Captain's Log Blog

Cool Mustang Boards

##I came across these billboards on the web. I being an owner of a 97 Black Mustang GT with 4 on the floor really appreciated them even more.

The billboards are made of an acrylic that blurrs what's behind it.

Capn

Don't wake the Captain

Over the years I have been accused of "napping" during parties, when company visited us and so on. I emphatically state that this has not been the case.

Spectacular photo

Comet Between Fireworks and Lightning
Credit & Copyright: Antti Kemppainen
Explanation: Sometimes the sky itself is the best show in town. On January 26, people from Perth, Australia gathered on a local beach to watch a sky light up with delights near and far. Nearby, fireworks exploded as part of Australia Day celebrations. On the far right, lightning from a thunderstorm flashed in the distance. Near the image center, though, seen through clouds, was the most unusual sight of all: Comet McNaught. The photogenic comet was so bright that it even remained visible though the din of Earthly flashes. Comet McNaught continues to move out from the Sun and dim, but should remain visible in southern skies with binoculars through the end of this month. The above image is actually a three photograph panorama digitally processed to reduce red reflections from the exploding firework.

The Party that's Older Than Dirt

Superbowl Sunday has evolved into a day of tradition for millions of Americans. Just about everyone I know goes to a superbowl party. 2007 marked the 35th year for the party I have attended since 1973. It's the party that's "Older than Dirt."

Hosted by the Walsh's, the game comes second to the food. To give you an idea this year included (after eating a slew of eccletically delicious appetizers) the Chicago hot dogs, deep dish Chicago pizza, pulled pork, ribs, wings, chili, macs and cheese ... and it goes on and on.

The food is second only to the bonds of friendship that began back in college in the 60's. This year John T. shows up - haven't seen John in nearly 40 years. That was an extra treat.

I hope everyone has a traditional superbowl party to call home.

Capn
Keep Warm today!

Justin turns 60

By train and by plane we came to the VA hospital in Richmond, Virginia on January 15 (hereby proclaimed Justin Rybacki Day) to surprise JR and to celebrate his 60th birthday. Justin actually turned 60 on Dec. 29th.

We, Justin's college buddies, visited Justin in Richmond about 7 years ago when he graduated from college. JR has been afflicted with MS for 30 years or so. What heartened me most was his spirit. Incredible. We traded old college war stories. Plenty of laughter filled the party room and we're pretty sure Justin had a great day.

Our thanks to Maryann, Justin's friend, who reads our emails to Justin and replies back to us, and of course Mrs. "R" our college mom. And my personal thank to Mike Walsh who has been the link between Justin and the rest of us over all these years.

We gave Justin a New York Yankee blanket as he's a huge Yankee fan, A personally autographed photo of Giant's No. 60 and a shopping bag full of authentic Polish cookies and treats from New Jersey.

Happy Birthday, JR!

Well wishers can email Justin at justinrybacki46@hotmail.com

Lighting The Christmas Leg

What's a son to get "Dear Old Dad" for Christmas? Why a Leg Lamp just like the one in "A Christmas Story" starring Darin McGavin. Need a unique gift idea for the man who has everything? Why the Leg Lamp of course!

If you haven't seen the Movie, you should. You will then understand the significance of the Leg Lamp (which sold 700,000 last year.)

And where is my Leg Lamp? Burning brightly in the front window of course!

An Italian Christmas Eve is like no other. Especially back in the day when I was a kid and in the immediate generation before me. I received an email from an old Italian friend. It is meant as satire and went something like this ...

An Italian-American Young Man's Christmas Eve Dinner

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. My date was not Italian. But I was excited about showing her how an Italian family spends this most important holiday. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges in a pear tree. Right.

I had only known Mitzi for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "Our Christmas Eve Dinner is really fun and filled with great food," I told her, "and Mama and Papa are warm people, I’m sure you’ll have a good time."

"O.K," said Mitzi as she stared at me apprehensively.

I told Mama I'd invited a girl for dinner.
"She's very nice and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you." "Sounds a good to me," my mama said.

“Is she Italian?” asked Mama.
“Not exactly,” I said.

In Italian homes, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season. An old Italian matriarch’s reason for living. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening.

Inviting a girl to join the family for Christmas Eve dinner is a monumental decision. I should emphasize that Mitzi is not Italian. Back in the day you didn’t bring non-Italian girls home to meet Mama especially on Christmas Eve. But when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men crazy, you had to see Mitzi. So she doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. BUT she has large breasts.

Here’s how the evening progressed.

