FRIDAY highlights include Lady Gaga, Harry Kewell, Jack Vidgen and a skateboarding budgie.
CHOCCYWOCCYDOODAH, ABC1, 6pm
BRITISH version of one of those cake-shop reality shows you usually see from America and on cable TV. This is based in a bakery staffed by "square pegs" in Brighton. As with the US shows, the weirder the request, the better the TV. Like a 70kg cake in the shape of a pair of designer shoes. Christine, who runs the shop, has a Willy Wonka vibe. She refuses to use fondant, rather she has a secret chocolate recipe used as "glue" and, like KFC, anyone who works there has to sign a confidentiality clause over the ingredients.
A-LEAGUE - ADELAIDE UNITED V MELBOURNE VICTORY, FOX SPORTS 2, 7.30pm
COULDN'T get a ticket tonight? Every other Reds fan will be desperate to see Harry Kewell make his competitive bow at Hindmarsh Stadium. Hopefully our local lads can bounce back from their lacklustre showing last week.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT, CHANNEL 10, 7.30pm
YOU know the ratings year is ending when Rules returns. In a double dose. In prime time. Or at least Friday night. And look at poor House's season return at 8.30pm. Once a ratings king, now a Friday-night hole filler. Ouch. Anyway, Rules - yes, nothing's changed. Russell (David Spade) is still a pantsman with ladies' hair. And Jeff (Patrick Warbuton) relives his Puddy-on-Seinfeld days when he cracks it after being constantly asked to give money for presents for workmates he barely knows.
BETTER HOMES & GARDENS, CHANNEL 7, 7.30pm
WHAT other Channel 7 shows can Jack Vidgen get on? The Australia's Got Talent winner surfaces on Better Homes tonight. He's not showing off his makeover skills (his dentist certainly renovated his mouth) - rather, his cooking prowess. Is there anything this teenager can't do? There's some non-Vidgen recipes - from chocolate fudge to, er, white chocolate truffles. But tonight is really all about one thing - a skateboarding budgie!
THE JONATHAN ROSS SHOW, ABC1, 9.20pm
MORE fast-tracked UK talk show. Lady Gaga arrives on set with a sheep on a lead (his name is Kevin) and sits on a hay bale. She talks about bathing her godson with his dad Elton John. "Did he look up and say 'gaga' to you?" Ross asks. Fellow guest Jamie Oliver cooks up a replica of Gaga's meat dress. "You can't serve a lady up her own dress as an appetiser," Ross says.
2011年10月13日星期四
Texas Killing Fields: Ami Canaan Mann Interview
If you're a cop at a crime scene, don't use black or silver tape — use red. For reasons known only to them, killers love black and silver tape for binding victims' hands, feet and mouths; you don't want to get your tape mixed up with theirs.
Director Ami Canaan Mann learned this dark detail and more at "homicide school," the series of classes that beginning detectives take to learn the gory tools of their craft — murders and the investigation thereof. Mann was there doing research for her new film, Texas Killing Fields, about two detectives (played by Sam Worthington and Jeffrey Dean Morgan) tracking a killer who dumps his victims' bodies in a marsh. The film is not only inspired by true events but informed by them.
Riding along with the police one night, she got lucky — if "lucky" is what you call a double homicide in Commerce. Two bodies in an SUV. The corpses had been rotting for several days. "It was great," she says.
Sitting on the sidelines, she learned how slowly everyone moves. They took their time, scrutinizing everything. "There's no bravado walking onto the crime scene. No coming to rapid conclusions." Just the slow, methodical spreading of an intellectual net around the evidence. That thoughtfulness surprised her and found its way into the film.
Also surprising: how dapper the sheriffs and detectives dressed. Not in Armani like the guys on TV, but nice. She asked them about it. They told her, if they're going to have to knock on a stranger's door and inform them their son is dead, they're going to do it with respect.
When you're building a world, details matter. But which ones? The filmmaker watched how long people spoke to each other — the CSI techs, the detectives, the cops, the coroners, the myriad players in the theater of tragedy. She noted how shiny their shoes are. What kinds of notebooks and pens they use. What items they have hanging on their cars' rearview mirrors. If they wear a hat. How loudly they speak and to whom, if anyone, they raise their voice. The officers and detectives, she remembers, spoke in hushed tones. No yelling. In deference to the dead, who can't even hear.
