What's for supper?

Anyone else grow up being forced to watch Hee-Haw? (I suppose I didn't actually have to watch the TV just because it was on, but that hardly seemed an option when I was a kid.)
There was this standing skit where someone off screen yelled "Hey Grandpa, what's for supper?" Then this impossibly old (by my 8-year-old standards) guy would describe some southern cooking feast and everyone would say "Yum! Yum!"

So on the count of three, you say "What's for supper?"
I'll wait.

Really.

If it's summer, some likely possibilities at Chez Tebeau are:
Panzanella salad
Tomato pie
Cucumber salad

Basically, we wander out our front door to the farmer's market across the street, see what looks good, and plan our menu around that. Tonight it's green peppers stuffed with rice pilaf, with some roasted root veggies (carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic) on the side.

Yum-yum!

is this global warming?

Today it's in the 60s in New York. Tomorrow it's supposed to be in the 70s. Friday in the 80s. Saturday, the 90s.

That sounds more like "by the decade" sorority rush week theme parties than a weather forecast.




It's mid-August and people on the subway have that wardrobe confusion I usually associate with fall and spring -- someone in short sleeves and flip flops sitting next to someone in a turtleneck sweater and wool pants. It's hard to know who's right, especially with how quickly the target is moving this week.

Chippewas in Manhattan

I suppose there's some sort of potentially un-PC pun to make about how Manhattan used to be Indian territory ... but rather than risk offending, I'll just get straight to the point.

Apparently there are something like 1,100 graduates of Central Michigan University -- whose mascot is still, surprisingly, the Chippewa -- living in the New York area. A young grad coordinated a happy hour for those CMU alums and I met some interesting people who all share memories of The Bird, even if some of them are too young to remember when the journalism department was in the basement of Anspach Hall.

Cool jazz, hot jazz

John and I rented a car and drove to Newport for the jazz festival last week.

The upside is that most of the weekend we had fantastic weather for lazing on the beach and listening to some great music.
The downside is that even with all the public transportation options here, there are obviously still too damned many people with cars. Traffic was horrific getting in and out of the city, and a cold, unrelenting rain on our drive out didn't help.

But by Saturday, it warmed up. Surprisingly so. We were roasting at the jazz festival, which thankfully had a shade tent where we lounged and just enjoyed some downtime.

We had a fantastic time, even if next time I might be willing to pass on the Mustang convertible John scored in favor of a leisurely train ride and walking around the downtown of Newport.












Promgate


I've been really busy at work, and probably will be for another month or so, with a huge project that's due mid-September. It's interesting stuff, really challenging and I hope worthwhile, but it's meant that I haven't had tons of spare time evenings or weekends.

I tried my best to leave work behind while we were in Newport, so instead of reading financial forecasts for the media industry, instead I read a draft of Lara's new novel, Promgate.

I won't spoil it for you, but suffice to say that Lara could become a later day Judy Blume. It's a young adult story with scandal, intrigue, conflict and yes, even sex. It's still in its early stages but already it's such a good read that I tore through nearly the whole thing on our four-day weekend.