Thanksgiving 2013 - Thankful for 24-hour Au Bon Pain

It’s not a Pineda holiday without some kind of drama. This year, my dad decided to scare the bejesus out of us by heading to the ICU over the Thanksgiving holiday. He’s been dealing with a long term illness for the past few months, but seemed to be making good progress...

...until the day before Thanksgiving.

We are a family known for its procrastinating tendencies, but within a few hours of Trish’s panicked phone call, Juan, Val and I were packed into the van and speeding through freezing rain and sleet on our way to Richmond. It was a wild few days, but dad is now out of the hospital and recuperating.

The last minute venue change didn't stop us from keeping the holiday spirit alive. We still managed to have our Thanksgiving turkey dinner with all the trimmings. But instead of a cozy sit-down at the family dinner table, we took turns noshing in the hospital cafeteria. Institutionally prepared, mass-produced turkey and stuffing never tasted so good. And we didn't have to wash any dishes. Thank you, lunch ladies!

Only two guests allowed in a patient's room at a time in the ICU. So we got cozy in the waiting room with our computers and plentiful snacks. Nothing like festive over-nighter in a sterile hospital lounge to bolster your holiday spirit.

Thankfully, dad was well enough to be moved to a regular floor after a couple of days. We spent the rest of the week in a spacious private hospital suite large enough to accommodate the whole Pineda clan, including a surprise visit from a very pregnant cousin Marion. And did I mention the 24-hour Au Bon Pain in the lobby? That's right, we had all night access to chocolate croissants and English toffee cookies.

Per usual, our unique brand of Pineda charm (persistent neediness to some) and good looks quickly won over the staff. It also didn't hurt that we plied the nurses with all sorts of goodies gathered from home from our Thanksgiving celebration that never was. Amazing how free cake can cement a relationship - and get you extra ice cream.

Dad's final day at the hospital coincided with mom and dad's wedding anniversary (as well as Trish's birthday!). As a wonderful final gesture, the whole nursing staff stopped by for a cheerful bon voyage complete with anniversary cupcakes for the happy couple.

Our intrepid nursing staff, technicians and food service professionals all stopped by on dad's final day to say "good-bye" and ...

...to present the anniversary couple with celebratory cupcakes!

I wish all the doctors, nurses and staff at MCV a hearty "thank you" for contributing to a memorable Thanksgiving 2013. And here's hoping for some boring, non-eventful holidays to come.

Staycation 2013 NYC part deux

Friday, July 5 (click here for part une)

Unlike the rest of civilized society, my office decided to open for business the Friday after July 4.  I sat in my empty office and watched the clock tick by as my phone and inbox sat silent for five hours.  The powers that be at least had the sense to let us leave after lunch.

Tonight, the boys and girls split up for separate date nights.  I took Juan for a belated birthday dinner to michelin-starred Aldea for their nine-course Brazilian tasting menu.  Coincidentally, Trish and I noshed here earlier in the summer during our Memorial Day staycation.  If you're an adventurous eater and appreciate gorgeous plating, you can't go wrong for the $95 price tag.

Three hours later, Juan and I stumbled out of Aldea in an Iberian food coma.  Time to burn some calories by renting citibikes.  After some issues with the credit card kiosk - nothing a few good kicks and a slew of obscenities couldn't fix - we were peddling back downtown to the hotel.  What's that saying?  You never forget how to ride a bike...bullshit.  I was weaving back and forth on First Avenue like a drunk drag queen in platform stilettos.

The girls chose a date spot in Little Italy, walking distance from the hotel.  Val's sporting her new pixie cut.  While I was twiddling my thumbs in the office earlier in the day, Juan, Val and Trish were getting all Housewives-of-Orange-County at the salon with haircuts, massages and mani-pedis.  Bitches!

Trish is showing off her fancy dessert.  She and Val were generous enough to bring back a bag of Italian goodies for Juan and I to try.  So what if we had just finished a 9-course dinner, there's always room for a cannoli.

Saturday, July 6

Still woozy from last night's food orgy, Juan and I decided on an early morning bike ride across the Brooklyn Bridge.  Since we purchased 24-hour citibike memberships the night before, we still had several hours of rental time available to us when we got up this morning.