Sometimes details are just plain details — a devil to sort out. Other times, they have God in them, and ought not be overlooked. The guns, for instance. What kind of gun would her lead character, Detective Brian Heigh, use? The characters in Mann's film are modeled on real people, and the real-life detective Heigh uses his father's old Colt revolver. Why carry this old-fashioned firearm into battle when the bad guys are loaded up with the latest automatic this and that?
"Because he doesn't ever want to have to fire it," Mann says with satisfaction. Though its provenance is never explained, and you only see it for a few seconds, the revolver (or a prop replica of it) made its way into her movie, too.
Not everything gets screen time. Poking around at the county morgue, Mann noticed a severed limb in a plastic bag. It firmed up her conviction that no one actually needs to see a severed limb. "I'll never get that out of my head," she says now, leaning forward onto the table, all elbows and intensity. She aims to seduce, not shock. She'd rather show, say, ants crawling on a dead girl's fingers. The ants were a piece of exposition in the screenplay, written by retired DEA agent Don Ferrarone, who based the story on his real-life experiences investigating homicides in Texas. "It's such a specific detail," Mann says. "It could only have been something he'd seen."
Ants. The shape of a lamp shade. The color of a person's eyes. A shadow. "I feel like that's how people remember traumatic events. Little inconsequential details," she adds. "Because we can't absorb the full impact of the trauma."
Beneath Texas Killing Fields' gritty police procedural beats the eerie heart of a ghost story. Ghosts are the manifestation of things we keep hidden, Mann believes. The voices we can't shut off in our heads. "At the morgue I remember thinking, 'There's a whole novel inside each of those bodies,'" she says. "Those stories, they're the reason why I'm here."
It was sensory information she was after, rote protocol, sounds and smells as much as sights. Visceral knowledge, like the fact that when you step out of the morgue into fresh air, you don't exactly leave the bodies behind. Your clothes still reek of them. "If you're a cop, you do that every day."
Director Ami Canaan Mann learned this dark detail and more at "homicide school," the series of classes that beginning detectives take to learn the gory tools of their craft — murders and the investigation thereof. Mann was there doing research for her new film, Texas Killing Fields, about two detectives (played by Sam Worthington and Jeffrey Dean Morgan) tracking a killer who dumps his victims' bodies in a marsh. The film is not only inspired by true events but informed by them.
Riding along with the police one night, she got lucky — if "lucky" is what you call a double homicide in Commerce. Two bodies in an SUV. The corpses had been rotting for several days. "It was great," she says.
Sitting on the sidelines, she learned how slowly everyone moves. They took their time, scrutinizing everything. "There's no bravado walking onto the crime scene. No coming to rapid conclusions." Just the slow, methodical spreading of an intellectual net around the evidence. That thoughtfulness surprised her and found its way into the film.
Also surprising: how dapper the sheriffs and detectives dressed. Not in Armani like the guys on TV, but nice. She asked them about it. They told her, if they're going to have to knock on a stranger's door and inform them their son is dead, they're going to do it with respect.
When you're building a world, details matter. But which ones? The filmmaker watched how long people spoke to each other — the CSI techs, the detectives, the cops, the coroners, the myriad players in the theater of tragedy. She noted how shiny their shoes are. What kinds of notebooks and pens they use. What items they have hanging on their cars' rearview mirrors. If they wear a hat. How loudly they speak and to whom, if anyone, they raise their voice. The officers and detectives, she remembers, spoke in hushed tones. No yelling. In deference to the dead, who can't even hear.
Sometimes details are just plain details — a devil to sort out. Other times, they have God in them, and ought not be overlooked. The guns, for instance. What kind of gun would her lead character, Detective Brian Heigh, use? The characters in Mann's film are modeled on real people, and the real-life detective Heigh uses his father's old Colt revolver. Why carry this old-fashioned firearm into battle when the bad guys are loaded up with the latest automatic this and that?
"Because he doesn't ever want to have to fire it," Mann says with satisfaction. Though its provenance is never explained, and you only see it for a few seconds, the revolver (or a prop replica of it) made its way into her movie, too.
Not everything gets screen time. Poking around at the county morgue, Mann noticed a severed limb in a plastic bag. It firmed up her conviction that no one actually needs to see a severed limb. "I'll never get that out of my head," she says now, leaning forward onto the table, all elbows and intensity. She aims to seduce, not shock. She'd rather show, say, ants crawling on a dead girl's fingers. The ants were a piece of exposition in the screenplay, written by retired DEA agent Don Ferrarone, who based the story on his real-life experiences investigating homicides in Texas. "It's such a specific detail," Mann says. "It could only have been something he'd seen."
