Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Monday, 16 August 2010
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
To the Adirondacks and Back to 1977!
What We Did On Our Summer Vacation 2009
By Cindy Higby
Vacation 2009 was a winner. Barbara and I hopped two planes and stole a Ford Edge from the Albany airport (just kidding we rented it) making our way over clouds, past security gates, between migrating bands of weird people, and then cut a swath through thick green forest to get to our lake house in the Adirondacks. She was grumpy on the way there, due to the fact she did not get much sleep the night before. She has travel anxiety and instead of counting sheep like me, she was packing and repacking in her head and worrying about details for things she had no control over, like the fact she might not get any ATT bars in the mountains. She's usually more animated during the travel phase of a vacation, but this time I think she was stressing the length of time it takes to get to Raquette Lake from Dallas, approximately 10 hours, as well as the fact we still weren't sure we'd have wi fi either, just dial up (ugh!). Disconnecting from the universe is hard for us, since we mainline technology. Normally our vacations are not so remote and room service is just a button on the phone.
Regardless of the lack of amenities, I slept like a baby and jumped from the sack before the alarm even went off, excited like a little kid on Christmas morning. The lake house has that effect on me, even after 35 years of going there.
Here's a picture of our view from our dock in the morning. Imagine waking up and strolling down to watch the fog burn off as you sip your warm coffee, listening to the sounds of a Northern Loon and the lapping of soft waves against the rocky shore. Not too hard to take.
We spent nine days with my entire family tucked into two waterfront pine cabins that smell a little musty and decorated oddly (like empty wall space was a bad thing) (see this is where Barbara is such a trooper - she is used to the Four Seasons and the Ritz, not a little One Season hut in the woods). The Higby Camp walls of the big house are covered with my mother's favorite pictures (mostly Loons), as well as a deer head, a stuffed Bass my father caught, and various old photos and lures. It's cluttered to say the least, but it's also "campy", and we are used to it.
My Dad, right before he died this year, bought us a new fish and ski boat, and man was it fun. That boat can buzz to the village and back in under ten minutes - I know this cuz Cale tested it to get emergency ice cream one night. It was easy to fish out of too, even in tight corners. The trolling motor was smooth and the foot pedal placed comfortably so I could sit, cast, motor, and detangle my line...and drink a beer all at the same time.
Mark, Scott, Kathy, Faye, Quinn, Natalie, and Cale all piled in one day and took it to a little cove/beach and tubed and partied. They came back all excited, tired, happy and tanned. Barbara and I had been fishing in the smaller bass tracker that day, and had gone to the Tap Room (which Faye renamed the Tap Worm) for lunch and a beer.
then came back and sat on our dock sipping cold wine watching the waves. By now we were fully de-stressed, and realizing the power of the mountains and what getting away from it all really means. At the end of the week were were sad to leave, but had my Class of 1977 50th Birthday bash to attend, in my hometown of Orchard Park, NY.
My friend Mary Pat and I used Facebook and other electronic means to get the word out about this impromptu 50th birthday bash for the class of 1977, and not surprising - a whole bunch of old friends showed up. (if nothing else my class could throw'm down). It was great seeing my childhood best friend Sherrill, my party pal Lauren, my buddies Mark and Dwight and the carzy cast of characters from high school. The key phrase (as we introduced ourselves - not having laid eyes on most of these people since graduation in 1977) was, "Holy Shit!". Some people recognized me - some did not, and I had the same trippy experience with them. It's fascinating how age can change people, especially when you fast forward them 32 years.
Once again Barbara was thrown into the thick of it and carved out her own good time making friends with my old friends and shooting a slew of great photos with our new camera.
The last day we played golf with my friends Mickey and Deb at the Orchard Park Country Club, Thanks to Mary Pat whose a member. All in all it was a great trip. No one lost an eye. Everybody got along. We had a ton of laughs and it was great getting to see so many people I knew in one trip. I highly recommend the Adirondacks as a getaway, but don't go to Raquette Lake cuz well we like that its not over populated. Try Lake George instead!
Here's a short retro slideshow of the class of 1977.
