The older I grow, the more I know how short life is. It’s going to sound silly but no one in my life illustrates this point to me more than Jeter. At a mere 18 months, he has probably already lived more than 15 percent of his life, a realization that makes me want to give him the happiest life ever. Two weeks at the beach are bound to earn me quite a bit of credit, don’t you think?
This is his first vacation and I had some trepidation about his behavior, imagining him knocking the not-quite-three-year-old down the stairs with his exuberance and gnawing on various objects made of wood around the house. I wasn’t sure if he would go crazy when we left him alone and bark or misbehave. To transition him, I brought a couple of roasted marrow bones (long, not round!), his toys and his bowls from home.
Other than an incident with an abandoned bag of Smart Food, he has been stellar. We start our day with a walk and breakfast followed by a longer walk and a swim. He naps on the deck where he has his choice of sun, shade or tabletop and has been lovely with all of the kids. There have been other dogs to play with on the beach and he loves swimming in the bay and playing monkey in the middle whenever there’s a game of catch in which he can insert himself.
Jeter has tried to come paddle boarding with me but refuses to commit to sitting on the board, preferring to leap off and climb back on repeatedly. He also enjoys high tide bridge jumping impressing everyone with his fearless enthusiasm to be near his people in the water. All of his time spent in the water necessitates a post-swim shower and I’ve been getting Jeter accustomed to a quick rinse in the outdoor shower. It’s growing on him.
Our first evening here I picked three ticks off of Jeter, (although I think I may have picked the same one off twice) and the green head flies feasted on him prior to the full moon high tide, drawing blood on more than one occasion. Despite these aggressive parasites, I’m pretty sure Jeter would happily revisit the beach every year of his life and I’d love to be able to make that happen for him. It’s definitely a dog’s life.
To be more specific, my brother and I bought THE Wine Bar & Bistro on Lark. Last week. Now, you should know that this all happened very, very fast. That is, if you take away all the years I’ve worked in the business (30+), including the last 4 1/2, for which I’ve worked at this very place. An opportunity presented and with the assistance of true, but pithy phrases such as “Do what you love” and “It’s perfect for you” I made a leap out of my comfort zone.
It’s kind of scary, but more exhilarating and exciting. I know that I am going to be working very long days, but it isn’t 7 days a week and I’m healthy and strong. I estimate that I’ll be working 60 hours a week or so, but you know what? There are 168 hours in a week which still leaves me plenty of time for sleeping and loved ones and running and reading.
I’m not particularly goal oriented, I haven’t been consciously working in the hospitality industry for decades as a means of stepping towards owning my own restaurant. I did it because I loved it. I don’t run 15 or 20 miles a week because I’m training for a marathon, I do it because I enjoy being outdoors and I appreciate my health. Because I am fairly fit and active, I can face 60 hour weeks with confidence. Maybe this venture is what I’ve been preparing myself for physically with runs and bike rides and yoga classes.
It’s going to work because I love the hospitality industry and it is the perfect venture for me.
In the early aughts,* we rented a house in South Chatham, MA, for 3 or 4 consecutive years. It was a simple Cape with a super comfortable vibe and, once I rolled up and stashed all of the potentially treacherous throw rugs which were scattered about, the perfect place to relax with young children.
There was a tiny TV room where we would gather to watch the Tour de France in the morning and various classic movies in the evening. One year, we caught a young Dustin Hoffman and the beautiful Anne Bancroft in Mike Nichols’ The Graduate. Now maybe this wasn’t quite the ideal “family” movie, but the Simon and Garfunkel tunes were catchy as hell and “Mrs. Robinson” became part of our family soundtrack. Our tradition every year since, as we approach the Bourne Bridge, is to open the sunroof and lower the windows and blast that song as we drive across the canal. It is our signal that vacation has begun.
Two weeks ago, my oldest son graduated from Albany High School. The ceremony was long, but lovely, and he beamed as he walked across the dais and accepted his diploma. Next month he heads to the University of Hartford to study international relations and political science, but before that he’ll be riding shotgun as we head east to the beach.
I’d like to think my son will return from college with more focus than Benjamin Braddock, but regardless, I’m more interested than concerned to see what he does next.
*I can’t believe I’m running “aughts!”
I had a pretty busy weekend. If you have any doubt of that, check out the timesunion.com homepage from earlier today.
In the upper left hand corner, there’s my Seen gallery from Friday night’s Dave Matthews Band show at SPAC. Hitting at least one show at Dave’s annual two night stop in Saratoga is a tradition for me and one which I’ve been sharing with my middle son for the past few years. A couple of days prior to the show, though, he told me he’d rather go to his uncle’s lake house to hang out with his cousins than go to SPAC. I couldn’t have been more proud of his choice. Those are good priorities.
So, off I went solo. I drove up early to avoid traffic and get my photos prior to going through the gate. For the first time ever, I rode my bike around the park snagging my pics and it was a blast. Full confession: I did not wear my helmet because I thought it would be too weird.
