It’s never too late to start a new career!

OK, maybe it is.  After you view the following YouTube versions of May’s Abington News & Views you might just end up begging me to stay where I am and leave the airwaves (cable waves?) to the obviously more photogenic and youthful.

I’m in one of those funks where writing and the ability to develop interesting subject matter has left me.  Usually I get brainstorms in the shower (Sorry for the imagery there.), but soap and warm water are not even working at this point.  Enthusiasm and inspriation usually returns eventually.  At times like this I refuse to force the issue just for the sake of writing something …

As I’m doing right now, so enjoy the peace and quiet!

That being said, if you are so inclined, take a view of my first foray into the cable TV political fisticuffs sans the fists and the cuffs.  I really enjoyed my baptism under fire, though nerves had me stammering a bit.  So far as I have heard, I have not dramatically affected the prospects of local Abington cable TV politics one way or the other, so it’s quite possible I may be invited back.

If that does happen, I endeavor to learn from my initial exposure and seek continuous improvement!

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Not sure why this was presented in four parts, but it makes selecting what you want to watch – or not watch – much easier.  If you do watch, I’d love to hear comments and criticisms.  Trust me I can take it … probably.

Part 1:  We discuss the qualifications of Presidential candidate Mitt Romney, the performance and prospects for re-election of President Obama, and Obamacare.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Jfwe8FhBLE&feature=youtu.be

Part 2:  Panelists address the Trayvon Martin – George Zimmerman case, and the Pennsylvania State House race in Abington’s 153rd District.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0YVTQ02Jds

Part 3:  We discuss Pennsylvania’s new Voter ID law and the love fest between the new Montgomery County Commissioners Josh Shapiro, Leslie Richards and Bruce Castor.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEOlLMI7lzs

Part 4:  Panelists discuss Abington Township’s new law protecting LGBT rights and wrap ups with statements of individual interest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J16hYslowlg

Joe Scarborough and Chris Matthews can rest easy!

This Mom I know …

There’s This Mom I know …

She leapt into Motherhood despite that she was just a newlywed, and they hadn’t planned to make the Next Big Move so soon.  She suffered through all the usual Mother-To-Be anxieties, doubts, and fears of the unknown.  Yet when her pregnancy took a difficult turn and she was confined to bed rest for weeks before The Big Day, she kept her jittery spouse calm and focused (for the most part).

When The Big Day came, Junior came out just fine, but This Mom I Know had few touchy days dealing with the aftereffects of preeclampsia (high blood pressure) caused by the toll carrying their new son took on her body.  The worst part of the Best Experience Ever was that she could only spend a limited amount of time with her new baby son – in the immediate days thereafter – as she recovered. 

This Mom I Know mastered New Mommyhood as well – if not better – than most mothers did, yet she doubted her abilities even as her new family beamed and glowed with their teeny, weeny addition.  Of course her secondary role was to make sure New Dad didn’t toss his cookies the first time he changed a diaper that could have made an EPA Superfund list or fumble the baby when Dad went into his patented Heisman Trophy Cradle Pose.

This Mom I Know made all the right moves, and she did so while holding down a challenging, emotion-laden job as a Neo-Natal Intensive Care nurse in a large, Center City hospital.  She worked nights and evenings so she could be home during the day and worked weekends only when absolutely necessary.

Her nursing background came in handy whenever The New Son had a fever or an ear infection or cried non-stop during a two-hour car ride to Long Island.  And when one day, while innocently helping Mom make dinner, he threw his first anaphylactic reaction, it was Mom’s nursing experience that kept her head cool, her decisions sound, and brought The First Son back home, safe from a life-threatening experience.

This Mom I Know went through two more son-births in her Mommy Career.  Neither one was free from worry or the potential for medical complications.  Yet both New Sons made it home, free from serious and lasting problems. 

This Mom I Know did a herculean job of juggling career, household and the ultimate welfare of her children.  She involved herself in schools, activities, and when it became necessary the medical and developmental issues many children face.  At times she acquired the services her children needed by sheer force of will and an unshakeable persistence. 

