986 Home Again

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Blogger is getting rather insistent that I move to Blogger Beta.

Uh uh. No way. I worked for "A Large Computer Company" long enough to know better. You want to test it, Blogger folks, test it yourself. Professional testers get paid. I'm not going to volunteer.

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I picked up Sister at the Newark airport on Wednesday. Her plane (almost all the flights, in fact) was more than an hour late, so we didn't get to Daughter's until after 10 pm, then she had to lead us to the motel where she had she had reserved rooms for us, because we'd never have found it on our own.

In fact, Sister and I got lost heading back to Daughter's on Thursday morning, and again going to the motel Thursday evening. One of these things where you say "Gee, I don't remember seeing that...." Mostly we just headed the proper compass direction until we found a route number we recognized. The whole area's bounded on the west by route 9 and on the east by the ocean, so how lost could we get? (A lot, as it turns out. We got to see the ocean.) We don't get excited about stuff like getting lost. Sometimes it's fun.

This was Daughter's first "formal" Thanksgiving dinner, and Son-in-law helped with some recipes of his own he wanted to try, and everything turned out wonderfully. SIL's employer had handed out turkeys, so we had a 20-pounder for the four of us. Except for the stuffing, which Daughter had specifically asked me to make, I knew well enough to stay out of the kitchen.

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Friday morning, Hercules was a bit put out because their electricity had dropped. I guess that's unusual for them (my electricity drops frequently). I couldn't understand what the problem was. I'm always resetting clocks, so what's the big deal? Well, I've got twice the rooms, but 1/5 the clocks they have. In four rooms, a kitchen, and two bathrooms, Daughter and Hercules have --- ready? --- 35 clocks! Real clocks, appliance displays, timers (like on the aquarium), clocks in electronic dodads. Some are atomic reset and some have "holding" batteries, but even so, you have to check them to make sure. No blinking 00:00s or surprise mistimings for Hercules!

Friday late afternoon we went to "Grounds For Sculpture", a beautifully landscaped sculpture park. There were bamboo groves with sculpture in the center, and strange shapes hovering in the density, gaps in the hedges that perfectly framed a glimpse of a mysterious bronze woman, soaring shapes reflected in still pools, you'd turn a corner and find yourself inside a 3-D recreation of a famous painting. The settings superbly complimented and complemented the sculptures, even to the quality of the light. If you're ever in central New Jersey, check it out.

I had said that I would spring for dinner (to spare everyone leftovers), so we ate at Rats, the restaurant on the grounds. Daughter had always wanted to eat there.

The food was very good, but I sorta dislike having to deconstruct an artsy-fartsy creation on my plate. Like, when the string beans are tied in a bundle with some kind of green stringy thingy, are you supposed to pull the beans out? Or untie the bundle? Or cut bits off? And is the stringy thingy edible? (It wasn't - it was too stringy.) When your escargot and wild mushrooms arrive spilling out of a hollowed out squash, are you supposed to attempt to eat what little is left of the squash insides? Or is that just decoration? Is it akin to trying to eat the napkin?

Speaking of napkins, it was a little disconcerting when the waiter shook out the napkins and tucked them on our laps. Most disconcerting to Son-in-law. And every time anyone left the table, the waiter refolded the napkin (fancily) and placed it on the table. It got to where Daughter refolded it herself before she got up. Not wanting to leave a mess, I guess. Son-in-law didn't leave the table the whole three hours - maybe he was afraid he'd get re-tucked.

For dessert, I had "Panko crusted apple cranberry strudel with carmel apple ice cream, cider reduction and star anise sabayon". What's sabayon? The strudel was like 8 inches tall, with six or eight different structural components, some of which I had no idea what they were and wasn't sure I should eat, but I did, and it was all very good. (Dinner menu here, desserts here.)

I've had things "with truffle" before, but my twice-baked potato with black truffle had CHUNKS of truffle, so I finally got to really taste truffle, as an identifiable entity.

Yeah, truffle does have a distinctive flavor, but I don't know what all the fuss is about. I like chocolate truffles better. Maybe it's one of those things snobs like simply because it's expensive? Sorta like caviar - another thing I don't understand the fuss over. Whatever.... Perhaps I'm just hard to impress.

Dinner came to $374.05 for the four of us, including drinks and tip. Now THAT'S impressive!

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I told Sister about how I was told I was indiscriminately flirtatious, and how it finally sank in, and how it explained so much that had happened to me in the past.

She really didn't say much of anything, kind of went sideways on unimportant bits of the story. That kind of let me know that she recognized a parallel experience but wasn't ready to look at it, so I didn't push it.

But if people think I'm flirtatious, they should see her in action! Now I know what Angela meant by "indiscriminate".

Sister's flirtation is different from whatever it is that I do. When talking to someone, anyone, she will raise one shoulder and tilt her head so that her cheek almost touches her shoulder. That's a very child-like gesture. She'll tilt her head down so that she's looking up under her eyelashes. I sort of do that, too, but with me it's a glance. With her it's a stance. She'll raise both shoulders, tilt her head down, and then make a kind of S-movement of her head side-to-side as she's talking. She speaks very slowly, a drawl, always smiling. She'll hold her forearm parallel to the floor, with the wrist bent at a right angle so her fingers dangle. That's a helpless-looking hand. She'll roll her shoulders forward and curve her elbows in, so she looks smaller, takes up less space. With a few drinks, she leans on people, or pats them. I mostly don't touch anyone, ever. I even avoid hugs if I think it might be misinterpreted.

The main difference is that she comes across as very gentle and childlike, whereas I present a more challenging sexuality. We both had the same parents and childhood. We both grew up afraid, feeling of little worth. Our actions come from the same place. We are both saying, in our own way, "Please love me. Please don't hit me."

She's definitely indiscriminate. So I guess I must be, too. I watched her the past few days, now I have to watch me.

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