Ants. The shape of a lamp shade. The color of a person's eyes. A shadow. "I feel like that's how people remember traumatic events. Little inconsequential details," she adds. "Because we can't absorb the full impact of the trauma."
Beneath Texas Killing Fields' gritty police procedural beats the eerie heart of a ghost story. Ghosts are the manifestation of things we keep hidden, Mann believes. The voices we can't shut off in our heads. "At the morgue I remember thinking, 'There's a whole novel inside each of those bodies,'" she says. "Those stories, they're the reason why I'm here."
It was sensory information she was after, rote protocol, sounds and smells as much as sights. Visceral knowledge, like the fact that when you step out of the morgue into fresh air, you don't exactly leave the bodies behind. Your clothes still reek of them. "If you're a cop, you do that every day."
2011年10月12日星期三
Penguinettes pump up the crowd
Before and during every Youngstown State University home football game, the band and cheerleaders perform to get the crowd going.
There is, however, another piece to the puzzle: the Penguinettes, a group of majorette-like dancers that cheer, twirl batons and pump up the crowd.
The Penguinettes, made up of eight students, attend each home game.
"We go over halftime and pregame, and we meet with the band, march through the tailgate, do the icebreaker and then start the pregame," said junior Erika Aulizia.
As a third-year performer, she is also captain. She said more goes into the performance than spectators actually see.
"You have a lot of work. You have to make up the choreography, like get the girls placed and get all their outfits together and buy them new things," Aulizia said.
Becoming a Penguinette takes a lot of time as well, she added.
"You have to learn how to do it; you have to take classes," Aulizia said. "Our adviser has her own studio. A lot of us have taken classes off of her before."
One part of the Penguinette routine is learning the baton, which Aulizia said is mostly in the wrist.
Sophomore Ashley Bowers said the baton involves a lot of precision and dedication.
"It definitely is not as easy as it looks because you have to make sure you're always holding the baton and not dropping it on the field," Bowers said.
Bowers is in her first year of performing and said she wants to do it again next year.
"I love it," she said. "It's a great group of girls, and it's a great thing to get involved with. We're all really close."
The Penguinettes purchase uniforms with the help of local donors, Aulizia said.
The Penguinettes traditionally wear red, white and black dresses with white boots, while a Pete the Penguin tattoo adorns their cheeks. They also carry batons for the first half of the game.
During the halftime show, they wear the same outfit but switch into jazz shoes.
After halftime, they switch to replica YSU football jerseys with the number "00" and the name "Penguinettes."
The Penguinettes begin their routine with the band at Stambaugh Stadium approximately four hours before each game. From there, they lead the band down to Bliss Hall and back.
After that, they march to the YSU Bookstore, turn around for a "band icebreaker" and march once again to the stadium for pregame ceremonies with stops in between at the tailgating lots.
"It's really fun," junior Caty Moran said. "We feed off of the energy because they are all excited."
Normally, the icebreaker is where the YSU band performs with a local high school band. There was not one at Saturday's game, but Austintown Fitch High School and Champion High School have participated in the past.
The Penguinettes lead the band onto the field and help get the crowd involved, said head football coach Eric Wolford.
"I think any time you get a chance to look at the support staff we have — whether it's band, cheerleading, Penguinettes, whatever — I think those people are just as important to the team as anybody else," Wolford said. "I think this is a community effort, a team effort, and that's what it's going to take."
Brandt Payne, director of athletic bands, said the Penguinettes are part of the band.
"They really enhance our visual presence on the field in performance," he said. "They have a lot of fun, but they're also very serious, and that's what they ultimately represent at YSU."
In his second year at YSU, Payne said the Penguinettes are "extremely reliable."
"They work hard [and] they are very serious about what they do, and I think what's most important is they have a lot of fun," Payne said.
There is, however, another piece to the puzzle: the Penguinettes, a group of majorette-like dancers that cheer, twirl batons and pump up the crowd.
The Penguinettes, made up of eight students, attend each home game.
"We go over halftime and pregame, and we meet with the band, march through the tailgate, do the icebreaker and then start the pregame," said junior Erika Aulizia.
As a third-year performer, she is also captain. She said more goes into the performance than spectators actually see.
