The Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil Walking Tour is super fun, and don’t be fooled- the “midnight” refers to the book, not to the time of the tour. Savannah also has the best haunted house tours in the country, so visit and indulge.

Coffee Date. Coffee shops and bookstores are my favorite places in the world. Barnes and Noble will do very nicely, and again, if you want to take the drive to Philly, the Barnes and Noble right across from Rittenhouse Square is always bustling with people and activity, and great restaurants are a stone’s throw away. Rittenhouse Square has all of the puzzle pieces of a great date day.

Cooking Class. Take your sweetie to learn how to cook Italian, seafood or vegetarian. USA Today and NBC rate Cozy Meal very highly, and again, right in Philly. Or how about Stir, Colorado? Denver’s Stir keeps the pots hot with classes that include pies and tarts. Some of the class offerings include “Five Classic Desserts Every Cook Should Know,” “Valentine’s Day Chocolate Workshop,” “High-Altitude Baked Goods,” and date night classes.

Art Gallery Visit. We are so lucky to live so close to fabulous museums in Philadelphia and New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Museums of Natural History. So much to see, so little time.

Pumpkin Patches. Here is a slide show of the best pumpkin patches in the country. The closest to where I am, in the Northeast, is Linvilla Orchards in Media, Pennsylvania. Take a harvest hayride throughout the spacious farm or try out a holiday-themed hayride to the witch’s house. Boredom isn’t an option here – there’s plenty of other attractions to keep you on your toes, ranging from agricultural classes to fishing to indoor mini golf.

Stand-Up Comedy Show. Ok, so these are usually at night, but here are some Atlantic City venues coming. I once saw Chelsea Handler in Atlantic City, and it was the worst show I ever attended. We spent a fortune on the tickets, and it was only about 38 minutes of Handler talking about her vagina and laughing at her own lame jokes. I can’t believe she’s still touring.

Wine Tasting. Wineries in south Jersey: Tomasello. Renault. Balic. Cape May. Sharrott. Take advantage of our local jewels. Who needs Napa?

Outdoor Concerts. How about the Ukranian Folk Festival in Horsham? Sounds fun! A dazzling array of Ukrainian music, song, dance, food and desserts. Enjoy a vibrant outdoor concert (1:30 – 4:30 pm), social dancing (4:30 – 8:00 pm), Ukrainian kitchen, arts, crafts and vendors’ market, BBQ, refreshments, and adult beverages.

Miniature Golf. There are still some open throughout our area. Look them up yourselves, do I have to plan every detail? Sheesh!

Have a blast!