This Mom I know is facing the very near and real prospect of her grown children heading out into The World for which she worked so hard and deliberately to prepare them.  Like so many parents she wonders if she did them right; she doubts sometimes that she did the best job she could possibly have done; and she hopes they will find happiness wherever they may end up.  And yet …

This Mom I know has a very difficult time letting go of her boys.  She frets and worries over how far they may wonder, how happy they will be, and how successful they will become.  She frets and worries only because she has no idea how fantastic a job she has done raising her children.  She doesn’t see them as the world sees them now. To her they are still her little boys.

This Mom I know will shed more than a few tears this year and in years to follow, as the boys move on and build lives of their own; raise families of their own; and build futures with the Moms they will know.

I can only hope they are as lucky as I have been and as lucky as they are to have This Mom I Know!

(Pardon my tardiness for this Mothers Day post.  Like a lot of men, I do not spend enough time dwelling on the fantastic efforts of This Mom I Know.  But on Mothers Day when I saw how she gracefully handles the way her life is changing – even though it hurts and she doesn’t always like that it is happening – and how happy she was to enjoy the day being surrounded by those who could be there for her, it stirred me to share how much I admire her! 

Happy Day After Mothers Day, Carol!  I Love You!)   

Lights .. Camera .. Now what was I going to say?

The above title fairly summarizes the level of anxiety I was feeling as the lights came up and the lump in my throat refused my orders to “cease and desist” as I made my first foray into the world of taped-live political TV!  My brain refused to disengage from a memory bank containing several sweat-filled, bumbling presentations before live audiences during my school years or from time-to-time in my early work career.

Those conditions have gotten better over time and with real-life practice; yet it’s not easy to shake those nagging fears. 

Would I freeze in mid-sentence for what seemed like minutes as my speech faculty searched for a word I know I have used thousands of time before, but which is now playing hide-‘n-seek with my panic-addled brain?  Would my facial expression betray a panicked state?  Would I mumble, stumble, take a tumble?

Well, it all panned out rather nicely on Tuesday night in a small, nondescript recording studio in Glenside, PA. 

The cast of characters … Hatboro Mike is second from right.

I think I avoided sounding like an incoherent babbling brook.  I did not spray spittle on camera.  I was able to keep it together.  Then again, I haven’t seen the tape yet …

You always … at least I do … look at your performance in these situations with a hyper-critical eye.  I think I was a bit too stiff; reluctant to “go for the throat” as one co-commentator did; maybe a little over-prepared … to many talking points, not enough free-thinking give ‘n take.

Oh well … This was my first exposure to this medium.  So we’ll chalk it up to a first-time experience and look to improve our stage presence!. 

Abington News and Views will air Off the Record (The title might be changed due to its use elsewhere.) Friday, May 11 at 7:00 PM EDT.

Practical confession

I’m a bit of a practical jokester when the opportunity presents itself; like the time I bungy-corded the kids’ bedrooms door shut very early one Christmas morning.  To my knowledge no property damage was ever done, no fatalities or major injuries suffered.  But I’m sure I have annoyed a few people along the way, not that they necessarily ever connected me to their state of annoyance.

A case in point …

Nick is a really nice guy, but was known at the time to be a bit full of himself.  He was a fellow team leader in a large federal procurement office that will remain nameless.  He also had a habit – for some reason – of taking his shoes off in the afternoon as he sat at his desk.  No cubicles back then, which is important to the story.

Anywho … I had the mischievous and compulsive thought one day to grab one of his shoes as I walked past his desk and he was distracted on the phone.  That only one person, Pete Z, saw me do it in an office crowded with desks lined almost end-to-end was amazing.  He smiled but never said anything.

My misdemeanor theft went unnoticed for twenty minutes as we sat waiting for something to happen.  So I decided – in a flash of non-brilliance it would turn out – to turn up the heat a bit.

I looked up the name of the Commanding General’s Aide-de-Camp, then called the secretary of the Division Director imitating said Lieutenant stating that Mr. Nick L would be receiving a commendation personally from General WhoseIts for Something or Other in approximately 15 minutes.

There was of course an immediate flurry of activity as the secretary called about the various offices looking for said Division Director who was elsewhere in the building.  In the meantime, said secretary went over to Nick L to relay to him the good news of his impending commendation; at which point Nick quickly reached down to replace his shoes upon his feet.

