Cayuga Lake and Surrounding Environs

The next morning I happily awoke to the sound of the lake's waters gently slapping up against the shores.There were many things that the Lake Champlain and Cayuga Lake experiences shared, which included families with long-held ties and traditions to each respective place; gossip about the other families who also owned houses around them for generations (but weren't actually family); a general population of folks who are not afraid of getting wet, diving or otherwise involving themselves in a body of water that certainly is host to myriad fish (and occasionally snakes); herons; ducks; the sound of boats coming to life and swooshing away, etc. But the S.'s lake house was perhaps slightly closer to the water so the sound of it in the morning was more striking than at Champlain. I also think I wouldn't be wrong to say that Cayuga Lake isn't as wide, nor long, as Champlain, which somehow made the view from shore slightly different. In any case, it was a beautiful morning.

There were clouds, but I don't think they wanted to really hurt us.

Birds flew.

Flowers unfurled.

Breakfast was prepared most masterfully by A.S.'s father and most gratefully consumed by all in attendance.

I believe I was the first into the water on this particular day. I woke up so much earlier than everyone else that I had already enjoyed my breakfast and gotten into my suit while others were still digging in. I BC was kind enough to take a break from the book she was reading to provide some proof that I did indeed swim during this week of lake life.

No hands or feet! Or...I mean I was kind of floating without treading water? Is the point? I love floating.

A.S. likes jumping.

As do others. I never was much into jumping, but I do like a shallow dive from time to time.

I missed getting an action shot of A. going into the water, but this reaction shot is pretty good I thought.

I think she called this the hammer? Something different than the traditional cannon ball for sure.

Triumph.

Before some of the ladies went with a round of planking on the raft, we played a few dozen rounds of four square on the raft, which is not without it's challenges, let me just tell you.

Tubing in progress by A.S.'s neighbors. They swung by and asked if she (and I imagine by extension us) would like to tube, but I guess historically the guy is quite the aggressive boat driver and really and truly goes out of his way to try to get folks to fall off. A.S. declined and so did the rest of us.

Then there was an excursion to a winery. It was good and I'll have to remember the name of the place so I can tell you to consider buying their dry riesling.Anyela's!

It was on a different lake about an hour north and west near a town that has a name that is spelled entirely different than how it is pronounced.

A.S. and her parents stayed behind and were going to have dinner while we were gone, so we ended up at Hill Top Diner, which also has a bowling alley attached to it because, of course it does. B.C. and J. went hog wild with their combined and shared order of: a bowl of macaroni and cheese, a bowl of potato salad, a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy and the fried appetizer combo. It was frankly miraculous how much they ordered and how good a job they generally did on finishing it all.

I was drawn to the roasted turkey sandwich, which I guess usually comes pre-drenched in gravy. I opted for gravy on the side along with mashed potatoes. I then pretty much ignored the bread and ate the turkey after dipping it in the gravy/potatoes.

Seriously, diner gravy and potatoes, which I know are totally not fancy and basically just sodium, are still one of my all time comfort foods. A million years ago in Wheaton Plaza, my mother and I would go to Hot Shoppes (anyone? anyone?) (also the Hot Shoppes in Wheaton Plaza was not a drive in as the link I've included might make you imagine) and they also had some pretty magic potatoes and gravy to consider in their buffet line.And their roast beef sliced right in front of you? Memories. Nothing like going to a 1960s-style buffet in a mall with your mother and about nine million senior citizens. Good times, they were.

With more of their meal displayed.

And that was the night. The drive back was uneventful except for getting stuck in ungodly traffic outside a drive-thru for a bit of time, and the copious fireworks that were still being lit along the river. Actually that second thing, all the fireworks leaping out of the night sky as we zoomed south was truly a lovely sight to behold.