"You have a lot of work. You have to make up the choreography, like get the girls placed and get all their outfits together and buy them new things," Aulizia said.
Becoming a Penguinette takes a lot of time as well, she added.
"You have to learn how to do it; you have to take classes," Aulizia said. "Our adviser has her own studio. A lot of us have taken classes off of her before."
One part of the Penguinette routine is learning the baton, which Aulizia said is mostly in the wrist.
Sophomore Ashley Bowers said the baton involves a lot of precision and dedication.
"It definitely is not as easy as it looks because you have to make sure you're always holding the baton and not dropping it on the field," Bowers said.
Bowers is in her first year of performing and said she wants to do it again next year.
"I love it," she said. "It's a great group of girls, and it's a great thing to get involved with. We're all really close."
The Penguinettes purchase uniforms with the help of local donors, Aulizia said.
The Penguinettes traditionally wear red, white and black dresses with white boots, while a Pete the Penguin tattoo adorns their cheeks. They also carry batons for the first half of the game.
During the halftime show, they wear the same outfit but switch into jazz shoes.
After halftime, they switch to replica YSU football jerseys with the number "00" and the name "Penguinettes."
The Penguinettes begin their routine with the band at Stambaugh Stadium approximately four hours before each game. From there, they lead the band down to Bliss Hall and back.
After that, they march to the YSU Bookstore, turn around for a "band icebreaker" and march once again to the stadium for pregame ceremonies with stops in between at the tailgating lots.
"It's really fun," junior Caty Moran said. "We feed off of the energy because they are all excited."
Normally, the icebreaker is where the YSU band performs with a local high school band. There was not one at Saturday's game, but Austintown Fitch High School and Champion High School have participated in the past.
The Penguinettes lead the band onto the field and help get the crowd involved, said head football coach Eric Wolford.
"I think any time you get a chance to look at the support staff we have — whether it's band, cheerleading, Penguinettes, whatever — I think those people are just as important to the team as anybody else," Wolford said. "I think this is a community effort, a team effort, and that's what it's going to take."
Brandt Payne, director of athletic bands, said the Penguinettes are part of the band.
"They really enhance our visual presence on the field in performance," he said. "They have a lot of fun, but they're also very serious, and that's what they ultimately represent at YSU."
In his second year at YSU, Payne said the Penguinettes are "extremely reliable."
"They work hard [and] they are very serious about what they do, and I think what's most important is they have a lot of fun," Payne said.
2011年10月10日星期一
Accessory woes for Kardashian after she is accused of stealing designs
Kim Kardashian may be popular among the media, but she has recently found her way onto one famous designer's bad side.
For the past few years, the women of the Kardashian family have mastered the art of brand building; everything from shoes, fragrances, handbags, diet plans, books, clothing lines and wedding extravaganzas have kept the Ks — Kourtney, Khloe, Kim and “momager” Kris — in the limelight.
In Monday's issue of Women's Wear Daily alone, a total of four separate articles featured the Kardashians, spotlighting the media hungry family.
Adding a notch in her belt as a fashion mogul (I use that term very loosely), Kim's new jewelry line, Belle Noelle, has been criticized for its very similar aesthetic to that of the jewelry designer Alexis Bittar, a Council of Fashion Designers of America award-winner.
In a New York Post article, while walking past the Dash store (the Kardashian's boutique) in SoHo, Bittar said that he noticed a similarity between his pieces and those displayed in her store.
According to the Post article, Bittar has loaned jewelry to Kim before, but has said he will not in the future. Bittar has no plans of suing.
“I haven't talked to Kim about it, the truth is she might not even know,” Bittar said to the Post. “She might be so far removed from it (the design process), and her designers go shopping and knock things off. But we are definitely not lending to Kim anymore.”
It is quite understandable for Bittar to refuse lending Kimmie anymore of his coveted designs, after unexpectedly seeing his pieces imitated while taking a stroll in SoHo. However, when is it safe to distinguish design inspiration from knock-offs?
I have seen the Belle Noelle pieces juxtaposed to the Alexis Bittar pieces, and I will say there are similarities, but nothing so blatantly replicated. Hence the reason, I think, for no legal action being taken by Bittar.
“She hasn't ever noted any inspiration from Alexis Bittar's pieces, so any similarity in design is pure coincidental,” a Belle Noelle representative said to the Post.
However, this is not the first time Kim or her sisters have been accused of copying a famous designer's designs.
