What aren't we going to do?

Week Twenty-Five:Hooky Day

The idea of “Hooky Day” is a universally appealing concept. It’s so easy to get caught up in the daily grind of life as the days pass by quickly and uneventfully to the point that you barely even notice the passage of time. Accordingly, taking a spontaneous day off can be both healthy and uplifting by providing a well-needed break in addition to some relaxation and fun. I mean, the weekend is always a welcome respite but they’re often as hectic and exhausting as the workweek, especially this time of year with some party or event planned for nearly every free moment. Therefore, when the time comes when you feel so worn out you can’t take much more, it’s crucial to take a day for yourself and really have some fun.

Personally, I rarely take days off of work unless I have something important to do. Even on my birthday last year, I scheduled the day off but instead of relaxing or enjoying myself I used the day to go to the dentist, get blood taken for my doctor and get my license renewed at the DMV. Not only did I squander a perfect and well-earned opportunity for “me time,” I actually chose to experience three things people usually dread.

Now, please don’t get the idea that I’m trying to sell myself as a workaholic here – far from it. While I always take care of my business I would hardly consider myself Thomas Edison. Rather, my problem lies in this bizarre notion in my head where I actually feel guilty for taking days off. I have no idea where this feeling came from and I really have no reason to show that sort of loyalty to my current employer. That’s not to say I don’t like my current job, I just know that if I don’t take care of myself, nobody will.

Besides, this is hardly a new occurrence in my life. In almost five years spent teaching, the only time I ever missed was when I had to leave work early because I almost barfed all over my desk. I tried to tough it out but it was an ugly scene. I imagine you get the point by now but the more I articulate this bizarre conception the more absurd I feel.

Consequently, when my brother and his friends extended an offer to join their second annual Hooky Day I was initially hesitant. Not only was I forced to overcome the usual “time-off guilt” but I was also dealing with the fear that I might be squandering vacation time that I would need for an emergency later in the year. However, the more I thought about the situation the more I realized how ridiculous I was being. Not only would I get much more enjoyment out of a day of recreation but it would also be during warm weather instead of waiting until December to use up extra time-off before it expires.

For additional motivation to accept the offer of Hooky Day I decided to incorporate it into 52to30. Since I’ve never actually experienced a day skipping work in favor of the singular purpose of recreation I thought it fit the criteria. In all honesty I was envisioning (hoping for) a very Ferris Bueller type of outing. Realistically, however, I understand that’s a very lofty aspiration – but I’m more than willing to give it a try.

The agenda for Hooky Day, as established by it’s founders (my brother Pat along with friends Tony, Greg and Mark), includes meeting early for 18 holes of golf followed by lunch, drinks and on to wherever the day might take us. Again, this might seem like an average Saturday to some people but since I just started golfing a few years ago and I only make it out a couple times a year, it’s still a novel experience in my book. Besides, this day isn’t merely about the activities involved. It’s about the freedom of a day that would otherwise be spent working along with the camaraderie of hanging with the dudes.

Everyone gathered at Mark’s house around 8:30 Friday morning. In addition to the previously mentioned participants our crew would also include Tony’s brother Chris and my Uncle John (aka Uncle Dick – a well earned nickname). Once everyone arrived we hit the road en route to the Buffalo Tournament Club in the Lancaster/Clarence area. Upon our arrival to the BTC we checked in for our tee time, grabbed our golf carts and hit the links.

I won’t bore you with all the details of our various rounds of golf but for the record it must be known that I am far from a talented golfer. As previously stated, I haven’t been at it for long but even so I got off to a very slow start. However, I quickly grew more comfortable and with the help of Uncle Dick I was able to correct a few major points and reach a relatively steady level of play. In fact, I did well enough on the front nine that I was elevated to the first group for the back nine, having decided the top four players from the first half would face off on the second half.