By Cindy Higby
Vacation 2009 was a winner. Barbara and I hopped two planes and stole a Ford Edge from the Albany airport (just kidding we rented it) making our way over clouds, past security gates, between migrating bands of weird people, and then cut a swath through thick green forest to get to our lake house in the Adirondacks. She was grumpy on the way there, due to the fact she did not get much sleep the night before. She has travel anxiety and instead of counting sheep like me, she was packing and repacking in her head and worrying about details for things she had no control over, like the fact she might not get any ATT bars in the mountains. She's usually more animated during the travel phase of a vacation, but this time I think she was stressing the length of time it takes to get to Raquette Lake from Dallas, approximately 10 hours, as well as the fact we still weren't sure we'd have wi fi either, just dial up (ugh!). Disconnecting from the universe is hard for us, since we mainline technology. Normally our vacations are not so remote and room service is just a button on the phone.
Regardless of the lack of amenities, I slept like a baby and jumped from the sack before the alarm even went off, excited like a little kid on Christmas morning. The lake house has that effect on me, even after 35 years of going there.
Here's a picture of our view from our dock in the morning. Imagine waking up and strolling down to watch the fog burn off as you sip your warm coffee, listening to the sounds of a Northern Loon and the lapping of soft waves against the rocky shore. Not too hard to take.
We spent nine days with my entire family tucked into two waterfront pine cabins that smell a little musty and decorated oddly (like empty wall space was a bad thing) (see this is where Barbara is such a trooper - she is used to the Four Seasons and the Ritz, not a little One Season hut in the woods). The Higby Camp walls of the big house are covered with my mother's favorite pictures (mostly Loons), as well as a deer head, a stuffed Bass my father caught, and various old photos and lures. It's cluttered to say the least, but it's also "campy", and we are used to it.
My Dad, right before he died this year, bought us a new fish and ski boat, and man was it fun. That boat can buzz to the village and back in under ten minutes - I know this cuz Cale tested it to get emergency ice cream one night. It was easy to fish out of too, even in tight corners. The trolling motor was smooth and the foot pedal placed comfortably so I could sit, cast, motor, and detangle my line...and drink a beer all at the same time.
Mark, Scott, Kathy, Faye, Quinn, Natalie, and Cale all piled in one day and took it to a little cove/beach and tubed and partied. They came back all excited, tired, happy and tanned. Barbara and I had been fishing in the smaller bass tracker that day, and had gone to the Tap Room (which Faye renamed the Tap Worm) for lunch and a beer.
then came back and sat on our dock sipping cold wine watching the waves. By now we were fully de-stressed, and realizing the power of the mountains and what getting away from it all really means. At the end of the week were were sad to leave, but had my Class of 1977 50th Birthday bash to attend, in my hometown of Orchard Park, NY.My friend Mary Pat and I used Facebook and other electronic means to get the word out about this impromptu 50th birthday bash for the class of 1977, and not surprising - a whole bunch of old friends showed up. (if nothing else my class could throw'm down). It was great seeing my childhood best friend Sherrill, my party pal Lauren, my buddies Mark and Dwight and the carzy cast of characters from high school. The key phrase (as we introduced ourselves - not having laid eyes on most of these people since graduation in 1977) was, "Holy Shit!". Some people recognized me - some did not, and I had the same trippy experience with them. It's fascinating how age can change people, especially when you fast forward them 32 years.
Once again Barbara was thrown into the thick of it and carved out her own good time making friends with my old friends and shooting a slew of great photos with our new camera.
The last day we played golf with my friends Mickey and Deb at the Orchard Park Country Club, Thanks to Mary Pat whose a member. All in all it was a great trip. No one lost an eye. Everybody got along. We had a ton of laughs and it was great getting to see so many people I knew in one trip. I highly recommend the Adirondacks as a getaway, but don't go to Raquette Lake cuz well we like that its not over populated. Try Lake George instead!
Here's a short retro slideshow of the class of 1977.
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
There is No Cool Way to Puke
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what is cool and what’s not, although I’ve met a ton of people who just don’t get it and I’m perplexed as to why. Understanding the cool factor, regardless of whether you are young or old, good looking or fugly, fat or thin, make very little money, have no friends, were born in a lean-to in the woods and raised by wolves shouldn’t matter… when it comes to understanding “cool”. It should be innate. But it’s not.