According to a Forbes article in August, the Botkier company issued a cease and desist order, accusing the reality TV family of knocking-off one of its handbags — the “Clyde” bag — and selling it under the Kardashian Kollection brand.
In this case, Botkier pursued legal action; understandably so. The Kardashian Kollection handbag was almost an exact replica of the $600 Botkier “Clyde” handbag.
Hopefully Kimmie will learn her lesson; she already has enough rumors about her fake assets to deal with.
For the past few years, the women of the Kardashian family have mastered the art of brand building; everything from shoes, fragrances, handbags, diet plans, books, clothing lines and wedding extravaganzas have kept the Ks — Kourtney, Khloe, Kim and “momager” Kris — in the limelight.
In Monday's issue of Women's Wear Daily alone, a total of four separate articles featured the Kardashians, spotlighting the media hungry family.
Adding a notch in her belt as a fashion mogul (I use that term very loosely), Kim's new jewelry line, Belle Noelle, has been criticized for its very similar aesthetic to that of the jewelry designer Alexis Bittar, a Council of Fashion Designers of America award-winner.
In a New York Post article, while walking past the Dash store (the Kardashian's boutique) in SoHo, Bittar said that he noticed a similarity between his pieces and those displayed in her store.
According to the Post article, Bittar has loaned jewelry to Kim before, but has said he will not in the future. Bittar has no plans of suing.
“I haven't talked to Kim about it, the truth is she might not even know,” Bittar said to the Post. “She might be so far removed from it (the design process), and her designers go shopping and knock things off. But we are definitely not lending to Kim anymore.”
It is quite understandable for Bittar to refuse lending Kimmie anymore of his coveted designs, after unexpectedly seeing his pieces imitated while taking a stroll in SoHo. However, when is it safe to distinguish design inspiration from knock-offs?
I have seen the Belle Noelle pieces juxtaposed to the Alexis Bittar pieces, and I will say there are similarities, but nothing so blatantly replicated. Hence the reason, I think, for no legal action being taken by Bittar.
“She hasn't ever noted any inspiration from Alexis Bittar's pieces, so any similarity in design is pure coincidental,” a Belle Noelle representative said to the Post.
However, this is not the first time Kim or her sisters have been accused of copying a famous designer's designs.
According to a Forbes article in August, the Botkier company issued a cease and desist order, accusing the reality TV family of knocking-off one of its handbags — the “Clyde” bag — and selling it under the Kardashian Kollection brand.
In this case, Botkier pursued legal action; understandably so. The Kardashian Kollection handbag was almost an exact replica of the $600 Botkier “Clyde” handbag.
Hopefully Kimmie will learn her lesson; she already has enough rumors about her fake assets to deal with.
A family favourite in central Europe
"This place is like heaven for Hungarians," says our guide Gabor Torocsik, as our railway carriage trundles up the narrow-gauge line into the hills above Szilvasvarad. "To us, the hills are something magic."
The forested slopes would not strike the average mountain-dweller as anything extraordinary. But all things are relative, and it seems that Hungarians - whose landscapes tend towards the pancake-flat - go mad for their hills.
Certainly the Bukk National Park, near Miskolc, in north-east Hungary, is a lovely day out. We hop off at the end of the line and stroll down the trail through stands of oak and beech, waterfalls and trout ponds glinting through the green.
I detect a certain nostalgia in this yearning for the uplands. On an ancient map at park HQ, Gabor traces for us the great expanse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, before the 1920 Treaty of Trianon gave away 72 per cent of Hungary to the neighbours.
"You saw those hills as we drove in?" He gestures beyond the forests towards the border with Slovakia. "All that used to be Hungary."
Eger's impressive castle is a monument to past glories: it was behind these walls in 1552 that some 2000 gallant townspeople held out against an 80,000-strong Ottoman army. Gabor explains how the ramparts are now an important symbol of national pride.
My daughter is not overly concerned about the slings and arrows of Hungary's historical fortunes. To any Harry Potter aficionado a castle is a castle, and this one has hidden cannons, tunnels, and a noisy replica of the defenders' ingenious "firing machine": a wine barrel that they stuffed with gunpowder and bullets and sent down the slopes of the castle to rout the invaders.
Eger and its surroundings offer treats galore for a nine-year-old. First, there are horses: our lunch at Szilvasvarad overlooks a paddock of Lipizzaners, and afterwards my daughter takes the reins of a horse and cart as we trundle through the forest. Then the sweets: Eger's confectionery museum houses everything from ballet shoes to bibles, all created from sugar paste and tempera glaze by confectioner Lajos Kopcsik.
