Danny was sitting out the second half this morning, kibitzing Meckstroth and Rodwell. When Eric was declarer, Jeff was away from the table and out the door to smoke in a flash, and Danny got to take his place and turn dummy for Eric. Life doesn’t get much better.
Which is good, since we lost the match we were playing.
Then we started a new KO at 1, and almost won. A declarer at Bob and Dan’s table made a questionable claim, but the director ruled in his favor anyway. If we get the ruling, we win the match. So Dan and Bob appealed, but we lost that too. When you’re not hot, you’re not hot.
Sitting out this afternoon, I drove the 12 miles to Walmart. It was worth the trip just for the people watching–everyone from hyper-religious Christian women in long dresses and some kind of hat/hair covering to men in long sleeves and strange skinny suspenders with beards and no mustaches to overweight women in hideous neon clothes to some poor 8 year old girl dressed like a downtown hooker–her mother should be ashamed of herself. The grocery store part of Walmart is huge and the prices are incredibly low–no wonder Safeway and the SEIU is terrified of them flooding the market in California.
Dinner was decent. I’ve decided not to write too much about our meals because we go to the same restaurants every year and I’ve said it all before. Tonight, though, the interesting part was that I had a steak–not a strip steak, or a rib eye or a T-bone or a porterhouse or New York or hangar steak, just “steak” A slab of marinated beef with no other description. It was tender and tasty and properly cooked. That’s as good as it’s going to get, so I’m a happy camper.
This evening, Mike and I played pairs while the other guys played the loser Swiss. Our game was about 60%, I think, and the boys are still playing their last match. I should get an email in an hour or so with our results–technology is improving the game at a furious pace.
Morning KO’s start tomorrow, then a new prime-time KO at 1. It rained today both literally and figuratively, tomorrow will be brighter.
We’re all here. I made my connection in Dallas with no trouble. Really enjoyed the flight from Dallas to Knoxville because I was sitting by a window. I always want an aisle seat so I get a bit more space, but on the regional jet American uses for this flight the aisle seat is also a window–there is only one seat on the left of the plane. Tennessee is really beautiful to fly over–it’s very green, with gently rolling hills and a meandering river or two.
We landed and I stood in line forever to get the car from Hertz. Mike thinks I am mean to people like the car rental clerk, but I think I just won’t accept their behavior. I gave this guy my reservation, license and credit card, and said “Please don’t try to sell me anything. I don’t want any insurance, gas, GPS or upgrades. Just the car, please.” He instantly tried to sell me insurance. I became more insistent that I wasn’t buying. Mike thinks I’m nasty, I think they should listen when I say I don’t want it.
Then I got my choice of “full size” car–a Dodge Avenger, Chevy Impala or Chrysler 200. I pointed out that I own a Chrysler 200, and it is NOT a full size car. The Chrysler 300 is a full size car. The clerk informed me that Hertz considers the 300 a “luxury” car. Apparently, they can just define words any way they want. I’m not a fan of Hertz.
Then I got to the house. The rental company has an iPhone app, which gives you the code to the lock on the house. It didn’t work. I called the company, which is closed on Sunday night. Got the service, which put me through to the emergency repair people, who said the code from the app is not right, the correct code would be on the paperwork in the office–which is closed. And they absolutely knew that we would be in late Sunday, and had promised that the app would help us out. More bizarre incompetence–but the repair guy gave me the door code, so in I went.
And then the alarm went off. Buzzing and ringing and screaming. I had no idea of how to turn it off, but I just dropped a couple of items in the refrigerator and headed out for dinner with Mike. The alarm seemed to quit after about 10 minutes, just as I was leaving, so I didn’t worry.
Coming back after dinner, the alarm went off again. I called the office, got the service, got put through to repair but got an answering machine. Went out to the car for more items to bring in, and the guy called back. Saw the message on the phone and called him, got the code and turned off the alarm. Went to the bathroom. Heard a loud knock on the door–Gatlinburg Police. I don’t look much like a burglar, and they’ve seen this problem before, so no problem. They did tell me to keep the door closed–little worry about thieves, big worry about bears coming out of hibernation very hungry and inquisitive. I closed the door. Carefully.
The tournament started today with a one session Swiss team. We drew straws, and Jack and Bruce played in the pair game while Bob, Danny, Mike and I played the Swiss.
The guys in the pairs game had a 59% game and were third over two sections. We were second in the teams, which amazingly paid 16 masterpoints–because it was a huge event, with 55 teams in the A/x and 150 or so more in the B-C-D, so we got paid for all of that attendance.