I'm finally getting my "bike legs" back after nearly a decade of living bikeless in the city.  On a side note, notice the unintentional cross branding.

In theory, a bike trek across the Brooklyn Bridge seems like a pleasant enough way to spend a morning.  In practice, it sucks balls.  With the mercury already nearing 90 degrees and the humidity crushing my out of shape lungs, we made it about two-thirds of the way to the first tower before I felt the pangs of an impending heart attack.  We decided to stop and take a breather while enjoying the downtown Manhattan skyline.

Here's my artsy-fartsy overhead shot.

I take one more minute to catch my breath before heading back to dry land.

Here's Juan.

After working up our appetites crossing (at least partially) the Brooklyn Bridge, Juan and I dropped off our bikes and headed back to the hotel to pick up the ladies.  Next stop, Petit Abeille for waffles and mimosas.  Directly across the street from the restaurant we spotted this freakish array of superheros and marine life hanging out in front of the Balloon Saloon.  In NYC there is literally a specialty store for everything.

After brunch, we bid Juan and Val a fond adieu.  Juan, unfortunately, has a church job so he and Val had to cut their weekend short.  Trish and I, however, decided to keep the hotel room an extra day and extend our Chinatown staycation.

After a power nap, Trish and I were hankering for some Vietnamese food.  Based on yelp reviews, we headed to Bo Ky, which was just around the corner from our hotel.  I'm not gonna' lie, the place seemed a little ghetto and the cleanliness level was, well, just a notch above outdoor truckstop picnic table, but damn, the food tasted good.  You know it's authentic when you can't spot a single white face in the joint.

I'm enjoying a bowl of yummy pho and an appetizer portion (yes, appetizer portion) of their fried spring rolls.

Trish opted for a heaping plate of marinated steak.  Amazing how a delicious chunk of cow can make you forget all about that sticky spot on the table top.  Shout out to our waitress, a crazy old Asian grandma, who helped allay our initial wariness and made us feel like we were having lunch in her dining room.

After dinner Trish and I headed a few blocks uptown to the Public Theatre where my gorgeous and talented friend, Jaygee, is appearing in David Byrne and Fatboy Slim's environmentally-staged rock musical, Here Lies Love, based on the tumultuous life of Filipino first lady, Imelda Marcos.

Me with the delightful Jaygee after her rockin' performance as Imelda Marcos.  She's the swing and understudy for Imelda so when I heard she would be going on this weekend, I bought my ticket pronto.  (Read my review)

Trish and I were exhausted from the day's flurry of activity and non-stop noshing, so we decided to take advantage of our last evening at the hotel by watching TV and lounging in our PJ's.

Sunday, July 7

Our staycation is nearly over, but not before one last stop for soup dumplings.  We checked our bags in the hotel lobby and headed to Shanghai Gourmet.

11am on a Sunday morning in Chinatown - nothing like having an empty restaurant all to yourself.  These babies arrived just in time to sate a raging dumpling craving.  Soup dumplings are exactly what they sound like, tasty little bundles of scalding hot broth and pork wrapped in a slightly sweet dough.  Heaven.

As a final farewell to the lower east side, Trish and I ventured slightly northward to the Essex Street Market where we leisurely strolled passed the many arstisonal vendors.  Still bloated from our earlier dumpling adventure, we left empty handed and merely made mental notes for our next visit.

One cannot venture to the lower east side and not make a pilgrimage to the Doughnut Plant.  So on our way back to the hotel from Essex Street, we made a little detour and visited their original location.  And after ordering a half dozen luscious, diabetes-inducing beauties for the walk home, we opted to wash it all down with a "healthy" drink option - fresh watermelon juice! 

Staycation 2013 NYC

With the Pineda family squirreling away every extra penny for Juan and Val's adoption fund, we decided to forgo our usual July Fourth trip to DC's swanky Omni Shoreham.  I'll surely miss luxuriating in the outdoor pool while an attentive staff plies me with frozen libations.  Oh well, if I want a little niece or nephew that I can dress in inappropriate message tees, I'm going to have to make a few sacrifices.

