Take it Back

I like to dine out. I think that’s probably because I never went to a restaurant until I was 22 years old. I had been to a few diners in my teenage years but never to a real restaurant.








My first restaurant was Da Vinci’s Italian restaurant in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This was back in 1964 when Bill (my partner of now 45 years) was courting me. He wanted to impress me and indeed, I was impressed. Prior to this experience I had only dined at the typical Fifties chrome diner. Those chrome palaces were the Exton Diner in Exton, PA and Zynn’s Diner in Thorndale, PA. My high school friend Larry and I also used to frequent Dick Thomas’s Foot Long Hot Dog restaurant also in Exton. But I had never dined in a real, white table cloth, fancy dancy restaurant until Da Vinci’s.







My first meal was Veal Parmesan. I also had never eaten veal. My father did not believe in eating baby animals. To this day I still have not eaten lamb chops.







Well, I was blown away out how good the Veal Parmesan was. I loved the attentive waiter, the white table cloth (I never ate at a table with any kind of table cloth) and the candles on the table. I liked everything about the dining experience. The food, service and an evening out with someone I liked.







These days I’m not dining out with my love (Bill doesn’t like to eat out) but I do dine out with friends every opportunity I get (as they will quickly tell you if you ask them.)







Today I took my friend Barbara out to lunch for her birthday. I used a gift certificate I purchased at a Red Cross silent auction a couple of weeks ago. The gift certificate was for The Wharf Restaurant in Lewes. I had eaten at The Wharf earlier this summer. It was a so-so experience. The Wharf is located right on the canal in Lewes but it is somewhat of a tourist trap. Generally you’re not going to get the best food at a tourist trap restaurant. Today was no exception.







Barbara and I seated ourselves at the restaurant at about quarter after twelve. There weren’t any other customers in the restaurant. We were the first customers of the day. One would expect fast service wouldn’t one? Well, one would be wrong.







The waitress was nice enough but once we gave our order, we waited….and waited….and waited. Both Barbara and I ordered hamburgers. I specifically asked if the hamburger was char broiled. I was assured that they had the option to do that.







When we finally received our order I noted that my hamburger was served on sandwich bread. What’s that? Then I looked at the hamburger patty. Oh oh. It was the old perfectly round, gray, formerly frozen hamburger patter of undetermined origins. I took a bite. This wasn’t a char broiled hamburger. This hamburger had no taste. It was tasteless like all the mass produced, frozen hamburger patties that are delivered to our area of southern Delaware by the many Sysco tractor trailer trucks. So my request for a char broiled real hamburger was ignored. They lied.







Usually, I would not say anything and try and finish eating the hamburger but not today. Too often my friends have told me that if I didn’t like what I received tell the restaurant. I especially wanted to let this particular restaurant I wasn’t pleased because when I ate there this past summer I didn’t let them know but I did write about it in a review I posted online. The owner of the restaurant responded to my review and told me that I should try his restaurant again and if I wasn’t satisfied to let him know. That’s what I did today. I sent the hamburger back. I told the waitress it had no taste. It wasn't char broiled. The waitress apologized and took the offending hamburger (with the sandwich bread) away to the kitchen. A few minutes later I saw the cook (a big woman) come out and look over at our booth to see who the offending patron was. What's that all about?



The waitress came back and I ordered a Caesar Salad instead. My dining partner had got a Caesar Salad and she said it was good. My salad was good but the salad itself wasn’t fresh. It looked like the leaves were precut because they were brown around the edges. They probably brought one of those bags of precut Caesar Salad from the local supermarket. It definitely wasn't freshly torn Romaine. I was hungry so I ate it.







I was hungry all afternoon. I hate it when I go to a restaurant and I leave hungry. But this isn’t the first time this has happened since I’ve dined out in this area. I'm not a big eater. I'm 6'3" and weigh 160. I'm not a pig but I do need enough to satisfy my hunger.





