Captain's Log Blog

The wine connoisseur

I walked into in a liquor store yesterday to purchase a bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka. Behind the counter were a male and female store employee. Nice people. I have chatted with them on previous visits.

There was only one other shopper, a woman, at the time. The male employee had apparently just helped the woman pick out a bottle of wine. She was staring at the bottle about to pay for it.

"Well, how to I open it?" she asked.
"With a corkscrew," said the man.

"A corkscrew?" How do you open a bottle with a corkscrew?" she asked?

Oh my god - down the aisle I went to pick up my stuff.

When I returned, the two counter people were kind of talking sideways out of their mouths about the woman's inability to grasp the concept of a cork in a wine bottle that had to be removed with a corkscrew.

The woman shopper by now was wandering about the store in a daze, wine bottle in hand, obviously in a predicament about what to do.

"We do have wine bottles with screwcaps," yelled the man.

"Is the wine still about 5 dollars like this one.?

"Oh yes!" said the store attendant.

Well there you have it. A new criteria for selecting a bottle of wine -

"Screwcap or corkscrew, madam?"

Revealing My Real Age

A belated Happy New Year to everyone!

The 2006 Christmas Holiday Season has now settled in to the foggy part of my brain that stores memories. It had been a very busy season and is partly responsible for my lack of posts. Now with a fresh start in a new year, I've taken stock of what I plan to accomplish in 2007 and beyond.

I suppose most people don't bother with resolutions anymore. Let's face it. Resolutions last all of 5 days. So I decided to do better than make resolutions.

My first decision in the New Year is tell everyone my actual age. Friends and family know I have been 38 since I was 38. Well, that's not exactly true. I'm 30.

Now being 30, I plan to start living the second half of my life doing more of the things I dabbled in during the first half of my life.
• Get involved in a new business venture
• Creating more original art using mixed media particularly electronic
• Be more serious about my photography and film-making
• Spend more time in my '97 Mustang convertible
• Write a book (or at least some short stories)
• Make wine again
• Go to the Little League World Series
• Stay up later than 9:00 and watch movies
• Build an HO train layout

I hope you get the picture. And always remember,
Age is only a state of mind.

Have a Wonderful Year!

Captain Joe Dat

Makes Sense to Me

"There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know I am mad" - Salvador Dalí
I understand him. Do you?

I think I'll sail off the chart today.

Cap'n

Growing Up Italian American

My good friend "Irish" emailed me a cultural piece about growing up Italian in America. Our email group were the babyboomers who grew up in the late forties and 50s. We're Italian, Irish, Polish, etc). Most of us are seconnd generation. All the grandparents and some parents came over on the "boat".

After I read this piece, all the Italians related to just about every bit of it. Our experiences growing up Italian were so similar you would think we all belonged to the same family. Here's some of the nostalgia from the email. More posts to follow sporadically.

Sunday Dinner for Italians
Italians have a $40,000. Kitchen, but use the old gas stove in the basement to cook.
There is a religious statue somewhere; in the hallway, living room, bedroom, front porch or backyard.
There's a bowl in the living room that's filled with old wedding favors; stale white almonds wrapped in a white net tied with a white bow (they are too pretty to open).
A portrait of the Pope and Frank Sinatra hangs somewhere in the house.
God forbid if anyone EVER attempted to eat Chef Boy-are-Dee, Franco American, Ragu, Prego or anything else in a jar or can (tomato paste is the exception).
Meatballs are HUGE made with Pork, Veal and Beef. Italians don't care about cholesterol.
Turkey is served on Thanksgiving, AFTER the manicotti, gnocchi, lasagna and soup.
ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP is not served only at weddings.
You came home from church, stuck a chunk of Italian bread in the GRAVY pot and snuck out a fried meatball. It's not red sauce, it's red gravy.)

Sunday dinner started at 1:00 and ended around six. The meal went like this...
Homemade wine and bottles of coke are on the table.
First course, Antipasto-change plates. Next, Macaroni (All pasta is called Macaroni)...change plates.
After that, roasted meats, roasted potatoes, overcooked vegetables... change plates.
THEN and only then (NEVER AT THE BEGINNING OF THE MEAL) would you eat the salad (HOMEMADE OIL & VINEGAR DRESSING ONLY)...change plates.
Next, Fruit & Nuts - in the shell.
Espresso with Anisette and hard Cookies (Biscotti) to dip in the coffee.
The kids go play...the men go fall asleep in the living room. They slept so soundly you could perform brain surgery on them without anaesthesia..the women clean the kitchen.

The true Italians will love this and those of you who are married to Italians will understand this.

But go to this link. It's incredible, but not surprising, of another Italian posting his memories which are so much alike to mine. Link: The Joy of Growing Up Italian American.

