Steel Kaleidoscopes

Mother and Daughter at Dusk

On the way to a late dinner, bath and bedtime.

The Fruit Fly

Fuzzy and undefined, like a drunken helicopter engaged yet disengaged from his peers.

Shadowing bananas and long-since-emptied glasses of red wine and orange juice.

Like a tiny speck of shredded black wool, the fruit fly lingers in the kitchen, clearly searching for a home once the counters are clear and the dishes are finished.

And dreaming of an open container of strawberries or the next sloppily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The Morning After

When traveling with an infant, there's just no time (or energy) to finish a nice bottle of Seyval Blanc.

The sippy cup says it all.

Road Trip

Goats,  zebras, giraffes and funny monkeys.

Exactas, trifectas and a superfecta (yes, we finally hit one).

A cold, crisp glass of Reisling on the banks of Seneca Lake.

Ice cream on Lake Erie.

Three weary travelers navigating across New York state with a combined almost 90 years of experience.

Seeking out kid-friendly meals, ordering room service when the options are few.

Hotel breakfasts, Starbucks to go and an endless supply of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish.

Saratoga, Glenora, Fox Run and the Buffalo Zoo. Wagers, wine and rhinos.

Something for the big kids and something for the little kids.

A family vacation.

Quote of the Day

"The sky is the daily bread of the eyes."

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Author and Poet

Definition of an Idiot

Idiot (n) - A young man who smokes a cigar and drinks cheap beer with his friends in public, clearly illustrating that peer pressure rules his life. He's also most likely wearing '80s-style mirrored sunglasses that cost under $15.

Weekend Wines

Family reunions tend to bring out the fine wines.

Nothing wrong with that.

During our recent annual summer event, we opened some gems.

On Friday night, we sipped the 2000 Seghesio Old Vine Zinfandel. Seghesio is one of the most reliable Zinfandel producers and it's difficult to go wrong. In fact, Wine Spectator rated this particular vintage No. 53 on its Top 100 Wines of the Year in 2002.

Saturday brought out some unique bottles. First we opened the 1999 Fuentespina Ribera del Duero, which was velvety and subtle. Easy to drink, especially during a semi-intense volleyball match.

An hour or so later, the 1999 Faraud Domaine du Cayron Gigondas emerged, a gem from the Southern Rhone that is 100 percent Grenache. I remember buying this bottle in Boston's North End when my wife was pregnant with our daughter, so it had special meaning.

Finally, we uncorked the 1997 Chateau Cardus Bordeaux. This was a little on the watery side (and, in fact, some people rejected it), but it was smooth nonetheless. Perfect for a late-afternoon swim.

Food, fellowship and wine. Good stuff all around.

More Paris in June

Love the way the light works in this shot. It's almost supernatural.

Photo courtesy of Reflex Photo Reflects.

Six-String Opinions

It's funny what generates the most blog traffic.

Since I commented on the Rolling Stone's Top 100 Guitarists list back in October of 2003, the ensuing comments are far and away the most numerous and passionate.

Eighty-one people have responded at this point to a list I did not generate.

Nothing wrong with that.

I'm happy for the traffic.

It's just funny how viral on-line linkages work.

Think before speaking.

And believe in what you say.

Joe Morgan

Six, two and even.

The Red Sox could use an infusion of Walpole Joe these days.

Morgan, the Red Sox manager from 1988-1990, began his managerial career with a 12-game winning streak that propelled the Red Sox from a mid-season funk to division champs.

He did it with a folksy hometown approach, not the Tony LaRussa,  Bill James metrics-that-matter approach.

To heck with on-base percentages, sacrifice bunts and a predictable bullpen rotation.

Let's just pinch hit Spike Owen for Jim Rice and be on our way.

There will never again be a Walpole Joe.

But the Red Sox need some kind of infusion.

Quickly.