Holiday Traditions

When it comes to Uni, no rice or seaweed needed.

I was so excited about the Pho, I couldn't see clearly.

You really get a good Bang Pho the buck there.  Sorry.

Wurst fabric, best gelato.

Great-Grandson of Russ.

Daughters in front of Russ & Daughters.

Merry Christmas Friends!

\

Christmas Eve was never complete without this 

very book.  I will be reading aloud this evening.

With every new page, Santa and his reindeer would change looks.

Grandma was very creative and it kept things interesting.  

I could never understand how people had Christmas in Florida 

when there was no snow.  How could there be Christmas 

without snow, Charlie Brown?

Talk about someone finding their true life's calling

in their 70's.  She's right up there with Wyeth and

Rockwell as far as originality, if you ask me.

You can vote any way you want. But Merry Christmas!

Just Because

Sublime.  I may not be able to sleep tonight. 

Blue Blazer

Museum docent or NBC page, I had the look:  Blue blazer

with blue cotton oxford button down, and a striped tie.

Classic yacht club attire, and since it was after Labor Day, 

dark slacks- no khakis.  Hans was still in Good Humor man 

mode.  Hey, ice cream is a year-round treat.  We were no

doubt ready to go to a Christmas Eve service, and it looks

like Mom took the bottom strand of gingerbread man cookies

from the tree and hung them around the kitchen doorframe.

Dachshunds love gingerbread man cookies.

Foiled again!  They'll slip up eventually.  They're only human.

It's All About the Barnegat Bay

If you looked across the bay at this point and then to the right,

North about 200 yards, you'd see the familiar Beaton's skyline.

This Mantoloking family was, and still is in my mind, one of the

most familiar and recognizable presences on Barnegat Bay.

That lime green Penguin gave me and my Dad fits for several

years on the Bay and around Region II.  Those Lasers were no 

doubt sub-1000 in the hull number department.  And the Duck

Boat?  I wouldn't even venture a guess.

These brothers made mincemeat of the bay for years, and the 

skipper sails to this day in an E-scow.  He's won scores of

regattas, local and national.  I love the wooden deck on this M

 and how far forward the whisker pole was set.  I know they grew 

up in Manasquan, but I wonder where Billy got the red jersey.  

It reminds me of my school's colors, a school that was and is a

fierce rival of the Warriors in the next town over.

There must've been a big regatta coming up.  Skip, far right, 

provided the rig and the other skippers figured if they brought

the Rheingold, they could pile on for the trip. Who ever stacks 

M-scows on trailers?  Besides Skip?

And on the roof-top as well?

Should We Worry?

The man sitting in the Adirondack chair is playing games with my

head.  He'd taken a break from blogging just before THXG  and 

gone on holiday in the Caribbean.  He'd done this in the past, and

upon returning he'd posted stories of his experiences on the idyllic

 isle of Virgin Gorda.   He wrote about rum drinks, sailing Hobie

sailboats, and feeling fulfilled after sailing with Tillerwoman.

This year, he's been very tight-lipped about the whole vacation

thing and frankly, I'm a bit concerned.  I (we all) were expecting

a full, entertaining, and insightful report on the goings on down there

at 18 degrees 30' 17" N , and 64 degrees 21' 19" W.  

He and the other dude who I consider to be my Blidols (blogging

idols), have not been very fruitful in the posting department as of

 late and I wonder what this may mean.  Say it isn't so. 

Just Because

Went Down To Tuck The Boat In

Every year I say, "I'm gonna replace those crooked, cheap-ass

black registration numbers with some nice, fake, gold-leaf numbers.

I'll use a straight edge and tape measure.  Then next spring, we get 

down to the boat two weeks later than we planned,  to paint and 

buff, and have to go home early because the alarm is going off or

 some dumb-ass reason, and ...........  I wonder if anyone even 

looks at those registration numbers.

Telephone pole:  crooked.  Bay Rhumb and the next two boats:

plumb.  Fourth boat:  bow-down and will have frozen rain-water

at the bow 'til March.  It's already rained hard a few times and I've

had great drainage on-deck.  One thing I need not worry about

this winter. Sugarplums dancing now.  

The way home. Sunset in Cream Ridge, 4:45 pm. 

 Man, it gets dark early!

Don't Celebrate Too Long

A must win was won.  Now back to the grindstone.  If teeth had skin,

the Jints won by it.  Cheers to Big Blue for not giving up.

3 more wins and we'll talk about the "P" word.  Good night for now. 

There may even be visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.

Retrospect

9 years old and an E-scow veteran. Dad, time to pass 

me back my cigar.  And I hope you didn't goob it up. 

14 and already letting Mike the Jibman and my Stepmom 

untangle the spinnaker for the next race.  Because you know,

when you're fourteen you know everything and are responsible

for nothing.  

Hiking more than Jill but less than Mike.  Hey, he was heavily

recruited and she had the job automatically.  This is all tongue-

in-cheek of course, and points out how a kid who grows up 

sailing with his parents from the git-go can sometimes become

disenchanted with the glamour of racing sailboats morning and

afternoon every summer Saturday since Richard Nixon was

elected President of the United States.  

