Month: February 2011

Too Good 2B True?

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I met Adrianne in the Athletic Club in Corpus Christie when I wanted a temporary pass. In her office I found myself face to face with two framed photos of her in full white bridal regalia. In one of the photos, she was near as I could see 100 lbs heavier than in the other. 

She saw me look at the photos and said, “I didn’t get married again, the second picture is Halloween. A party. I went as a bride.”

I said, “Oh “–she interrupted and flailed her hands in the air, “I just have to tell people I didn’t get married again. I have only been married one time.” Well, I had not been thinking one whit about her wedding backstory. I was actually thinking, wow — this club sure has been good to you!   

So anyway we chat, as you do with someone who is trying to sell you something and you stay cordial ’cause you want the best price. It’s this and that. I’m staying in Port Aransas. Blah, blah. blah. Oh, yeah there is a great candy store there. I tune back in.

“It is so good they just call it Good.”

“Really?”

“You take one bite.” Adrienne pretended to eat.  “And after you eat it,” here she looks up at the ceiling, “all you can say is that was so Good.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head with a look of satisfaction.

Well what else could I do? It’s  a place called Winton’s. Good is caramel nut made fresh daily with whipped cream and butter and sold by the 1/2 pound.  It’s so smooth it won’t stick to your teeth. Oh yeah, did I mention — they ship to your door.

Very large but short

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A liquor distributor’s truck is pulled up outside a restaurant and the ad on the side says,  

If you are not completely satisfied. Send it back.

We’ll drink it.

Ha, ha. That shows panache, I thought. Later I decide to check out Jim Beam’s web site and see what they had going on for classic cocktails. Interestingly enough I had to put in  my birthdate before I could enter the site. What exactly is that all about?  

“Well, your honor — the birthdate she entered said she was well past the legal drinking age. We submit she alone is responsible for her actions.” Or maybe it’s a self-monitoring thing. “Oh, here I am at a web site that requires my birth date. I could lie — but then, how could I live with myself?”

A third thought, “Hey Gordy, this has just the look we are going for, socially conscious, highly responsible, a business that Cares. You got those birth dates on auto delete?”

Oh sure, there are a lot more redeeming things to write about –but wait, try this for your next cocktail party. (Don’t worry, I used my birth date.)

Jim Beam Black on the Rocks: Put a lot of ice in a, preferably, very large but short glass, then pour in 1 – 2 parts Jim Beam Black to cover some of the ice.

Iceman Cometh

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Unless your home zip code is in the 96800 series, it is extraordinarily difficult to feel superior about winter weather in southern Texas. But today a brief whiff of “Really?” was in the air. 

It started Thursday night when a newscaster interrupted Gray’s Anatomy to warn us citizens of ominous weather conditions. People were asked to delay running appliances such as dishwashers or washer/dryer combos. With everyone turning up furnaces, the grid was in danger of causing brown-outs.  

Overnight the area did end up with a respectable ice storm which left a quarter-inch glaze on every uncovered surface. But my goodness, the bridges were closed, streets were deserted, businesses were shuttered, and schools declared, “A Snow Day.”

By Friday noon, the city had begun to shrug its shoulders. Within an hour the ice was a memory. The weather story was the local paper’s major lead this morning. To be sure the weather service was calling it “quite possibly the most significant ice storm in Corpus Christie history.” 

The parks were full of deliriously looking kids sliding on the ice-covered grass while parents hovered nearby. A long-legged girl careened on one leg on her boogie board and a bundled-up toddler with a huge grin scooted down the slightest of hills with his dad.

It was pitiful. I felt like calling someone to send in some snow. Couple hours later, it is 65. So never mind.

First Friday

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It is very cold and droopy in Port Aransas. No one delivered the newspapers to the island this morning. The bridge to and from Corpus Christie is closed til further notice. The sound of morning tv drifts throughout the complex accompanied by the soft steady sound of freezing rain hitting the pavement and bouncing off the palms.

Today is made for mindless tv, a second pot of coffee and Pepperridge Farm’s Gingerman cookies, the kind with the chunky sugar on the top. Today is made for a bubble bath and a manicure and practicing eye make-up. Today is made for creative cooking with chicken, mushrooms and white wine. Today is made for reading new magazines and watching decorator shows.

I have no idea what Sig is going to do all day.

Z.Z. Wei

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I discovered — though I doubt that he was lost — Z.Z. Wei a number of years ago in the Patricia Rozar Gallery in Washington. 

He is originally from Beijing but has lived and worked in the Pacific Northwest since he was charmed by the sparse western landscape in the late eighties. Wei reminds me of Iowa’s Grant Wood and Thomas Hart Benton who lived and worked very close to my neighborhood in Missouri.

They, too were smitten with rural America and chronicled a time and place that now only exists in the halls of their imaginations.   

I would love to have an original above my mantle. In the meantime, I bought a couple of the exhibition posters including the one on the left. Makes a great gift for misplaced mid-westerners.   

Way to go, Wei. 

Dum da Dum Dum

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This is the fourth time Sig and I have spent a good part of the month of February in Port Aransas.  It’s sunny but cold and windy as we drive the island away from Corpus Christie.  

Without comment we pass Mustang Island State Park and the Stripes convenience store that, in fact, does sell wine. Then past A Mano, the best place around for quality Mexican imports — right across the street from another import place whose pots will likely chip before you get them home.     

After lunch we reach the first intersection and turn right, caddy-corner from the row of giant pastel sea horses. We turn into the drive-way of the Sea Shell and stop at the office.

It takes a little while to unload the truck but not nearly as long as before. 

The place shows a little wear. The legs to the ottoman are in the drawer, there’s a deep scratch on the table and a rip on the arm of the couch. The rusty skillet has disappeared. After we unpack and rearrange the furniture, we open a bottle of wine. 

It is as if we had Never left. It is as if yesterday we had dinner at the Mexican place and the day before we went to the CVS. It is like I had already gone to IGA and knew their movie selection sucks and their lettuce is wilted but their hamburger is 90% lean. It is just a little bit stunning that neither of us could think of anything significant about the last year.

Sig thinks it is because we are getting old and memory compresses everything. His second theory revolves around the intensity of familiarity and I didn’t really follow it. Personally, I think we are in a re-make of Groundhog Day. 

This is the fourth time…

Groundhog Eve

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Will Punxsutawney Phil see his shadow or not? If he does, we supposedly have 6 weeks more of winter; since spring begins March 20, seven weeks from tomorrow — that prediction is sorta a no-brainer.

If it’s cloudy, he won’t see his shadow and everyone in Pennsylvania believes spring will come earlier than March 20th. 

I have to tell you I really have no dog in this race. ( I am just amazed I am able to spell Punxsutawney without looking it up.)

Well, go ahead and hedge your bets for tomorrow. There’s this.

And then there is this. Happy February 2.