A time of clearer twitterings

The sun peeked over the golden hills surrounding the Hall Saturday morning and the preternaturally chipper voice of one of the local news bunnies revealed it was only 50 degrees outside. Perfect weather, said Mrs. H. for cider doughnuts and pumpkins. Since the departure of the younger set, the family flivver sees less use than is desirable for optimum maintenance, so they opted to give it a little airing out.

About ten miles out of town and located on a hill between Otisco and Skaneateles Lakes, Tim's Pumpkin Patch has been steadily increasing its business over the last five or six years. After finally raising its prices from $1, to $2 dollars a pumpkin, they have managed to expand the spread to include not only pick yer own pumpkins, but hay bale mazes, exotic pumpkin and gourd varieties, spooky displays, horse drawn hay rides and a coffee and doughnut shop, filled to the brim with all manner of store bought drollery. They drove into the parking lot and got out. A wave of nostalgia overswept Mrs. H. as she got out her camera to take a few morning shots.

Usually, when Mrs. Hall pulls in, at least 6 to 8 screaming, laughing teenagers explode out of the van and immediately disappear into the fields. After an hour or so of serious deliberation and sacrifice, the pumpkin choices are whittled down to 20 or so odd mega-squash. They are then crammed in the remaining air spaces in the van, and the vehicle manuevered, creaking heavily up and down the hills, until it returns barely clearing the driveway, to the Hall. This morning it was peaceful on the hill. The crowds hadn't arrived yet and the farm dogs roamed lazily around the coffee shop porch, vying for the best spot in the morning sun.

Mr. Hall munched on the warm donuts and wandered around a bit and then noticed Mrs. Hall was not around. After a short search, she was discovered inside the shop, dickering on the price of a huge papier-mache white pumpkin on display. "It's too expensive, " consoled Mr. Hall, as he lead her away "And I'm sure it wouldn't fit in the car." "Then perhaps we can just ask where they acquired that little toy-" and she pointed to a machine bearing the legend: The Donut Robot. As useful an item as he was sure it would be, he assured her, their kitchen was really quite complete without it.

"It's too early to purchase pumpkins right now, anyway" Mr. Hall remarked. "We'll come back in a couple of weeks." Wiping the remaining doughnut sugar off their lips they climbed back into the van and headed home.

You are what you eat

Daylight came about three hours too soon to Mrs. Hall. For some reason, her eyelids weren't working- no amount of effort seemed capable of opening them. Some Saturdays, after particularly jovial Fridays at Daniel's, were harder to cope with than others.
"Com'n, it's a beautiful day. Let's get up and have breakfast at Wegman's", said Mr. Hall, in a voice that seemed altogether too bright for the early hour. The prospect of someone else attending to the coffee however, was sufficient to the cause; Mrs. H. rose and threw on something approximating appropriate attire.
It is common knowledge around central New York (and/or possibly the five or six million strong viewing public of David Letterman*- see below...) that everyone goes to Wegman's. A wonderful grocery store in it's own right, it also manages to draw a healthy crowd of coffee swilling, dessert addicted New York Times reading people watchers. While Mrs. Hall is more likely to be taking advantage of the free wi-fi than reading the newspaper, Wegman's still represents to her the quintessential (highly caffeinated) watering hole to the masses.
Today was no exception. Despite the early hour, the parking lot was already showing signs of becoming the dangerous death match that it usually is, as patrons jockey their luxury SUVs for the closest slots. Parking a safe distance away, they wafted through the automatic doors on a breeze of freshly brewed desire. The coffee carafes stood patiently at attention, filled and steaming. As they paid for their pistachio and walnut muffins, Mr. Hall suggested they sit upstairs for a better view of the action. "There, there, " he soothed, "Isn't that better?"
They sat and looked over the expanse of fresh baked goods, deli meats, specialty foods and flowers. Slowly, Mrs. Hall could feel her senses coming back to her as she inhaled the sweet, sweet smell of copious discretionary spending. The coffee was pretty good, too.
"I'm alright. Let's sit here for a little bit. After we hit the freshly flown in overnight from Washington State organic/probiotic produce section, I think I'll slide over to the magazine rack and indulge in some of those guilt-inducing home and lifestyle issues. I love the way the houses look in them but that Stewart woman always makes me feel like a slacker." Satisfied that Mrs. H. was finally her old self, Mr. Hall just smiled and followed behind. Another weekend was well on it's way.

You saw them here first....

During Chris' sojourn to Seattle to participate in PAX 2010, he worked his way up through the ranks of the Omegathon to win 5 out of the 6 rounds. Happily, most of the gamers at PAX are also familiar with digital recording devices and were most likely packing at least three devices that could record in HD on them personally. One of them posted a video of round 4 wherein our intrepid omeganaut Chris was part of a four person band called "Telekinetic Sweaters", performing to Foreigner's "Cold as Ice". Posted here for the Gentle Reader's amusement and delight, is a copy of it. Please enjoy:

Wax stax

Over the course of several years, Penguin Hall has been the happy beneficiary of a record wealth of records. Friends and acquaintances, long familiar with the Halls' philosophy of no vinyl left behind, have willingly donated or willed scores of scores, vocals, broadcasts and other recorded buffoonery. The catacombs at the Hall are bursting with technicolor covers and Mr. Hall decided it was time to do something about it.

"Break out the turntable, dear, and dust off the old digital recording software. I require fresh tunes for the MP3 player, and heaven knows, there's nothing on the radio these days worth listening to." Mrs. Hall was just about to open her mouth and offer a favorable opinion of Lady Gaga, but, thinking better of it, held her peace. While occasionally Mrs. H. would hear the lilting strains of Lerner and Lowe, or the Beach Boys rising from his computer at work, she knew that Mr. Hall primarily liked to have music in the big black car. The Halls were looking at a busy traveling schedule looming ahead for the next year and nothing filled the hours on the road like singing along with their old favorites.

