The Name Says It All

gate f8 philadelphia international airport-- Are airports like Disneyland, full of secret clubs and backstage doors for those in the know? Methinks yes. Readying for my on-time connection to Ithaca from Philly last night, I glanced up from my usual preflight routine of jamming one... more... item into my bulging carry-on and spied the door to an important office:

Piedmont Airlines, Inc.
Chief Pilot's Office
Doug Jett

Gate F8? F8. Fate. Doug was destined for the skies.

Howdy, Neighbor!

trumansburg-- The other day, we were loitering near the counter of the Kinney Drug, shopping for something "holiday"-- Chapstick?-- and overheard the person in front of us chatting with the checker about how she baked 61 dozen cookies this year.

"61 DOZEN?!" we exclaimed.

"Yes," was the answer, "because I'm from Lodi, where all the crazy people live."

Back to the Drawing Board

nearby-- One of us occasionally daydreams about how great it would be to open a breakfast place in our village and name it after our superstar chicken. In fact, this one of us was just revisiting the dream this morning. The other of us, having worked in the restaurant industry, nods patiently and moves on. Today, we discovered this daydream can be put to rest.

Mom & Pop's Secret Recipe (name changed to protect our lives) has relocated from a village to the east to a village to the north. We made a visit after stopping at the one-room library for books and making it through the holiday rush (1 person ahead of us) at the local post office.

Counter with fun stools for twirling: Check.
Local art: Check.
Local color: Check.
Colorful locals: Check.

Five framed pastel drawings lined the wall behind the counter, gallery-style. A curatorial sort might say they were fine examples of "outsider," "primitive," or "American folk art." Me, I'll just say: thumbs up for the owls. The depiction of the Seneca white deer was a little spooky, but that just comes with the territory for an inbred species living on a genetic island. Another person might not have chosen to hang a pastel drawing of a fox clutching a dead hawk by its broken neck, but hey, it's Mom and Pop's place-- not yours or mine.

One of us read about the war in Afghanistan while the other of us edified herself by leafing through a back copy of "Real Simple" magazine (yes) borrowed from the library. One's sandwich was egg salad, the other's a perfectly grilled cheese with tomato.

Seen the documentary "My Brother's Keeper"? It's a creepy, crumbly true story of backwoods bachelor brothers from another era. A doppelganger to one of the brothers shambled in just as the chocolate milk arrived. A cold gust of wind from the open door blew his beard over his shoulder.

Upon bill paying, one of us had this exchange with Pop:
One of us: "We just found out you opened here after you closed in your old spot! Nice to see you've reopened!"
Pop: "Yep."
One of us: "Thanks for a great lunch, we really enjoyed it."
Pop: "Bye."

Yessir, we want to be your customers. We'd love to give you money. Thanks for chatting with us! Thanks, too, for crossing this daydream off the To Do list.

A Wee Highland Coe!

Drive-by Philosophy

in and around ithaca--

Run out of thoughts to ponder? Ithaca's bumpers are here to help.

The mind blowing:
Reality: It's Not What You Think

No, really, you're BLOWING my mind!
Don't Believe What You Think

Concerned about the right things:
Keep Tahoe Blue (this wasn't even us!)

Winner of the Caywood "Killing 'Em with Kindness/You Can't Get Drag Me Down/Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em" Award:
I Heart Haters

Sew Exciting

caywood- My parents, in their infinite thoughtfulness and with characteristic encouragement of my hobbies and interests, gave me a sewing machine for my birthday! Yay for turning 40!

Allegra, beloved friend, sewing expert, and recent Caywood visitor, provided the project management expertise and oversight needed to help me complete my first project on my cute, pink-and-white machine: curtains for the cabinets in the kitchen.

Allegra did all the hard stuff-- measuring, matching the patterns to each other, ironing, pinning, figuring out how the automatic needle threader works, advising the novice sewer...





... while I pretty much just focused on pushing down the foot pedal and not running over my fingers. I'd post more pictures here, but am experiencing Shutterfly download/upload fatigue.

Mom and Dad, I hereby dedicate these curtains to you!

Aurora vs. Luna

I went out to gather the eggs in the morning as usual.

Aurora, awesome as ever.

But what happened here? It doesn't even tip the scale. Someone's shirking coop duties. That, or impersonating a quail.

In an Aurora vs. Luna smackdown, it's Aurora, every time.

Good Luck to a New Favorite

rochester--

www.restaurantgoodluck.com/

We loved this place, our cocktails, the balsamic roasted figs and fennel sausage, housemade fettuccine, blueberry star anise ice cream... but mostly we want to move in, since the aesthetic is exactly what we dream about for Caywood Station.