Instead, we decided on a last minute staycation in the city - a decision that left us with very few lodging options.  Sure, there were plenty of $1,000 a night rooms in five star hotels, but blowing a month's rent on one night seemed just a tad unreasonable.  And though I love Juan and Val, I wasn't about to spoon with either one of them in a tiny cot in some nasty fleabag hotel.

Lucky for us, Trish was able to work her internet magic and found a very reasonably-priced boutique hotel in Chinatown with unusually high yelp and tripadvisor ratings.  We decided to spin the hotel roulette wheel and take a chance on the Hotel Mulberry.

Wednesday, July 3

Technically, my apartment in Astoria is less than 10 miles from the hotel.  But I've always been an uptown kinda' guy, having never lived below 42nd Street.  So a long weekend in Chinatown seemed just as foreign to me as a trek to the exotic Orient.

Due to the impending holiday I only had to work a half day at the office.  So after lunch I headed back to my apartment to stuff an old backpack with shorts and t-shirts for the expected 90-plus degree weather.  Juan, Trish and Val drove up from Jersey right after camp and met me in Astoria where we boarded the N train for the 30-minute ride downtown.  After entertaining some elderly tourists from Pittsburgh (on their way to Eataly) with our sparkling wit and clever sex-in-the-city banter, we got off at Canal Street and found ourselves in the midst of a torrential downpour.

Nevertheless, we sucked it up and trudged through the murky brown water now running through the streets and between my open-toed sandals, all the while telling myself, "This is not human waste running up through the sewer, it's just dirt."  The stench, of course, seemed to betray the truth of my mantra.

Damp, sticky and sweating, we eventually found our way to the Hotel Mulberry.  I'm obviously enthralled by our hotel room's dramatic dusk view of downtown Manhattan with the Freedom Tower shining in the distance.  Below, a soccer field afforded us equally breathtaking views of sweaty, shirtless jocks kickin' it during daylight hours.

Inspired by a fellow subway rider, we photographed this colorful mosaic inside the subway stop closest to our hotel.  What a difference a "C" makes. 

For our first night on staycation I made a reservation at Bacaro, a cozy Italian joint on the eastern edge of Chinatown.  It's apparently one of Padma Lakshmi's favorite restaurants in NYC.  With its downstairs seating, exposed stone walls and maze of tunnels and private dining rooms, the restaurant gives off a fun, medieval-dungeon-meets-hipster vibe.  Our semi-private room lit with dripping candles felt straight out of the Crusades, sans the metal shackles - though there did appear to be blood stains on the walls.

After a few bottles of wine and some dozen delicious small plates (Bacaro specializes in tasting plates), we started to loosen up and really dig the dungeon-chic vibe.  We entertained visions of Hugh Jackman a la Jean Valjean belting out "Who Am I" while chained to our wooden slab table.

We decided to skip dessert at Bacaro so that we could fill my lactose intolerant bowels with exotic Asian flavors from the famous Chinatown Ice Cream Factory.  Hmmm, red bean?  Or maybe the almond cookie or taro?  My mouth watering, we approached the shop only to find it...closed!  Wah wah.  We instead hit the dessert shop next door, Mango Mango for some shakes and halo halo-like sundeas.

Thursday, July 4

Instead of sleeping in, the men folk decided to venture forth from the comfort of our climate-controlled room to scavenge up a patriotic breakfast of Asian delicacies. But with NYC experiencing heat and humidity rivaling the Amazon rain forests, Juan and I only made it about a block before turning back.  But not before stopping at Mei Li Wah for roast pork buns and congee and Simply Bakery for a month's worth of baked goods.  Happy Birthday, America!

All decked out in our red, white and blue (notice my use of horizontal striping to accentuate my muffin top), we headed down to South Street Seaport's SmorgasBar, the NYC min-outpost of Brooklyn's sprawling SmorgasBurg, for dinner.  Per usual, we ate until we could barely walk - lobster rolls from Red Hook Lobster Pound, oysters from Brooklyn Oyster Party, grilled cheese sandwiches from Milk Truck and pizza from Pizza Moto.  Oh, and beer.  Lots of beer.

Due to my inebriated state, we were forced to take a cab back to the hotel.  There was no way I was going to make the 20 minute walk back to the hotel.  I could barely stand (notice me leaning heavily on Val in the above picture).

