Mighty erections

Alternate title: Another visit to the Storm King Art Center.

I love a good outdoor sculpture park. And what better way to enjoy a lovely late summer day than to stroll the grounds of Storm King at dusk?

Here are a few of my favorite photos from yesterday's visit. (You can see photos from our previous visit to Storm King, back in 2010, here.)

Click on the photo to see a larger view (as well as the name of the sculpture and artist).

[FWIW, the spouse took a most unflattering photograph of me taking the second-to-last picture, which, if you are interested, you can see on both of our Facebook pages.]

He's sexy and he knows it (Times Square edition)

When he walks on by, girls be lookin' like, Damn, he's fly.

When he walks in Times Square, this is what he sees,
Everybody stops and is staring at he.
He's got passion in his pants, and he ain't afraid to show it.

He's sexy and he knows it.

Though where are the animal prints and the big afro?

Still, this guy had no problem finding tourists to pay to take a picture with him. (Wha?! Say look at that body.)

Sadly, I do not remember what his sign said. It was so crowded in Times Square last night, and people kept coming up to have their picture taken with this guy. I was lucky to get this picture, with my crappy BlackBerry camera.

Only in New York.

Pucker up for peace

This Saturday, dozens of couples gathered in New York's Times Square to recreate the V-J Day kiss made famous by photographer Alfred Eisenstaedt -- and the spouse and I just happened to be there, albeit slightly before the big "Times Square Kiss-In" began (and were quite disappointed to learn we couldn't officially participate).

The big draw at this year's "Kiss-In," which commemorated the 45th anniversary of V-J Day and bore the memorable tagline "Pucker Up for Peace": the unveiling of a 26-foot sculpture of Eisenstaedt's "kiss," which literally stopped traffic.

To paraphrase Neil Armstrong, what started out as one kiss for a man has now turned into one giant kiss for Times Square.

It's a Pop Pop Pop Pop-Tarts World

Perhaps the ultimate pop-up store, Pop-Tarts World, a store dedicated to the iconic Kellogg's breakfast pastry, opened this week in New York City's Times Square (on the south side of 42nd Street between Sixth Avenue and Broadway, to be exact). So the spouse and I, who had our share of Pop-Tarts back in the day, decided to go check it out.

Behold, the power of Pop-Tarts!



















































































Truth be told, we were rather unimpressed with Pop-Tarts World, despite the allure of creating your own custom box of Pop-Tarts and the Pop-Tarts sushi (which we didn't sample). Like Pop-Tarts themselves, the Pop-Tarts store was/is way more about good marketing than good taste. And once January comes, and its lease expires, all that will be left of Pop-Tarts World will be a few crumby memories. (Though maybe Pillsbury will open a Toaster Strudel Universe in its stead.)

Why can't the Mets win every game?

Or at least go on another 10-game winning streak? (Those two questions, btw, are rhetorical, for those of you who were going to say or comment "Because they SUCK!")

I know many of you think the New York Mets have gone to the dogs...
































(Wonder if David Wright minds that some pooch is wearing his jersey. And yes, I left a "tip.")

And I know that many of you fair-weather Mets fans wouldn't bother to go all the way to Citi Field to watch a .500 team who has little chance of making the playoffs this year.

















But I am a Metsochist, and when someone offers me free tickets to see my beloved Mets play at Citi Field (YOU ROCK, MR. B! THANK YOU!!!), I am not about to say no. And boy am I glad I said "yes."

This afternoon Mets Pitcher Johan Santana was masterful, pitching a complete game against the Colorado Rockies -- even getting a key hit. And despite (or maybe because of) David Wright not being in the lineup (Mike Hessman played third base), the Mets went on to beat the Rockies 4-0 -- in barely 2.5 hours.

Ironically, today's game was a near duplicate of the last game the spouse and I attended at Citi Field, around this time last year, where Santana likewise pitched against the Colorado Rockies -- and likewise pitched the Mets to a shutout victory in just 2.5 hours. We even sat in the exact same section (Excelsior 330) on the third base line as last year (albeit four rows further back).

It was a GREAT day for both me and the spouse and the New York Mets (except for Mets closer Francisco Rodriguez, who spent the day locked in a holding pen at Citi Field, awaiting arraignment for assaulting his fiancee's father).

And now we are seriously thinking of going back to Citi Field Saturday night to watch them play against the Philadelphia Phillies, while the kid spends the night at her grandmother's. (Though if Jerry Manual starts Oliver Perez Saturday, all bets are off.)

Here's hoping you had a great day! And remember, kids: Only four more weeks until football season officially begins!

It had to be me

[Alternate titles: "I'm just wild about Harry (Connick Jr.)" and "It was the best of nights, it was the worst of nights."]