Ruh roh …

At that very moment as Pete and I stifled our schoolyard giggles, the Division Director came marching urgently back to the office to don his suitcoat and prepare for the visit by The General.  I started to get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.  In the meantime, said secretary and Nick had started frantically searching the area around Nick’s desk trying to find his other shoe.  The image of Nick standing there either in his socks or with one shoe on and one shoe off was causing me and Pete fits of muffled laughter.

Nick had figured by now that his missing shoe was no accident.  But he hadn’t put missing shoe plus out-of-the-blue General visit together.  He was way too busy scurrying from one suspect’s desk to another trying to discover the shoe bandit before he ended up standing next to an Air Force General who would be wondering why this idiot was standing next to him with one-or-none shoes on!

For some reason, I was not high on the suspect list.  But Pete was.  And as the search intensified – now with the Division Director involved and a bit incredulous over this turn of affairs – I glanced over to see Pete head down as if working studiously on a compelling procurement dilemma, glancing sideways at me with this deer-in-the-headlights look on his face.  It was obvious that he was uncertain that he would be able to keep a straight face when they got to his desk and shined the glaring Light of Suspicion upon him!

Ruh roh …

That’s when I bolted from my desk in a controlled panic, deftly hiding the purloined shoe behind a file folder (i.e. what we used before computer files) as I quickly – but as inconspicuously as possible – retreated in the opposite direction from the Shoe Hounds.  Pete looked like he was going to throw up; but I had to figure out how to end this before someone – namely me – got hurt.

So circling around the office to get behind the line of the suspect sweep, I grabbed an interoffice envelope (i.e. what we used before the creation of e-mail) and stuffed the missing footwear inside and tied down the flap with the red stringy thing.  Then I calmly and stealthily snuck into the Division Director’s office – which was just a big cubicle – and placed the shoe-stuffed envelope on his desk.

As I strolled back to my desk through the phalanx of InterOfficePolice, I buried my head in the file folder as if I was working on a compelling procurement dilemma.  The Office Gumshoes were just a few desks away from the profusely sweating Pete Z when I placed a call to the secretary’s phone, telling her in my best disguised guilty-as-hell voice, “The shoe is on Mr. Director’s desk.”

After fifteen minutes of standing around waiting for a General that wasn’t about to appear, Mr. Division Director leaned over to an exasperated Nick and said, “I think someone was playing us.”

They say the Most Successful Prank or Swindle is the one where The Victim(s) never connect the perpetrator with the crime.  If that’s the case, then this was indeed my Greatest Caper!  But I’m convinced I haven’t tried it again simply because it went to the brink a lot faster than I would have anticipated had I bothered to think before I had swiped that shoe.

I guess there’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Love Hurts

As I was getting My Beloved’s Valentine’s Day offerings together this morning, including my usual MO of leaving a card strategically placed in the kitchen for Carol’s discovery, during the envelope sealing process I suffered a self-inflicted paper cut on the upper lip.

(Did you know you can cut a New York strip steak with the edges of a Hallmark envelope?!?)

So now All Day Long, I will be reminded just how bittersweet Love can be.

So remember … When Cupid lets fly his Arrow of Love, the person on the receiving end gets a nasty puncture wound.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Dog vs. Man

Actual conversation one morning last week …

“Honey, where’s that piece of steak I was saving for lunch?”

“It’s in the fridge.  Look behind the yogurt.”

“Yeah … But where’s the REST of it?”

“I gave it to the dog.  I ran out of chicken.”

Uh huh …  

So this is what it has come to.  My position on the Family Food Chain is now somewhere below Dog, maybe higher than the spider I was forced to assassinate one recent evening to the non-stop scream, “Bug!  Bug!!” 

Of course “higher than … spider” is just an assumption on my part.

There are rules … Rules of Nature … that suggest that the higher species – those that are stronger, smarter and more adaptable – get first crack at prized resources and eat first at The Kill.  Unfortunately for some of us those rules are suspended in the Dog-Human Relationship.