In Eger's Szepasszony Valley, "the valley of the beautiful women", the goodies are more consumable.
Here, the soft volcanic tufa that underlies much of the town is honeycombed with 130km of wine cellars. In the chilled vaults of cellar 36, local vintner Tamas Sike treats us to a tasting.
"We cellar-keepers know three types of wine," he tells me, as we progress from a 2008 bikaver (bull's blood) to a syrupy 2009 late harvest.
By glass number nine, I am laughing at pretty much anything he says, and have begun to acquire the rosé-tinted spectacles that clearly explain the district's name.
The forested slopes would not strike the average mountain-dweller as anything extraordinary. But all things are relative, and it seems that Hungarians - whose landscapes tend towards the pancake-flat - go mad for their hills.
Certainly the Bukk National Park, near Miskolc, in north-east Hungary, is a lovely day out. We hop off at the end of the line and stroll down the trail through stands of oak and beech, waterfalls and trout ponds glinting through the green.
I detect a certain nostalgia in this yearning for the uplands. On an ancient map at park HQ, Gabor traces for us the great expanse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, before the 1920 Treaty of Trianon gave away 72 per cent of Hungary to the neighbours.
"You saw those hills as we drove in?" He gestures beyond the forests towards the border with Slovakia. "All that used to be Hungary."
Eger's impressive castle is a monument to past glories: it was behind these walls in 1552 that some 2000 gallant townspeople held out against an 80,000-strong Ottoman army. Gabor explains how the ramparts are now an important symbol of national pride.
My daughter is not overly concerned about the slings and arrows of Hungary's historical fortunes. To any Harry Potter aficionado a castle is a castle, and this one has hidden cannons, tunnels, and a noisy replica of the defenders' ingenious "firing machine": a wine barrel that they stuffed with gunpowder and bullets and sent down the slopes of the castle to rout the invaders.
Eger and its surroundings offer treats galore for a nine-year-old. First, there are horses: our lunch at Szilvasvarad overlooks a paddock of Lipizzaners, and afterwards my daughter takes the reins of a horse and cart as we trundle through the forest. Then the sweets: Eger's confectionery museum houses everything from ballet shoes to bibles, all created from sugar paste and tempera glaze by confectioner Lajos Kopcsik.
In Eger's Szepasszony Valley, "the valley of the beautiful women", the goodies are more consumable.
Here, the soft volcanic tufa that underlies much of the town is honeycombed with 130km of wine cellars. In the chilled vaults of cellar 36, local vintner Tamas Sike treats us to a tasting.
"We cellar-keepers know three types of wine," he tells me, as we progress from a 2008 bikaver (bull's blood) to a syrupy 2009 late harvest.
By glass number nine, I am laughing at pretty much anything he says, and have begun to acquire the rosé-tinted spectacles that clearly explain the district's name.
2011年10月9日星期日
Home of the Week: Runners update formerly run-down home
Megan Moore doesn't walk into a room, she seems to sprint into it. She and husband Jon Line are both lithe and fit, with runners' bodies - probably because they are dedicated runners. Both are familiar sights jogging or racing along Annapolis streets and county trails, and both have participated in marathons and triathlons.
Still, with her long, flowing blonde hair, flawless skin and buoyant personality, Megan got carded recently at the Red Red Wine Bar on Main Street. The youthful-looking 36-year-old was flattered, until she realized she had left her driver's license at work.
Bummer.
Jon, who is 37, and sports a similar youthful vibe, made a mental note to keep his ID close by.
Along with Gordon "Gordy" Von Schnauzer III, their Weimaraner rescue dog, the couple owns the Annapolis Running Shop on Main Street downtown. Using the acronym for their business, they encourage folks, young and old, to "Run your ARS off." Jon also coaches the St. Mary's High School track and cross country teams, passing on his love of the fleet-footed sports.
Megan is the second-generation owner of another business, the Easy Street Gallery, on Francis Street, near its juncture with Main Street.
Easy Street is an American craft gallery brimming with sailboats, stained glass, vases, sculpture, art glass, wall art, lamps, blown glass bowls, paperweights and pottery. The gallery was opened in 1979 by Megan's parents Marsha and Terry Moore, who now reside in West Virginia. They had a second gallery a couple blocks away and, as a youngster, Megan would circulate between the two shops. Megan officially joined her parents at Easy Street in 1995.