This is something that has always puzzled me, why is it so hard for many of the restaurants in this area of southern Delaware to make a good hamburger? I only know of a few restaurants that make a decent hamburger by using fresh hamburger meat. They would be the Purple Parrot, Dos Locos, Gilligan’s and the Surfing Crab. Maybe it’s because this is a seaside resort and seafood is the preferred dish. I’m not a seafood guy. With me it’s chicken, hamburger or eggplant Parmesan. After that first veal dish, as delicious as it was, I still don’t eat baby animals.



Tomorrow is another day. Wednesday I'm going out to dinner again at another Lewes Restaurant, the Villa Sorrento. I hope my experience is better there than I had today at The Wharf. I'm ready for another good dining experience at an Italian restaurant. It has been a long time.

Are We Feeling Christmassy Yet?

Here we are with only two weeks before Christmas. Doesn’t it seem like each year Christmas rolls around even faster? First it’s Halloween, then Thanksgiving then it’s Johnny Mathis singing out “Sleigh Ride” at Walmart.

This year I wasn’t even going to put up Christmas lights because I just wasn’t in the Christmassy Mood. But, last week after returning home from our weekly breakfast outing at Zorba’s I decided to put forth an extra effort and go up in the attic and drag out the Christmas lights. Well, we all know how that worked out. I ended up putting my left foot through the ceiling above the kitchen sink.



Undaunted, I put up the Christmas lights outside the front of the house. And if I do say so, they look mighty fine. Bill is putting up more Christmas lights this morning on our shed in the back yard. We’re going for the Cozy Cottage Look out back.



Again this year I’m not putting up a tree in the house. In fact I haven’t put up a tree since we moved here in November of 2006. That first year we moved here it was out of the question. After the trauma of selling our house in Pennsylvania and moving down here (two monster moving vans); the only thing we were thinking about was decompression.



This year I did give serious thought to actually putting a real tree in the house. There is nothing like the smell of a fresh cut evergreen tree in the house. However, putting up a tree would entail me to pull out ALL the Christmas decorations and I am just not into that yet. Besides, we really don’t have company over for the holidays so it doesn’t make much sense to put a tree up. Plus, I’m working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the Inn. I’ll take a gander at their tree (which is beautiful by the way – good job Sandi and Monica!) and soak up the Christmas Spirit.



Earlier this week I was at J. C. Penney’s at the Dover Mall in Dover. Round the corner from J. C. Penney’s was the mall Santa (or one of his “helpers” I believe is the correct terminology.) I stopped a bit and observed a dad trying to get his kid revved up for his official Santa picture. I got a kick out of watching the activity. First, the kid didn’t want to be there, that was obvious. In fact the kid looked at me more than he looked at Santa. Then it was obvious that Santa didn’t want to be their either. Take a look at The Look that Santa gave me. I love it! That’s what I really like about Christmas; these little vignettes.

Last year I was at the Laurel Flea Market. Of course the Flea Market Santa is also a step (or two) down from the mall Santa. I took a wonderful picture of that bedraggled Santa but I can’t find it now on my hard drive. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take a drive down to the Laurel Flea Market and check out their Santa. I’m getting into the Christmassy Spirit now. Nothing like seeing a flea bitten Santa going “HO! HO! HO!”

Who Makes the Best Barber?

Yesterday I got a long overdue haircut. My barber, Dino, only works Wednesdays and Thursdays. The past month I was unable to coordinate my time with Dino’s time because of either my work schedule or one of the many Nor’easters that passed through this region.




Last month I needed a haircut so bad I weakened and let one of the women barbers cut my hair. Big Mistake.



I my lifetime I have had my hair cut less than five times by a woman. Each time it was a disaster. In my experience, women cannot cut men’s hair. That includes my Mother. She was the first one to cut my hair when I was a youngster. She literally put a bowl on my head and gave me a Buster Brown haircut. Even then at the tender age of seven I knew this was wrong.