People made/still make fun of Michael Jackson’s nose and appearance. They say he looked like a woman, had carved up his nose to be too small and that it would fall off, joked about his girly hair, pale skin, and his penchant to wear military sequined jackets and such. But when he danced, everybody knows to shut the eff up. End of discussion. There isn’t a soul on this earth who had the “rights” to cool, like MJ did when he sang and danced. If you don’t agree then I’m sorry - you are one of these clueless people I speak of who don’t get “cool.”
Perhaps you want to know why we think Michael was so cool to watch? How did he figure out that his hand gestures, head nods, hip jiving, foot sliding, finger snapping, together with the glove was going to make people stop and stare and admire his talents? The answer is; Michael thought it looked cool and that’s all that mattered. Honestly, most of the time it’s that simple. If you believe you look cool – you will feel cool – and thus you are cool. Bottom line, no big secrets to reveal here folks; If you feel cool you will project that confidence and it doesn’t matter if you are wearing a bright orange life jacket to the Emmy’s, if you think it’s “the bomb” and it makes you feel good, enough people will be influenced and agree with you, as if you slipped them some kind of drug induced crowd think pill. The next thing you know everybody’s wearing orange life jackets. So, the moral of this example is: feel it – be it.
For those who didn’t buy the Michael Jackson example, lets’ take “Larry the Cable Guy”. Larry will tell you he’s not cool, he’s just a redneck, hillbilly of sorts. Truth is he’s very cool! Why? Because Larry first off is way smarter than he pretends. Larry also refuses to follow proper decorum, and in the process makes no apologies. That’s cool. Larry is also a smart man posing to be dumb for the sake of humor. Thus, lots of people who would have otherwise thought Larry to be a big stupid bubba, now think he’s way cool. They will stop channel surfing to hear him talk, regardless of the subject. Larry figured out a way to make “Hillbilly” cool. My guess is Larry feels he looks good in a torn up flannel shirt, otherwise he couldn’t stand in front of thousands of people and deliver jokes. So Larry’s confidence in wearing flannel - made flannel cool. Yup, it’s that easy.
There are however some things in this world that no matter who does them, where or how they do them, there is no way it will ever look cool. For example, there is no cool way to puke. I don’t care if you are Cameron Diaz just out of hair and make up looking like a sex goddess, once she leans over a toilet and foul smelling vomit shoots out her mouth, all bets are off.
I pretty much believe that just about anybody can be made to look cool, but getting them to act cool takes more than you think. Hair and clothes are a beautiful thing, but acting cool is a whole other deal. Unmistakable cool people have inner wisdom and unexplainable skills. Some might say you either have it or you don’t. I think you can be taught how to act cool, eventually, but you have to really listen, take notes, practice for hours, test and retest, and most importantly be willing to change. The last part being the hardest part, of course.
Despite how much people want to be cool, change is beyond their mental perimeter. Just the other side of reachable. Like a dog on a short chain and a juicy steak laying a few feet away. All the “want’n” in the world won’t bring it to you. So, you can either start chewing the metal chain and see where that gets you, or bark your head off and wait to be shot, thus putting you out of you misery. Being cool and understanding cool, don’t always meet.
Let’s start with the playground. Do you remember what it was like to be among a screaming bunch of five year olds in kindergarten? Think back to your first year of school when you were allowed outside for thirty minutes to run off some energy before your teacher tried to sit everyone back down to teach Dick and Jane. Perhaps, like my friend “Bob” you by accidently wet your pants in all the excitement of swinging, climbing and playing tag. Bob was very cool though and he quickly assessed that a couple of times down the hot metal slide - no one would know he wet his pants. On the other hand, if you were my friend “Betty”, unfortunately, you saw no way to cover it up, and just stood their and cried, which made everyone look at you and try to determine why you were crying, at which juncture they pointed and laughed, humiliating you beyond repair. Not fun I’m sure, and yet so easily avoided -so knows Bob the cool kid. Had Betty been cool and had Bob’s inner knowledge, in a quick second she’d have figured the fastest way out of her potentially devastating, life altering mishap was hot metal, and would have turned out to be a high powered attorney instead of a one legged waitress at iHop.