First, let me, in the words of Bing Crosby and Harry Connick Jr., accentuate the positive. Thanks to "Sleepover Night" at our daughter's day camp, the spouse and I found ourselves with the night off Thursday. And somehow we found ourselves in New York City drinking Champagne (or in the spouse's case, beer) and eating delicious French fare at one of our favorite little restaurants, Brasserie Cognac, on Broadway and 55th Street...






















then sitting in the eighth row of the orchestra section at Harry Connick Jr.: In Concert on Broadway at the Neil Simon Theater.

















To say that Harry Connick Jr: In Concert on Broadway was good would be a gross understatement. It was... amazing. And that is still selling it short. I wish I could have videotaped the concert (I had my camera and thought about it several times but the rather large usher hovering five feet away from me dissuaded me). Then I could have watched it again and again.

Not only was/is Harry Connick Jr. an incredible singer, he is an incredible musician and performer -- and also a really funny guy. And I doubt I was the only one in the audience who was disappointed when the concert finally ended around 10:30 p.m.

But all good things must eventually come to end. And in this case les bons temps stopped rouler-ing seconds after we walked out of the theater when I looked up and saw THIS:






















[Conjure image of Stephen Colbert shaking his fist in indignation:] DECKER!

It's like Brooklyn Decker is stalking me. Everywhere I look, there she and her breasts are (even on vacation, when we were flipping channels and happened to catch the ESPYs, there they were).

But Brooklyn Decker's double Ds were the least of my woes last night. For just as the spouse and I were drifting off to sleep, around 12:20 a.m., the phone rang. And I don't know about all of you but I have never had a good phone call at 12:20 a.m.

Sure enough, it was camp calling to inform us that J-THREE-O had sprained her ankle (trying to escape the embrace of a boy -- at midnight, on wet grass) and needed to be picked up. Now. So the spouse (as I can no longer carry our daughter) dutifully got dressed and drove over to the camp at 12:30 a.m.... literally picked up our daughter... drove her back home... and carried her up the stairs to the spare bedroom, which has a futon on the floor, whereupon I cleaned her feet and gave her some naproxen sodium and a kiss -- and stayed awake the rest of the night/morning, unable to sleep, only to discover upon (physically) getting up this morning that... we had no water. None. Not a drop.

So at 8:45 I packed up my toiletry kit and a couple of towels and a washcloth and drove to a neighbor's, so I could brush my teeth and take a shower and shave. (I LOVE YOU, G.! YOU ROCK!)

Fast forward eight or so hours... Still no water, but we have two nice new big holes in our backyard, and just found out we have to replace our water pump and all the wiring. All I can say is, glad we saw the concert last night, cause it's going to be a loooong time 'til we splurge like that again. But at least we should have our water back in the next hour or so... so I can do the laundry and the dishes and the cleaning. Yay!

As for J-THREE-O (aka Sarah Heartburn), she has a mildly sprained ankle (which is now in an air cast) and has been enjoying ordering her father around all day.

I will now end this blog post on a positive note, with this clip of (a much younger and thinner) Harry Connick Jr. singing "It Had to Be You," from When Harry Met Sally (one of my favorite movies):



Btw, Harry Connick Jr: In Concert on Broadway is being filmed for TV (and DVD) tonight, and when it airs/comes out, I'll be watching -- and you should, too.

It was a hot and Storm King day... (art appreciation)

the sun shone in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the maple allées (for it is in the Storm King Art Center that our scene lies), rattling the leaves, and fiercely agitating the enormous sculptures that groaned against the heat....

--With apologies to Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton

On Saturday, the spouse and I were gifted with a day off. (A good friend of J-THREE-O's invited her over for the day.) So we took the opportunity to drive to the Storm King Art Center, an outdoor sculpture park in Mountainville, New York, where temperature in the non-existent shade was 95 degrees Fahrenheit (though that may be a conservative estimate).

Despite the heat, we loved strolling through the sculpture park and gazing up at the enormous works of art.




































































(Apparently outdoor sculptors and yours truly have a thing for red.)

After baking in the heat in the name of art appreciation for nearly an hour and a half (that tram didn't arrive a minute too soon), we drove to Cornwall-on-Hudson, a picturesque town overlooking (wait for it...) the Hudson River, where we had a fabulous lunch at the River Bank Restaurant and then took a stroll, which turned into a drive, along the riverbank -- where I captured this shot of one of the prettiest or most scenic gazebos I have ever seen.
















I (heart) summer.

When a picture is worth a thousand words

Last night the camera (my Nikon D70) and I attended an event with the spouse at the Sunset Terrace at Chelsea Piers.

Now I know why they call it the Sunset Terrace.

I love New York

Actually, I don't love New York (or, more specifically, New York City). I used to love the City, when I was growing up there. Now? Not so much.

While I still love the restaurants, and going to the theatre, and Central Park, and the architecture (or what's left of New York City's once beautiful, majestic buildings) and colorful shop windows, I don't love the crowds and the traffic and the grime and the noise. But I did love getting to spend a few hours with my cousin (aka "Another David S."), a very talented photographer and film maker, wandering around the Flatiron District and Chelsea and High Line Park yesterday, taking pictures, some of which I've included here.