On Working At the Cleveland Museum Of Art Store

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Seven.
     I still can't completely wrap my head around the fact that I work at the museum. Granted, I don't have enough hours and the pay isn't great, however, I am networking and that's exactly what I'm supposed to be doing right now. But also, the fact that I work in their store is amazing. It's kinda fancy and expensive. Please don't break anything.
     Last Sunday, our sales goal was an unrealistic $6600.00 while $4500.00 would have been much more attainable for a typical Sunday. As it was, we ended selling $10,100.00. Afterwards, we realized it was Labor Day weekend and it's the last week of a special exhibit on Yoga Art. So there you go. It's a modest-sized store, perhaps 1/2 the size of a Walgreen or CVS, but it can generate over $10,000 worth of sales in one day. And it's not even December yet, Lord help us. I'll bet you anything that we'll have 15 or even 20 thousand days in a couple of months. I sometimes feel like I work in Tiffany's.

An Emergency With A 12 Year Old - Update

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Six.
     You may remember a blog from about a month ago in which I wrote about babysitting a 12 year old boy, unexpectedly, overnight. I ended that blog by saying that I barely made the final cut for his older brother's Bar Mitzvah a couple of years ago because their father and step-mom had no clue how fond their boys were of me. (I'm typically employed by mom.) I was however hopeful that this summer's emergency situation would educate dad and step-mom appropriately so as to invite me to the younger one's upcoming Bar Mitzvah with greater awareness. They did.
     The shindig will be in 6 weeks and looks like it will be plenty fancy. I should start saving up calories now. 

Vermont Super Club - A Review

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Five.
     I arrived in New York on Friday Evening, stayed the weekend and then drove up to Vermont on Monday morning. I'm still very good friends with Diana, the woman who hired and supervised me at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, in 2003, until she retired in 2004. She has a place in Vermont and when we discovered that we'd both be in New England the same week we knew that I'd have to go up and say "Hi!". My hostess's husband died some months ago, and she's not getting younger, so who knows if this was my last time up there? Subsequently, I only wanted to savor every moment among those trees and hills. This was my 3rd time visiting and it's absolutely beautiful. Hardwick, a tiny pocket of the world with a few thousand inhabitants, is quite far north, just a short drive from Canada and the scenery is spectacular. It's also the largest village for about 20-30 minutes in any direction. So it's the buzzing metropolis for that part of the galaxy.
     Diana's daughter, Julie, and her boyfriend, Jim, live in the Vermont home year round and one evening Diana, Jim and I went to dinner at Vermont Supper Club, a nice place nearby. Julie didn't join us due to her work schedule, but she and Jim both declared it to be a good eatery. It was tres fancy by Vermont standards (Vermonters, ultra-sophisticated and well-educated as they are, do prefer to wear their plaid and denim) and the food was good. Not great but good, I'd recommend it.
     It's decor was casually elegant. In Cleveland, it's tables would have had white tablecloths and chrome candle sticks. But as it was, the tables were polished wood with contemporary, white porcelain salt and pepper shakers. There was complimentary bread and butter, though the butter was mixed with something which didn't add to the effect. Also, each table received a plate of freshly fried shrimp or crab or something. It's unexpectedness was quite charming and whatever it was tasted very good.
     I got a burger with onion rings and a salad as Diana was treating. The rings sucked as the ratio of batter to onion was sinful. I mean really, REALLY sinful. We're talking Sodom and Gomorrah here.  But you know what? I'm not even going there. I know going in that most places ruin their rings. I'm just always fascinated by the new, creative and unusual ways by which they do it. But my salad and burger were strong so I was happy.
     My salad was interesting, not skimpy and also accompanied by a good house dressing. My burger was presented medium as ordered, anther surprise, and juicy and flavorful. As I was in Vermont, I felt obliged to get Cheddar melted on top and it was nice and sharp. Diana and Jim were also happy with their meals of large dinner salads. Upon exiting we all felt satisfied, pleased with the decor, prices, presentation, service and food experience. I liked it and would go back.
     Vermont Supper Club - Hardwick, Vermont (seriously... the middle of nowhere). My rating 7.5/10
(Would be higher if not for the rings.) 