7:00. - Mitzi and I arrive.
Mama commences to grill Mitzi like a cheeseburger on the barbecue and determines that Mitzi does not clean, cook, or bake. This is not good.

Papa is equally observant. He pulls me aside and says, "She has-a the big breasts! Too bad she’s not-a Italian."

7:15 - Twenty-two relatives arrive starting with Zio Giovanni, Zia Maria, and 5 of my cousins carrying trays of food and cookies - like Mama didn’t already have enough food to feed China.

7:30 We crowd around the dining room table elbow to elbow for the antipasto, platters composed of provolone gorgonzola, 3 types of olives, roasted red peppers, marinated artichokes and mushrooms, grilled eggplant scungelli salad, fried calamari, anchovies, .... and it goes on but no meat, of course. A traditional Christmas Eve is only fish.

When I offer to make Mitzi's plate she says, "No Thank you." She points to the anchovies with a look of disgust....

"You don't like anchovies?" Mama asks. "I don't like fish, Mitzi announces as 7 other varieties of seafood are baking, broiling and simmering in the kitchen.

My mother makes the sign of the cross. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. With an astonished expression, Zia Maria asks Mitzi what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Mitzi says, "Knockwurst." Papa, who is still staring in a daze at Mitzi’s chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, "Knockers?" Mama kicks him so hard under the table he gets a blood clot.

My evening is going downhill fast.

8:00 - Second course. The pasta with clam sauce or anchovies sauce is on the way to the table. Mitzi declines either sauce and asks for ketchup. With her eyes bulging in shock, Mama signals me to join her in the kitchen.

I remove my "Merry Christmas" paper napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and follow her into the kitchen.

"I don't want to start-a any trouble," Mama says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours-a this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face." 

"Mama, please," I plead, "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." Oh if looks could kill. “Please, Mama?” As I’m the first son she reluctantly relents.

As I turn to walk back into the dining room, Mama grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?" 

"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, if you marry her, she'll poison you." Italian Mamas believe if you bring a girl home for Christmas Eve Dinner it means you’re going to marry her.

8:30 - More fish. My stomach is knotted like one of those macrame plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away the pasta dishes, except for Mitzi. 

"Why don't you give them a hand?" I politely suggest. Mitzi makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks.

"Dear, you don't have to do that," Mama tells her, smiling painfully.

"Oh, okay," Mitzi says, putting the forks in the sink. As she re-enters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, I hear Mama say, "Whoops!"

More fish comes out. After some goading, Mitzi tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy…like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like an old woman in the sixth row of a funeral home. Zia Maria does the same. Mitzi, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Zio Giovanni doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth.

10:00 - Coffee, dessert. Espresso. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Mitzi asks for milk for her espresso, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Mitzi, believing that this is a custom performed on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it.

Everyone starts laughing, even Mama who digs her nails into my shoulder and with gritted teeth camouflaged with a false smile tells me, "Get this tramp outta my house."

I didn’t marry Mitzi nor did I ever bring a girl to Christmas Eve Dinner who was not Italian.

Those Were The Days My Friend

Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And dreamed of all the great things we would do

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I'd see you in the tavern
We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days.

Happy Birthday, Joey.

The Glen Then

If I had a wish, one of my choices would be to spend a day back in time. I was born and live in a town in Northeastern New Jersey. I often wonder what the eyes of Henry Hudson and his crew experienced as the first Europeans sailed up the Hudson River.

No houses. No macadem. No ugly utility poles. Not a sound from motors, faulty mufflers at 6 in the morning or blasts from a truck's airhorn.

I'd want to come back on an autumn day in 1800, 1700 and around 1400 to a place in the Glen where I lived for 30 years.

I bet it was a beautiful sight.

Enjoy the Day
The Captain

BOO!

Happy Holloween! My little Bumble Bee Granddaughter spent her second Holloween Trick or Treating for the first time in her hometown of Hudson, MA last Thursday.

The town of Hudson has this wonderful tradition of closing down the center of town from 4 to 6 when all the children dressed in costumes can go from business to business to get their treats. I say there were thousands of people. What a sight.

Have a great day and watch out for all the little munchkins today.

Captain

On the Road Again

The Gang of Friends went on the road again. For our annual October Getaway Weekend, we travelled to the Tuscany House at the Renault Winery in Little Egg Harbor City about 10 miles west of Atlantic City.

I would reccommend the Tuscany House to anyone who wants great gourmet food, plays golf, likes wine and there's plenty to do and see in the ares.

Photos were taken by Al Galluzzo. Color corrected and enhanced by the Captain.
http://captainslogblog.typepad.com/photos/renault_winery/index.html

Have a great day

Capn