Breakfast at Red Hook Diner and Departure From the Hudson Valley

I awoke Sunday morning with very few things on my agenda. The main one being breakfast at the Red Hook diner. Just as I was packing up, the entire building suddenly went berserk. And by that I mean a fire alarm sounded and kept sounding. I took a look around the hall and heard no screams nor smelled no smoke, so I just went back to packing up and texting K. and C. about their availability for an early morning breakfast. Eventually all my gear was packed and I proceeded towards the exit closest to the parking lot where my car was located. I guess most folks took the fire alarm far more seriously, including the fireman who held the door open for me and a gaggle of my former classmates, some of whom were in pajamas and draped with blankets. C. and K. were also there and it was decided that we would just get on with it and go to breakfast. This was a very good move on our part. The Red Hook Diner is basically the place to be on any given morning, but especially a weekend morning, and on a reunion/graduation weekend? Come 11 AM that place is packed and you're lucky if you don't have to wait 20 to 30 minutes. We, however, waited about two minutes before getting a spot. When something works you just keep going with it, and the diner's 2 eggs/meat/potatoes/bottomless coffee meal definitely works. And my preferred combo always was (and probably always will be) two poached eggs with the deep fried version of potatoes and sausage links. It was everything I wanted it to be. EVERYTHING.

The diner is right next to the building where K. and I both spent about two years post-graduation. In the two bottom apartments. Those were some transitional years for sure, going from student to semi-kind-of-almost adults. And we both left at the same time too, with K. moving to NYC to attend grad school while I moved on to Chicago, also to attend grad school. And here we were about eight years later.

After that it was pretty much the usual getting out of a place. I tried to track down S. who still had my jacket, but wasn't able to get in touch with him and didn't feel like rambling around aimlessly until I heard from him. So we all dropped off our respective dorm keys, got into our respective wheels and drove off from Bard's campus. I crossed the Kingston bridge and the sun was finally coming out and the way it played on the water and mountains was something to see. Unfortunately you can't really see because I was driving while randomly clicking my camera's shutter. Never a very effective method for really good photos.

But you can't say I didn't try.

And that about wraps up the 10th year reunion of the Bard Class of 2003. The majority of my fears were unfounded and it was quite nice to see some of the faces that I wouldn't otherwise see in the course of my everyday life. Good work all around. Though I hope the next reunion I attend will feature warmer weather.

The Day After: Snow in the Art Museum Neighborhood

On Thursday, after all the snow had fallen, I got up early enough to take a walk around the neighborhood before work. Was that Thursday? It was some day last week, not Friday. Regardless, the sun was out, which made the still-fresh snow shine. I wore my sunglasses, taking them off to take pictures and remember the true tone of white. .



Poor Duckie.
The roads were mainly dead. A few cars were out and about, but you could safely walk in the center of many of the streets without having to worry about being run down.

I stopped at Little Pete's Diner and had two eggs and sausage. I didn't really eat the potatoes, because I did not like them. I like my breakfast potatoes on the crisper, cube-ier side of the spectrum of such things. I overheard the conversation of a young Catholic couple and a priest as they had a morning breakfast together. Her sandwich looked good. My eggs and sausage were good.
The snow is still around, but it ain't so pretty at this point. The garbage men didn't come this week, so people have started leaving their recyclables and whatnot out on snow drifts in an attempt not to miss them when they finally come. There must be a website I could go to, in this day and age, to know the schedule. I mean, there has to be a plan of some kind, yes? Yes.

Trees, Mushrooms and Breakfast c/o the Lincoln Diner

The next morning we all got up in a pretty quick fashion. I took a moment to take a few pictures.

I noticed these mushrooms from the window that faced the back of the hotel and went to investigate them further. A bazillion blue jays didn't seem to like my presence all that much. I mean, if they were smarter they really could have joined forces and ran me right out of the mushroom patch.
I ordered two fried eggs over medium and sausage links at the Lincoln Diner, they were entirely satisfying. The potatoes less so, and our waitress was a little on the surly side.