Actually that’s a misstatement in my case.  As this incident illustrates, this Man is the third wheel in the Dog-Woman Relationship

Personally, I like dogs.  In fact, I have proven recently my fondness for Man’s Best Friend.  And I love, Zoe, our Bichon Frise.  And for the most part, it doesn’t bother me that she is spoilt more than a Kardashian.  But there should be respect for The Pecking Order of Species

I am bigger and stronger; and damn it … I can – on most days – complete a 16-square sudoku in The Washington Post!!   

So that highly prized New York strip steak I was hoarding for myself should remain mine.  I shouldn’t have to stand over The Kill baring fangs like a starving lion fending off a circling hyena … especially a fluffy white specimen that looks like a candidate for Best of Show

Fluffy, white-haired circling hyena

Guess I’ll just have to adapt.

THE END

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Funny aside …

Recently Zoe underwent knee surgery. 

(And no, she did not injure it while running down a “kill” of her own.  She only goes after meat that is completely motionless and thoroughly cooked, perhaps served in a balsamic reduction.  But I digress …) 

I will not bore you with the veterinary details, including the $ticker $hock from which we are still recovering.  No, this is about what contortions we go through for our pets.  

Our instructions were to keep Zoe off her bad leg as much as possible, so the process of doggie bathroom breaks was a tad problematic.  The vet-proposed solution was to “lighten the load” on her surgically-repaired leg by using a home-made sling to support her body mass as she went about “her business”.

There is nothing more humbling than standing next to your pooch with a sling made of a rolled blanket running beneath their belly and held aloft in your fisted hand!  People passing by – people who you know – look at you like you have lost it completely.  And the dog simply looks up at you with a face that says; “Do you really expect me to go with this stupid thing wrapped around me.  Oh … And you look like an idiot too!”

Blogger’s lament

Winter bleak, cold and dark;
Tho’ “Not so bad.”, Past Winters bark.
Still it saps this writer’s mood,
His efforts at sage interludes.

He sits and stares
At keyboard wanting,
Needing,
Waiting,
Anticipating.

Pressure builds.
Will readers stray?
Cannot you find
Something to say?

Hurry, the mind urges
Or they will wander
To some other place
To slake their hunger.

Resist!  No surrender
To that nagging command,
Temptation to toss them
Whatever’s at hand.

Just try something new,
That you want them to see.
Do it for you to
Dispell your ennui.

And so it occurs on a day with no spark
An effort to purge those fears that harp,
That threaten with a mild depression
Over a blockage in written expression.

I am Scrooge.

Well, Scrooge-like at least …

I’m not sure when this happened.  The transformation probably occurred sometime after the boys passed The Age of Christmas Enchantment.  Perhaps my scrooginess results from the amount of stress and work the holiday entails.  I find it neither enjoyable nor particularly satisfying … until it’s all over anyway.  The days immediately leading up to Christmas are filled with crazy running around, fits of panic over what still needs to be done, and pangs of emptiness over those who are no longer around to enjoy the day with you.      

It seemed all worth it when the kids were … well, kids.  The bedlam seems to melt away when you get to experience those precious moments of joy on your child’s face Christmas morning.  

At least we are  fortunate enough to have all the boys here for the holidays.  I’m afraid to think what it will feel like in future years when the gravitational pull of new wives and families takes it bite out of that remaining pleasure.  But thus is life.  It’s no wonder that parents can be so jealously protective of their family’s holiday traditions. 

The sub-current to this angst is the gnawing realization that it is the True Meaning of Christmas that eludes me as I bounce from task-to-task-to-task as we prepare for the mayhem of Christmas Day.

That’s something for me to work on.

Holiday Armageddon

In recent years it seems to be easier and easier to find examples of man-made, Christmas-related conflict surrounding even the most innocuous of holiday traditions and expressions.  These conflicts run the gamut from serious issues of public policy to the silliness demonstrated by the content of this post.    

Last week I addressed the situation in Loudon County, Virginia where Santa Claus was crucified in a confluence of Free Speech and Poor Governance.   

But a fight of a completely different hue erupted this season in Doylestown, PA.  The trouble was Colored Christmas Lights, my friend.  And that’s Trouble with a capital T! 