Once in the Seventies I succumbed to the current fad and went to a “stylist.” Not that there was anything wrong with the way Nino (my longtime Italian barber at that time) cut my hair. On the contrary, I was always very pleased with his haircuts. But trying to be “with it”, I went to a stylist on Sansome Street (I worked in center city Philadelphia at that time. What did I get for my efforts? A big price ($24.00 versus the usual $8.00) to have a beautiful woman cut my hair. But wait, there’s more! She washed my hair. Not that I needed my hair washed, it was all part of the “treatment.” So she flattens the barber chair into a horizontal position, swings my head around to the sink then proceeds to wash my hair with on of those doggie spray hoses attached to the sink. All the while she’s doing this her boobs are flouncing around near my head, occasionally bumping into my skull. Now I know what I was paying $24.00 for (plus tip.) Thank you but no thank you (to quote St. Sarah Palin.) I’m not paying $30 to have a cheap thrill in the afternoon.



My next haircut was in the Nineties. I frequented a barber shop in the Lionville Shopping Center. I had yet to find my new Old Italian Barber so I used this barber shop which had three male and two female barbers. One time I was in a hurry and I felt guilty by always turning down the woman barber when she said “Next!” so I consented. Another BIG MISTAKE. When I got home I noticed that there were chunks of my hair that weren’t even cut. I couldn’t believe it. For the first time in my life I went back to the barber and asked the owner if he could fix it. He did but by going back and asking I had alienated all the barbers, including the woman barber. I got a few more haircuts after that incident but I could cut the animosity with a knife. I never went back.



Now to my latest experience with a woman barber. I needed a haircut so bad last month and I couldn’t wait for the next Wednesday or Thursday to roll around (mainly because of the incessant rain on those days), I let the lone woman barber cut my hair. And yet another BIG MISTAKE. I get home and my hair is uneven. WTF? Man oh man. Here we go again. What is so hard about giving me a haircut? I needed a haircut the next week. That’s how bad the haircut she gave me was. Awful.



Yesterday I got my haircut by Dino. He is a 71 year old barber of Italian American descent. He told me that barbering is a dying trade. I could not agree with him more. No more will I subject myself to the ineptitude of a woman barber. I don’t need the cheap thrill of having a woman’s breast swinging around in the proximity to my head. For those guys that do, go for it. I wish women barbers all the success in the world. But for me, all I need is a buzz cut.

The classic "Behind the Head" barber view.  Looks good to me (except for my early morning puffy face.)

Tiger: What Are You Made Of?

Yesterday I received my new copy of Vanity Fair. I opened the magazine and guess whose picture I see on the first page? That right, Tiger Woods. I was immediately repelled by seeing his picture.




I’ve been following this whole Tiger Woods drama. I wasn’t going to write anything about it but after seeing this ad I decided not to keep my thoughts to myself anymore.



Here is my take on the Tiger Woods scandal. He deserves everything he gets. I have no sympathy for him at all.



Tiger Woods has made hundreds of millions of dollars projecting himself as the “Perfect Family Man.” Recent events have revealed he is not the ‘Perfect Family Man.” Tiger Woods is a liar. Tiger Woods is a phony.  He is the perfect metaphor for corporate sponsorship.



That Tiger is an adulterer isn’t all that unusual. How many public figures have been exposed as adulterers in the past few years? We are no longer “Shocked! Shocked!”  Big deal. 





The adulterer part isn’t what is going to cause Tiger to lose his corporate sponsor and public support. Tiger will lose because he is behaving like a weasel now by hiding in his home hoping all the controversy surrounding him will go away. He is a coward.



Hey Tiger! It’s not going away until you address it. It’s time for you to go on Oprah and shed some tears. Come one Tiger, you’re the Big Man. Prove it. What are you really made of?

Christmas 1976

Yesterday, while cleaning out my storage room I came across an album that I had given to my Mother for Christmas in 1976. I had forgotten how much work I had put into preparing this album. In fact, I think I made up three albums; one for my Mother and the other two for my brothers' families.




I came into possession of my Mother's album and the rest of her photos several years ago when she suggested that I take possession of them for safekeeping. As it turns out this was a good suggestion because she is now living with my brother and his family in South Carolina.