Fellow Upstaters, when you find yourself in the place known as the Flower City--and alternately known as Flour City, Rachacha, and Rochiggity, according to a source>-- don't miss Good Luck!

Stick It To Me!

caywood --
And now we bring you A Day Inside the Mind of Seneca:

Wake.
Pee.
Eat.
Stick.
Stick.
Stick.
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
stickstickstickstickstickstick
Eat.
Pee.
Sleep.

How Bella Got Her Groove Back

caywood-- As you may remember, boredom and ennui marked Bella's days since her return from resort living at the Inn and Spa at Pennsylvania Furnace. She pretty much thought good times were a thing of the past and that she was condemned to live out the remainder of her days in A/C-less, baconless discomfort. But life holds many twists and turns! One day you're waiting til sundown so you can scratch another tally mark on the wall of your prison cell, and the next-- kaboom!-- you're suddenly reconnecting with life's meaning. One never knows when a strapping young gentleman might enter the picture and liven things up for an elderly lady. Say, an ambitious border collie with a sweet eyes and a fetching aspect. Say, Seneca.

When Seneca's on the scene, Bella is one peppy puppy. No, she herself doesn't fetch sticks or chase a ball. But, she does enjoy sitting and watching Seneca do that. When Seneca's around, Bella remembers, "Hey, roll-arounds are fun. I think I'll have a roll-around." She smiles, and rolls around, scratching her back on the grass and sneezing happily. She also comes on all walks involving Seneca. Even very long walks. Even walks all the way to the lake and back. Seneca is the secret ingredient that magically turns a death march into a pleasurable stroll.

No matter what we are doing, Bella is more engaged and interested if Seneca is nearby. She has a spring in her step and a sparkle in her big brown eyes. We are not talking about a May-December romance, so please get your minds out of the gutter. Seneca is not Bella's beau. Theirs is a relationship that almost defies classification. They don't cavort around together, nor do they share many of the same interests, which makes it hard to call them "friends" or even "colleagues". As Karen has observed-- in a nod to her days GRE test-prep tutor-- "Garbage is the Bella as stick is to Seneca." Seneca is deferential and seems to understand Bella's approach to life is much more sedate than his own. Karen has also noted, "Bella acts around Seneca how I do around Jasper. It's almost like she can't stop saying 'That kid is just so dang cute!'"

So, you see, it's really more of a foster grandmother relationship Bella has with Seneca. She loves Seneca's cute exuberance and his playful approach to life. He helps her get in touch with all the things there are to enjoy about the here and now. And, she knows she can eventually give him back.

Not that Karen is a foster grandmother to Jasper. That's more of funny-friend-lady-and-co-aficionado-of-tractors-who-used-to-live-next-door-and-wishes-she-still-did-live-next-door-and-is-a-great-playmate kind of relationship. Also hard to classify.

Welcome, Allegra!

caywood-- We are filled with excitement and joy because our friend, Allegra, is visiting! Background: Allegra and Anisa met during their salad days in college, when their dorm rooms were within shouting distance across the hallway. These were the days when dorm phone calls were made in phone booths (where irritating people with no respect for the environment would leave on the phone booth's light after leaving the booth. Why? Can you tell me that? Do they only think of theselves?), Wifi was but a glimmer in your father's eye, and meals were had in the regular ol' campus dining hall.

How things have changed.

But what hasn't changed is Allegra's complete and total kick-ass awesomeness as a friend. We love Aleegra and are so excited she is here. O Allegra, you complete us.

Also visiting: A new friend! Seneca, the friendly and supersmart border collie from down the road. Seneca is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in thermodynamics, and in his spare time constructs challenging puzzles for keeping the human mind sharp. Cuddling and loveable, Seneca also shows amazing emotional intelligence. He shows respect for his elders (Bella) and for those of other species (Ruby). Yay, Seneca!

Notice to all other friends: Come visit Caywood before our special guests leave! You are most welcome to join the fun.

Wisteria & Friends

caywood-- Walked out the front door this morning and-- surprise!-- the wisteria was blooming! Thanks, Jay, for planting it! It is delightful!

Other new bloomers in the garden include:
-- Sweet peas. At last! I thought you guys were supposed to be partial to a our cool English springtime, not our hot steamy summer? Guess I'm wrong!
-- Foxglove. Ditto the above.
-- Gladiola. First one. Yay!

These signs of life are most welcome after a period of neglect (high weeds), followed by a period of guilt-driven and overzealous weeding (yanking everything). We're still learning!