Starting the back nine only one stroke behind Pat I was feeling confident. However, my play quickly fell apart and I ended the day with a 120, good enough for fifth place out of seven golfers. Surprisingly, I really enjoy golf in spite of my obvious lack of skill. Somehow, I find it soothing even though I would otherwise expect regular explosions of temper to coincide with my dismal performance. Despite this enjoyment, however, I really don’t see myself heading to the course on any sort of regular basis. Not only is it a very expensive hobby, it’s also very time consuming and, quite frankly, I always find myself getting bored by the end of the round. Therefore, I’ll stick to golfing on special occasions and spend my time and money more constructively.

From the golf course, our caravan headed out to lunch at the Quaker Steak and Lube – my first experience at this establishment. A delicious meal and a few beers really hit the spot after four-plus hours of golf. Of course, even though the restaurant was mostly empty, our table was a riotous outburst of laughing, yelling and general ball-busting throughout our meal. However, once the meal was complete and the party was moving to another bar down the road, I decided to go my own way and catch a ride home with my brother Sean, who had met us out for lunch.

In all honesty, I was beat. Nobody will ever describe me as an all-night, party animal and this day was no exception. Rather than waste more money on alcohol and carry on in my exhausted state I decided to head on home for a well-needed nap. I was barely able to keep my eyes open during the ride and once I got home I crashed immediately.

It may not have lived up to my aspirations of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off but it truly was an awesome day. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if the day justified an appearance on 52to30 but since that was my original idea for this week and I was able to overcome the ridiculous guilt of taking a day off, I had to stick to the plan. Besides, even if the day’s activities fell short of expectations, that nap was the most fulfilling thing I’ve done in a long time. Here’s to many more of those.

POP CULTURE UPDATE

Listening to: Conor Oberst
Watching: NBA Playoffs - For the first time ever, more interesting than hockey. Weird.
Reading: Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins

Ride! Ride! Ride!

Week Twenty-Four:Bike to Work

What appealed to me about riding my bike to work was that in addition to being fun and challenging it also serves several functional and practical purposes. First, instead of picking some arbitrary route I chose my work place as a destination, which distinguishes it as transportation as opposed to recreation and that’s something I haven’t used a bike for in years. Next come the obvious second, third and fourth birds to be killed with the same stone. While in the process of traveling to work I will be exercising, saving money on gas and reducing my carbon footprint – all things I’m passionate about.

I realize riding a bicycle doesn’t seem like an overly impressive activity but I really haven’t taken one on an extended journey since I was probably thirteen years old. I’m sure we all remember those fateful years of our early teens when we thought we were too cool to ride our bike but still too young to drive. Since those days I have fallen into the car culture of modern society just like everyone else, rarely jumping on a bike for anything more than a spin around the block.

Despite this lack of bicycling I have been meaning to get out more often in recent years just for the recreation and exercise. Then when gas crept well over $4 a gallon last summer I really started considering riding my bike to work just for the economic benefits. However, despite all the undeniable advantages listed above the plan never materialized due (as usual) to my own laziness and lack of commitment. That’s where 52to30 comes in - the new and effective way to overcome excuses and self-doubt.

I used MapQuest to plan my route from my house in West Seneca to my office in Orchard Park but I pretty much knew the path I wanted to take. Obviously, I had to avoid all thruways and I even adjusted the course in several spots to ensure I wouldn’t be going out of my way. In fact, I was able to save a good chunk of time by cutting through a development of townhouses that connects to the parking lot at my office through a short distance of woods. After shortening my route by over two miles, MapQuest calculated the final journey to be 5.25 miles long with and estimated drive time of sixteen minutes (by car).

Once I finally determined the date and knew the weather would cooperate I dug out my bike for some basic maintenance. Nothing special, just air in the tires, grease on the chain and a spin around the block to ensure everything was in working order. I was originally hoping to build up my endurance by getting in some riding in the weeks leading up to this adventure. Unfortunately, this training regiment never materialized but rather than wait around for it to happen, I decided to just hop on and get trucking. After all, riding a bike is so basic someone should come up with a phrase about how you’ll always remember how to do it.