Almost Famous - A Review

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Four.
     There was only one thing on my agenda concerning sightseeing/shopping while in New York. I wanted to go to a fantastic used DVD store. Buying used DVD's is my primary hobby right now and I wanted to find some great place where I could indulge in my whims and browse for hours through racks of classic/obscure/cult/silent/foreign movies. Deb, my hostess, did some research and found the perfect spot: Academy Records & Cd's at 12 West 18 Street in Manhattan was just the place. I browsed for a long while and bought way more than I should have. I purchased a couple dozen movies, many of which I've never even heard of. They simply looked like I couldn't possibly live without them.
     One of the few movies I purchased which I had heard of, let alone seen, was Almost Famous. This coming of age/comedy/drama from 2000, is one of those movies I didn't want to end. Directed by Cameron Crowe, it tells the story of 15 year old William, who gets hired by Rolling Stone magazine in 1973, to write a behind the scenes expose of one of his favorite rock bands. The movie is highly autobiographical for Crowe as that was exactly how he got his start in entertainment. Rolling Stone hired him in '73, when he was 16, to do a cover story on the Allman Brothers Band. He'd go on to write many more cover stories for them prior to writing his first mass-appeal book: Fast Times At Ridgemont High.
     All the performances and plot points were believable and the level of endearment is off the scale, but with nary an ounce of sentimentality. It's the first of all the newly purchased movies which I've watched and I'm pleased with that decision.
     Almost Famous. My rating: 9/10
     Should my next movie be To Be Or Not To Be, 1942, with Jack Benny and Carole Lombard; Jean Renoir's Boudu Saved From Drowning, 1932, (one can TRULY see the influence of the father's painting style when viewing cinematic works by the son); or Saw, 20004? I've never seen any of these. Hmmmm..... How will I decide? How, how, how?

How Many Parents At A Wedding Reception?

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Three.
     I went to New York for a wedding reception My ex step-nephew got married some months ago but he and his wife only now had their reception.
     Ben, the groom, is the product of Bruce and Sandi's marriage which ended in about 1979 when he was, perhaps, 3. Sandi then married Bob in about '81 and Bruce married my sister in '83. Sandi and Bob divorced in the late '80's and she's been single ever since. Bob then married Carol in '92, I think. Bruce and my sister divorced in '12 and he recently married Alice. All 6 parents were there.
     Brooke, the bride, has a similar situation, though my sister wasn't able to figure out all the details. Her mother has had 3 marriages with husbands #1 & 3 both being named Paul. All those husbands and wives attended as well. Between Ben and Brooke, there were 12 parents in attendance.
     Here's my opinion, for what it's worth. No child ever wants their parents to divorce, but if they must divorce, these are the types of relationships you hope for. Ben has 6 people whom he can phone in an emergency, when only a parent will do. Brooke has the same. Of course some of the ex-spouses get along better than others. Sandi doesn't get along with any of her ex's, but everybody was civil and there for the bride and groom. How wonderful.