Notice: You have been pre-approved as the lucky recipient of some yellow squash. If we discover you are traveling within a 50-mile radius of Caywood, we are locking you in to the contract, er, prize package.

Rural Cocktail Report

between here and there—Faithful friends know we keep vigil over the reader board at Rascal’s, a local watering hole, because the weekly special and the weekend entertainment listings often combine to read as a one item from a gruesome menu. Such felicitous pairings have teamed to create “Stroganoff Cats” and “Pork Chops Phizz.”

After three years of knowing Rascal’s only as a nodding acquaintance at 55 (okay, 65) mph, we were given occasion to understand our neighbor better: Our pal Nhu orchestrated a rural (dive) bar crawl, and put Rascal’s at the top of her list. Here’s the short report on last weekend’s fun.

Rascal’s: What’s not to love in a place that has a bar carpeted with a carpet whose shag is at least 2 inches long, and whose color is sort of Hawaiian-Punch-meets-fiberglass-insulation-and-is-left-to-fade-in-the-sun-for a-few-weeks?

Rascal’s also had the following going for it
--The bar maid was super nice (“Thanks for stopping in, now,” as we left)
--The French fries (two kinds! a packaged chip alternative a bit like a potato-y Cheeto without the cheese dust, and the “authentic” hot, fried, potato kind) were delicious
--The metal music was loud
--White table cloths in the music/restaurant/lounge area
--Summer salad bar!

Not going for it
--Bunker-like atmosphere of the entry way pervades the establishment
--Hostile stares from the regulars
--Someone not happy about “their” stool being occupied by one of us, probably me

All in all, Nhu and I agreed we’d definitely go to Rascal’s again, which caused Kit and Karen to cringe in confusion and horror. Perhaps differing opinions of the place resulted from the fact that Nhu and I were sitting at the corner of the bar and were thus shielded from some of the stare-downs that K and K had to endure. Or, maybe it’s just because we love French fries and salad bars THAT much.

Next stop was the new (opened during our tenure at Caywood, and thus is nothing but an upstart) miniature golf place in Tburg. Now no one was less enthused about this place than me when it first opened-- shameful greenfield development! Light pollution! Sprawl!—but now I’m a total convert! I loved the landscaping choices, was challenged by the difficulty of the course, and loved the nets they provided for fishing one’s errant golf ball from the ponds and fountains. The soundtrack was somehow bearable for its appropriateness to the setting--Casey Kasem's Top 100 Countdown of the Best Songs of All Time-- and our enjoyment of it was enhanced by Kit's sharing of this gem. Liz and Pete had joined us here on bicycle and a merry putting party we made, delaying many a putter behind us. Can we help it if we arrived at precisely the right time, when there was but one other party on the green? We also finished just in the nick of time, as lightning was forking from the sky and the heavens opened. No alcohol served here so we pushed on to Barangus.

I’ve been admiring Barangus ever since we moved here. If not for the bull on the roof then for the lovely job they did painting the place a while back—cobalt blue with orange pinstripes. We steeled ourselves for once again being viewed as outcasts and burst on in.

Going for it
--Horseshoe bar
--Handsome varnished wood tables and stools
--Many a mixed metaphor dart game
--All-Star Family Band (not a permanent fixture)
--Friendly drunk person (possibly a permanent fixture)
--Tab: $18 for 6 people including one mixed drink—WHAT?!

Not going for it
--No shag carpet along the bar
--Only liquid nourishment

All agreed that Barangus definitely rates a return visit. However, I will not let my guard down. While we could always be assured of a hostile reception (except for the super nice bar maid) at Rascal’s, Barangus could be lulling us into a feeling of welcome that is conditional... contingent on the All-Star Family Band being there, or the drunk lady at the bar. I like to know what I’m getting into. Racal’s is a known quantity, while Barangus keeps a person guessing.

Best not to sit with your back to the door.

Biscuit v. Bacon

caywood-- Bella saw me fumbling around with a chicken carcass in the kitchen the other day, and came over to be ready in case I dropped it on the floor.

Given that a) the carcass was a key component of this week's meal plan, b) I wasn't being successful extracting any leftover meat from the bone, and c) chicken bones are BAD for dogs, there was no chicken-flavored treat in the stars for Bella. A doggy biscuit was offered in consolation. She took it politely, then set it on the floor and laid down about 6 feet away from it. You don't have to be an animal communicator to know she was thinking, "If I were at Grandma and Pap Pap's house, I'd be chewing on a piece of bacon right now."

The biscuit stayed there the rest of the afternoon.