The Moore family lived in an old detached frame house on Conduit Street that was notorious because it leaned noticeably (It's since been fixed.). Megan was a member of the first high school class to graduate from the "new" Annapolis Area Christian School building on Bestgate Road in 1993.
A little history
Megan and Jon's first home sweet home was in Eastport. "But, we wanted to be here, in Annapolis," said Megan of their eventual, two-year quest to sell the Eastport residence and move closer to her downtown roots. "We walk everywhere. When we moved into our new home, Jon and I gave up the second car. We gave it to a very happy nephew."
While the Eastport house languished on the market for two years, the couple set their hearts on a house in the historic district that is a few steps from Acton Cove. It, too, sat with a "for sale" sign on it for two years. "It was waiting for us!" said Megan.
They moved into their "new" home in 2009.
Megan invited us over, saying, "The exterior is really cute. We kept the feel of an old house but updated it to our taste."
"I'm used to old houses. We share a wall with our neighbors.
We love it," said Megan. "We shop local. We eat at local restaurants, not chains, and buy at locally-owned shops. If they don't have it downtown, we go without it."
According to the Maryland Historical Properties Inventory of Historic Properties, the Victorian-era townhouse, attached to its mirror twin on one side, was built between 1886 and 1891 as speculative housing, not custom-built. Through the next century, the house was rented to a succession of tenants, many of whom were laborers at the Naval Academy. It also passed through numerous owners, nine alone in the 20th century.
The previous owners not only undertook a major renovation of the property, they were the first owner-residents in the home's history. Megan and Jon are the second.
An old herringbone brick walkway is the home's front yard. The brick wraps around one side of the house, forming a path to its backyard. A touch of green is provided by a planter spilling lush vines, plus the two spiraling boxwood topiaries positioned on the front stoop. The two-story house has a raised brick foundation and is sheathed with pale gray painted German siding and white corner boards. Its white trim with black shutters and accents give it a contemporary look. The "sexy, hot pink" door adds a bold pop of color.
Looking up, it's easy to see why the historians get excited: tucked under the roofline is a lavishly detailed Italianate-style entablature or frieze. It's beautiful.
Of course, it is hard to miss the couple's chic, baby-blue, Vespa-styled Milan scooter moped parked near the front door. The Milan is an easy way to scoot around town when they're too tuckered to run.
If you were to look across a fence, the rear addition is in two parts. A low room connects the high vaulted back room - the master bedroom - to the original building. Both rooms have red, standing seam metal roofs.
Still, with her long, flowing blonde hair, flawless skin and buoyant personality, Megan got carded recently at the Red Red Wine Bar on Main Street. The youthful-looking 36-year-old was flattered, until she realized she had left her driver's license at work.
Bummer.
Jon, who is 37, and sports a similar youthful vibe, made a mental note to keep his ID close by.
Along with Gordon "Gordy" Von Schnauzer III, their Weimaraner rescue dog, the couple owns the Annapolis Running Shop on Main Street downtown. Using the acronym for their business, they encourage folks, young and old, to "Run your ARS off." Jon also coaches the St. Mary's High School track and cross country teams, passing on his love of the fleet-footed sports.
Megan is the second-generation owner of another business, the Easy Street Gallery, on Francis Street, near its juncture with Main Street.
Easy Street is an American craft gallery brimming with sailboats, stained glass, vases, sculpture, art glass, wall art, lamps, blown glass bowls, paperweights and pottery. The gallery was opened in 1979 by Megan's parents Marsha and Terry Moore, who now reside in West Virginia. They had a second gallery a couple blocks away and, as a youngster, Megan would circulate between the two shops. Megan officially joined her parents at Easy Street in 1995.
The Moore family lived in an old detached frame house on Conduit Street that was notorious because it leaned noticeably (It's since been fixed.). Megan was a member of the first high school class to graduate from the "new" Annapolis Area Christian School building on Bestgate Road in 1993.
A little history
Megan and Jon's first home sweet home was in Eastport. "But, we wanted to be here, in Annapolis," said Megan of their eventual, two-year quest to sell the Eastport residence and move closer to her downtown roots. "We walk everywhere. When we moved into our new home, Jon and I gave up the second car. We gave it to a very happy nephew."
While the Eastport house languished on the market for two years, the couple set their hearts on a house in the historic district that is a few steps from Acton Cove. It, too, sat with a "for sale" sign on it for two years. "It was waiting for us!" said Megan.
