Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 256
February 2, 2011
On the road again: Austin, day 3
Ice everywhere. The high for the day 30, maybe. Stiff winds making it even colder. Pipes frozen all over the place. Rolling power outages.
No, I'm not talking about Boston or Chicago; I wish I were. All of that happened today right here in beautiful Austin, Texas.
WTF?
Meanwhile, back home the high was nearly 70. Go figure.
I, of course, didn't check the weather before heading south. I did, though, pull the lining from my nice warm coat, rendering it little more than a windbreaker.
Shrewd move on my part.
Dinner tonight was at The Driskill Grill, where the chef from last night's meal at Congress used to work. After last night's quite lovely tasting menu, tonight's meal, another tasting menu, suffered greatly by the comparison. Don't get me wrong: the food was good. It just wasn't in the same ballpark as Congress'.
Congress is now on my short list of the best places to eat in Austin, while I won't go back to The Driskill Grill until I hear it's greatly improved.
No, I'm not talking about Boston or Chicago; I wish I were. All of that happened today right here in beautiful Austin, Texas.
WTF?
Meanwhile, back home the high was nearly 70. Go figure.
I, of course, didn't check the weather before heading south. I did, though, pull the lining from my nice warm coat, rendering it little more than a windbreaker.
Shrewd move on my part.
Dinner tonight was at The Driskill Grill, where the chef from last night's meal at Congress used to work. After last night's quite lovely tasting menu, tonight's meal, another tasting menu, suffered greatly by the comparison. Don't get me wrong: the food was good. It just wasn't in the same ballpark as Congress'.
Congress is now on my short list of the best places to eat in Austin, while I won't go back to The Driskill Grill until I hear it's greatly improved.
February 1, 2011
On the road again: Austin, day 2
When I was preparing for this trip on Sunday, I commented that though I would have preferred not to have to travel just then, at least I was going somewhere warm. It was indeed warm yesterday--but that all vanished last night. Today, the high was in the 30s, a strong wind seemed to be blowing everywhere I was, and I experienced my first truly cold Austin day.
I can't talk about most of what I do each day on these trips, because it's business, but two bits deserve comment.
The first is my pillow overflow. I like a lot of pillows on my bed, with five being the ideal minimum. (It has to do with my notion of the sleep nest; don't ask.) My bed had only three, so I asked the hotel to bring some more. When they didn't do so, I asked again. When I returned from my meetings, they had indeed come with extra pillows--twice.
Yes, I now have nine pillows. Though some would say that is too many, I take it as a challenge to use them all wisely in the creation of a superbly enhanced nest. I am up to this challenge!
Dinner is also worth reporting. We ate at Congress Austin, a relatively new restaurant that features Chef David Bull, who had taken the food of the Driskill Grill (where I'm eating tomorrow night) up several notches. The tasting menu we tried was not adventurous, but it was interesting, used many local ingredients, and most importantly, was delicious. When Chef Bull came to talk to us and asked for my favorite dish, I had to name three--always an excellent sign. As is so frequently the case at otherwise very strong restaurants, however, the sweets could not keep up with the savories. Mind you, they were good, but they were definitely a notch below the rest of the meal.
Finally, courtesy of Gina turning me onto it, I watched today this touching video of street performers around the world doing versions of the King, Lieber, and Stoller classic, "Stand By Me." Enjoy.
I can't talk about most of what I do each day on these trips, because it's business, but two bits deserve comment.
The first is my pillow overflow. I like a lot of pillows on my bed, with five being the ideal minimum. (It has to do with my notion of the sleep nest; don't ask.) My bed had only three, so I asked the hotel to bring some more. When they didn't do so, I asked again. When I returned from my meetings, they had indeed come with extra pillows--twice.
Yes, I now have nine pillows. Though some would say that is too many, I take it as a challenge to use them all wisely in the creation of a superbly enhanced nest. I am up to this challenge!
Dinner is also worth reporting. We ate at Congress Austin, a relatively new restaurant that features Chef David Bull, who had taken the food of the Driskill Grill (where I'm eating tomorrow night) up several notches. The tasting menu we tried was not adventurous, but it was interesting, used many local ingredients, and most importantly, was delicious. When Chef Bull came to talk to us and asked for my favorite dish, I had to name three--always an excellent sign. As is so frequently the case at otherwise very strong restaurants, however, the sweets could not keep up with the savories. Mind you, they were good, but they were definitely a notch below the rest of the meal.
Finally, courtesy of Gina turning me onto it, I watched today this touching video of street performers around the world doing versions of the King, Lieber, and Stoller classic, "Stand By Me." Enjoy.
