Fracking is on the minds of new yorkers

Wait a Minute New York!  Check out this new blog from a local author in the Western New York area.

Posting my vote on social networking

     I will make no apologies for my love of social networking, particularly on Facebook.

     My friendly nature has kept me in contact with others all my life whether it has been by handwritten letters-perish the thought these days, or phone calls. Now with texting, emailing and live online chats, I am putting it to good use.

     There are varying opinions about shedding one’s privacy, and I am willing to listen to what the experts have to say, but as for me, I am not going to shrink away from networking. If anything, I want to put the latest technology to work for me.

      I can assure you that I take the necessary precautions with the privacy settings on Facebook, and I never announce my entire comings and goings either.

     If you want to look me up, you won’t find much about me from my public profile. Besides, I have to “friend” you before you are able to see the whole enchilada of my doings.

     What I write on my page reflects who I am as a person, and I will leave the nasty, vulgar comments to others-and those people I can block, from coming up on my news feed. Hopefully I post thought-provoking statements that entice my friends to add their opinions on a subject.

     What does disturb me, though, is reading posts from someone who is putting his whole life out there for others to see, including sharing with his virtual friends that his girlfriend is having an affair.  Or worse yet, all the life that he does appear to have is wrapped up in saying “good night” on Facebook every evening. I can pick out the needy people from the happy, secure people on Facebook after reading a few comments.

     I have had some heart-warming experiences in my estimation that have proven worthwhile for me to be on Facebook.

     Take for example, a “connect” that I made from someone in California that recognized my maiden name and contacted me via a private message. We started back and forth with short notes, but soon we got so excited about finding each other that we went to the telephone to continue our conversation. After hearing each other’s voices we laughed over which one of us still sounded more like a native Long Islander than the other.

     It turned out that we both grew up on the opposite ends of the same street, and with his steel-trap mind he remembered all sorts of details that I had long ago buried. Actually, he has become a living reference book for the neighborhood, and I have been begging him to write it down.

      He told me about visiting my dad’s linen store as a young boy of seven and having just enough money to buy his grandmother an embroidered handkerchief for her birthday. You see his mother had passed away when he was very young, and his grandmother was raising him.

     My dad knew this, and probably everything else about people living in a small town, which he carefully did not share at home with my sister and me at the time for obvious reasons.

      My friend told me how dad treated him like any other adult customer buying a gift. He looked and looked at all the choices on the long center table before selecting one with just the right amount of lace around the edges. He knew not to touch, but he said that it was hard to keep his hands in his pockets along with his roll of quarters. Dad made a big deal over the purchase and he wrapped the handkerchief in a gift box with a lovely bow. 

      He never forgot that kindness at a point in life when he needed it as an impressionable young boy. Later on he wondered if he actually had enough money, or possibly, dad took what he had and left it at that. His grandmother and my father have since passed away, but we shared a special moment over that story because of Facebook.  Each of us shed a tear or two with gratitude for our families.

     On one of our trips to California my husband and I will meet my hometown friend at his place of work in the public relations department at Disneyland, and talk more about our good life growing up in a small town.

     After that episode, the whole Facebook connect thing just mushroomed, and before you knew it I had “friended” the others that grew up on Lincoln Street, too, around the same time period.   We were raised when all ages played ball together, performed in makeshift circuses and even challenged one another to board games. Each of us brings a different slant on our early childhood into our conversations, and those good memories bond us together.

     Getting ambitious one day, I started a group alumni page for my beloved elementary school, and now I have many more contacts from not only the neighborhood, but from all over town.

     Facebook is an efficient way for keeping up with my social contacts, sending quick birthday greetings and not loosing touch with former colleagues. I love the surprise contacts from people who enrich my life simply by reaching out.

     I can even read the latest posts from The Livingston County News, too, on Facebook. Now that’s twenty-first century!

    

love is good, dark chocolate

a shared table

     The most satisfying meals that I have ever shared with family or friends weren’t the special occasions at upscale restaurants, nor were they around elegant dining room tables where we managed to consume way too much rich food either. 

     The dinners that have left the fondest memories were partaken in love, sincere hospitality and enriching conversation-sometimes in unusual circumstances.

     The first meal that my then future husband cooked for me at his bachelor pad was a risk on his part to say the least. Although he was an accomplished cook thanks to my wise mother-in-law’s early training, he decided to surprise me with a venison stroganoff not aware if I was into eating wild game. 

      Fortunately for our relationship I was open for trying new delicacies, and the meal was outstanding. He used an empty wine bottle to hold the candle so reminiscent of past college days, and set the table with the only two matching dishes he owned, which I later discovered upon taking inventory of his cupboards. Oddly enough, today neither of us can recall the actual table that he had at the time, but it doesn’t really matter. 

     A couple summers ago I was at a rural church yard sale and spotted a well-used dining room table probably over one hundred years old. The dark wooden surface was pitted with scratches and marks from a good long life.  It was a sensible circular table with all sorts of character running down its plain legs. My index finger caught in a deep groove, and I unconsciously moved it back and forth.  

