Father's Day was spent in lovely Strongsville, Ohio -- swimming at the local recreation facility with the boys (who don't actually swim, but had a grand time in the kiddie pool).

We were, in fact, scheduled to visit the 38th Street Odd Job on the weekend before our Ohio trip, but had to cancel when John Paul puked as we were getting ready to leave. Fearing another Roto-Virus Road Trip, we decided to stay in that day. So if there are bags of cheap consumer goods waiting for us in Brooklyn (and, let's face it, of course there are), they'll have to wait a bit longer until we pick them up.

And I do hope there's a miner's helmet in the mix; I would wear it on the commuter train in the morning. Just to see people's reactions.

Hey John I was wondering how Fathers Day went. Did you return home with any strange new toys from the asian men that patiently wait for Uncle Vito to come down thier street. He is like an urban legend in thier culture. They wait many years and spin many tales about the strange man from the GPO. I wonder if anyone has tried to sell him anything weird. Like ball scratchers or maybe a hard hat with a light for those evening walks in the 38th street park.

I wonder how many Weinermobiles there are. Within the last month I was eastbound on I-80 nearing Omaha when I passed a westbound Weinermobile. It must be tricky to park.

Regarding well water, I'm just south of Omaha and we're connected to their municipal systems (potable water and waste water). There is one well on the property I rent, which isn't too surprising since I live less than a mile from the Misouri River. Lots of residents in my county have wells. Stay away from the ones that didn't leave adequate distance between the well and the septic system.

Bachelor life? I can see it now - John buying a keg of beer and inviting Otto over to play cards and have a few drinks.

At the office yesterday we all chipped in for a lottery ticket. We said if we won, we'd go outside to the Mr Softee truck on the corner, and make him an offer for it -- then hit the road.

We all thought it was a good plan.

But we didn't win.

Weiner mobile. That would seem like the logical progression from Hyundai to Weiner. And I saw that apparition as well a giant hot dog rolling down PGA is very disturbing. I want to drive a really manly vehicle, THE ZAMBONI. Now there a wish i've had for a long time. Well that and .....OH YEAH HUGE PECTORAL MUSCLES. Well today we got the water system fixed. So now showers will seem less like eggs rotting in the sun. Theres a unique foulness to perfectly clear clean water that leaves the shower head smelling like its leaving the colon. And that lovely scent that greets you in the bathroom. You always feel like the seat will definately be warm when you sit on it. You get well water in Nebraska? Why when I say I have well water to anyone that doesn't live in Florida do they always envision me lowering a bucket down a hole? These are things i ponder.

I'm back at the office after a weekend in Cleveland and a not unpleasant flight into Westchester Airport last night. It's worth the extra bucks to skip the LaGuardai hassles. Guido drove me back and we somehow guzzled half a bottle of Madeira before he finally brought his celery plants upstairs to his mother. But even that was good news because she had set up a plate for food for me!

Bachelor week is off to a grand start.

Tonight I shall organize the heaps of belongings that have accumulate in the pantry by the back door (and in the process finish off the other half of that bottle).

Hey Steve, don't make me have to tell that story of Tommy giving you that shave.

"You a-give the aspirin a headache."

Small world - not that I'd want to paint it. Our neighbors on our southern border have two horses.

Great news on the radio today - eastern Nebraska is out of its agricultural drought. It's officially safe for me to get a spare bottle of propane for my torch and begin collecting fireworks.

It's one thing to discuss heads, but please leave hair lines out of it. The forehead fairy can stop visiting - I have enough already! It's not like I can comb my monobrow back and fool anyone.

And speaking of attitude, I continue to find myself growing ever more ornery as I grow older. Maybe it's the city that does it to me -- no one seems to move fast enough; they all seem to want to stand in my way. Especially the empty-headed tourists who congregate by Rockefeller Center and up into the theater district (where my office, unfortunately, is located).

And so I stand up from my seat to get off the commuter train, and stand behind others who insist on being first out the door but who can't seem to walk very quickly once the doors open. It makes me nuts. You'd think I'd get over it by now, but no. The scenario repeats itself several times as I gallop crosstown from Grand Central to the westside. (And don't even get me started on the Hillary Clinton liar-fest outside Barnes and Noble earlier this week.)

Stew Leonard's is the hardest on my nerves. It's a fine store, and I love their selection, but the people who shop there are dumber than dirt. They loll down the narrow aisles and mindlessly stop in the middle of everything to look at the avocados. I'm starting to get into the habit of ramming their idled carts with my own -- to clear the space.