A desultory dinner in the coldest restaurant I have ever been in.
Started the KO’s in the evening. We are in the middle of the second bracket, and won the first match. They have a new system which projects the teams on the wall, showing your total points during the start when they are forming the brackets then your table assignment. It is much faster and easier, and it was exciting to see team 163, the Lynch team with Meckstroth, Rodwell, Passel and a couple of Poles whose names I can’t spell but the team has 220,000 masterpoints, about triple the next highest team. I’m glad we aren’t in their bracket.
And that’s the news. More tomorrow.
It’s time for Gatlinburg again, the annual trek to redneck heaven for a week of big boy bridge with my buddies.
Gail and I were in Santa Cruz for a weekend with the family in a beach house we love to rent. I came up to SFO last night and camped out in a hotel so I could avail myself of the free parking and not have to get up so bloody early–although my alarm still went off at 5:35.
The hotel shuttle runs at 6:20 or 7:00. I have an 8:00 flight, and if the 7 am shuttle was even 2 minutes late I would not have been able to check my bag (must be 45 minutes ahead of the flight, not a second later, and they’re strict as Dominican nuns about it). So I got moving early and took the 6:20.
And by 6:33 I had checked my bag, cleared security and was sitting in the Admirals Club.
Mike is on an earlier flight, at 6:50. I tried to call him, but his phone was already turned off and stowed. I’ll have 50 minutes in DFW this afternoon to make the connection to the flight to Knoxville, which I think is plenty. Mike is convinced it isn’t enough time and I’m going to miss the flight, which is why he’s on the earlier one. Another of our classic differences, but I haven’t missed a flight in my life and doubt that today will be the day.
In any event, the other four guys (Bob, Jack, Bruce and Danny) are coming in through Chicago late tonight and play starts tomorrow. Stay tuned.
Off to Davis on Thursday for a day trip with the Oakland Museum Art Guild. We were going to visit the art walk–the 35 square blocks of downtown Davis are adorned with dozens of murals and sculptures. Our walk was led by John Natsoulas, a UC Davis graduate who runs a hugely successful gallery in town and has worked tirelessly to make the city a major art center.
We started in his gallery, which is on the first corner you see when you get off the freeway.
Here’s a photo gallery of what we saw just in his building:
We were also accompanied by Phil Linhares, retired curator of the Oakland Museum. These day trips are fascinating, and we always have experts along to increase our understanding of what we are seeing.
Then we went out onto the streets of Davis. There are many murals, which John has commissioned, worked on, assisted with, planned and/or orchestrated. Each mural or sculpture is accompanied by a plaque with a QR code that will bring up a video about the work. The works also have RFID chips in them which some newer phones will read automatically to find the videos. The murals are all coated with anti-graffiti clearcoat, but there is still considerable maintenance required.
After lunch, we went on-campus to the library, which John has worked tirelessly to fill with great art. This isn’t the library I studied in years ago, it is a new building reflecting modern life–every table has a power strip, every student seems to have a computer open for work and an iPhone plugged in for music.
The works of art are amazing, reflecting the incredible output of the art department and its professors, like Robert Arneson, one of the seminal ceramic artists of our time.
Finally, we ran out of time long before we ran out of art. We were exhausted with all we had seen and tried to assimilate. John was still full of energy, talking about every piece, its history, provenance, background and artist. His knowledge of Northern California art is encyclopedic–but then, he knew most of the artists as personal friends and mentors, and continues to be wholly involved. Davis is fortunate to have someone like him, who wants to fill the streets and wall with the best art money can’t buy.
Davis is clearly not the boring town it was when I was a student–go up for lunch some day and just walk around downtown looking at all the walls, click on the QR codes and see the videos, check out the gallery and then go find the library–you’ll get a college education in fine art in a day.
That’s me tonight.
Gail is here, that isn’t the problem.
My phone is in the shop, now that’s a crisis. The on/off button wasn’t working, the charging dock was getting finicky and I’m off to Gatlinburg on Sunday. The prospect of a failed phone in Tennessee is too awful to consider, so I had to get the phone in first class shape before I left.
I get our phones fixed by Joe Iphone, a guy who works in the front of Peoples Cafe on Shattuck in Berkeley. Usually, you make an appointment online and he fixes things while you wait, but my issues required an overnight stay in the phone hospital Now I am without my adult pacifier until 11 am Wednesday. The withdrawal is killing me.