      A rush of sadness came over me. The table was a living history of a family's life-all the tears shed and the joys announced throughout the years. The conversations around the table were all but whispers in the wind I thought. I put my ear to the oak in hope that I would hear the voices of the past. 

     Once when our camping group stopped near Easton, Maine, before crossing to Canada, we bought fresh lobster off a fisherman parked right near our campsite. We spread newspaper on the picnic table, brought out bowls of melted butter and ate a feast that was truly mouthwatering. There with so much laughter late into the evening holding us together that we cleaned up by flashlight. Whenever I have a pricey lobster dinner I recall that impromptu dinner on the trip to Nova Scotia.

     A close friend of ours passed away recently, and I remember that the last time we were together was at a picnic hosted by a gracious person. It wasn't a fancy setting either, because several outside tables of uneven heights and shapes were pushed together with all the lawn chairs that could be scrounged to accommodate everyone. The assortment of food was outstanding, and there was enough to feed an army.

     It was one of those relaxed meals where nobody was shy about taking second helpings either.  We spent a couple hours laughing and catching up with each other before going our separate ways not knowing that health issues would descend soon upon our beloved friend.

     It has been said that when you put the heads of two women together they will concoct a plan. What a mess my single sister and I got into when we conspired to get a couple work friends together for a blind date!  We spent hours on the phone plotting the meeting before we finally decided on a casual fishing date for them overlooking the fact that my friend wasn’t much of an outdoors person. 

     The weekend arrived and we drove to Boston. My sister cooked a fancy meal expecting fresh fish for the main course when the couple returned later. Her cramped third floor apartment with no air conditioning to overcome the scorching heat pouring from the oven was a challenge. 

     In her comfortable way that she would became so good at in later life, she set up a card table, put on a fancy cloth from dad's linen store and arranged a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. She had that artist's knack for decorating and making a table elegant without expensive dinnerware. 

     The couple came back with several puny fish. Thank goodness for small favors because we each would have several bites, although the arranged date hadn’t caught on at all. The guy left as quickly as he could after the meal in a true catch and release fashion. All was not lost, however, as three single girls and a bottle of wine at the table finished the evening. 

     I recollect huge family clambakes on Long Island Sound where as I young child I could barely view the other end of the long makeshift table balanced on sawhorses, but I heard bits and pieces of chatter. Cousins upon cousins that I only saw in the summer were there, and it was one story after another depending on who could outshout the others to get the floor. Rumor has it that the younger generation wants to start up the family tradition again this coming summer, and thanks to all their connections on Facebook, they will no doubt make it happen.

     What really matters in the long run of life is that people coming together briefly for a meal are in loving harmony with one another, and make the most of the moment at hand.

    

medleys in prattsburgh dishes up gourmet food

 Prattsburgh, a small town in Steuben County, is home to a restaurant, Medleys Cafe, that is more than a unique dining experience. It offers the best in well-cooked food from a variety of entrees suited to different palates. The homey atmosphere is cafe-like with colorful wooden chairs and tables happily mismatched set about the tiny location. Artwork is displayed on the creamy walls and assorted plants are houses on the ledges.
On the evening that I was there, I had the blackened salmon drizzled with blue cheese, squash, asparagus and a pyramid of rice. My husband had the steak oscar with crab stuffing. Homemade bread and hummus along with butter, salad or choice of soup were part of the meal.
It was a meal to linger over and savor!

waiting for your answer

"Better late than never," is a line of defense that people have exploited for decades. The phrase and what it implies ruffles my feathers, however. In my book it falls a hair short of the classic,"my dog ate my homework."
I'm pondering, though, if the idea,"no news is good news," has tipped the balance. Could it be weighing in with more popular votes in our modern technological world?
Emily Post has much to say online with business etiquette that compliments our lifestyles today. Emailing is part of the success puzzle that makes a lasting impression, "brands" you and helps you land the deals.

exhibition on batavia campus gallery features area artist

 At the Roz Steiner Gallery, Genesee Community College, Batavia there was a Solo Exhibition, Convivium presented by Kala Stein displayed during the month of January.
It was an awesome experience to be surrounded by the pieces, and move in different directions with the sunlight and shadows performing their jobs well. Peaceful. Joyful. Attention to slowing down in life and lingering was what caught me the most.
In Latin the root of convivium is feast. The assembling of the "feast" was time-consuming and required several hands of help. However, I must assume that like any well-cooked meal, it was a slow but gratifying process.The socialization that took place, the attention to all the detail and the problem solving necessary worked in the end when the table was laid in wait.
If you click on the website below and go to the link "Current Exhibitions" you will find a time lapse UTube piece that shows the installation.
Kala Stein is an artist and educator known for her porcelain installations and minimalist tableware. She gained national recognition as a top-ten emerging ceramic artist in 2011 for her innovations with non-traditional mold making and casting techniques.