It's common knowledge that anything composed after 1965 is suspect in Mr. Hall's mind, so she wisely headed for the section labeled "Oldies" "Classics". She returned upstairs, and brushing the cobwebs off her shoulders, offered up a few selections. "I found these right off the bat and thought you might like some of the tunes. Pick out whatever you like and I'll make sure they get to your player."

Mr. Hall perused her choices. "They're terrific. Get as many of the songs out of them as you can." Mrs. Hall blenched. "There's almost 200 songs just in those albums-" she started, but he cut her off. "Tut-tut! Our next trip's not til mid-October; you have a whole month. Get cracking!"

For those who came in late:

Everyone can take a breath now-

PAX 2010 is over, and as the last of the weary gamers and fanboys work their ways slowly through airport security, Chris, along with his dufflebag o'swag, found himself watching the landscape fly by. Going to PAX is always a thrill; going as an Omeganaut is truly an experience. Chris was pushing through the rounds in fine style all day Saturday, and Sunday morning found him exhausted but having made it to the final four contestants. Unfortunately, he was eliminated after two rounds of high speed play, and the last two warriors advanced to the final game. "Kwolff", the gamer who bested Chris, went on to win the final round.
Kudos to Chris, however, for an exciting run! Now, back to Maxwell AFB and the drudgery of the workplace, until October, when we hope to see him in South Carolina for Ian's graduation.

San Francisco Saga

The last day of Mrs. Hall's stay on the west coast, she dined again with Colleen and one of her roomies for breakfast. Colleen was insistent that before Mrs. Hall departed that they drive up to Emeryville and scope out Pixar industries, the employer of Colleen's dreams. "But it's a closed campus- they say right on their website that visitors are not allowed!" protested Mrs. H. but it was to deaf ears. Piling in the little black car, they listened dutifully to "Lee" their GPS guide, and then took a different route entirely. They arrived at the gate of Pixar, only to find it immersed in a major construction project. Undaunted by sign or sentry, Colleen strolled around the outside perimeter of the property first and then up to the guard. He politely declined to let them inside but allowed her to snap some pictures.
After leaving Emeryville, they spent the rest of the day checking out the parking situation and ticking off all the loose chores on their list. Finally, tired and full of yummy Asian noodle soup from a charming bistro near Lake Merritt, they waited for the airport shuttle back at the hotel. "Good luck to you, Colleen" sighed Mrs. Hall as she hugged her before they parted. Colleen smiled. To Mrs. H. it appeared she seemed just a tad more confident than before they left; possibly because she was in the good hands of her traveling companions, "Lee", her fuzzy Totoro backpack and her ever present coffee cup- but more likely because in the last week she had really grown up.

Fair Play

All the while Mrs. Hall had been in California, the temperatures in Central New York had been blistering. So it was a pleasant surprise when, upon returning to the Syracuse area, she found that she had brought the lovely cool breezes along with her. Instead of the 90 degree plus heat the fair goers had been struggling with, they enjoyed a seasonal 73 and cool relieving broken cloud cover.
All the usual attractions were there: the butter sculpture in the Dairy Barn (not as nice as last year's, judged Mrs. Hall) and the sand sculpture in the Century of Progress Building (very amusing, remarked Mr. Hall) but overall, the cows and the draft horses and the spiedie huts seemed well, just a little tired this year. They had missed most of the headliners, as Mr. Hall had declined to attend until Mrs. Hall returned from California. "Feel like something to eat?" asked Mr. H. as he steered them towards the Dinosaur BBQ concession. "Alright, but I have to save room for dessert." Mrs. Hall was saving herself for her once a year indulgence: Sugar Waffles. Ever since her first encounter with them at Elmira's famous Eldridge Park many years ago, sugar waffles' crispy hot goodness have always held the ability to conjure up memories of childhood fun and joy. Dropping powdered sugar as they went, they strolled past the living statues and the kiddie midway. New this year: the water bubbles, which when filled with hot air, allowed the youngsters to roll and walk across the pools. It was only by the sternest reproach that Mr. Hall was able to dissuade Mrs. Hall from getting in the line for that amusement. "I'm sure those were only meant for the little ones" he reminded her. For a while they seemed to be followed by the same giant banana with Rastafarian dreadlocks, but then they found the midway game that was (apparently) practically giving them away. Again, it was only through Mr. Hall's solid good sense that one of them did not make it to the big black car. Just as they were exiting the Time Warner building, however, Mrs. Hall turned and said, "Cerie?" A young, blonde charmer at one of the tables, answered back, "You know, I answer to that now all the time!" Kristen Bowman, who plays the character of Cerie Xerox on the hit comedy show 30 Rock was there to sign autographs for the fair goers, but there was no one around. Bypassing the opportunity to comment on the state of CNY's viewing public, Mrs. Hall walked up to the table and engaged the young actress in a conversation. She graciously posed for a photo with the Halls and penned a personal message to them on a photo.
After that, they just meandered about, watching the baby seals perform and stopping by the State Police booth to harass some of Mr. Hall's old buddies. "Are we good for another year?" asked a weary Mr. Hall as they waited for the parking lot shuttle. "I would say so." came the reply. With the rain forming just to the west of them, the Halls slid into the big black car and scurried on home to the comforts of the Hall.

And just in case you were wondering:

Something sinister must have happened to the second, more slight of the two fledgling pumpkins in the front yard, for when Mrs. Hall returned from her trip and went out to photograph their progress, there remained only one pumpkin thriving. However, the remaining squash seemed well on its way to maturity. Shown here, for the Gentle Viewer's pleasure, are recent updates on its growth.