Someday there'll be a fistfight. But I'll have justification.

Speaking of Il Duce... I was noticing the size and shape of John Paul's head and thinking to myself that it is very Mastandrea-esque. I'm searching for the cranial archetype and I'm beginning to see patterns, not just in size and shape but in attitude as well. We can say more with just one clenching facial expression than many can say in a thousand word essay (we won't even start to document the hand genstures -- labonotation would prove woefully insufficient).

Phrenology is a lost art, and I believe we as a family should try to rejuvenate it. For instance, can we know something about Joey's personality just by evaluating the menacing brow and Amazonian hairline? I think yes -- one could know immediately his tendencies to a) remain mysteriously locked in his room for an unnatural length of time, b) wear his underwear so that they ride unnaturally high, and c) consistently put the garbage cans where Vin doesn't want them.

Or look at Steve's head. The shape just screams sopresatta. And not in a nice way, either.

I'll be studying this more and will share my insights as they strike me.

Back East? If El Duce heard it refered to as such he would be very disappointed. He is equally disturbed by those describing thier origins as UP NORTH. Does back east mean 38th street? Spumoni South is located East however it is 1200 miles from there. You can always make a pit stop. We live in an equestrian area. Dirt roads and horses but we still don't own any. We have very little constraints when it comes to noise or firework or whatever. We have burned anything you can name in bonfires at our home. We hit flaming golfballs at the church. We attempted the 5 man tower once in the pool. We have watched backyard wrestling projected onto a 40ft screen hung in my front yard. We burned about $4000 in fireworks and proceeded to burn anything flammable till the sun came up. We fired several unsuccessful model rockets in our are. One hit the neighbors house but thats okay hes fairly incoherent most hours of the day. John has been witness to some of this insanity. The true insanity is yet to come. We have added Jenia to the family.

We very often change his name as well. He is known as Jenia Flect, Jenia Wine, Dolph, Arnold, and Hey can you take out that garbage. Steve left out a few though... Peoria, Prevacet ,Premyat, Garafolo, Nazgarofy.

Yikes! Some of those photos go way down amnesia lane. As frightening as it was to see myself "way back when," it was overshadowed by the relentless march of time. Sure, I'd like to catch up on bills, trade in my 13-yeaar old car for something safer and take a couple of weeks' vacation "back East." Closer inspection revelas slow progress on those fronts. Worse yet, I publicly admit that I've never seen an automated toilet seat. Life rarely feels this futile!

Does the autoamated toilet seat come with "Magic Fingers," or is that just the bed?

Whatever you do, please don't say the stinky cab-ride had "Magic Fingers." That's too much to contmplate.

Oh, and by the way, Steve (or should I call you Digitalis? Fusco?): now that I've figured out how to link to photos, no one is safe. And yes, everyone, the ice cubes were real.

(Real cold. Even Guido agreed.)

I've added links to some photos, down the right column of the page. I expect to post more as I get them together. Enjoy.

Steve, I leave it to you to explain the photo at the right -- for the benefit of all those without indoor plumbing or automated toilet seats(you know who you are). Please include as many details as possible.

I'll give you one hint to get you started: it was a rainy Saturday at the Rihga Royale Hotel on West 54th Street. Just before a very stinky cab-ride downtown.

Speaking of soil.
I once opened the septic tank cover on our front lawn. Make a note that this is not a healthy practice. The toilets had backed up in the house and we had a heavy rain. I figured it couldn't hurt. I was mistaken. Have you ever tried to put your thumb over the garden hose while its running? This pipe started bubbling and next thing I know is theres a whole lot of meatballs and meatloaf with gravy on the lawn. I think we eat too much red meat. Since then we have decided to practice septic tank drills. We map an escape route that is free of refuse and plan where we will plant bracciole if we had no toilets. Hey remind me to tell you about Peek a boo. Have you ever seen a stripper with a 38 inch G-string? Steve and Jenia have.

Blueberries?
strawberries, bananas, oranges.
The Produce guy knows his name the way the chinks on Canal know Uncle Vito.
Jenia is like a warrior when he comes to the table. If you released him in Stew Leonards unsupervised he would more than likely be asked to leave or need to rent a U-haul for his purchases. He has the 'hunter and gatherer' gene in his DNA. As Mastanddreas I was trying to figure out what common gene we carry.

Blueberries, eh?

Y'know, John Paul eats a lot of blueberries. Always has (these boys are practically fruitbats -- Alane really loads them up on berries and melon, all good stuff).