We spent the rest of the evening hydrating and watching A Capital Fourth from our beds.  Dear God, what has happened to Barry Manilow's face?!  And who decided it was a good idea to let the über white Darren Criss sing "Shout" (with an all black gospel chorus backing him up, no less)?!  The show's saving grace?  The always suave Neil Diamond belting out, what else, "Coming to America."  

Staycation continues...

A British Threesome and Our "Make-It-Work!" Easter

The Pineda family - sans Gerry - in our Easter finery.

Waking from a fitful night of disturbing dreams (namely me in a kinky octogenarian threesome sandwiched between Dames Judi Dench and Maggie Smith – which, upon further contemplation sounds genuinely intriguing as I’m sure those two broads can probably party hard), I groggily awoke to get ready for Easter services. Note to self - never mix tater tots with a late night British art house film.

Like most years, Juan hires Trish and I as ringers to fill out his church choir and for me to tackle some of the more challenging piano and organ accompaniments.  In a bonus Easter miracle, this year we got to celebrate with the church’s new black minister who actually requested . . . wait for it . . . gospel songs!  Yes, the all-white (at least on this Sunday) and mainly senior citizen Methodist choir got to bust it out old school.  Can I get an “Amen!”?

After church, we raced back to Juan and Val’s house to get ready for Val’s Easter Luncheon Eleganza Extravaganza.  What was first planned as a small family gathering had expanded into a day-long southern-themed feast with friends Chris, Dan and black Billy attending and a cornucopia of events and games scheduled throughout the afternoon.  Take that, White House Easter Egg Hunt.

Per usual, we overdid it on the food.  By the time we finished the hors d’oeuvre course (shrimp cocktail, lumpia, various chips and dips, nuts, crackers and Filipino barbecue skewers) we were all stuffed to the gills and sloshed on sangria.  I nice, warm buzz was the perfect compliment to the day's scheduled Easter activities.

Ready, set... hunt!  Chris and Dan's contribution to today's event was an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt.  Who's that lush with the death grip on his cocktail glass?  Oops, that would be me.  It's no wonder I gathered up the least amount of eggs, considering I didn't have a free hand.

After a grueling 10 minutes searching for those pesky eggs (damn that Billy and his eagle eyes), we decided it was time for more food.  The next course - mini-corn casseroles (a la Chris Johnson), red potatoes, squash casserole (a la black Billy), pan de sal, creamed spinach and...drum roll, please...a turducken!

For those who just can't be satiated unless some form of pork product is on the menu (count me in on that group), mom and dad hauled up a spiral ham from Virginia and I cooked up a tray of my nasty (in a good way) bacon mac and cheese.  Don't worry, I only used 2 cups of heavy cream and 1 stick of butter for this batch - I was trying to keep it light given the rest of the menu.  I hope Paula Deen approves.

With our tummies full and my esophagus in full reflux mode, it seemed like a good time to move on to the day's next challenge...

This is not "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" from next season's Pineda Conservatory production of Mame starring Valerie Pineda.  It's the first annual Project Pineda Easter Bonnet-making competition.  The rules:  You have 30 minutes to construct some type of Easter headpiece  incorporating the required materials in your design (this year's materials: paper plates, feathers, tissue paper, pink ribbon and plastic eggs).  We were also allowed the following construction aids: scissors, hot glue gun, pipe cleaners and scotch tape.  As you can see, we were all able to "Make it Work!"  (Editorial note:  I think Val purposely closes her eyes in all group shots.  There can be no other explanation.)

After each contestant explained their inspiration and worked it on our living room runway, we decided the competition was just too fierce.  The official ruling - a seven-way tie!  Above, I give some serious pout-face while displaying the asymmetrical lines of my bonnet/art piece entitled "Easter explodes out of the side of my head."

Billy shows off his more subtle yet stylish, brimmed headpiece.  Trish goes out of the box with her haute couture fascinator.

After working up our appetites on the runway, we decided it was time for chocolate.  This fancy shmancy basket comes courtesy of the Johnson-Maceyak household to the Pineda clan.  Thank you!

The Easter Bunny (aka mom) was very generous this year, delivering Easter joy and empty calories to all of today's guests.