January 31, 2011
On the road again: Austin, day 1
Ah, the glamor of business travel: Up after a few hours of restless sleep. Shower. Drive to the airport. Join the mewling animal queue. Get scanned once again by the new machine, too tired to bother protesting its senseless invasion. Work in the Admiral's Club--a nice reprieve as the world goes away.
The plane. No first class. No exit row. Bag under the seat like a good resident of the oversold zoo. Seat in front so close that work is impossible. Warm, over-breathed air. Back curled to try to cram shoulders into a seat never built to contain them. Fatigue and space make even reading almost impossible. Try to sleep but just play the head-bob game. Air grows warmer and ever more stale.
I have rarely been so happy to land in Dallas.
The day improved markedly from there, with an upgrade on the next leg, the rental car ready (albeit filthy), and the drive to the hotel uneventful. Hours of work followed, the world vanishing as it does for me when I focus.
What is that in the evening distance, beckoning me, turning everything around?
Oh, yeah: it's Texas barbecue, courtesy of The County Line On the Lake, about which I've written often. A beef rib, a little sausage, and a little brisket later, and I'm a happy man.
A stop at the Amy's Ice Creams by the Renaissance Hotel, and the overheated, overstuffed plane was already a fading memory.
Doug and the Slugs are playing on the portable speakers in front of me. My computer is working, my room is cool, and I am reminded yet again that I have known bad times and, crappy three-hour flight or not, these aren't them.
The plane. No first class. No exit row. Bag under the seat like a good resident of the oversold zoo. Seat in front so close that work is impossible. Warm, over-breathed air. Back curled to try to cram shoulders into a seat never built to contain them. Fatigue and space make even reading almost impossible. Try to sleep but just play the head-bob game. Air grows warmer and ever more stale.
I have rarely been so happy to land in Dallas.
The day improved markedly from there, with an upgrade on the next leg, the rental car ready (albeit filthy), and the drive to the hotel uneventful. Hours of work followed, the world vanishing as it does for me when I focus.
What is that in the evening distance, beckoning me, turning everything around?
Oh, yeah: it's Texas barbecue, courtesy of The County Line On the Lake, about which I've written often. A beef rib, a little sausage, and a little brisket later, and I'm a happy man.
A stop at the Amy's Ice Creams by the Renaissance Hotel, and the overheated, overstuffed plane was already a fading memory.
Doug and the Slugs are playing on the portable speakers in front of me. My computer is working, my room is cool, and I am reminded yet again that I have known bad times and, crappy three-hour flight or not, these aren't them.
January 30, 2011
Neck like a leg
In
Those people have normal-sized necks.
I don't.
I'm a little under 5'9". Most guys my height wear a shirt with about a 15.5-inch neck. I'm significantly heavier than I should be, so it's natural that my neck also be a bit larger than normal, but weight isn't the problem. I just have a huge neck--and always have. How big?
For a shirt collar not to choke me, I need a shirt with a 19.5-inch neck.
As the seamstress (more on her in a minute) observed, I have a neck like a leg.
Buying a dress shirt with a neck this large is easy: you go to the embarrassing "Big" section and order it. The shirts that go with this collar, however, are huge. My new shirt (also from Nordstrom; ref. the earlier post) billowed around me like a circus tent that hadn't been tacked down yet. The sleeves dangled way past my wrists. In rough weather, whole families could have taken refuge under it. In New York City, I could have rented the space as two efficiency apartments.
It was big. Huge, in fact.
No problem; I know a great local tailor shop. I headed there, whereupon the seamstress, who does know me, offered the above observation and suggested, "Next time, you bring a collar you like, and I'll make the shirt." I had considered that option, but it turns out to be dramatically more expensive than having her alter the shirt. Boy, did she have to alter it. She had to shorten it dramatically, take in the body, cut many inches off the sleeves, etc.
The result, though, was a shirt that fits--and, more importantly, fits my needs for the suit.
Neck like a leg.
Those people have normal-sized necks.
I don't.
I'm a little under 5'9". Most guys my height wear a shirt with about a 15.5-inch neck. I'm significantly heavier than I should be, so it's natural that my neck also be a bit larger than normal, but weight isn't the problem. I just have a huge neck--and always have. How big?
For a shirt collar not to choke me, I need a shirt with a 19.5-inch neck.
As the seamstress (more on her in a minute) observed, I have a neck like a leg.