I pulled out of my driveway at 8:14 Wednesday morning with forty-six minutes to make my journey before I was supposed to be at work. However, prior to even leaving my neighborhood the gravity of the excursion struck me and I felt intimidated for the first time. In hindsight I think it was just my inner-laziness causing me to doubt myself enough to take the easy way out, turn around and get into my car. Fortunately, I refused to be deterred and forged ahead on my trek. I knew I would be able to fight through any physical challenges that might arise and I had my phone on me in case the bike itself broke down. Also, in this situation, I was more than willing to accept being a couple of minutes late to work if the journey happened to take a little longer than anticipated. That was a gamble I was willing to take.

Therefore, reaffirmed in my mission, I emerged from the side streets and hit Abbott Road, the main conduit I would be following for the next four-plus miles. After crossing the Ridge Road intersection, the first real landmark of the journey, I hit my stride and started putting some distance behind me. It was easy riding for this segment and I was making decent time with minimal effort while cruising down the sidewalks. I know it’s not proper bicycle etiquette but I decided to stick to the sidewalks when possible for my own safety and comfort.

However, my luck started to turn as I passed beneath the thruway overpass by Fisher Road. At this point, Abbott starts to gradually rise towards the approach to Lake Avenue when the incline quickly progresses to a much steeper slope. Feeling a tremendous strain for the first time I chugged my way toward the peak and was thankful for the break I was able to take as I waited for the light at Abbott and Lake.

After a break and a downhill stretch that were far too brief, I turned left onto Milestrip Road before making a quick right onto California. Despite being the final leg of my journey, and the direct route that would save me a good ten minutes, I was dreading this stretch due to California Road’s sharp, twisting incline. Once again I trudged along, this time without the comfort of a sidewalk. Fortunately there was much less traffic on this road and I was able to cross my final intersection, Southwestern Boulevard, with little harm beyond my aching thighs and burning lungs.

California road finally leveled out right before the development that backs up to my work parking lot. Coasting between the townhouses and condos I was able to catch my breath but since I was unable to check the time throughout the entire ride I had no idea if I was late or not. However, as I cut through the short wooded path that leads to the parking lot I noticed several familiar cars pulling in at the same time as any other morning – I was safe. I checked my phone just to make sure and the time was 8:50. I made the entire trek in just thirty-five minutes giving me ten to spare.

I was pretty impressed with my performance of riding my bike to work. I was a little sweaty and sore when I arrived but I freshened up quickly and stayed well-hydrated to make up for the exertion. I definitely plan on doing this more often in the future for all of the benefits listed above but mostly because it was fun and, quite frankly, made me feel pretty cool. However, in the future I’ll be sure to bring a change of clothes so I don’t have to ride all the way in my work attire. My coworkers should appreciate that as well.

The ride home wasn’t very exciting as it was also without incident. The only real difference, besides an increase in traffic, was the fact that it was mostly downhill. This played into my favor since it was much warmer during the 5 o’clock hour and I had much less energy after my morning ride and a full day of work. In fact, I was passed on the return journey by several other bicyclists but that certainly didn’t bother me. I was in no hurry and I was just enjoying the ride.

Hopefully, my rides to work grow increasingly easy in the future but remain just as uneventful. Riding a bike down busy streets is fun but the less excitement the better. The last thing I need is to roll across the windshield of some a-hole driver that was too busy texting to watch the road. I guess if riding becomes a regular enough occurrence I may even have to buy a helmet. We’ll see. I know safety comes first but I really can’t afford to look ridiculous.

Anyone can play guitar...

Week Twenty-Three:Open Mic Night

My dreams of rock stardom all began as I watched Slash shredding outside of a church in the middle of the desert when I was twelve years old. Unfortunately, any designs on becoming a guitar hero were soon dissolved as a lack of patience and skill, along with my musical preferences, led me to forgo scales and arpeggios in favor of the noble calling of a songwriter. I’m sure it also had a lot to do with the emergence of Nirvana around the same time which inevitably expanded my interest in countless new musical styles, most notably punk and indie rock.