In a final parting shot, the under 60 set show off our newly adopted baby stuffed animals.  Make sure to send me your secret material ideas for next year's Project Pineda Easter Bonnet Competition.  Happy Easter!

To explore more of the Pineda's Easter weekend activities, click here.

Orchid Overload and Horny Old People

I've heard people complain that they can no longer sleep past 9 or 10 in the morning because their bodies have been trained from years of habit.  Happily, I have no such issue.  If I have nowhere to be, I can easily hibernate through lunch hour and beyond – which is exactly what I did following a late night at the circus.

But pizza trumps sleep, so after a lazy morning waiting for Trish and mom to return from a morning of beauty, I finally burrowed my way out from under my flannel sheets to join Trish and the ‘rents for lunch.

Though a day in my jammies sounds heavenly, I grudgingly got dressed for our afternoon trip to the Bronx for The Orchid Show at New York Botanical Gardens.

Thank you, Goldstar, for the discounted tickets. 

Mom and dad strike a pose in front of the Haupt Conservatory.

This is my "Memoirs of a Geisha" moment.  I'm pretty, mama!

Not to be outdone, Trish flashes her pearly whites.

Orchids, obviously.

Mom and Trish sporting their new 'dos and freshly threaded brows.

Mom and dad have a romantic moment in front of the orchid pond.

Cool looking orchid.

More orchids!

Even more orchids!

With our allergies on full "red alert" mode, Trish and I can no longer breathe the pollen-poisoned air of the conservatory and head outside to the sculpture garden where we plant a good-bye kiss on this faceless silver giantess' cheeks.

After our orchid expedition, we headed to Jersey for a lazy evening of relaxation before Sunday's Resurrection festivities (doesn't quite have the same ring as "Easter," does it?).  Taking a cue from our trailer park brethren, we decided to forego a fancy pre-Easter dinner and opted instead for a white trash meal of frozen tater tots and chicken nuggets.  You can always count on the Pinedas to inject any holiday with class and panache.

With the rest of the family heading to bed to rest up for early church services in the morning, Trish, mom and I decided to stay up for a late night viewing of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.  It's basically Beverly Hills 90210 with old horny English people.  I don't know about you, but living out your twilight years in a dirty hotel with questionable plumbing in a third world country where enjoying a nice juicy, rare steak is sacrilege doesn't sound all that wonderful to me.  

Easter fun continues...

"Good" Friday, Cirque's Totem and eternal damnation

Though technically the Catholic Church considers me an abomination, that doesn’t stop them from hiring my gay ass to sing for their Holy Week masses.  Hypocritical much?  Whatever, I’m crying all the way to the bank. 

It’s not that I’m angry or even hold a grudge.  I just find it odd that I’m considered fit to lead Catholic prayer, yet unfit to enter Catholic heaven.  Or perhaps years of Catholic indoctrination have left me with a subconscious fear of eternal damnation and hellfire due to my profane lifestyle.  Or not.  No matter, a paycheck is a paycheck so bring it, Jesus.  Mama needs to pay the rent. 

Good Friday’s gig was at Immaculate Conception Church in the boogie-down Bronx.  Trish and I cantor there periodically throughout the year and have known the music director for ages, so the gig was a no-brainer.  But today we had the extra pressure of mom and dad critiquing our performances from the congregation.  

Lest you get the wrong idea, mom and dad hadn’t traveled from their Virginia home to bask in their children’s luminous vocals.  Nope.  Mom wanted to come up a few days early to ensure she had enough time to visit the salon in our Astoria neighborhood for a cheap mani-pedi, haircut and eyebrow threading.  Our performance was just a coincidental detour on her road to budget beauty.

Oh well, at least we got a couple of free meals out of the deal. 

Since Good Friday is the most solemn night of Holy Week, after church we decided to spend a quiet evening under the Grand Chapiteau in Citi Field with 2,600 of our closest heathen friends at Cirque du Soleil’s show, Totem.  By the way, that’s pronounced to-TEM according to the pre-show announcement.  Pretentious much?