What if Mike wants to text me? How will I keep up in Words with Friends? How can I call Gail from the grocery store to find out what kind of pickles to buy? What is on our calendar for Sunday, May 4? Will people still think I’m smart if I can’t Google the answer to anything in a flash on my little black amanuensis?
I admit it, I’m addicted. I am powerless before my phone. If I could have it surgically implanted, I would. Now I just have to survive until 11 am………………………..
Here are the results from the 4 pm speedball on Bridge Base this afternoon. Notice that Gail and I (Chairman and Fatslice) did not scratch. The team above us did not scratch. We had a great game, just didn’t get anything for it. Life is hard.
Fredp+SandraGeb 66.68 0.78
jbr_dk+erikwied 65.84 0.84
underace+audrey33 64.38 0.68
carnadian+atthebea 63.96 0.36
gram2+dogmandobe 62.28 0.38
Dinner before the theater last night at the Daily Grill in San Francisco, on Geary just up from Union Square.
There were six of us. I made a reservation 3 weeks in advance. Open Table tells them we are “VIP’s” because we eat out so often. We showed up, they led us past a round table set for six and plunked us down in a space where they had taken two 2-tops (restaurantese for a table for two), squished them together and crammed three chairs on a side. I guess I’m so svelte they figured we’d fit comfortably. They were wrong.
One thing I’ve noticed in writing about dining out these last few years–my complaints are almost always regarding service and management, not the food itself. This meal was no different.
The food is great. Each of the three couples elected to split a wedge salad, and we were all pleased. The kitchen does the right thing and splits the salads, serving each of us half a salad on a plate. The excellent sourdough bread was served hot.
Daily Grill centers on basic American food, and their house specialty is chicken pot pie. It has mushrooms, so I don’t order it, but I still recommend it:
The pie is huge and theoretically freshly baked. This one came out of the oven well before it was served, as it was only slightly more than lukewarm. Still, the crust was incredibly light and flaky, the chicken inside was succulent, even the slices of carrot were cooked to perfection. If only they had gotten it to the table sooner………..
Never one to pass up a plate of pasta with pesto, that’s what I ordered:
I liked the pesto sauce and the fact that it was loaded with pine nuts. I liked the portion size. The chicken was plain, unseasoned, dry, tasteless and boring. Save the $3 extra and just have the pasta.
Also recommended is the fish and chips:
Fish and Chips seems a trifle déclassé for dinner on the town, but it’s very well done and had grown men raving about the salad, and how rare is that? The “chips” would be better served by being properly cut instead of just standard frozen french fries, but I’m picky. We thought the grilled lemon was a nice touch in the presentation even if it makes no difference in the quality of the juice.
Saturday night is a busy time, but managers are supposed to hire enough staff for that. I thought the entire process just took too long. Too long to order, too long to get the food, too long to get a refill on my tea or get a spoon for the pot pie (which should be served with a spoon in the first place), too long to clear the plates, just too long. It wasn’t that the staff was lazy or unconcerned, there just weren’t enough of them to handle the number of diners. I keep hearing about the unemployment problem, why doesn’t Daily Grill solve two problems at once and hire somebody?
And that perfectly fine six-top we passed on the way to being crammed into our tiny space? Still empty when we left. Maybe they were hoping to crowd 8 or 10 people around it.
Out in the wilds of Antioch last night to see our favorite country band, Barefoot Country. The steel guitar player is Jim Hussey, son of our friends Ruth and Bob.
We were in a sports bar called Bases Loaded, which seems to be the newest, nicest and most prosperous building on the downtown street. The last time we saw this group was in a dive bar in Clayton–which actually seems more appropriate. I kind of like a stinky old bar with brassieres hanging from the ceiling for the once or twice a year I might be in a bar.
For dinner I had a Monte Cristo sandwich, one of my great delights that has mostly disappeared from menus because it is simply death on a plate. Make a triple decker ham, turkey and swiss sandwich, batter and deep fry it, cover it in powdered sugar and serve it with a bowl of strawberry jam–you can get a heart attack and diabetes at the same time. I tried to complete a trifecta of unhealthiness with a side of garlic fries.
The music started, and people danced. The lights came on and a very clean and modern sports bar became a nightclub, sort of.
The light show sort of reminded me of the 60′s
Some things I don’t understand in life.
The steel guitar player is 62 years old. His mom and dad came to see the show. How rowdy was this crowd likely to get? Hiring a security guard makes about as much sense as the TSA does.