In the tradition of the Hatfields and the McCoys, the Capulets and the Montagues, the Bloods and the Crips, it was white lights vs. colored lights.  One side espoused tradition, elegance and a Code of Conformity against a rebellion of flash and festiveness instigated by the free-spirited.  Each side dug in behind barricades constructed from long-held beliefs of what Christmas is supposed to look like; not just on one’s own house, but on the neighbor’s house next door and the one across the street.

The battlefield was the neighborhood streets.  Progress in the conflict was expressed in monetary fines accumulated vs. the number of homes that decided to join The Rebels against The Establishment

The Establishment was represented by humorless, dour functionaries draped in flowing robes of white.  They stared down from their castle ramparts upon the rebellious rabble, who no longer appreciated the purity and tradition conveyed by their flawless, heaven-like white lights.  They persisted in the observance of the community’s established Holiday Standard; and they cast judgement on that criminal element who dared challenge the long-held view of White Lights Only!

The Rebels scurried about in open defiance, dressed in Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoats.  They threw splashes of vibrant color all over the landscape; protested The Law of the Land; and teased the doddering, unflinching Establishment with Christmas landscapes full of Color, devoid of White.  They egregiously violated the Creed of Suburban Holiday Propriety, and responded to all efforts to control them by ratcheting up the assault of reds, blues, greens, purples and yellows.  And when The Establishment cajoled, then scolded, then threatened, the Rebels reached for their nuclear option … The Lighted Reindeer!

And that’s what this holiday season has looked like in Doylestown Station.

The problem originated with an overreaching homeowners association.  These associations are created in the spirit of preserving atmosphere and cleanliness by way of conformity.  The goal is admirable; but if unchecked, the absence of boundaries will always cause problems for the rule setters.

People don’t like to be told what to do by someone who’s not their parents, their boss, or their spouse … not when they spend so much of their time doing the things they do because of their parents, their boss, or their spouse.  They are willing to submit only as far as they can relate a restriction to a common benefit.  Once The Standard pushes past the point where the ideal crosses the pragmatic, resistance is sure to flourish.  That was the crux of The Great Holiday Lights Debacle

It’s one thing to legislate one color of garage door or what kind of fence is permissible.  Some homeowners can appreciate that – on a basic level – conformity with standards can provide a lasting sense of a sedate, tidy quality of life.  You don’t want Billy Bob’s house next door looking like a Caribbean brothel, especially when you paid a lot of money to move away from your old neighbor, who had six Volkswagens in varying states of decay in static display on his front lawn. 

But even then, many swear an oath never to live under the thumb of Neighborhood Oppression.  Some homeowners associations are shadows of authority, preferring to stick to cutting the grass in common spaces.  Others seem to thrive on legislating conformity and swinging The Big Stick at non-compliants.  

It’s a much higher level of intrusion though to demand conformity over such temporary displays like Christmas lights.  Holiday decorations – whether inside the home or outside on the rain gutters – often go directly to one’s familial traditions or their personal interpretation of what makes the Christmas and holiday season so beautiful and enjoyable. The Doylestown Station example screams of all the reasons why so many people find homeowners associations an unacceptable intrusion.

Personally, I like the white lights.  They are stately, elegant and clean.  But they do not – in my opinion – give a particularly festive appearance.  Our house is decorated annually in just about every color on the Christmas spectrum.  Because a) That’s the way my family decorated when I was a kid. and b) Our suburban neighborhood had almost all white lights when we moved there one December years ago.  In a way I enjoyed being “the rebel”, doing something different from the rest of the ‘hood.  

But there were no rules as to what you could display or how you could display it.  And every year since we seem to notice more and more color on neighborhood houses at Christmas time.  

We just didn’t have to relive The Civil War over it!

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For your consideration: 

This goes more to the earlier story mentioned in a previous post about Santa on a cross.

This time of year you hear people, especially devote Christians, complaining about a “war on Christmas“.  It’s the belief that some parts of society are waging a concerted effort to remove all religious references to Christmas by secularizing or eliminating public displays of Christian symbolism and meaning from the holiday season.