Old Dog Learns New Trick

Caywood-- Bella has just returned from an extended vacation with her grandparents in Pennsylvania where, in addition to non-stop love, attention, and positive reinforcement, she was treated to A/C, numerous opportunities to pursue her third favorite hobby (following the riding mower), visits from all her friends and extended family, and bedtime stories every night.

Is it any wonder she’s been laying around on the plank floor (cooler there) sighing heavily since her return?

No, because grandparents are a hard act to follow.

In an effort to lift the spirits of our bored brown-eyed friend-- and provide a measure of entertainment for both of us-- I invited Bella along on the short jaunt over to Wagner Vineyards to fetch a bottle of Reserve Red for dinner. Soon we were meandering down the tree-lined lane, admiring the shade the mature leaves and vines of summer provide. Or, one of us admired. One of us was just hot, thank you very much. Bella’s pace is always sedate, but we were not even at the farmer’s house before she lagged 25 yards behind. My cheerful chattering elicited not a single wag. Stumbling upon a staff meeting of the Caywood Area Rabbit Retinue’s Organizing Team (CARR-OT) did nothing to perk Bella up-- bunnies previously converged in the middle of the lane scattered right and left without a notice from our hangdog hound. Only then did I remember that Bella had taken a mile-long walk this morning with Karen. How many miles does your average 12 year old dog usually walk each day?

I vowed that if the farmer was in his field when we got there, I would ask if Bella could stay with him while I ran my errand. However, the farm machines were still when we got there and no one was about. Onward Bella trudged.

We reached the halfway mark as we turned onto the dirt road leading to Wagner’s. Here, Bella started her patented serpentine maneuver (usually reserved for climbing the steep Amish stairway) on the extremely gentle slope through the vineyard, and I knew I needed to take action. There was one spot of shade ahead, near the ditch and but a few hundred yards from the winery. I tied her to a tree, encouraged her to rest in the cool grass, and reassured her several times before I trotted off to make my purchase.

Ten minutes later, I was bounding back down the road. But wait, isn’t this the spot I tied Bella? Bella! Be-lllllllllllllllllllllla! BELLA? Where was she? Had she headed toward the cool water in the ditch and hung herself? My poor old puppy! Why had I taken her on this death march? I crashed through the brush following the line… and came up empty-handed.

She’d managed to sever the supposedly-reinforced nylon of the leash.

After more calling and more exploration of the poison-ivy filled reaches of the ditch, after heading home because I decided she’d go that way but then doubting myself and doubling back, I saw a dot growing on the rise of the road. Make that two dots. Someone walking a dog? Is it? Could it be? I could make out a taaaaaan looking dog. Yes, definitely tan. On a short leash. And are those white mittens? Yes, the dog’s paws were definitely white. Yes! That was her!

Phil, Bella’s rescuer, handed her off at me saying she had been found wandering around at the (wait for it) Ginny Lee restaurant. Undoubtedly pursuing her first-and second-favorite hobbies: scavenging for food and garbage.

Who knows how she managed to escape her not-at-all-worn-out superstrong leash so quickly? Bella alone knows the answer to that. Yeah, baby. She's still got a trick or two tucked in those mittens of hers. Now who you callin' old?

California Knows How to Party

Silverlake-- That's right.

Overheard, Silverlake, Sunday, 8am

from our l.a. vacation file-- male voice, coming from front yard porch: but the thing is, when one person is a carnivore and one person is a vegetarian, it's like, total bullshit...

Blogworthy But Bereft

out & about-- Faithful readers may have noticed a digital darkness between Feb. 24 and today. Lots of things have been catching our eye lately as meriting entry on Caywood Days. However, our camera is having identity issues (can't remember what its life's purpose is, feeling lackluster and sapped of energy, can't muster up a low light flash) which means we have no visual record of our travels and travails. Sure, other bloggers are creative enough to draw you in with nothing but words, but that ain't never been us, yo.

That said, we are buoyed by today's sunny brilliance. Okay! Yes! We ARE going to try something new. Or rather, old. Olde. Nothin' but typeface comin' at ya...

NOW DELI.V.ERING at Rascal's:
Corned Beef Silverado
(See? You really need that reader board for this to be meaningful.)

Recently, in the Pennysaver:
"Community Voice" has been DEMOTED to a tiny box! What?! Rumor has it things are about to get worse: Pennysaver is discontinuing it the feature due to "lack of participation." Excuse us, Pennysaver-- have you read your own column? Nothing gets more play that that! The Owego Volunteer Fire Department alone could fill volumes. We suspect a vast socialist big-government homosexual agenda item aimed at silencing our Voices. The Town Board of Owego is probably behind it all-- everyone knows they are drunk with power. Community Voice is a special part of my day that I look forward to and now everything SUCKS.