Ever since losing two-and-a-half hours of my life at that Zarkana mess a few years ago at Radio City, Trish and I have been waiting for the tent shows to return to New York.  At Radio City, we were seated so far from the stage and performers that it felt as we were watching a youtube clip on my laptop.  Though it might have been better to watch off my laptop.  We'd at least avoid the continuous stream of annoying latecomers traipsing across my sightlines.

Totem

Grand Chapiteau @ Citi Field

Fri, March 29, 8pm

Totem still doesn’t match the unabashed whimsy and seriously mind-blowing physical feats on display in our favorite Cirque show, Ovo.  But the intimacy of the three-quarter thrust somehow makes up for the less “showy” acrobatic acts.  At least in the tent, you feel a connection to the performers dangling above your heads.  Not to mention a much better view of all those glistening abs and biceps.

Like most Cirque shows, the dramatic through line is tenuous at best - allusions to evolutionary theory confusingly interspersed with cartoon versions of native Americans (Apparently they love to rollerskate as well as drum.  Who knew?) and a scrawny, creepy Italian dude (don't ask).  But really, who goes to a Cirque show for the story, right?

The best performance of the evening, though, came from Sal and his straight-out-of-the-Sopranos goomba family seated in front of us (perhaps some relation to the creepy dude in the show?).  Clearly Sal was off his meds as he literally grabbed guests away from the usher, leading them to the wrong seats; all the while inappropriately slinging his arm around the waist of any attractive lady in the group and speaking with his face much too closely to theirs for a first meeting.  We (the goombas and everyone sitting around them) all laughed and shook our heads in amusement as if we were watching a cute little puppy retrieve a chewed up tennis ball over and over again.

I can’t wait until I’m also old enough to act inappropriately without repercussion and be labeled “a cute old man” rather than “sex offender.”

More Easter weekend fun...

Mexico City - Day 2...time for some art

Saturday, February 16
(Click here for Day 1 of our Mexican adventure)

Having made it through our first night in Mexico City without developing a case of the third world squirts, Trish and I got our tired asses up early Saturday morning to try and beat the tourist crowds.  Since we had a specific itinerary planned out, we decided to forego the Gray Line bus and just jump in a cab.

Scarred for life by the movie Man on Fire, my head danced with images of sweet little Dakota Fanning getting kidnapped and held at gunpoint by Mexican drug lords.  There's no way I was going to end up some billionaire coke dealer's bitch.  So instead of hailing a street cab, we decided to pay a little extra for one of the hotel's licensed tourist taxis.

Thankfully, a cab ride in Mexico City is nowhere near as expensive as a nasty NYC yellow cab.  And after some fairly tame negotiations in broken Spanish, Trish and I were able to secure our driver for 200 pesos an hour (that's roughly $16 US - eat that NYC cabbies!).  Our first stop...

...the Coyoacán district to visit artist and muralist Diego Rivera's studio/house which has been converted into a museum.  We arrived just as it opened and literally had the entire place to ourselves.  Here, like most museums in Mexico City, you can pay an extra fee to take pictures inside - flash-free, of course.  I think it was around 50 pesos (about $4 US).

Rivera and Kahlo were like the Kristen Stewart and Rob Pattinson of their day, except with talent.  Given their tumultuous relationship, Rivera built a separate apartment (connected only by a bridge across the roof) for Kahlo during one of their many periods of separation.  Mexicans sure do like their primary colors, don't they?

These super creepy dolls were displayed in Rivera's bedroom overlooking his bed.  Dude obviously had a super freaky dark side or one sick sense of humor.

Some of the many shelves of pigments Rivera used and mixed for his artwork.

Walking into his main studio, we were greeted by this army of ghoulish, larger-than-life papier mache figures.  Not exactly welcoming.  For reference, the tallest figure (red devil) is probably around seven feet tall.

 

It would appear Mexicans have a certain affinity for death and morbidly disturbing imagery.  Take this wall o' skeletons also hanging in Rivera's studio.

 

More creepy dolls.  I sense a theme here.

Rivera's palette and brushes.

 

Trish and I strike a pose outside the entrance to Rivera's house.  We just wanted a shot next to the nifty cactus fence.  

After waking our napping driver who waited in the car while we explored (ah, the joys of a third world country - cheap labor!), we headed to our next destination...