Now whether you buy into that theory or not, let me offer you just one example that – in my opinion – seems to support the “war on Christmas” claims.  In Orange County, California a public park that for almost 60 years was the sole domain of local churches for Christmas messages.  That has changed this year, and changed rather dramatically. 

If you read the article linked above, you will realize the following facts:

  • There was an ORGANIZED effort to wrest control of the public space from churches by individuals and organizations that – in most cases – ascribed to the exact opposite message to those previously displayed there.
  • Not only were the local churches almost pushed out (given 3 display locations vs. 14 from prior years), but so was the Santa Monica Police Association who worked with the churches on previous displays.
  • Of the 18 spaces won by atheist organizations in a lottery (because so many applications for spots were received), ONLY 3 of those 18 “atheist spaces” were ever used.  The rest sat vacant.
  • The messages in the three “atheist spaces” that were used ranged from the innocuous “Happy Solstice” to overtly anti-religious hostility that essentially equated religious conviction with belief in myths.

So there was an organized effort to claim a piece of real estate in order to further the interests of one faction over another.  That effort not only involved a level of duplicity (applications with no intent to use the space), but seemed designed specifically to simply deny use by competing interests (churches).  In addition, the effort resulted in open hostility directed towards the very nature of those competing interests (their beliefs). 

Regardless of your views on public displays of religious symbolism during the holiday season, the role of religion in the country’s founding principles, or the separation of church and state, you certainly might agree that this example sure looks like a war!

California Trippin’, Part Deux: Southbound on the Pacific Coast Highway

Prologue:  Carol and I traveled out to sunny southern California this past September to help my brother, Pat and his wife celebrate Pat’s retirement.  In Part 1 we traveled north to Monterey to enjoy the sights and spend two glorious days hitting the links at Pebble Beach and Spyglass Hill.  Part 2 deals with the trip south which we took along the Pacific Coast Highway (Rt. 1) heading back to the Los Angeles area.

As we left the Pebble Beach Resort property, Pat took us out along the beachfront drives of Carmel Way and San Antonio Avenue.  Here lies a tightly laid out neighborhood situated on the hills off the beach with spectacular views of both the Pebble Beach property and the Pacific Ocean.  There is ready access to the beaches here, where a stroll out the front door (or just down the street) brings you to a view worthy of the envy of any land-locked easterner.  I particularly enjoyed the “neighborhood feel” of this section of Carmel, even if the neighborhood has to be one of the priciest in which to live.

As we left Carmel and the Monterey Peninsula, we headed south along the Pacific Coast Highway, to our next stop in the town of Cambria.


Random impressions and second thoughts:

Hairpin turns hemmed with dizzying drop-offs … views of the Pacific from roadways ABOVE the ocean fog … not nearly enough guard rails for my peace-of-mind … sitting in the front passenger seat heading southbound not for the faint-of-heart … incredible landslide sites = huge reconstruction efforts = Shovel-Ready Projects …

Our first stop on our southbound journey was Ragged Point, appropriately named since it’s a ragged point of land jutting out into the Pacific.  We decided to stretch our legs a bit and took a walk all the way out to the tip of the point to see the view.  The views from there are majestic.  Unfortunately we left the cameras in the car and were too lazy to trek back and get them.

Coastal landscape from next to the Bixby Bridge at Big Sur

One thing our vacations with brother, Pat seem to revolve around is food.  But I do not blame him or L.  Let’s face it, vacation time is one of the allowable excuses – along with holidays and gym workouts – where loosening one’s caloric limitations and their belts is expected.  Good food at reasonable prices in pleasant settings is crucial to the best vacations.  And in this spirit I highly recommend the chocolate chip cookies at the Ragged Point espresso bar!  

Our next stop was Elephant Seal Beach, where the elephant seals come in large numbers and sizes …

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…  to watch the people.

