alexander returns to school

My mother would probably be in the emergency room right now if she had been here watching Alexander get ready to leave.  My mother arrives everywhere early.  When she stays with me, and she needs to catch a 9am bus from Port Authority (8^th and 42^nd) back to the Cape, she is out the door, hailing a cab no later than 7:30.

Not Alexander.

Last night, we are up taking timed quizzes (both together and against each other) on Sporcle, a site that has all sorts of quizzes on all sorts of topics.  Here’s the link, but a warning:  this site is highly addictive.

http://www.sporcle.com/

My geography knowledge is laughable.  I can't even place Russia on a blank map of Asia.  When Alexander was little, one of his favorite toys was a talking globe.  He knows the most obscure countries, and I can’t even find the major ones.  Take Africa, for example.  Alexander is stunned I remember Chad but forget Egypt.  As time is ticking down, he starts giving me hints.  For example, his hint for Somalia is, “Bad people.  Very Bad.  You don’t want to be in the waters around this country.”  When I still don’t get it, Alexander tries the obvious.  “Pirates.  In the news.” Even then, I don't name the right country.  Nor do I get his hint for Jordan.  "A famous basketball player who played for the Bulls."     We switch to movie  quizzes.  I think I'll excel here, but Alexander’s knowledge is more impressive than mine. He remembers every detail from every movie he’s ever seen.  Finally, at 2:30 am, after three hours of playing, and so many laughs, we stop and go to bed. 

This morning, Alexander gets up around 11, and starts to pack.  “I think I’ll take the 12:30 bus he announces.”  My mother would already be at Port Authority by now.  Alexander packs leisurely.   I offer to make him eggs, but add, “I don’t think you’ll have enough time.”  “No, I do, " he assures me.  And miraculously he does.  

Alexander loves school this year and is excited to go back.  He is happier than he appears in this photo.

He leaves the house around 12:10, finds a cab, and makes it to Port Authority at 12:29 (according to his phone).  He zooms downstairs, just as the bus is about to leave.  It is not crowded; he gets a seat by himself; and calls to tell me he’s on the bus.

Alexander's room will now be neater.    The kitchen will be cleaner.  The living room won’t have random glasses everywhere.  Food will last much longer. Paper towels and toilet paper won’t evaporate.  Loud thumping music won’t fill the house.  But still, I already miss him.

more about coffee and tea

Keeping to the theme of trade shows, M and I go to The Coffee and Tea Festival today.

We arrive at 10:55; the doors open at 11.  Already the line snakes half a block between between 25^th and 26th, and a full block more between Lexington and Park.  I had no idea this event would be so popular.  But the line moves quickly, and we are soon in.  We are among the first 1500 visitors, so we are given a big red bag with coupons and samples.  The place is mobbed, and I keep losing M.  Apparently, someone somewhere called it one of the “10 Best New York Events” and about 5,000 people attend.  This I read later.

Unlike yesterday’s very chic crowd, today’s group is more of the granola variety.  In addition to the many vendors, there are people there promoting items tangential to tea and coffee.  For example, there’s a tea leaf reader.  There’s someone selling Vermont cheese and someone else grinding and selling peanut butter (both are excellent but their connections to tea and coffee are somewhat unclear). And, there is even a person in a little hut inviting people in, to “sit and have tea and share their story.” 

 M and I sample lots of coffees and teas.

Our favorite vendor is Bee Raw Honey.  They sell gorgeous jars of honey for only $10.  Since honey is one of the few foods that never spoils, I buy two jars: Maine Wild Raspberry and Oregon Meadowfoam Honey. Also, the owner turns out to be someone M used to work with and hasn’t seen in years.

After we’ve seen about everything, we decide to stop in on an event called Coffee: Seed to Cup, presented by Byron Holcomb of Dallas Brothers Coffee.  We take a seat with about 70 other people.  Seated in the front row is a mismatched couple.  He is sporting three earrings (two in one ear and one in the other) and she is wearing a lace-like thing that M says, “Looks like something my Italian relatives would use on a table.”  They are cuddled together as if on a romantic date.  He keeps twirling her short choppy hair.  We become more focused on the couple than the speaker. They are more interesting.