I saw a woman in an interesting shirt at the bar:
So I walked around to see if the front of her shirt had anything interesting, and me Sharon:
Sharon is with the roller derby team, The Undead Bettys. Roller derby is a great sport and fun to watch. The next Undead Bettys match is May 10 in Antioch and I’m crushed that we won’t be able to go–we have ticked to the A’s that day, and there is only so much fun we can have. If you’re free that night, go see them–you’ll have a blast, guaranteed.
Yep, I’m back in Vegas. Flew down last night to be ready to play cards at 9 am with Mike Rippey–we’re here for 3 days of intensive card play to get him the silver points he needs to make life master.
Things have started out well:
The tournament is at the Flamingo Hotel–the one that Paul Soloway’s family used to own 5% of, before the mob made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. It turns out that Bugsy Siegel was Paul’s cousin.
People are complaining incessantly about this hotel, which is somewhat justified (the carpeting in the halls is loose and wrinkled and some of the worst I have ever seen), but after last week at the Las Vegas Hotel, this place is a paradise.
Our plan was to play in the KO’s and try to get into the second bracket. It almost worked–we were the last team in the first bracket, and that isn’t good. The top team (of 6, these are only 3 session KO’s) had 80,000 masterpoints. We had 8200. I don’t like those odds, and just what you would predict happened.
Tonight we played in another side game, had 55% and must have scratched, but we didn’t stay to see the final results.
Dinner was at a Mexican place just across a small mall from the hotel, but the wind was just howling and it was a struggle to get there. I had the most incredible slab of sesame crusted seared Ahi you could imagine.
Playing 3 sessions a day doesn’t leave much time for sightseeing, and the chill winds make walking up and down the strip inhospitable anyway. I guess I’ll turn in and try to play as well tomorrow.
Mike knows all the ball players, their numbers and stats. I follow chefs.
And my favorite local chef has long been Arnold Pulido, who was the executive chef at Va da Vi, then Metro, then he disappeared. Tonight, we found him.
Gail and BJ played bridge at the sectional this afternoon, and I wanted to meet them for dinner after. Looking on Opentable I found Martini Sky, billed as a small plate establishment in the Danville Livery. We decided to give it a try.
I got there first, sat down at the table and looked into the open kitchen, which projects into the dining room, and was ecstatic to see Chef Arnold. He was looking my way because he recognized my voice when I walked in. Apparently, I have a voice that carries. Who knew? Arnold has been Executive Chef here for about 5 months, and has clearly put his mark on the place.
Martini Sky is a one medium size room, with a bar on one end and dining on the other. The hostess offers you a choice of a tall table and high chairs or the normal size. The noise level is quite loud on a busy Saturday night.
As you might expect from the name, Martini Sky has offers quite a selection of cocktails with a huge variety of liquors. It looks good if you like that sort of thing; I can only attest that the iced tea was acceptable.
When Gail and BJ arrived, Chef sent over a treat for us–Gail’s favorite appetizer, carpaccio. She fell in love with this when it was available at Va da Vi, and was crushed when it went off the menu there. Getting a gift of a special, off-the-menu dish is pretty wonderful. Life is who you know.
The menu offers quite a variety of dishes, small plates designed to be shared. There are appetizers, salads, main and side dishes, generally of the Asian-fusion school of modern California cooking.
BJ had the Manilla Clams:
I started with the Sesame Crusted Seared Ahi Tuna–which is in the salad section.
Portions here are good–these are some of the largest small plates I’ve ever seen. Two or three people could easily share one order of the Ahi and get a satisfying taste, not just a tiny nibble.
Gail had the meatballs in soft polenta with roasted tomato sauce. She won’t eat the meatballs I cook, but she loved these. Maybe I can get Chef to share the recipe.
Here’s another work of art:
Wontons filled with ground chicken, fried, topped with chimichurri sauce. Tex-Mex meets Hong Kong. The rich purples and greens make this a visual treat even before you taste it. Then the taste explodes in your mouth. They should make this the signature dish of the establishment.
Service was just OK. My order of fish tacos got inexplicably lost, but once I pointed that out the kitchen produced it toute de suite. Ice tea was refreshed regularly, plates cleared somewhat more slowly.
The food was very, very good. The bill was moderate for an upscale place in the ‘burbs. The noise level is too loud, but I’m willing to work with that for more of Chef Arnold’s brand of brilliant small plates. Go give it a try.
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