Naturally, as soon as I learned to play guitar (just barely) the next step was to start a band. However, after a few years of half-hearted attempts, my first real band materialized when I was sixteen years old – the Skanks. We were a punk rock group that lasted over two years including two demo tapes and over a dozen local shows. Unfortunately, the Skanks eventually dissolved and I then formed Swingset Hands with my good friend and fellow Skank, Jason.

Between 1999 and 2003, Swingset Hands was easily my most productive musical experience as we tried to develop a unique style that was more mature than our previous teenage punk rock. Though this goal may have ultimately failed it was a very fun period in my life incorporating two demos, an EP released on an independent record label, several tours throughout the east coast and Midwest and a bounty of merchandising from pins to stickers and several different t-shirts designs. Trust me, that stuff is very important when it’s paying for gas and food.

Once Swingset Hands ultimately disbanded I played in several different groups before my most recent stint, playing bass in a straightforward rock band called the Design. Unfortunately, the Design suffered the same fate as most musical endeavors and split up before reaching their full potential thanks to the constant bickering of a few members. Although I love them both dearly and they remain good friends, these two egomaniacs were definitely not meant to work together. But I digress.

So now that you’re updated on my personal history as an ultimately unsuccessful musician I should probably get to the point here. Currently, it’s been over a year since I’ve been a part of any organized musical enterprise but my passion for songwriting has actually been neglected, if not totally repressed, since Swingset Hands broke up in the summer of 2003. Assuming it’s the result of this disheartening event, or perhaps my laziness and lack of focus, I have been unable to actually write a complete song since.

However, despite this inability I’ve long harbored a desire to resuscitate my musical career with much more humble expectations than I originally set forth with at the age of twelve. Rather than hoping to become a million rock star adored by millions, I just want to produce some decent music if for no other reason than personal accomplishment and the art of the experience (sorry Jason, I know you hate that).

Therefore, I originally came up with this idea of performing at an open mic night for 52to30 not only as an awesome new experience, but also with the alternate goal of launching my solo career. Before stardom hits, I figure it would be a good idea to experience performing in front of people without the comfort of hiding behind drums and distortion. However, this is a very daunting proposition as both drums and distortion are very good at concealing wrong chords and forgotten lyrics in the live setting.

When discussing the idea of open mic night with my friend Tony he said he knew of a place we could give it a try. I’m sure many of you know Tony as the singer/guitarist/songwriter of The Failures’ Union and those who are unfamiliar should check them out at your earliest possible convenience. They are an awesome band and easily my favorite locally. So with this information in place, Tony and I finally settled on a date and starting preparing our chops.

Personally, I wanted to perform an original song and considering my aforementioned lack of new material I knew I had to get to work. Thankfully, I had a few different guitar parts I’d been kicking around for a while and decided to work on a progression I particularly liked. I won’t bore you with all the details (too late?) but I realized how quickly I could put a decent song together when I actually put forth the time and effort (Why hasn’t anyone ever told me how effective time and effort are?).

Then, as soon as the music was finished the melody and words quickly fell into place. I’ve never considered myself a Springsteen-esque storyteller but the lyrics to this song are probably the closest I’ve ever come. Although it is still currently untitled, the main idea is expressed in one line that states, “Sometimes great nights don’t make great storylines.” Without getting too deep, it’s basically about the realization that life can be pretty awesome even if nothing particularly excellent is happening. I’ve had that feeling many times in my life when all of a sudden I think to myself, “this rules.” Take from that what you will but it’s pretty meaningful for me. However, once again, I digress.

* * *

With Tony joining me I felt much more comfortable knowing that I wouldn’t be alone on this adventure. In addition, Tony also invited two of his friends to perform as well – Mark, who I had seen around but never officially met and Mark “the cop” who, as well as being a Buffalo Police Officer, is also the lead singer in Tony’s other band the Exit Strategy. The fifth member of our party, although he would not be performing, was my good friend Jason – previously mentioned member of the Skanks and Swingset Hands.