 For more information about Stein and her  images go to
www.kalastein.com

For more information about the gallery and future exhibits go to:
www.genesee.edu/campuslife/arts/gallery/

will the real kitty please stand up

We're independent people at our house, and that includes five-year- old, Dickens, the tiger cat. My husband and I have our keys for coming and going, and Dickens sports his magnetic collar for use at the back door. It works well for us as a family.
Once in a while there is a slip up, and a key gets locked in the house, or some other nonsense that is a momentary inconvenience in the bigger picture of things.
Nothing has happened quite as incredible as last evening though.
My husband and I were heading out for the night, and got in the car. The headlights flashed on our porch. We saw the cat scurrying back and forth near the door looking rather distressed.
It was quite obvious when we took a second look that he had lost his collar, which in itself is rather infrequent. He has signaled us in the past this same way because he now is reliant on us letting him in the front door.
We stopped in our tracks and my husband went over to pick Dickens up while unlocking the door. I pushed past and went to the back closet to get a spare collar we keep for emergencies like this. He would hold Dickens while I put on the new collar. It was never a difficult task becuase he had the sense that the collar was important for him to wear.
I was rumaging around  my disorganized shelf when my husband called out to me to come quickly. When I walked into the living my husband didn't say a word. He was still holding the cat, BUT there was a second tiger cat--an exact twin, rolling on the floor with his magnetic collar on securely.
What? It wasn't registering at first. Then I realized that a neighbor cat had come calling to see his identical self. It was well-fed and cared for with the same markings as Dickens. We put the cat outside and prayed that it would find its way back home before we returned.
Sure enough, when we got home, the twin was gone. Whew!
We opened the door and called out, "Will the real Dickens please come out?"
That  story will go down as as a double keeper to be retold over and over. Oh, if I had only taken a picture so that you would believe it, too.

what's up with the climate?

The question was asked, and I didn't have an answer. I thought for a moment, hemed and hawed so to speak and came up with nothing. "When are you going to get a decent snowfall, so we can come Upstate for a visit? Without freezing temperatures in January and piles of snow to wade through, it's not the same," said my concerned potential visitors.
I suppose the guests are correct on that, and even for all of us that live here regardless of the season, we are scratching our heads waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The one or two snowfalls that we did have made me more apprehensive about getting out there in my car and going where I needed to be regardless. By this time in January, the ordinariness of winter driving has taken hold and the skills have been tested over and over. I have long since forgotten.
I can't help but worry about the ski slopes and those others depending upon the winter to keep them economically sound.
It surely hasn't been good for the seasonal fruit trees that rely on a period of frigid temperatures before their blossoms burst forth. I noticed that my forsythia bushes were waving to me in the wind trying to get my attention kind of like "what's up, doc?"
All the strange weather around the country-the vicious tornadoes touching down, the wildfires and freezing days in areas where it doesn't normally happen, make me question what is going on with our climate.

state your point, please

I connected  powerful adjectives together in several coherent sentences to make my point. It was necessary that my email was clear, concise and that it would result in action.
The first reply that I received was short, formal and could have fit any situation. I didn't like that at all. Since it was a weekend, I knew that Monday I would pick up the phone and get my desired result.
Several hours later I received a second email from my correspondent that was utterly ridiculous. I felt like I was not being listened to, and it was unacceptable.
I replied with much more punch to my words.
I had been heard, and the proper action was starting to rectify the problem.
Tomorrow morning I will return a piece of defective merchandise to the company, and a full refund will be made on my credit card including the extra shipping I had requested for priority delivery--which didn't happen unfortunately.
Oh, the occasional challenge when ordering online is all part of living in 2012. 

no such thing as perfect in my opinion

GEVA Theatre Center in Rochester is rocking in laughter this winter thanks to  their staging of "A Perfect Wedding,"a British farce in every sense of the word.

Bruce Jordan, director, has cast the perfect combination of actors that skillfully deliver their lines, and no matter where you sit you are in for a romp in the country inn. You couldn't find a better rendition anywhere.

So it makes you think about your own perfect weekend all without a hitch including the honeymoon! What a great conversation starter at dinner after the theatre with friends! Or you remember being in one or two unusual wedding parties yourself that still make you shake your head in amazement. Then there is the new "destination wedding" event that takes everyone off on a frolic together. It also holds true moments to share.

Take my word for it, and visit GEVA for a healthy and hardy fit of giggles. Let yourself go. It's good for the winter blahs.
Tickets at gevatheatrecenter.org

a little knocking and creaking of doors

And I stayed glued to the tube last night at nine o'clock to watch "The Ghost Hunters" show about The Naples Hotel.
I think that it was more hype than substance, and a good gimmick to get the place sold. It has been on the market for a time. Other than that, it was pretty hokey. Even my friends gathered around the TV were bored after the first time things were repeated.
It will be with a little curiosity that I ask some local folks in Naples what's with the ghost stories. I think that is where the real truth will cme out once and for all. Could it be true that Topper, the ghost, resides on the third floor? Did the previous person in the process of buying the hotel referred to as "John" really have strange happenings and was not be able to run the place?
Oddly enough though, I was driving on Main Street in the fall when the cameras were filming and the crew was up and down on the porch steps. I wondered at the time, and when I heard later what it was about, then I knew that I would give the show a try.
Certainly I want to have dinner in the Naples Hotel restaurant soon for its ambiance of an earlier era. Whether there are ghosts listening upstairs, who cares?