By this point in 1986, I had re-acquired my appreciation for

the grind of the BBYRA racing schedule.  I was such a big

guy that Bob decided to eliminate the fourth crewmember,

and since backstays were at that point a thing of the past, 

um well, we were good. And still a little heavy.

Rome Layover

Watch this only if you have fifteen minutes.

I've watched this program two or three times and there is no other
food show on TV that makes me want to get up and frickin eat
something as much as this one.  Tony Bourdain speaks my
language, and has for many years.  Every Single Effing Place he
goes makes me squirm and wish I were there.

This pizza guy, Gabriele Bonci, is someone I want to meet.  I want to
hug him, kiss him on each cheek, and spend the whole day with him.
He is so passionate about his craft.  His pizzas look extraordinary.
And the rice croquettes with the egg yolks? (sorry O Docker) They
look positively mind-blowing.  He's a big guy like me, and someone
with whom I can identify.  Really, I feel like I've known this guy
for a long time.  His place is not far from the Vatican.  I wish I had
known this in '05.

In June 2005, after an all-night flight from Newark and a quick
nap in the hotel, we made our way to St. Peter's Square to see the
Pope.  Afterward, we found the closest pizza joint to grab something
to eat.  They boasted NY style pizza.  I was too tired and hungry to
protest.  I should have.  And after seeing this episode the other
night, I would have agreed to venture a bit further.

Sailing Jones

It's been only a month since the boat's been on the hard.  Forked

River is directly across the bay from Barnegat Inlet, then North 

a touch.  I haven't even winterized the head and pressure water

yet, and I'm already verklempt.  The State Marina wants their 

money for next summer though, and if it's not in by 12/31, we're

up Oyster Creek without a paddle.  At least the water is warm

from the power plant there.  Doh!

Winter is great.  I love snow and skiing on top of it.  I think I'm 

more in my element then because I can deal with extreme cold

much easier than oppressive heat.  But there's something about

Summer.  I grew up around a lot of cousins who taught me how

 to catch a crab in a net, how to seine for bait, how to dive off the

piling on the end of the catwalk, and how to get a hot dog on the

patio before they were all gone.  Apparently in this photo I hadn't 

learned that lesson yet.  But there was plenty of time for that.

I can't wait for Summer.

The Infamous Day/All Things Gray

A relative of mine, of whom I was very fond, was a 23 year-old 

sailor on the USS Oklahoma in Pearl Harbor this day, 70 years ago.

When the three torpedoes hit, Marshel Moorhouse and his mates

scrambled up 5 decks to the supposed safety of the main deck.

During their journey, or upon reaching their destination, the ship

listed, then rolled over, spilling hundreds of her sailors into the

harbor.  "Pud" Moorhouse swam through burning oil slicks for

the better part of two hours before reaching safety.

Days later, he and some fellow sailors were commended by

Admiral Chester Nimitz for their brave and heroic actions.

Years later, Pop Pop neither chose to revisit Pearl Harbor on

any anniversary, nor did he care to rehash any terrifying memories.  

And he was perfectly fine with that, from what I gathered .   

  

We finally got our new French Drains dug after the Hurricane Irene

debacle. With two sump pits and a 5000 watt generator for an 

emergency, I'm confident we'll have no more water in the basement.

After the cement dried, the final step was to paint the floor, which I

started to do today.  The color was a no-brainer:  Battleship Gray.

(They actually called it slate gray)  Looks like Battleship to me. 

Painting the floor is the frickin' easiest thing to do.  No drop-cloths,

no worries about drips from the roller, and the inevitable millions

of spatter specks that come from the roller fall where?  To the floor.

I kept thinking about the fo'c's'le floor of the Intrepid and how if

it's good enough for an aircraft carrier, it's good enough for

my basement.  I may even paint my oil tank red with a brass top.

Even Putt Putt had a gray interior.  Shit, my Dad and Uncles

painted the oars gray as well.  Note the oar leathers fastened

 with brass tacks.  She wasn't always rowed; there was a 3 HP 

Johnson that moved me and my cousin through the gunners'

ditches that we explored every weekend like we'd never

seen any of them before.  Looks like 'Vision', Dad's Lightning,

was on the mooring ball in the background.  I was sporting my

white boating 'Stride Rites', and ready to row.   

Caption Contest

A well-worn NYG T-shirt will be sent to the 

reader with the best caption.  Sure-fire recipe

for no comments.  BTW, the T-shirt will be clean. 

Recipe.  Get it?

Go Get 'Em Tigers!

Princeton plays USC today in the first game, then UCLA and

UC San Diego go at it.  It's the second time in three years for

Tim and the Princeton Tigers to be in the Final Four.

Come on guys, we know you can do it!

Just Because

Sure-fire plan to get no comments.  "Here goes Baydog

again reliving his youth.  He probably had too many 

cocktails and went on Youtube."  And Charley, it was

well before midnight this time!  

Trivia question that I don't know the answer to:

How many classic bands had someone playing the

flute?  I can think of three immediately.  Include

the titles of some obvious songs in which these 

flautists displayed their talents. Hint:  I've posted
music clips from all of these three bands in the past,
although the flute may not have been present in all
of the songs. And there's no doubt there are more
bands than my immediate three. Someone may get
a prize, but I'll probably forget like the last time.

And sorry Mom for ending a sentence in a preposition.