Ah, the speaker.  If I were a 10^th grade teacher, and he were the student, my appraisal would read something like this: 

C+. 

Byron, you know your material but not your audience.  The visuals you use in your PowerPoint presentation are boring and add little, if anything, to your words.  But worse,  many of the topics you cover are of no interest to your audience.  I mean really, do you think they care about bean storage in Brazil?  And then Ethiopia?  And then Kenya? And what about those slides and lengthy descriptions of Wash Water Management, by country?  Your audience was sleeping at that point (except for the lovebirds in row one). 

Shorten the segment on Green Grading.  Just tell them that one bad bean can ruin an entire pot of coffee.  That they may find interesting.

And finally, cut the entire section on Densimetric Sorting.  Again, Byron, these people are here to learn a bit about coffee production; they do not intend to become bean farmers!

We leave before Byron finishes, our arms filled with teas, honey, peanut butter, and in M’s case, some books on tea. I can't imagine that this is one of New York's ten best events, but it is a good one.

playdate with M

Whenever M comes to town we end up shopping.  This time I want to do something different.  I buy tickets to a couple of shows.  That’s how we end up at Architectural Digest’s Home Show today.

M and I expect to show up and walk right in.  This doesn’t happen.  There are two long lines, and we are directed to the wrong one.  We try to move parallel into the right line, but meet with resistance.  “I’m sorry, but you are NOT getting in front of me," says an attractive, stylishly dressed blond woman.  So instead we get behind her, and the people we are now in front of are not pleased.  The blond later apologizes for her rudeness, “I think I’ve been living in New York too long,” she says by way of an excuse.  At the front of the line we are asked all sorts of information, in order to get on mailing lists, no doubt.  M loses her patience when asked for her first name to be typed onto a name tag.  “I don’t want to give it,” she responds.    So the identifying tag pinned on M's coat simply reads, “Lyn’s Guest.”

There are hundreds of exhibitors and all sorts of beautiful things.  M’s favorites are an outdoor shower and a whimsical stool with a shaggy mop of wool on top.   Mine is a spectacular oak buffet with fine cut glass in ivory on its face from a company called Ercole.

We take a break on a heated, white leather sofa.

Around three,  we leave and go crosstown to Asia Tui-Na for massages.  It’s a no-frills massage place where for $85 you can get an incredible 90-minute massage.   A waving plastic cat greets the clients.  I've been many times before and am always stunned by the strength of the small female masseuses. 

Cotton curtains separate the customers.  It is understood not to talk, as the curtains are paper thin (literally, I think).  To my right, is M.  And to my left, is someone who keeps coughing up phlegm and spitting it out.  Loudly.  It is ruining any hope of a peaceful massage.  Finally, M shouts out from her side of the curtain, “You are not going to keep doing that through the whole massage, are you?”  The people to my left respond as hoped; they leave.  The rest of the massage is great.

Alexander joins us for dinner at Yefsi, a busy Greek restaurant near my apartment.  The food is excellent, with the standouts being the calamari, Greek salad, and French fries. It’s a perfect end to a perfect day.

coffee and tea

The other day, I put away my Keurig coffee maker.  I like the taste of real coffee too much.  For months, it was just sitting on my counter taking up room.  It is now on my hall closet floor.

But every now and then, I prefer tea.  And I’ve found a tea I love.  It’s by Kusmi Tea and it’s called Sweet Love, described as “an exquisite blend of black tea, spices, guarana and liquorice that stimulates the senses.”  Loose tea, while cheaper, is too much work.  I buy a box of 20 “muslin tea bags” for $13.  A bit more than your standard Lipton, but worth the price.

I squeeze every little bit of tea out of one tea bag.  At 8 this morning, I boil a pot of tea.  I pour some of the water into a large mug and the balance into my 16 ounce Nissan Thermos.  I use the tea bag first in the cup, and then in the Thermos.  At 7:30 tonight, I pour my last cup of tea, and it is still piping hot.

I take it black with no sugar.  Zero calories.  Every little bit helps.