The five of us walked through the door of Sportsman’s Tavern last Monday evening and emerged into a standard, non-descript bar. It was a narrow place with a bar and a couple of televisions along the left side while the walls were covered with neon beer signs and framed photographs of bands that had played there in the past. Along the right wall was a small stage, only a few inches high and already set up with lights, a piano, a guitar and several microphone stands. Noticing we were easily the youngest people in the place my nerves immediately began to settle. Previously envisioning a large gathering of hypercritical, uber-sheik hipsters in their overpriced, thrift store uniforms, I was relieved to find Sportsman’s sparsely populated with a middle aged but friendly clientele.

After hanging out in a corner for about half an hour, the woman who runs the open mic night took the stage to kick off the event. During her three-song set of twangy, folk songs Tony, Mark, Mark (the cop) and myself each committed our names to the sign up sheet. Tony was the second performer of the night and he promptly rocked the house. Though visibly nervous at first he quickly grew more comfortable through his three songs, setting the bar very high for the rest of us. Tony really is an awesome musician.

Mark (the cop) was up next and I was pleasantly surprised by his performance. His smooth and mellow songs are a definite departure from the driving indie rock I’m used to with the Exit Strategy. It was very enjoyable. Mark followed him and also performed very well but in all honesty, it was hard for me to pay attention to his set. Instead, knowing I was up next, I was busy trying to run through the words and chord progressions in my head. Even in such a low profile setting, the adrenaline that precedes going on stage is very intense. It’s such an exhilarating feeling.

After Mark finished his set I made my way to the stage with a healthy dose of nervous excitement. As I dove into the song I felt like a child learning to walk. At first my cautiousness made me a little unsteady but as soon I hit my stride I felt comfortable with what I was doing and made it easily to the end of my journey. Then, when it was over, I knew I did alright but I would definitely do much better on my next try. Also, I hopefully wouldn’t forget as many lyrics.

Overall I really had a lot of fun at open mic night. My only disappoint with this experience was just the same can of worms I previously opened about my own laziness. After all this time, when I finally got the opportunity to play again I only had one song available. This really bummed me out as I got to thinking about the big picture.

I consider myself to be a musician and though I’d like to fancy myself a songwriter I only had one song to perform after seventeen years of playing guitar. Granted, I’ve written many songs in the past but if I could even remember how to play them they were either overly rudimentary punk songs or I didn’t think they would transmit to an acoustic setting such as this.

Whatever the reason, I’ve taken a lot away from this experience. Not only do I still love playing music in front of people but I also realize it takes real effort and concentration to write songs that are actually worth playing. Hopefully, armed with this new (though not very groundbreaking) realization, I will continue to write songs and play out whenever possible. Again, I’m not planning on becoming a rock star, I’m just trying to do something that I love as much as possible.

See you in the pit!

Holy Cannoli...

Week Twenty-Two:Baking From Scratch

Despite my overwhelming love of all things sweet I’ve never been interested in the baking process. I’ve helped bake cakes and I’ve even put pre-made cookie dough into the oven but I’ve never gone out of my way to prepare a delicious treat – apparently I’m too anxious to eat it. Therefore, even though I made sure to include cooking in fifty-two to thirty I had no interest in baking anything. However, that all changed when my co-worker Tracy suggested I make cannolis from scratch for one of my experiences. Jackpot!

Who doesn’t love a cannoli? They’re delicious treats I usually reserve for special occasions, but the idea of making them from scratch appealed to me on several levels. First, they’re scrumptious. That should be reason enough. However, they’re also kind of fancy-pants. Anyone can throw together a cake or cookies but a platter full of homemade cannolis is really impressive.

