Mark your calendars. It’s a “red-letter day” in the Fox household, for I am quite literally at a loss for words. There are reasons for my sudden lack of (audible) commentary, and I’ve spent the past few days doing more listening than talking, causing most of the Upper Delaware River region to heave a collective sigh of relief and take note.
In My Humble Opinion
Webster’s defines it as “a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.” In other words: it’s snowing. Again. The dictionary further states that it can be interpreted as “tedious familiarity” and www.dictionary.com calls it “disagreeable sameness.” Yeah. What they said.
Yep—I’m making my list and checking it twice, because it looks like it’s gonna happen again. Just as New York and Pennsylvania begin to come back online, a second blizzard looms, threatening to complete a “onetwo punch” that none of us deserve. The past few days have been trying for many, but (as most of you know) I rarely complain.
Remember those words? I sure do, and they’ve come back to haunt me. The expression is so ingrained in pop culture that it’s even a listing in Wikipedia: “a famous catchphrase of the late 1980s based upon a line from a U.S.-based television commercial.” Think Clara Peller’s “Where’s the beef?” but with a broken hip.
Those three words, and the accompanying abbreviation (SRO) are what every performer wants to see posted outside the theatre prior to a performance, even though they might jangle one’s nerves on opening night.
Anticipation was the name of the game over the last few days, as the excitement surrounding Resorts World Catskills (RWC) built to a crescendo and its doors were flung open for the first time last Thursday morning.
Let’s face it: Valentine’s Day can be rough, and not just for the single folks out there. If one is in a committed relationship of any kind, there’s an inherent expectation of flowers, candy and jewelry sparkling in the candlelight of romantic dinners being held all over the world on February 14th.
For the third year in a row, the folks at the Roscoe Beer Company have thrown a party of epic proportions, proving once again that Trout Town is (IMHO) the place to be.
As I sit at my desk, the rain spatters against the windowpane, eroding the ice and snow that had built up just a few short days ago. Feeling pensive, I can’t help but reflect on the past week, which was both entertaining and thought provoking—centered, in a way, around water.
“Curiosity killed the cat!” my mother used to warn, wagging one of those finely manicured fingers in my face. “Face it,” she’d say. “You’re too nosy.” Hmmph. “I am not!” I would shoot back.