Yesterday, overhead:
Snow geese! Flying over! Lots of "V"s in the sky! The are gorgeous. Neighbor says: "You know, you're allowed to shoot up to 15 a day." File under Thanks for the 411.

Yesterday, underfoot:
First snow drops blooming! My heart filled with joy.

Glad you couldn't see me...
..chasing after the chickens in Freda's yard yesterday. The two smart ones (Aurora and her protegee) let me catch them. Now, normally, I don't like to disparage the intelligence of our fowlish friends. However, here I must: I am going to call them super stupid. And yet, they managed to outfox me. I'd run after them and two would fade left while the other reversed. They are very good at getting away from their human protector. Too bad they are not so good at getting away from lurking predators. Come on! Work with me, peeps!

Have you been following Constance on Facebook?
She is so sweet, mature, with-it, and together I could CRY! She's a real grown-up. Why won't they let her go to prom with her girlfriend? Answer: They are haters. I could say more, much, much more, but Constance has urged us to be respectful and I fear I have already failed. I'm incapable of getting this link to work, so you must now cut-and-paste. Like I said: Olde.
http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2010/03/16/constance-mcmillen-is-back-in-fulton-mississippi-is-super-grateful-for-your-support-and-wants-you-to-be-nice

Okay, we are tired of being your eyes for you. Laura never complained about being Mary's eyes, but I think I gotta lay down on the couch now.

Sunday

caywood station --
Phoebe enjoys a sliver of winter sunshine.

In the Dictionary Under "Badass"

death valley-- ...you'll find this picture, of course.

That's right y'all, Nhu and K-Dog made that marathon scared they are so bad!

Next up on the List of Badassedness: The Cayuga Lake Triathlon.

A Bummer of a Newsflash

the caywood newsdesk-- Bluebird, why hath thou forsaken us?

According to data from the Centers for Disease Control's Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System, New York ranks 51st on a state-by-state list of happiness. Does this mean our unhappiness goes to 11? Possibly. But it also means D.C. was included on the list, which they should be happy about, since the researchers evidently decided that taxation merits representation.

We're almost as unhappy to report that California ranks 46th on the list. I guess Empire and Golden-ness can't buy happiness after all. No, for that, you need a pelican.

To see where your favorite state lands, go here.

Community Voice: Battlestar Galactica

caywood--

From the Feb. 13, 2010 edition.

***

"A couple of us would like to know where we can learn how to line dance. We don't mean contra dancing like at Tioga Trails, we want line dancing."

Contra dancing is for sissies.

"I wonder who the person was that made the stupid comments about the battlestar galactica figurines and star wars trading cards. You mister are not funny at all. If you can't say anything constructive, then shut up!"

I knew Luke Skywalker. You, sir, are no Luke Skywalker.

"I want to comment on the suggestion by a pennysaver reader that the numbers be placed on top. I like where the numbers are right now because every time it says continue on page 9 or 10, you just look on the corner and it's right there. It makes it easy to find. Please keep the numbers the way they are."

The Pennysaver's pagination is a special part of my day that I look forward to! Don't move my cheese!

Exhibit B

caywood crime scene-- Let the record show that Exhibit B, a bag of salt-water taffy, was found torn open on the bed of one Bella T. Beagle, resident of Caywood Station. Said bag of taffy was last seen in tact on a high kitchen counter. Ms. Beagle's advanced age, timid manner, and arthritic condition provide her an easy alibi. Though she has been placed in the vicinity of the crime by eye witnesses, she is physically and tempermentally unable to climb upon the counter herself.

The prosecution contends that Ms. Beagle's well-known and voracious appetite for comestibles of even the most questionable origin motivated her to seek an accomplice in one Ms. Phoebe M. Feline, also of Caywood Station, a semi-professional provocateur often seen preening on said counter.

Exhibit A

caywood-- And isn't it true, Ms. Feline-- may we call you Phoebe?-- that you occasionally take time out from your busy schedule of hissing and clawing to chillax with your canine acquaintances?

Red Letter Days

caywood fire ring-- Four days of winter sun in one week? Meterologists project that the next year the Finger Lakes can expect a similar occurance is 2039*. Clearly, we needed to mark the occasion. A bonfire at sunset seemed the most appropriate celebration. It might please the sun gods. No photos available to post here. Sometimes you can't capture history. You just have to live it.


*not really

Fashion Week in Lodi

caywood station --