Nuf said.
People made/still make fun of Michael Jackson’s nose and appearance. They say he looked like a woman, had carved up his nose to be too small and that it would fall off, joked about his girly hair, pale skin, and his penchant to wear military sequined jackets and such. But when he danced, everybody knows to shut the eff up. End of discussion. There isn’t a soul on this earth who had the “rights” to cool, like MJ did when he sang and danced. If you don’t agree then I’m sorry - you are one of these clueless people I speak of who don’t get “cool.”
Perhaps you want to know why we think Michael was so cool to watch? How did he figure out that his hand gestures, head nods, hip jiving, foot sliding, finger snapping, together with the glove was going to make people stop and stare and admire his talents? The answer is; Michael thought it looked cool and that’s all that mattered. Honestly, most of the time it’s that simple. If you believe you look cool – you will feel cool – and thus you are cool. Bottom line, no big secrets to reveal here folks; If you feel cool you will project that confidence and it doesn’t matter if you are wearing a bright orange life jacket to the Emmy’s, if you think it’s “the bomb” and it makes you feel good, enough people will be influenced and agree with you, as if you slipped them some kind of drug induced crowd think pill. The next thing you know everybody’s wearing orange life jackets. So, the moral of this example is: feel it – be it.
For those who didn’t buy the Michael Jackson example, lets’ take “Larry the Cable Guy”. Larry will tell you he’s not cool, he’s just a redneck, hillbilly of sorts. Truth is he’s very cool! Why? Because Larry first off is way smarter than he pretends. Larry also refuses to follow proper decorum, and in the process makes no apologies. That’s cool. Larry is also a smart man posing to be dumb for the sake of humor. Thus, lots of people who would have otherwise thought Larry to be a big stupid bubba, now think he’s way cool. They will stop channel surfing to hear him talk, regardless of the subject. Larry figured out a way to make “Hillbilly” cool. My guess is Larry feels he looks good in a torn up flannel shirt, otherwise he couldn’t stand in front of thousands of people and deliver jokes. So Larry’s confidence in wearing flannel - made flannel cool. Yup, it’s that easy.
There are however some things in this world that no matter who does them, where or how they do them, there is no way it will ever look cool. For example, there is no cool way to puke. I don’t care if you are Cameron Diaz just out of hair and make up looking like a sex goddess, once she leans over a toilet and foul smelling vomit shoots out her mouth, all bets are off.
I pretty much believe that just about anybody can be made to look cool, but getting them to act cool takes more than you think. Hair and clothes are a beautiful thing, but acting cool is a whole other deal. Unmistakable cool people have inner wisdom and unexplainable skills. Some might say you either have it or you don’t. I think you can be taught how to act cool, eventually, but you have to really listen, take notes, practice for hours, test and retest, and most importantly be willing to change. The last part being the hardest part, of course.
Despite how much people want to be cool, change is beyond their mental perimeter. Just the other side of reachable. Like a dog on a short chain and a juicy steak laying a few feet away. All the “want’n” in the world won’t bring it to you. So, you can either start chewing the metal chain and see where that gets you, or bark your head off and wait to be shot, thus putting you out of you misery. Being cool and understanding cool, don’t always meet.
Let’s start with the playground. Do you remember what it was like to be among a screaming bunch of five year olds in kindergarten? Think back to your first year of school when you were allowed outside for thirty minutes to run off some energy before your teacher tried to sit everyone back down to teach Dick and Jane. Perhaps, like my friend “Bob” you by accidently wet your pants in all the excitement of swinging, climbing and playing tag. Bob was very cool though and he quickly assessed that a couple of times down the hot metal slide - no one would know he wet his pants. On the other hand, if you were my friend “Betty”, unfortunately, you saw no way to cover it up, and just stood their and cried, which made everyone look at you and try to determine why you were crying, at which juncture they pointed and laughed, humiliating you beyond repair. Not fun I’m sure, and yet so easily avoided -so knows Bob the cool kid. Had Betty been cool and had Bob’s inner knowledge, in a quick second she’d have figured the fastest way out of her potentially devastating, life altering mishap was hot metal, and would have turned out to be a high powered attorney instead of a one legged waitress at iHop.
Nuf said.
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