Buying a dress shirt with a neck this large is easy: you go to the embarrassing "Big" section and order it. The shirts that go with this collar, however, are huge. My new shirt (also from Nordstrom; ref. the earlier post) billowed around me like a circus tent that hadn't been tacked down yet. The sleeves dangled way past my wrists. In rough weather, whole families could have taken refuge under it. In New York City, I could have rented the space as two efficiency apartments.
It was big. Huge, in fact.
No problem; I know a great local tailor shop. I headed there, whereupon the seamstress, who does know me, offered the above observation and suggested, "Next time, you bring a collar you like, and I'll make the shirt." I had considered that option, but it turns out to be dramatically more expensive than having her alter the shirt. Boy, did she have to alter it. She had to shorten it dramatically, take in the body, cut many inches off the sleeves, etc.
The result, though, was a shirt that fits--and, more importantly, fits my needs for the suit.
Neck like a leg.
January 29, 2011
A bad brain moment
(Warning: Adult content follows. If you end up having to squeegee your third eye clean after reading this, don't blame me.)
What do you think when you see this name and this photo? Here's what ran through my mind when I did.
I've never believed in naming one's body parts, so though popular culture might have one believe that men name their penises, I have never named mine. Having seen this page, though, I for the first time wondered if I was missing something by abstaining from this practice.
Consider the very weird prospect of me unzipping, pointing down, and saying,
"Say hello to the Corntastic Porndog."
I warned you.
What do you think when you see this name and this photo? Here's what ran through my mind when I did.
I've never believed in naming one's body parts, so though popular culture might have one believe that men name their penises, I have never named mine. Having seen this page, though, I for the first time wondered if I was missing something by abstaining from this practice.
Consider the very weird prospect of me unzipping, pointing down, and saying,
"Say hello to the Corntastic Porndog."
I warned you.
January 28, 2011
Why Nordstom works for me
For work-related reasons, I needed a suit. I haven't had to deal with suits in ages. A sports coat is usually enough for most semi-formal occasions, and should an event be truly formal, I own a tux. In this case, though, only a suit would do.
I hate buying clothes for myself. I've always hated it. Worse, these days I'm extremely unhappy with my body, which makes the entire process even more painful. Nothing can make me like buying new clothing.
Nordstrom, though, makes that process more bearable than anywhere I've ever shopped.
My experience with this suit is typical of my shopping trips there. I headed to the men's department and was greeted by a guy who looked like he'd been selling formal men's clothing since the seventies, maybe earlier. Everything about his dress was impeccably conservative, yet small touches, such as a designer watch, showed personal flair. I told him I wanted a suit and the general types of purposes for it. He asked my size, and I gave him my best guess. He frowned for a split second, corrected his expression, and said, "Let me show you something."
He walked to a nearby rack, pulled out a suit, and held it up.
It was perfect, exactly what I had envisioned, and it was the size I had told him.
He helped me try on the coat, and, as he had clearly known, it was not the right size.
He held up a finger, grabbed another coat, and helped me into it.
It was perfect.
I tried on the coat and pants, my salesman asked me the usual questions (break or not in the pants, etc.), and offered his guess as to my choice--which was in every case correct. Their on-site tailor marked all the alterations and left. My salesman said it would be ready in a week unless I needed it sooner, but I did not.
I paid--it happened to be on sale--and left.
I'm sure that if I had all the right expertise, I could have found an equivalent suit at a lower price somewhere else.
I don't care. The low hassle and pleasant efficiency of that salesman (I always enjoy dealing with experts working in their areas of expertise), plus the high quality of the garment, make me happy to have shopped there.
As long as my shopping trips to Nordstrom continue to work out that well, that chain is going to get a lot of my business.
I hate buying clothes for myself. I've always hated it. Worse, these days I'm extremely unhappy with my body, which makes the entire process even more painful. Nothing can make me like buying new clothing.
Nordstrom, though, makes that process more bearable than anywhere I've ever shopped.
My experience with this suit is typical of my shopping trips there. I headed to the men's department and was greeted by a guy who looked like he'd been selling formal men's clothing since the seventies, maybe earlier. Everything about his dress was impeccably conservative, yet small touches, such as a designer watch, showed personal flair. I told him I wanted a suit and the general types of purposes for it. He asked my size, and I gave him my best guess. He frowned for a split second, corrected his expression, and said, "Let me show you something."
He walked to a nearby rack, pulled out a suit, and held it up.
It was perfect, exactly what I had envisioned, and it was the size I had told him.
He helped me try on the coat, and, as he had clearly known, it was not the right size.
He held up a finger, grabbed another coat, and helped me into it.
It was perfect.
I tried on the coat and pants, my salesman asked me the usual questions (break or not in the pants, etc.), and offered his guess as to my choice--which was in every case correct. Their on-site tailor marked all the alterations and left. My salesman said it would be ready in a week unless I needed it sooner, but I did not.