Muchly Needed Breakfast Sandwich c/o Morning Glory Diner

After our photo time L. and I sat outside for a bit more, drinking the drink and shooting the shit. Then I insisted on showing her an episode of the Mighty Boosh. Now, I wish I had prepared and had netflixed (it's a verb) the first season's disk, but all I had was the third. What could I do but at least give it a shot, if out of order. I have, by the bye, become majorly converted to finding the Mighty Boosh, and the two men and the team that makes it, just wonderful. Not many things truly make me just laugh. Anyways, the point is that L. and I stayed up pretty late, and the next day I had quite the headache. L., too, was not at 100%. Breakfasat was in order and I wanted to go somewhere new. So I consulted The Girl Who Eats Everything blog. She doesn't live in Philly but whenever she posts her visits to the city, I realize how much more eating and exploring could be done. So, I took a look around her Philly posts and liked the look of the Morning Glory Diner. That place is busy. L. and I arrived a little before 11 and didn't get seated until 11:45-noonish. I was drawn to the egg sandwich, and ordered it. Honestly, I could have done with a little more egg, but the sausage was great and the foccacia would nice too.
It was worth the wait to try a new place, and the sandwich really did hit the spot. But, if it were cold outside? That wait would not have been so great. The space is pretty small, and they have as many seats as there is room, so the wait can be steady. I bet they probably do have more traffic in the summers than the winters? It was strange, they had all these tables and chairs for those waiting to sit around and on, but it seemed like maybe the smarter idea would be to let people eat at the tables? Maybe they didn't have the waitstaff.
At first we discussed having breakfast and then having pho, but the problem was we were way too full for that, and L. had to get back to the city to play kickball and I had to go to work, so, in the end, we walked around Italian Market for a bit (one of the fish mongers had 2 dozen blue crabs for $10), then we drove around south philly for a little bit. I saw a few more streets, thus filling in just a little bit of the map of Philly in my brain (which is a lot of blank space, really).

Breakfast c/o Down Home Diner

On Saturday K., J. and I went to the Reading Terminal Market. We drove. Driving was probably a bad idea because parking was stupid. Note to self...next time you think about going to the Reading Terminal Market with friends, don't drive...and certainly don't let them drive...because parking is stupid. The second J. of "J. and J." is a mover and a shaker of the Down Home Diner environment. Though we didn't say hello or howdy do, he did send us a complimentary plate of giant shrimp. I mean, really, really giant shrimp. Shrimp so big, well, they were really big. I believe they may very well be the biggest shrimp I've ever had in my life.
J. is not a fan of shrimp, so he passed on the eating of them. K. had a few reservations but ate a shrimp any ways, which is too bad because it turns out he's kind of really allergic.
I ordered the 'poached on a biscuit' offering. It came with two poached eggs, country ham, tomatoes and home fries. The eggs were done superbly. The potatoes weren't quite my cup of tea but that's just because I like mine a little crispier/deep fried.
Oh you lovely properly poached egg. You were good in my belly. So very, very good.
Thanks to J. for the shrimp. Thanks to K. and J. for the company!

Deluxe Diner's Turkey Club

Yesterday it snowed and it was my day off. A wonderful, never to be underestimated, pairing. I can't say it was a very productive day. And I know very well that I have a lot of logistics and planning to do. Lounging and knitting. Talking about Tennessee with, geez all these people without blog monikers, I think Tonguethrust calls him lh. Then some time with No Longer Wayward. We watched some television and sandwiches delivered from Deluxe Diner. I had the turkey club. We were surprised that it wasn't deli style turkey....which so soon after Thanksgiving was what I was actually hoping for...but the turkey itself was reasonably moist and there wasn't any surprise piece of fatty skin. The bacon was good and crunchy. Could have done with a bit more mayo and the option of mustard. They had some other thing on their menu that I'd like to try before I leave Chicago...it involved chili and other things in a tortilla wrap.

Wayward had the same sandwich with waffle fries. The waffle fries didn't live up to the challenge of delivery. I ordered jalapeno poppers and they did a bit better, I think-but I didn't try any of the fries so I can't be sure.