They moved into their "new" home in 2009.
Megan invited us over, saying, "The exterior is really cute. We kept the feel of an old house but updated it to our taste."
"I'm used to old houses. We share a wall with our neighbors.
We love it," said Megan. "We shop local. We eat at local restaurants, not chains, and buy at locally-owned shops. If they don't have it downtown, we go without it."
According to the Maryland Historical Properties Inventory of Historic Properties, the Victorian-era townhouse, attached to its mirror twin on one side, was built between 1886 and 1891 as speculative housing, not custom-built. Through the next century, the house was rented to a succession of tenants, many of whom were laborers at the Naval Academy. It also passed through numerous owners, nine alone in the 20th century.
The previous owners not only undertook a major renovation of the property, they were the first owner-residents in the home's history. Megan and Jon are the second.
An old herringbone brick walkway is the home's front yard. The brick wraps around one side of the house, forming a path to its backyard. A touch of green is provided by a planter spilling lush vines, plus the two spiraling boxwood topiaries positioned on the front stoop. The two-story house has a raised brick foundation and is sheathed with pale gray painted German siding and white corner boards. Its white trim with black shutters and accents give it a contemporary look. The "sexy, hot pink" door adds a bold pop of color.
Looking up, it's easy to see why the historians get excited: tucked under the roofline is a lavishly detailed Italianate-style entablature or frieze. It's beautiful.
Of course, it is hard to miss the couple's chic, baby-blue, Vespa-styled Milan scooter moped parked near the front door. The Milan is an easy way to scoot around town when they're too tuckered to run.
If you were to look across a fence, the rear addition is in two parts. A low room connects the high vaulted back room - the master bedroom - to the original building. Both rooms have red, standing seam metal roofs.
2011年10月7日星期五
Pirates Arrr! Invading Tybee For Annual Pirate Festival
Buccaneer, scallywag, or swashbuckler. all mean the same thing -- pirate. And that's the theme for Tybee Island this weekend and the Annual Pirate Festival.
"Arrrgghh!"
From replica ships to jolly rogers, the festival celebrates everything on the high seas, and folks weren't hesitant to get in the spirit.
"Any time there's a gathering of pirates, we get excited," said 'Cruel Cathy Blackheart.'
"It's great to become another person for a day and step out of your normal shoes and put on your boots and go play," said Lady Lindsay Lee.
"It's a carnival atmosphere. The whole town gets into it, the whole city gets into it, everybody's into the festival, downtown is into the festival, it's just a fantastic place to have a festival," said MC Pirate Joe.
Besides being a lot of fun, the festival is a big money-maker for vendors. And that's what keeps some vendors coming back year after year, trying to offer some treasure for the tourists.
"They're on vacation, they're having a good time, and of course they have to take things home, so they are looking for things that they can take home that are from this area so, you know, anything that's different," said vendor Susan Carter.
For other vendors, they needed to switch up what they're selling in order to cash in on all the booty being spent.
"I came last year and brought art, and art's a little challenging for this venue, so this year we brought our marona jewelry and our pirates mining company," said Fish Art owner Ralph Douglas Jones.
And he says the jewels may help him take home some gold this year.
"Arrrgghh!"
From replica ships to jolly rogers, the festival celebrates everything on the high seas, and folks weren't hesitant to get in the spirit.
"Any time there's a gathering of pirates, we get excited," said 'Cruel Cathy Blackheart.'
"It's great to become another person for a day and step out of your normal shoes and put on your boots and go play," said Lady Lindsay Lee.
"It's a carnival atmosphere. The whole town gets into it, the whole city gets into it, everybody's into the festival, downtown is into the festival, it's just a fantastic place to have a festival," said MC Pirate Joe.
Besides being a lot of fun, the festival is a big money-maker for vendors. And that's what keeps some vendors coming back year after year, trying to offer some treasure for the tourists.
"They're on vacation, they're having a good time, and of course they have to take things home, so they are looking for things that they can take home that are from this area so, you know, anything that's different," said vendor Susan Carter.
For other vendors, they needed to switch up what they're selling in order to cash in on all the booty being spent.
"I came last year and brought art, and art's a little challenging for this venue, so this year we brought our marona jewelry and our pirates mining company," said Fish Art owner Ralph Douglas Jones.
And he says the jewels may help him take home some gold this year.
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