Regards and have a great day.
Cap'n

My oldest friend from grammar school days (we've know each other for over 50 years) emailed me an interesting site to visit. It is reminiscent of our days spent growing up as kids. I think all the first generation of babyboomers will appreciate it (it takes a few moments to load). It offers the younger generations a glimpse into the simple pleasures of Dad's childhood.
http://home.hiwaay.net/~singer/Fifties.htm

Photo: copyright ron napolitano- www.threeflavours.ca

Regards and go catch some fireflies,
Capn

We Shall Remember

Not than anyone needs to be reminded because we will never forget.

Here's a link to a short program appropriately narrated by John Wayne.
http://sagebrushpatriot.com/america.htm

Regards and keep safe
Capn

Remembering Jimmy D

Let's take some time to remember the gallant Deputy Chief Jimmy D"Heron who tragically died in a fire two years ago this week.

Fron the Jimmy D Foundation website.
It was two years ago on September 3, 2004 that The Redhead's brother, Deputy Chief James D'heron and members of the NB Fire Dept were dispatched to a fire in a multiple-family residence.

DC D'heron arrived first, reported a working fire, and took command. Not seeing any occupants outside or leaving the structure, he entered the structure to alert residents of the fire. DC D'heron was not wearing any personal protective clothing or equipment. DC D'heron was banging on doors to alert the residents of the fire when an explosion occurred. You can read the rest on the website.

Link: James D'heron Memorial Foundation.

Jimmy's son Mick is now a firefighter following in his dad's career.

Link: UPHOLDING FAMILY TRADITION
| Home News Tribune Online.

In the Photo
Jimmy flanked by brothers Joe left and Billy on the right.

The Capn

Good Morning Papa Joe!

What Grandpa wouldn't want to see his beautiful granddaughter's smile every morning? What a way to start the day.Thanks to web cameras, I have been able to visit Natalie Gabrielle just about every morning and afternoon - even though she lives three hours away in Massachusetts.

Please excuse the low resolution of the photos; they are screen captures. Regardless of the resolution, She's beautiful. Natalie throws me kisses (upper right), reads from her books to me, and even offers to share her cheerios with me by holding them up to the screen.

On Saturday, I watched- as she walked unassisted for the first time around the room.

Well, this week Mommy Kristen went back to teaching and Daddy Dan drops Natalie off at "baby school."
So if I'm grumpier than usual in the mornings, it's because I have to wait until late afternoon to see Natalie Gabrielle.

Regards and have a great day

Capn

The "DOs""

Ah, yes -the hairdos. Back in the "Day" when the "girl-next-door" (Yeah, right) appeared in Playboy, the bodies were real. Today they're nothing more than plastic. Plastic Woman! Hey - could be a new Super Heroine cartoon series. Let's see, what could she do with her supernatural plastic breasts to save the world? Hmmmm.

Now I realize how true was the advice given in 1967 to Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate.

Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Plastics.

Seems the models of today took his advice to heart, or over heart.

They may look odd now, but at least they were as real as the rest of a woman ... Bring back the "Dos"!

Regards and have a great day.

Capn

Bagel Lady

I don't drink coffee every morning. Nor do I have a craving for a bagel everyday. But a few days ago I needed a Cuppa Joe and some real "fat" food for breakfast. I woke up really hungry. So I got in the car and head for my favorite bagel shop a half mile down the road.

It's early. Somewhere between 6 and 6:30. You can always count on the bagel man to be open because he's got to make the bagels. No long lines at that hour.

Well, this morning it was me and the"Bagel Lady". She's ordering a dozen bagels.
"I'll take a plain." Long pause as she ponders her next choice.
"One sesame." Another very long pause as she surveys the variety from which to select.
"One poppy." The pauses are getting longer.
"How many is that?" "Three." says the counter girl "Nine to go."

For literally 5 minutes, Bagel Lady chooses one bagel at a time. She ends up with one of each.
LADY, WHY DIDN'T YOOU JUST SAY ONE OF EACH FROM THE START!

Then the counter girl says "You get one free bagel with a dozen."

I cringe. I want my coffee and egg sandwich NOW. After a long pause Bagel Lady chooses another plain.

Finally!"

"That will be Nine dollars and forty-three cents," says counter girl.

I cringe again, OH NO! The becursed 43 cents! Bagel Lady hands counter girl a ten.
"Oh wait. I have the 43 cents." Bagel Lady fumbles through her change purse forever counting out forty cents. "I know I have 3 pennies in here somewhere" as she digs into the bottomless pit of her gigantic handbag, finally finding the last three cents.

By now we have a line of 6 people waiting to be served. We're all rolling our eyes at one another.

What is it with women and exact change? It's always exactly at the bottom of their bags. Put your loose change in a piggy bank for your grandchildren the way men do. And don't anyone write and tell me I'm a sexist. Burying Exact change at the bottom of your handbags is in a woman's genes.

Regards and have a great day

Capn