Another Car Repair Story

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-Two.
     This is my first blog, after a nice little vacation. More about the vacation later. But first, this is just too good...
     I planned on leaving Friday morning, August 15th at 8AM. The previous Tuesday, the 12th, at 3PM, I took my car to my mechanic, 2 short blocks from my apartment, to get an oil change which was 1000 miles overdue. He called me 15 minutes later with the news that I needed a new timing belt and transmission pan. Great. I picked up the car and then dropped it back off on Wednesday evening at 6PM. Tom said, "I'll have it ready tomorrow evening or sometime Friday morning".
     "No", I replied. "I'm leaving Friday at 8AM. I need it back Thursday night."
     "Okay, you'll have it back Thursday night." 
     I phoned him on Thursday at 5 to say I'd be by at 6, when they close, to pick up my machine.
     "It's taking longer than we thought. Give us a couple of extra hours."
     So I went over at 8 and sat for an hour 'till Tom and Mike finished. Prior to driving out at 9, I gave Tom a boatload of money. I appreciated that they each stayed 3 hours past closing so I could drive to New York the next morning and I told them so. I have an extremely good relationship with my mechanic, Tom, and his employees: Mike and Gary. I then drove the 2 blocks home and got ready for my get-a-way. 
     I woke up earlier than anticipated on Friday and pulled out of my parking lot, ready to go, at 6.30AM. (Leaving for a long road trip 90 minutes ahead of schedule, that early in the morning, qualifies me for a Nobel Prize in some category. I'm just not sure which one.) Within 100 feet though, I knew there was a problem. The machine didn't feel right at all. First, I was in denial. I figured that the new pieces simply had to "gel", which really isn't that bizarre. Sometimes when you have serious work done under the hood, it takes a few moments for everything to sound and feel normal again. But as I went to the bank and Starbucks and it wasn't getting better, I proceeded from denial to stubborn. "I don't care! I'm going anyhow." Then, as I was leaving the gas station and beauty salon (which I had to prep for the day) I went from stubborn to acceptance. "I don't f***ing believe this!"
     I then drove back to Tom's shop, parked in the lot, turned on the radio, WCLV - Cleveland's classical station, turned off the car, pushed the seat to full recline and went to sleep. This was at 6.50AM.
     I was rudely woken at 8.05 by Tom knocking on my window. "Jeremy, what are you doing here?" I explained the situation. He fiddled under the hood for a few moments and told me to drive around the block. It was a little bit better but not much. He then examined under the hood with all his experience as Mike drove up and stared at us. Apparently, Mike's expression was such that Tom then said to me, "Mike just threw up in his mouth."
     They fiddled under the hood for a while and 20 minutes later Tom declared that some very important hose split while all the work was being done the day prior. It had to be special ordered and then picked-up from Marshall Ford, way down Mayfield Road, which is under construction. I made myself comfy in his shop and phoned my NY hostess, declaring the problem.
     While I was sitting, drinking Starbucks and pretending to be driving to New York City, a lady walked in and declared that she was there for her oil change and tire rotation appointment. We talked for 90 minutes or so while her car was happily being adjusted, without incident, after which she handed me her business card and suggested that I apply for a job with her very large company which was hiring. We agreed that we'd talk at some point in the near future.
     At 11.15AM, Tom declared that the hose had been replaced and I'd gotten a tune-up, all for free. I appreciated that. Ethically speaking though, that really is what he should have done. But still, there appears to be such a lack of ethics in today's work place, that when someone actually displays it, there's and air or refreshment. I felt it.
     I called my New York host and hostess (whom I hadn't laid eyes on since 1995) after getting on the freeway at 11.30. They were cool with the delay. I pulled in their driveway at 7.30PM and met their extremely lovely 15 year old daughter whom I've been sending Valentine's cards to since she was born and also met the family dog whom I'm now friends with on Facebook. Literally. The dog has his own Facebook page with a couple hundred friends. I'd describe this family as "wacky" except for the fact that he's a cardiologist and they live in Pelham Manor. (Peham Manor is a rather swanky and chic suburb of NY.) I wasn't exactly roughing it.
     I just LOVE seeing long-time friends. 

Only One Day Of The Feast

     Page Two Hundred Eighty-One.
     Last year I wrote heavily about one of my favorite events: Cleveland's Feast of the Assumption. I won't get into that again, here and now. But, suffice it to say, the food is extravagant and one of the things I look forward to the most during the entire calendar. This year though, I'm off to New York City to help my ex-step-nephew celebrate his wedding which will be the same weekend. So, I'm only going to catch one day of the most glorious food that Cleveland-based Italians have to offer. I may not survive the lack of nourishment. 
     By the way, after NYC, I'm off to Vermont for a couple of days to visit some other friends. One friend in Vermont is the head chef at a vacation lodge and the other friend is her mother who's an elderly, German woman. NYC food... head chef food... elderly, German woman food... okay, fine... I won't starve, I guess.