I remember one afternoon when Alane went out, leaving me to watch John Paul (when I really wanted to watch the ballgame). Anyway, he'd eaten a ton of blueberries already that day, and he was a pretty happy baby. He was scurrying back and forth on the floor while I sat on the couch -- surprisingly able to watch a fair amount of the ballgame. I even remember thinking to myself at the time: "This isn't bad. I'm here on the couch, relaxing. Ballgame on TV. John Paul happy, not crying, just sitting on the floor, quietly playing in the soil."

Soil? What soil?

For the previous few minutes, I'd barely notices that John Paul was very busy picking around in what looked like scattered potting soil. Closer inspection revealed dark-matter debris, somewhat resembling the deflated husks of . . . blueberries. I looked at John Paul's diaper. It was ripped. I'm no genius, but I immediately knew all that needed to be known...

So, Jenia, for the sake of love, and for the sake of family, please, stay off the carpets!

My mind has been poisoned! I'm stuck with this picture of my brother pushing a lawn-mower on a dewy morning, launching fireworks with his free hand while issuing bubbles from his butt. Shooting the shit, indeed!

And hey, I still have a rail fascination -- but nothing like John Paul and Mojo. They have some kind of mystical relationship with railroading. It's a little scary. More genetics at work, I suppose.

We were, in fact, scheduled to visit the land of the Culver Line today for a fake-Father's Day get-together (we'll be in Ohio in a week). I woke up about 7, did a two-mile run thru the park, showered up, and headed out for a haircut at Tommy's barber shop in Bronxville. Just a haircut; no shave (Steve, feel free to fill in the blanks on that reference). Picked up a bottle of nice chianti (in case we we'd be eating liver and fava beans in Brooklyn) and got home -- only to hear John Paul announce: "I throwed up."

Alane was busy working over the giant wet spot on the carpet, and it was instantly clear we wouldn't be going anywhere today. Both boys had been filling their diapers with Hershey Squirts lately, so I suppose puke shouldn't come as a surprise. Right now, Mojo has fallen asleep on the couch and John Paul is on the floor lounging on his big pillow. I suspect he'll be asleep soon, too.

As for me, I'm going to try to bring my file server back to life -- for some reason it no longer wants to boot up. Maybe it has the same malady that Blogger suffered from this morning.

Thanks for the extensive stroll down amnesia lane. I'll never forget how excited John got when he watched them deliver the new R-46 subway trains via the South Brooklyn Railway (sorry, if you didn't read about The Culver Line you'll need to for that reference). Does anyone else remember what a subway buff John was? Fess up, John, when was your last visit to the NYC Transit Museum?

Alane, I know what to get him for Christmas. At least he can't say he got lost on the subway while wearing those!

Your mention of Otto's infamous July 4th incident begs the question: does Frankie ever set off fireworks with Otto any more?

I don't know the laws in Florida, and I remember that law enforcement officers always had the best fireworks in NYC, but fireworks are actually legal here in Nebraska. We were in a drought last year so I was "on duty" in case of fires. Rainfall has almost been normal of late, so I need to start stocking up on pyrotechnics. And fuel bottles. Always start with a rock-solid flame. Unless you're Frankie, in which case you use a sparkler!

Nothing much comes out of my mower. It mulches and drops clippings to the ground, which greatly simplifies my multi-acre chore. Now if you count me, the guy pushing the mower, as a mower then emmissions are based on usage of a "Fart-Rite Anal Strip." Those of you that get that joke are probably DaVinci's Notebook fans. They're a man's band.

Why would John ask a question about our family shooting the sh!t on a blog? It seems redundant....

Do Mastandreas share genetics with caterpillars? Or is it just an attitude thing?

So, Ree, did you ever get out to see "Finding Nemo"? And was it anything like finding Mimo?

Alane took the boys out to the train station to meet me as I came home tonight. They kept saying, "Tuckahoe station" as we walked back. Along the way we passed the neighbor on the corner, out on the curb with his lawn-mower. John Paul was captivated by it -- no doubt thinking of his own mower, the one that blows bubbles out the side as he pushes it.

Hey Joe, does your mower do that?

Right now they're in the bath, and I can hear the splashing/screaming. Alane told me they watched today the videotape we made of them when they were little babies -- including some footage of John Paul in his first year. He wanted to know where Joseph was in those videos. Alane had to explain that he wasn't there yet.

Not an easy notion for little Cookie to comprehend.