Another reason, quite simply, is the challenge involved. And as I’ve stated over and over, I don’t want to do anything during 52to30 that is overly easy or otherwise meaningless. Therefore, since standard cakes and cookies are relatively simple (which in no way takes away from their deliciousness) baking them wouldn’t make for a compelling or difficult experience. So when making cannolis was suggested the idea made so much sense I immediately started to put it into motion.

After researching several recipes online and realizing they’re all very similar I chose the least intimidating but still had to make a few adjustments – I have no use for cherries or pistachios in my cannolis. Next I assembled the necessary components, purchasing ricotta cheese and chocolate chips while my mother was kind enough to provide the remaining ingredients (sugar, flour, eggs, etc) in addition to allowing me the use of her kitchen. I’m not sure if she was being generous or just craving the final product. A little of both, I’m sure.

So with all the accoutrements assembled, along with the help of my trusty assistant Jackie, I jumped into the process. The first step was to drain the ricotta cheese prior to combining any other ingredients. The directions suggest doing this overnight but since I didn’t see this tip until I was about to begin I decided the time it took to prepare the shells would be sufficient. Therefore, while the cheese was draining in the refrigerator I was busy creating the dough for my shells.

As the dough formed I slowly and clumsily started kneading before Jackie pushed me aside to demonstrate the proper technique – she’s a pro. After this quick lesson I resumed this task before rolling out the dough and making 3-inch circles with a cookie cutter. Each circle is then rolled into an ovular shape before being wrapped around a metal tube (borrowed from Tracy, thanks again) to be dropped into hot oil for frying.

My first attempt wasn’t very successful since I forgot to seal the edges with egg white and the rolls unraveled as soon as they were submerged. Instead of cannoli shells I ended up with two small pieces of fried dough – although this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s not quite what I was aiming for.

Learning from my mistake, I continued this process with the rest of the dough, wrapping it around the tube, dropping it into the oil for a couple of minutes and waiting for it to cool before moving to the next pair. Unfortunately, this process took quite a while since we only had two tubes to work with. But Jackie and I quickly got into a rhythm and had a pile of perfectly formed cannoli shells in no time.

With the shells finished I retrieved the ricotta from the refrigerator to examine the draining process. Satisfied with the state of drainage I gathered the other ingredients needed for the filling and started to mix them together. Thankfully this process was much easier than forming the shells and I was able to whip it together relatively quickly. As previously mentioned I decided to bypass the cherries and pistachios suggested in the recipe but I was sure to include a generous helping of chocolate chips along with the cheese, sugar and cinnamon.

Then, with shells and filling laid out before me, the next step was to combine them into one glorious treat. Surprisingly, the process of injecting the shells was much easier than I had expected. However, I hit one early snag when I realized the caulk gun provided by my mother did not have a nozzle large enough to pass the chocolate chips. Therefore, I was forced to revert to the classic and effective zip-lock bag with the corner snipped off. The shells were quickly filled, dusted with some powdered sugar and served to the nearest interested parties – my (eager but patient) mother, father, Jackie and myself – and everyone was very pleased with the outcome.

The success of my cannoli experiment was further supported by the response I received at work the next day. To show my appreciation for her idea, as well as letting me borrow the tubes to form the shells, I promised Tracy I would bring her a sampling of my work. Of course, it would be ridiculous to think I could get away with only bringing a treat for one person in the office so I decided to be generous and share with everyone in my row. The response to this kind gesture was only out done by the overwhelming approval of the cannolis themselves. It feels good to share but it’s even better when you’re doubly praised for it.

I’m pretty pumped with the final result of my cannoli experience and I feel like I’m well on my way to becoming an accomplished pastry chef. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself but at least I’ve added another weapon in my arsenal of tastes and I’ve learned a few more tricks around the kitchen. Therefore, not only was this an awesome learning experience but I can also impress everyone with my culinary skills the next time I’m invited to a party. I’ll be waiting for your invitations.

POP CULTURE UPDATE:

Listening To : Depeche Mode "Violator"
Reading : Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins
Recent Movie : Drillbit Taylor