I did, however, use extreme caution and was never really on a road at all. 100+ photos later, extra ticket sold for slightly below face value, I made my way to my seat and got my DMB on. It wasn’t my favorite setlist ever, Bela Fleck or not, but I still had a good time.
Sunday I hopped back on my bike, avec helmet, and rode down to Wolff’s Biergarten to snap some Seen pics of the crowd gathered together to watch the women’s World Cup final.The Independence Day holiday weekend combined beautifully with our USA women’s team to create a festive sea of red, white and blue. The energy, as always, was contagious and the roars of the spectators were deafening with each of our team’s five goals. Phenomenal and worth waiting 16 years to see!
I took a bunch of pictures of small groups and pairs of friends. I also worked hard to get an exceptional shot of the crowd, stepping in to the position that TU photographer Michael P. Farrell had occupied during Wednesday’s semi-final game. It was a good vantage point and I got a picture that made it on to A1 of the Times Union’s print edition, which was a thrill almost equal to the first 15 minutes of that final match.
For the first time ever, the Seen gallery was accompanied by a brief video. At an event such as the World Cup final a 12 or 15 second video conveys what’s happening beyond the power of still photos.
I mean, if a picture tells a thousand words, a video tells a million. Be sure to click on the video for a dose of competitive patriotism at its finest.
Filed under Albany, biking, Boys, concerts, Events, family, favorites, Local, Music, road trips, Saratoga, SEEN, soccer, Summer
When was the last time you gave yourself permission to jump? Was it a long time ago? Do you remember that feeling of excitement mingled with fear? Did you wake up, in the morning as well as in the middle of the night, and immediately think about the opportunity which had seemingly fallen at your feet? And, did you finally make that leap because you knew that taking a risk was actually less risky than not, in terms of regret?
That’s where I am, people. I can’t divulge details or specifics, but I, along with the guy who has supported me my entire life (my brother), are putting together a business plan and hoping to turn what has always been a sweet dream into reality.
This is my 1,000th DelSo post. So much has changed in my life over the course of these one thousand blog posts, but I still remember the nervousness excitement I felt when I hit the Publish button for the very first time. Exhilarating!
I really do believe this blog milestone is the perfect precursor to what comes next. Stay tuned.
Last night my soccer playing middle son and I went down to Wolff’s Biergarten to take in the women’s World Cup semi-final game. It was a great match up – #1 ranked Germany vs #2 USA and we, along with the majority of those present, were thrilled when our women were victorious with a final score of 2-0.
The bar was packed and the roars of the crowd were deafening. It was fantastic. There were so many familiar faces and it took both hands to count the number of former students who were present. Time does move on, doesn’t it?
The last time our women’s team won the World Cup was 1999, the same year my middle son was born. I remember we were in Harwich Port, MA and had the game on the little television set which was in our bed and breakfast. My oldest son was two and was completely captivated by the post-game excitement emanating from that small TV perched atop the mini fridge. It was unforgettable.
If England beats Japan tonight, Sunday’s final, a USA v England match on Independence weekend promises to be epic. I hope to be with both of my big guys, Liam the Anglophile and Griffin the baby born in our last winning year, at the Biergarten. Maybe I’ll see you there!
Photos from last night’s match are here.
Back in May, I chaperoned a middle school field trip to Montreal. It was an exceedingly long day and somewhere around hour number 16 the acoustic Colin Hay version of Men at Work’s song “Overkill” got stuck in my brain. It seemed appropriate.
When I finally got home that night, close to midnight, the guy and I spent some time You-Tubing Colin Hay while sipping bourbons sours. As Saturday became Sunday, things began to improve and I finally felt removed from the smell of pre-teen feet, and the sound of pre-pubescent voices. I credit the guy, the music and the bourbon in fairly equal measures.
The very next week I saw that Colin Hay was coming to play in my very own pretty city. Unable to find anyone else willing or able to attend the show, I hesitated about buying a ticket solo until 97.7 WEXT offered some up with a pledge. I made a contribution and scored a single ticket – done.
In my heart, I was going with the express hope of hearing Colin sing “Overkill,” however I was a bit delayed in arriving at the show due to a different sort of overkill, namely of the wining and dining sort. You see, some friends and I met prior to the show to take advantage of both the pasta and wine specials offered at The Wine Bar and Bistro on Lark. And, we don’t like to do things halfway when it comes to terrific food and delicious wine…
So, I was about 15 minutes late in arriving at the show and, according to the ladies I spoke with later in the bathroom, Colin did “Overkill” prior to my arrival. Despite missing my one “must hear” song, I absolutely loved the show. Colin Hay is a very, very funny man and I spent as much time laughing at his banter as I did applauding his music. I was completely unfamiliar with every song he played but enjoyed each of them. I hadn’t been in the Swyer Theatre (the smaller of the two venues in The Egg) in a long time and had forgotten how good the sound is, so different from larger or outdoor venues.
Hay signed merch (there was a good assortment of cds, vinyl and such) and shook hands post-show and the line was impressively long. Maybe I’ll catch that song next time. It certainly wouldn’t be overkill to see Colin Hay again.