The photos in these albums I selected from the pictures of the family I had taken the previous year (1975.) I enlarged the pictures to 5 X 7 and put one on each page with a description. I had time to do this kind of project when Bill and I lived in center city Philadelphia. We lived in a townhouse with a very small back yard. My activities consisted of going to work, going out to the bars on the weekend and working on crewel projects during my spare time. This was before computers and the Internet. Even back then I watched very little TV. I remember I was one of the first people on my block to get a VCR. It was a huge cumbersome contraption but I was thrilled. I could videotape the Merv Griffin show and listen to Merv interview Zsa Zsa while I worked on my projects. That was so long ago.



Yesterday as I looked at these pictures I was reminded of how life used to be. It now seems so long ago. Back then I always loaded up on Christmas presents then visited family on Christmas Day and took loads of pictures. These days I work on Christmas Day. Not that I'm complaining but Christmas is a whole different scene for me now. I like working but there are no Christmas trees in my house or exchanging of Christmas presents. But, I still have my memories and pictures of those Christmases past which I will share with you now.



The picture above is of one of my younger brothers, Isaac Walter Tipton, Jr. With my brother in the picture is his wife Phyllis and his three children, Isaac, III (aka "Ikey"), Dawn and Karen. More pictures will follow in future blog postings.



I am so glad I took these pictures. Good memories last forever, even after I’m long gone.

Stupid Move

Well, I did it. This morning started out well enough with the sun making an appearance. The temperature read 45 degrees but there was little or no wind. Yes, today was a good day to go up in the attic and get those Christmas lights.



So I go up in the bonus room closet and open the little trap door that leads to the attic where I have my Christmas decorations stored. I stoop low to get through the door and make a right turn, careful to avoid stepping on the insulation. Below the insulation is the drywall to the ceiling of my kitchen below.

One trip gathering Christmas items went well. The second trip didn’t go so well. In fact it was a disaster because I lost my footing and my leg up to the knee went right through the insulation and drywall of the kitchen ceiling. I couldn’t believe it. I looked below and sure enough, there was insulation in my kitchen sink. My kitchen now had a skylight to the attic.

There was no way of covering this up. The deed was done. Beside, the cover up is always worse that the original crime (as Richard Nixon and Tiger Woods know.) And a “crime” indeed I did because Bill has warned me time and time again “Be careful when you’re up there! If you step on that insulation you’ll go right through the ceiling!”



Well, I thought I was careful. What actually happened I was trying to balance myself on the two by fours wearing my Crocs. My Crocs slipped. There! I’ll blame the Crocs. No, actually I’ll accept the blame. It was a Stupid Move.

The day wasn’t a total loss. I did get the Christmas lights up. Now for the Christmas cards. I wonder if I can do that without destroying anything.

The Rain Returns

This was the day I was going to put up my outside Christmas decorations. That isn’t going to happen today. The rains have returned. Oh my, raining again. How unusual.

Undaunted, Bill and I left for our weekly breakfast outing at Zorba’s Restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. We were Zorba’s first customers this morning. Our regular waitress Erin came over and confirmed our breakfast order. For Bill, a fried egg sandwich for bill on white bread, double mayo. For me one egg over medium, crispy home fries, pork snout mush (aka scrapple) and buttered Rye toast. Bill’s beverage of choice is caffeinated coffee and mine is decaf. Shortly after we were served with our breakfast, the restaurant began to fill up with customers seeking shelter from the cold rain outside.

Earlier in the week I was debating whether of not to buy tickets for the annual Lewes Christmas House tour. I was reluctant because in the spring I had purchased tickets to the annual Lewes Garden Tour only to see the day of the tour almost washed out by a spring time monsoon. The tickets are good rain or shine. Since we only have the sun make an appearance once a week around here lately, I decided not to take the chance. I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad my house isn’t on the tour. I would hate to have all those wet feet tramping through my house.



Bill just came back from our neighbors’ house. He told me the house next to them, which has been up for sale for a year and a half now, has sold. That’s the good news. The bad news is our other neighbor said the kids don’t speak English. Uh oh.



And the beat goes on.