Dear New York Times

Dear New York Times,

I need to cancel my Sunday subscription.  I am sick and tired of opening the pages of your Arts & Leisure pages and finding scintillating, titillating, stimulating offerings. I turn the two dozen or so pages and find myself in a drool over the variety of offerings in your city.  Mind you: I am not a New Yorker, a former New Yorker, a former-New-Yorker/part-time-returnee, or a New Yorker-wannabe. It’s just that in browsing your pages, I realized that there are so many artists below the age of 50!  This has been a cruel and somewhat bubble-bursting epiphany.  It’s not fair.  I have begun to feel like I have entered Madame Tussaud’s and someone has locked the doors - like a sad horror flick. 

Take, for example, the most recent ad in my local newspaper (It doesn't matter if it really was the most recent or not; it appears there every year anyway) for the performing arts center in my small county in Florida*:

 

I’ve begun to think it’s a trick.  You know, these wax figures actually live underneath the stage and are brought up at least once a year for a dust off with accompanying music suitably filtered to squelch hearing aid feedback. 

C’mon, Performing Arts Center, even if your audience is touchingly a lot like those wax figures, we can still enjoy fresh fruit and young acts!

        * And don't you go saying it's a Florida thing because all these wax figures appear all around the country!

The Garage

C’mon people!  You know I am a walker.  If you leave your garage doors open, I am going to gawk.

So, there’s Mr. Organized: There are hooks and shelves for everything.  Bikes are hung neatly on the wall. Hoses wrapped tightly and slung over a holder, ready to squirt anything that comes along.   Pesticides and bags of potting soil are on the shelves.  Plastic containers, neatly labeled are stacked, hiding mysterious contents.   A tool box sits next to that waiting for anything at all to break down.  The floor is pristine.   Where do they put the cars?

Did you know your neighbor is a hoarder? 

No cars are parked inside.  They sit in the driveway, ousted by boxes piled from floor to ceiling with who knows what.  There are rows upon rows of open crates and I spy a stainless steel toaster, some old planters, crutches, board games no longer played, a stack of newspapers (okay, multiple stacks), a pile of magazines, an actual store’s worth of old paint cans, paint dripping down the sides – white, cream, tan, brown, brick, and peacock blue?  Was that a mistake or intentional?  Where did you use that color?  There may be a fridge back by the door, but I am not sure.  It could really be anything.  Along the side, there is a carefully carved out path – a fire exit?  An emergency out?  Do you know this number?  1- 800 - Got JUNK?  Yes, you!  I mean you - DIAL NOW.

How about the garage that has a woodcutter’s bench and tools all hung up on peg boards?  Wood chips are scattered everywhere.  There are a few chairs around the bench as if the family members come to watch a show. 

Every now and then I pass a very clean garage with a car inside that is covered.  Wow.  The car must be super special to be both inside a garage and covered.  I’m dying to sneak a peek.  What if I get caught?  Were they the ones with the big-bark dog?  I walk by, just a little faster.

January 10th, 2012

Breaking News!

After a whirlwind night on December 24th, Santa has apparently suffered a severe setback.

And my neighbors have still not found the time to help him!

The MOVIES

Let's banish all movies about dads coping with dead moms/wives.

     Did you see The Descendents?  They are going to give George Clooney an Oscar (probably) for playing George Clooney, who runs around the block in docksiders or flip flops at a very fast clip, with a very earnest look on his face when he learns his wife (who is in the hospital, dying) has cheated on him.  I do not think Clooney smiled more than twice in the film or hugged the actresses playing his daughters more than once. (But then, being the proverbial Hollywood smarmy bachelor, who has never wed or had kids, this was quite a stretch for Clooney anyway. Maybe that's why he is mentioned for an Oscar?)  His expressions varied from stone-faced to slight wince, which I think was meant to be a smile.

In We Bought a Zoo, Matt Damon, at least, has more experience with fatherhood, but this movie, too, was boring, predictable, and l-o-n-g. At least it seemed long.  It's mantra:"Save the Tiger and let him go only when you are ready to say good-bye!" At least, there is no buzz about any awards.

Did you see the latest Mission Impossible?  I call it a stunt-a-thon movie.  Except for that wonderful theme song, the classy TV show getting out of tight places and pulling off an impossible mission using brains and convincing deception within a very tight timeframe, with a few high-tech gadgets, has evolved into a Tom Cruise hero - who also runs at a very fast clip with that strange marching band gait of his - pulling off stupid stunts that defy suspension of disbelief.  His facial range of expressions, too, was no better than Clooney's.  But, oh, that theme song was so worth two and a half hours of stunt, stunt, stunt, plot point, stunt, stunt, stunt, ad nauseum.

And the coming attractions featured aging stars in action hero roles that brought laughs to the audience:  Bruce Willis, for heaven's sake?  And Liam Neeson?  C'mon, Hollywood, let's get some guys who could actually be believable in these unbelievable roles.

Attention all you late 40-ish-50-something actors still vying to be your late 1970s, 1980s, or 1990s-something selves - it's over, pack it up, move on! Please... 



Cheese

I checked in on Sunday with my sister about her New Year's Eve Menu and she told me she had three of the most delicious cheeses ever.  She had spoken with the cheese sommelier at Wholefoods and took his recommendation.   But sommelier wasn't quite the right word and we struggled to come up with a word for a cheese expert.  Cheese head didn't do it because:

Enough said about Cheese heads.

Posts on Chowhound.com suggested: "affineur," "fromager," "Maitre Fromager,"   Really?

I think it's quite simple:  Cheese Whiz!! 

And I never did find out the names of those three cheeses because we laughed so hard.

Happy New Year, y'all