Word: sipping
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...beautiful brunch. I decide to have scrambled eggs instead of fried. I put a lot of cream in my coffee, and I take a lot of butter for my blueberry muffin. A beautiful brunch. I sit down by myself, take a sip of my coffee, and turn to the article about Namath. It's by a woman, and she starts off talking about the new book by Jerry Kramer. What do women know about football...
What of the Women? There are no bar girls to be found in any of the villages. The men, after a day's farming in the stony fields, or, at Gravia, in the bauxite mines, stroll to the cafe, lay down their crooked walking sticks and sip ouzo or Cretean tsikoudhia while they play cards and talk. The women, too, work the fields, and for diversion "they have their Sunday evening walk," says a village elder in Aghia Paraskevi. "On Sunday evening, everybody gets into the streets and walks up and down until they get tired." A young Gravian...
...quarters. A professor says sadly: "We have more than 3,000 students again. But we are not yet a university. We lack books, facilities and teachers-most of all we lack spirit." At the once gracious Cercle Sportif, ducks waddle across the abandoned, waterlogged tennis courts, and club members sip their aperitifs against a curtain of bullet-pocked walls...
Then a schmaltzy song that tones things down a little. Elvis begins to slip away from us--ten more years, Elvis? As you play with your model airplanes in Graceland and sip Pepsis, while we're off somewhere, thirty or so? The last few minutes of the program are a rerun of the first few. "I'm Evil" again. You started it, Elvis. The liberator. The martyr to our increased sophistication. Grand old man. He's exactly the same as he was ten years ago, exactly. He started it. We love you, Elvis...
...Sunset don't use the LIRR. They live in the neighborhood, work at nearby stores and factories, and come into the place after work to chat about the things people always talk about in bars. "How are they treating you at Grumman," one man says to another as they sip their Schlitz and Schaffer. "Not bad, but I'm not going anyplace," he replies. A little further down the rubbed wood bar, a scotch drinker banters with the barmaid, asking how she likes the heat. "Most of the time it's not too bad," she says tossing her bobbed head...