When your first impulse upon waking up in the morning is to panic, it’s okay as long as it’s not about a family member. But food is a close second. So when, amazingly, I noted that I slept all the way to 8:57, the question of whether we missed breakfast was blaring. I remembered the very nice and professional gentleman at the front desk said it started on weekdays at 6:30, but I couldn’t recall if it ended at 9 or 9:30. Arrrrgh!
“Linda! We have to hurry! We may have missed breakfast!” Had that been the case, I would have lived, but the recovery period would have been long and painful.
The elevator took forever to get to the the fifth floor, but the notice inside informed me that breakfast ran until 9:30. Whew.
It was a good breakfast, by hotel standards. (It would have fallen short in a diner by a bit.) Scrambled eggs and potatoes were decent, but the french toast “sticks” were not appealing and the sausage patties looked like something from the sponge or soap pad department. English muffins were fine but the toaster kept spitting them out too soon. I should have tinkered with the setting. That’s on me. But there was ample cream cheese, my topping of choice, and, get this: little containers of mashed avocados! Now that merits a plus in my book. That’s a classy move, especially after learning recently (as reported in OC) that there is a bit of an avocado crisis in the world. (Maybe it’s over?) Little fresh fruit cups received a nod from this reviewer as well.
We are sticklers for strong coffee, bordering on the bitter. We make it that way at home and have come to expect hotel and diner coffee to be undrinkable. (Except in Galway, Ireland. The coffee in our Galway hotel was good. When we mentioned that, as a compliment, to our waiter, however, he made a face. Then he explained he was from Brazil, and it didn’t really compare to the coffee he was used to. Fair point.) Now, where was I?
Oh, yeah. The coffee at the hotel in Holyoke came out of a brewing machine. You selected regular or decaf, cup size, and then pressed a button. Too bad there wasn’t a dark or strong option. But it earned a passing grade — it was drinkable. I’d give it a C — pretty good for hotel coffee. So that was a plus too.
The breakfast staff was excellent. Very classy. Sexy uniforms too.
The only drawback is the hotel is not in a great neighborhood. It’s the only place I’ve stayed where they ask for a photo ID, credit card, and dental records.
In an email we just received from Newton Don, he told me his autocorrect changed klezmer to kleenex.
Here’s Taylor singing “Fortnight.” It was in the puzzle today and was my downfall: “Rapper featured on Taylor Swift’s 2024 hit ‘Fortnight.’” The answer was POST MALONE and to my great shame I had not heard of him. It’s apparently the rap equivalent of not knowing what a logarithm is because Rex shared this (from wikipedia): Malone has gained distinction and acclaim for his blending of various genres including hip hop, pop, R&B, and rap. His stage name was derived from inputting his birth name into a rap name generator. Malone is among the best-selling music artists, with over 80 million records sold. His accolades include ten Billboard Music Awards, three American Music Awards, one MTV Video Music Award, and nine Grammy Award nominations. He holds several Billboard chart records: He is the first solo lead artist to top both the Rap Airplay and Adult Contemporary charts, while “Circles” set the record for longest climb to number one (41 weeks) on the Adult Contemporary chart by a solo artist. As of 2024, Malone holds the record for the artist with the most diamond-certified songs, with nine to his name.
D’oh!
Pablo Neruda’s poem “One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII” (translated by Mark Eisner) was The Poetry Foundation’s Poem of the Day today. Neruda was born on this date 120 years ago. Fasten the seatbelt of your heart.
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
David Sedaris joke:
It’s night, and a cop stops a car a couple of priests are riding in.
“I’m looking for two child molesters,” he tells them.
The priests think for a moment. “We’ll do it!” they say.
Now I don’t know what to believe. At 12:54, Anony Mouse posted: Quibbled with compost as “soil.” As any competent gardener knows, compost isn’t soil. It’s what you may add, to enrich soil.
Then, at 5:32, SharonAK came back with: As an avid gardener for over 50 years, composting does result in soil.
I checked with Miriam Webster who says compost is “a mixture that consists largely of decayed organic matter and is used for fertilizing and conditioning land.” So I think I’m with Ms. Mouse, above. It may eventually become soil, but it’s not soil until it is soil. Do you find as you get older you sound more and more like Yogi Berra?
What a great day at the Klezfest! First Judy Bressler, the Aretha Franklin of Klezmer, accompanied by the great Hankus Netsky on piano. Sensational. She sang a Leonard Cohen song: “Dance Me to the End of Love.” (She’s singing it, below, with the Klezmer Conservatory Band.)
Then a young trio (since their accordionist was ill) called Levyosn. One gorgeous song after another: a beautiful young woman as the lead vocal/guitar, and a violinist and cellist.
Our hotel is closer to Northampton than Amherst, which is quite a mecca for restaurants. We had a sensational vegetarian/seafood dinner at Paul & Elizabeth’s. Super-fresh Cajun seafood dish over rice, plus a mountainous plate of tofu/veggie pan-fried noodles. We sat next to an enormous window overlooking the street. Great place.
Long day. Tired. See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 