It was here that I had my first encounter with a German motorcycle gang!  Really just a tour-by-motorcycle trip organized by a Las Vegas travel company.  Motorcycle touring must be HUGE in Europe, as I had never seen such a large group of foreign moto-tourists before.  It looked very well-organized with chase vehicles and a support van that provided drinks and food.  Looks like a lot of fun, assuming you can get past the saddle sores and the possibility of severe road rash.  Now back to food … For several days we were treated to numerous verbal treatise on the origins, preparation and cult-like popularity of tri-tip beef  and its super-human powers when reduced in form to a well-prepared sandwich.  All this was intended to set up what our gracious hosts treated like a pilgrimage … a trip to the Main Street Grill in Cambria, CA.  The restaurant is not particularly impressive at first sight, like a McDonalds-on-steroids, but with ample TV placements that render the atmosphere favorable to watching weekend football with the guys.  Bar service is available.  The food is very good at reasonable prices.  The tri-tip sandwich was admittedly quite delicious, tender and worthy of encore.  The salads are HUGE and also very good, as are the pork ribs I had several days later when we made our mandatory farewell homage.

Guy on left works the counter at Main St. Grill!

Two things they really need there are some good Amoroso rolls, which any Philadelphian will tell you improves any sandwich, and perhaps a refresher course on customer service.  (Would you like addy-tude with those fries?)  Still a great place for a well-portioned, delicious meal that’s not too rough on the wallet.

Our carefully developed travel plans had us enjoying several days in Cambria, a small touristy town located along Rt 1 (PCH).  We stayed at the The Fogcatcher Inn with comfortable rooms and – of course – an excellent complimentary breakfast arrangement, including make-it-yourself waffles and excellent coffee!  The Fogcather is located in an area known as Moonstone Beach, whose beach is located just across Moonstone Beach Drive.  The beach area is accessible here; and there is a well-maintained boardwalk that traverses the beachside hills with scenic views in both directions.

Just a few things you will experience … Cute, mooching little brown squirrels … Silly, short-sighted humans feeding the critters POTATO CHIPS! … Native American remnants in the form of rock drillings (cup-shaped depressions in the rock) where grains and corn were ground into meal (These take some searching to find, but they are in plain sight.) … Playful otters “honeymooning” in the surf … (Those with children should be prepared with their tactful explanations of blatant otter porn.) … No cell phone reception except for a spot about 25 feet long by 3 feet wide (and quite a bit harder to pinpoint than evidence of Native American culture) … Technology-dependent humans shuffling back and forth across Moonbeach Drive in search of a signal …

View from Moonstone Beach, Cambria towards San Simeon

Have I mentioned the food?
Our second day in Cambria – which was filled with artsy, tourist activities – was dinner at the Moonstone Beach Bar & Grill.  The Moonstone is a family-owned establishment located across Moonstone Beach Drive from the ocean.  It offers both indoor and al fresco dining.  We chose to sit outdoors on a seasonable September evening; and it was the perfect choice.  The evening was a perfect combination of atmosphere, delightful food, great service and beautiful ocean scenery.  I enjoyed the sea scallops with citrus honey glaze, Carol the grilled salmon with salsa fresca.  The clam chowder was also a big hit.  Definitely the place for dinner in Cambria!

Sunset at Moonstone Bar & Grill

No foodie tour would be complete without recommendations for desert!  And although the Moonstone Beach B&G had some delightful offerings, I would be remiss if I did not plug Linn’s of Cambria.  Linn’s is also a family-owned enterprise that – from the number of locations in Cambria alone – is immensely popular with the local folk and visitors.  Our hosts insisted on taking us out to Linn’s Original Farmstore located in an isolated area of hills outside the town.  It was well worth the trip!

If you get the chance, check out the Linn’s story provided as a link on their website.  It’s an inspiring story of a couple’s relentless pursuit of their dream, living on a farm where financial challenges required an imaginative solution which eventually led to an extremely successful venture.  The Linn’s are credited with the development of the ollalieberry, a cross between blackberry and raspberry.

The store offers a wide variety of fruit products, jams, jellies, and their signature pies.  (An on-line catalogue is also available.)  I tried a personal-sized ollalieberry pie and enjoyed every bite!  Well worth the effort to seek out their back road locale.  Just watch out for that intrusive peacock!

That’s all for now.  I’m off to have the rest of these pants let out …

Some additional photos in no particular order:

Master of his domain

Note the paddle board surfers to either side of the middle rock outcropping (below).