The Culver is a very interesting line. I vaguely remember these icons of 38th street. I recall the bocce men. That was a site. I also remember Eddie the Ice Cream Man. Jimmy from Gray Shell. And that candy store on the corner with the the big german shepard. Nickel candy and a coke in a glass bottle. That place smelled funny and the proprietor was nearly room temperature. What i miss the most is the apartment building on the corner being on fire once a week. Oh yeah and that high tech movie screen Bernie wouold drag out to watch Bruce Lee. HOWEVER , the crowning glory for 38th street will always be Otto and his bag of fireworks. That is a night I will laugh about forever. We have since taken the 4th of July to a new level of pyrotechnic evolution. Someday the 38th street crowd should be re assembled at Spumoni Gardens South for a reunion. Well I don't know if they would be up for it but it makes for an interesting story. Ode TO 38TH. Nothing like jumpin off a swing into a pile of broken glass. The park was a strange place for an 8yr old. I could never figure out how that much broken glass was assembled in 1 spot.

Hey John gimme the link to TUTTI BARESE again i lost it and im hoping the SIMMS made an entry.

The park on 38th Street is completely different from the old days. They actually have patches of grass, and playground equipment. But none of the character we once had with the broken-down pool, burnt-out grounds-keeping building, and glass-strewn basketbal court. What I really miss is the group of old Italian men playing bocce under the abandoned Culver El. It wasn't summer without seeing those guys (and their sandals and black dress socks).

One way summers have improved since then: no more outlaw electricians tapping into lamp-post power supplies to plug in overly-loud stereo systems to blare throughout the night. And no bongo sonatas. That was wacky.

I'm almost done composing my "Ode to Escarole." I can't decide whether to add beans, tho.

So Martha Stewart is indicted -- but no perp walk! According to WCBS news radio, she showed up at the courthouse in a limo and steamed in under her own power (tucked from view under a white umbrella -- how symbollic can you get?) Once again, we are denied the media event we deserve as Americans. I am disappointed.

We await the arrival of the esteemed John Simms, who has been invited to join the Tutti Barese blog. Hopefully, he can help us to resolve some legal issues for the benefit of the group (and me). Anyone watching the Scott Peterson spectacle? I want to not watch, and yet I am drawn to it. Maybe something on O'Reilly tonight?

I was just thinking that I havent seen the Clay Pit Pond Video in a long time. It began with a horse ride and an olympic caliber dismount by Little Steve. The entire premise was a close knit family outing that went awry when we forgot our corn chips at the picnic tables. I've heard there are still the occasional sitings of that masked man where the place once stood. It is gone as well as the once interesting Marissa Circle. No more fun. Wherever it was they put another house. Sad. The saturation of a landmark. Anyway today was a classic Florida Day. It was sunny. It was Hot. There was biblical rain. I had Vin out today as he supervised the tree cutting event that spontaneously occured. He made sure I chopped every tree in increments of 36 inches. If it ever gets cold it will fit in the fireplace? Anyone for a bonfire? Now thats something we should videotape. We need July 4th 1984 and july 4th 2000 in jupiter on 1 dvd. That would explain a lot of issues that seem to arise occasionaly. I should start a web site that documents our household. 24hr Spumoni Cam. That might make money. Well im off to eat dinner.

i have returned from the great state of Colorado after successfully completing my "ride for joe". i have noted several odd things about the state--for instance it holds a festival for the day slaves were emancipated in Texas. I am not certain why not the day slaves were emancipated by abe lincoln. they were also very happy to be having a puerto rican day festival held in a mexican park. while in estes park, i could buy souveneirs not only of rocky mountain national park but of graceland, alaska, new orleans, wyoming, akron and california.

I would also like to agree that movies like "Thanksgiving '85" or "Thanksgiving '92" for that matter, are quite immusing too. Though I am a huge fan of the The Festival of Night Shirts, I still cringe to hear the extended version of "You forgot your bag!" I also find it funny to see Uncle Anthony running on the beach in the critically acclaimed masterpiece, "In Pari Delicto." Yet, what I do cherish the most is the wonderful recording of Steampipe Alley that my brother Steve was on, including my two cousins, yet my brother Joe didn't get the one in a lifetime chance to meet the one and only, Mario Cantone... I'm sure that was heartwrenchingly traumatizing for that Big Head.

Anyway, I have just been invited to the Abacoa Crown Teather to see "Finding Nemo," ... we'll see what happens.

Steve is correct: deck-construction was a seminal event in the history of Marisa Circle (now overgrown and culturally insignificant). Footage of that should rank alongside "Birth of a Nation" (if not "Triumph of Will").