I paid--it happened to be on sale--and left.
I'm sure that if I had all the right expertise, I could have found an equivalent suit at a lower price somewhere else.
I don't care. The low hassle and pleasant efficiency of that salesman (I always enjoy dealing with experts working in their areas of expertise), plus the high quality of the garment, make me happy to have shopped there.
As long as my shopping trips to Nordstrom continue to work out that well, that chain is going to get a lot of my business.
January 27, 2011
Tangled
When I mentioned to Kyle that I'd seen this movie, he asked why I had little kids with me. I didn't. A group of adults went, and we all quite enjoyed it.
The story, of course, is basically Rapunzel, but Disney-fied and turned into a musical. The Disney-fication includes adding fun animals and the usual adorable characters--all of which makes the movie sound less and less appealing.
This film, though works. The writing is good and tells an interesting story. The characters have real relationships. Some awful things happen--as they should. It provides several moments of on-screen magic. You get the idea: It's a good movie.
As long as you don't consider yourself too grown-up for cartoons (and if you do, let me introduce you to some awesome anime flicks, not to mention almost everything Pixar has done), Tangled is well worth your time.
The story, of course, is basically Rapunzel, but Disney-fied and turned into a musical. The Disney-fication includes adding fun animals and the usual adorable characters--all of which makes the movie sound less and less appealing.
This film, though works. The writing is good and tells an interesting story. The characters have real relationships. Some awful things happen--as they should. It provides several moments of on-screen magic. You get the idea: It's a good movie.
As long as you don't consider yourself too grown-up for cartoons (and if you do, let me introduce you to some awesome anime flicks, not to mention almost everything Pixar has done), Tangled is well worth your time.
January 25, 2011
Water on the pavement
(As always, click on the image to see a larger version.)
The day made it into the fifties, a welcome respite from the endless cold days, and then the rain came. When I left the office about 8:30, the showers had paused and now the streetlights washed the grass in sparkles and the parking lot in shimmers. The smell of life sent my hindbrain messages my mind interpreted only later: Winter will one day end. New growth is biding its time. All will be well.
I stopped, breathed deeply, and for almost a minute, until the reality of the cooling night overtook the dream of the coming spring, stood happily in that dream and smiled into the darkness.
The day made it into the fifties, a welcome respite from the endless cold days, and then the rain came. When I left the office about 8:30, the showers had paused and now the streetlights washed the grass in sparkles and the parking lot in shimmers. The smell of life sent my hindbrain messages my mind interpreted only later: Winter will one day end. New growth is biding its time. All will be well.
I stopped, breathed deeply, and for almost a minute, until the reality of the cooling night overtook the dream of the coming spring, stood happily in that dream and smiled into the darkness.
Two additional appearances in the next 12 months
Anytime you want to know what cons (and other events) I'll be attending, you can check out my
One of those factors involves next year's Chattacon 37: they've asked me to be Toastmaster, and I've agreed. So, if you're planning to be anywhere near Chattanooga the third weekend of January, 2012, come by and say hi. I've never been to either the city or the con, so I'm quite looking forward to seeing the place, meeting the good folks there, and, of course, sampling their barbecue.
The other news is that I've decided to risk the huge crowds and go to this year's Dragon*con, where I'll be one of its many guests. I've heard great things about this con, but the combination of the Labor Day weekend timing and the crowds have kept me away--until now. Again, if you're planning to attend, try to find me while I'm there, and say hi.
One of those factors involves next year's Chattacon 37: they've asked me to be Toastmaster, and I've agreed. So, if you're planning to be anywhere near Chattanooga the third weekend of January, 2012, come by and say hi. I've never been to either the city or the con, so I'm quite looking forward to seeing the place, meeting the good folks there, and, of course, sampling their barbecue.
The other news is that I've decided to risk the huge crowds and go to this year's Dragon*con, where I'll be one of its many guests. I've heard great things about this con, but the combination of the Labor Day weekend timing and the crowds have kept me away--until now. Again, if you're planning to attend, try to find me while I'm there, and say hi.
January 24, 2011
Balloons do not necessarily make dogs happy
Thanks to Allyn, I have a few pictures of how Holden and Shibori reacted to the post-balloonaganza leftovers. From these pictures, I learned that sometimes balloons bore dogs...
...while other times they make dogs wonder if they're tasty...
...and sometimes they do indeed make dogs happy.
...while other times they make dogs wonder if they're tasty...
...and sometimes they do indeed make dogs happy.