What I really want to see on the big screen are the videos Uncle Joe took years ago walking up and down 86th Street in Brooklyn. Now that's entertainment. We should at least get those onto the web. I got digitizing equipment -- just send me a tape.

We should also get the video from Christmas Eve 1989. The Festival of Night Shirts. And fish on the barbecue. In 17 degree weather.

What the Internet needs most is a video-clip of orange soup being stirred in a pot. Then stirred in a dish. With a little cheese being sprinkled on the top.

That would make people post to our blog.

It's good to see someone keeps track of the dew point in Nebraska. I guess the dew point here is the current temperature -- it's been raining all day. I don't know either one. Maybe I should watch the Weather Channel.

I'd like to call everyone's attention to a new blog: Tutti Barese, a companion for this blog. Please nominate members for the new blog. The more the merrier. Bring your own fork.

Time for the Nebraska report! Today, like yesterday, features "good weather for a mow." Temperatures peaking in the mid-70's, dewpoints in the upper 40's, partly cloudy and light north breezes. To me, good mowing weather is important. I mow more than half of the 3 acres we're on because it makes renting the house affordable.

I went caved set a new record (three first-run movies in three weeks) and saw "Finding Nemo." For the unaware, I nearly finished my microcomputer programming degree before my carpal tunnel suregies a couple of years ago. I think both the technical "cutting edge" and some of the "story line" magic may be fading at Pixar. That's a shame, because I really enjoyed Monsters, Inc. They brought back a 1989 Pixar short, Knick Knack, as the opener. It shows how far they've come in animation, shading, lighting and rendering. I see few movies (usually comedies) so I'm limited in what I'll say about movies. I don't watch much TV, either, unless you count the Weather Channel, That 70's Show or Six Feet Under.

I'm enjoying the blog, it's great to read what you're all up to. Not having pro baseball here, all I can offer is the College World Series. Opening ceremonies June 12, games are June 13 through June 22 (June 23rd if needed). I live about four miles south of the stadium. With enough notice I can help with tickets, and perhaps transportation and lodging if any of you are coming through. Probably lasagna, too.

We need more political discourse here.

Steve: be sure to set aside some time today to debrief Big Vin on what is happening in today's talk shows. Post his report here. I haven't watched the Sunday Morning Services myself in years now -- not that I don't care about the substance, it's just that the debate has taken the form of old-style WWF blather.

"Lemme tellya sumthin, Vince! Working mothers won't tolerate tax cuts that don't send checks to people who don't pay taxes! If they want war, we'll give them war!"

And then Russert sits with Carville and pretends to have a serious discussion of issues.

It's great theater, but for a genuine view on actual public policy, you gotta ask the Big Vin. He'll tell it like it is -- and, he'll rate the histrionics displayed on the Sunday Morning Smackdowns.

Will the Senate release the federal courts from the painful figure-4 leglock? Can Daschle land the atomic elbow into the sternum of tax reform, or will Frist slip aside and leave little Danny to crash to the mat from the top turnbuckle? Is Jessica Lynch planning a sordid locker room affair with Sgt Slaughter, coaxing him out of retirment and into a steel cage match with The Great Hussein?

Who can vote resonsibly wihout knowing the answers to these things? Maybe I should flip on some McLaughlin.

that last posting was me not ree.
not sure how that happened.
Im tired
made in poland
good for cats

Cops. I must concur there is nothing like watching a man explain to the cops why his wife looks like meatloaf. He's covered in blood, not an ounce his own. She wouldn't wipe for me officer. I had to do it. The only show containing a more bizarre assortment of inbred malformed social outcasts would be Vin's favorite "Jerry Springer" . There is nothing like 2 lesbian midget strippers squaring off on camera for the love of a 450 pound pre-op transexual that likes to make hats out of ground beef. The talent pool that this show taps is a genetic cul-de-sac. I'd rather be watching Jack Ass. If they must act like outpatients at the Brooklyn School for the Handicap they might as well be constructive and willing participants. I'm always eager to see what region of our great nation these misfits gravitate from and its FLORIDA nearly 90% of the time. Well Ree got me started on the Jerry tirade. Now to more pressing issues. Ill be up tomorrow at 6am. REE.....That sauce better have been started or I will be rousting you from your slumber to begin the process. If its not an 8 hour sauce its not worthy of being blended in the same serving bowl as Occi d'Lupo or ravioli. I was thinking there should be a new macaroni called prostatini that is shaped like the lower bowels. Okay now i really need to go to bed. But strangely i am hungry.