It's pretty neat to have a hookah place in the area, even if it is way out in Henrietta. The day I went to Look ah Hookah there was no one there -- it's mostly a night time place -- but that worked out to my advantage as I got great service and someone to answer all my questions.

The sides of the room are lined with couches, a coffee table in front of each, and cushioned stools on the other side. On each table sits a hookah, most of them very neat looking. Each hookah has disposable mouthpieces, and each one has a different amount of mouthpieces that can be attached.

I didn't know this, but the tobacco isn't ever burned. The tobacco is placed in the bowl, covered with aluminum foil, a hot coal is placed on top, and then a wind cover covers that. As you draw through the hose the hot coal heats the tobacco, but never touches it. The strength of the draw is dependant on a few things, like the length and composition of the hose, a carburetor-type knob, and the choice of tobacco. The tobacco is moist and comes in many, many flavors. You don't have to be a cigarette smoker to enjoy a hookah, as some of the flavors don't contain tar or nicotine. Also, inhaling is not mandatory. Many of the tobaccos are like fruit mixtures. I tried chocolate, and it was so smooth I didn't even realize I got any the first few puffs. It had a great aftertaste.

There are also munchies and drinks, including a full range of frou-frou coffee concoctions and energy drinks. From what I was told, it's becoming a great spot on weekends, when there are performances by belly dancers, and as an after-bar gathering space since it's open until 4 a.m. There's also a VIP room with amenities like a Wii and a Playstation. Definitely a unique place to take a date.

Saturday, March 29, was a perfect day for a bus tour, with the sun shining brightly, but it was still just a bit too cold to be standing outside. As we boarded the big bus for the Landmark Society's City Living Bus Tour, we were each handed large manila envelopes filled with info. If I ever really get to seriously considering purchasing a home, I'm heading to the Landmark Society first. Their "Home Room" is a homebuyer's dream resource.

We began in Corn Hill, headquarters for the Landmark Society. An upper-class neighborhood, it used to be known as the silk stockings and ruffled shirts district. Built before automobiles, there are few driveways, with most residences having service alleys in the rear. We then crossed town via Court Street, the street with nary a court house on it. Apparently, the guy who owned the land hoped that by naming it such, one would be built. Oops!

Traveling up Monroe Avenue, which used to be a stagecoach, and then an electric streetcar route, we passed the long-ago City boundary of Goodman Street. Before Rundel was built, the Italian Renaissance-inspired Monroe was the showcase library. I always knew there was something special about that place. Passing over the expressway, we were told it used to be the old Erie Canal, the same canal that transported our flour to NYC to sail across the pond to England to feed Queen Victoria, as well as travel to countless other places.

Crossman Terrace was a nursery turned neighborhood. Built before electricity, the porches are wide to serve as summer living rooms. The identity of the architect who designed No. 50, which looks Frank Lloyd Wright-ish, remains a mystery.

Passing Cobbs Hill we learned that the two gatehouses were designed my J Foster Warner, the same man who designed George Eastman's house.

Turning onto Highland Avenue, the boundary between the City and what was once our first housing development - Home Acres - we were told it was an old Native American footpath. Apparently the First Unitarian Church on Winton is something architects drool over.

1816 East Avenue is one of the city's oldest houses, and it's for sale! Traveling through the Park/East Ave areas we learned the rector in charge when Asbury First Church was built is buried under its altar. With the building of East Boulevard came driveways. The property of the Frank Lloyd Wright house used to include the two properties south of it, which were once gardens. The Memorial Art Gallery used to be the Averill Memorial Art Gallery, and sits on what once was the UR campus, Cutler having been the student union.

We took a short respite at Lamberton Conservatory in Highland Park to fill up on snacks and let the facts settle.

There were just so many little tidbits of interest, and I could only scribble so many. Rockefeller had something to do with the building of Colgate Divinity. UR used to be Oak Hill Country Club, and more soldiers died in the Civil War from surgery than from bullets. The 19th Ward is the city's largest single neighborhood and "urban by choice" is its motto. Many of its houses were built during the tuberculosis epidemic, and most have side or back sleeping porches to take in the fresh air. St Mary's was the first hospital in the city, and Susan B's sister was the first female school principle, having the audacity to ask for the same wage as a male. There's a kit house at 32 King Street. Nick Tahou's used to be a railroad station. Rochester Art Supply has a reputation as one of the best art supply stores in the world.

All that in three hours for the bargain basement price of free.

Next up: An Evening Tea

The couches and upholstered, white folding chairs that formed a semi-circle in the rear of the store were filled with about 30 women for "The Well Dressed Window" presentation at Ambiance on Thursday, April 3. A table displayed cheese and crackers, wine, and lemon and cucumber waters. As the ladies warmed up with wine, a Hunter Douglas rep exhibited the new line of shades and blinds designed to "harness the power of light."

My friend and I felt a bit out of place with the many references to "the husbands," in-home theaters, on-site cleaners, and rug-fade fear. Still, some of the designs were really neat. The rep used an analogy: a window is like a beautiful woman. Without window treatments it's just a window, like a women without accessories is just another skinny woman. Yeah, that landed like a bomb. The window dressers talked for a few minutes at the end, but mostly it was about the HD line.

Afterwards we had a great time looking through the store, and both purchased reproductions of French maps. I'm proud that I already framed mine and it's not sitting rolled up with the rest of my "to-be-framed" works.

Next up: Good-bye to Mordecai

I love the idea of teatime. My ex -- a Brit -- said that his grandfather always carried a thermos of tea with him, and no matter where he was at 4 p.m. he would stop and partake of a cup. For a while when my son was still in grade school, after the bus would drop him home, we'd have teatime. He'd have milk or hot chocolate and we sometimes added board games to our version. It was what is called "quality time," catching up on each other's day, and a transitioning time from daily activities to the dinner hour. I loved how making dinner was no longer a rushed chore, since we'd already had a little snack and I didn't feel that push to hurry up and get food on the table.

It was a feeling similar to this that inspired Anna, the seventh duchess of Bedford, to create teatime. She wanted something to stave "that sinking feeling" between the early lunch and the late dinner of Victorian times. At first, she indulged alone in her private quarters, but soon invited a few girlfriends in. From there it grew, moving into the parlor, and eventually included men.

Long tables arranged in pinwheel fashion, each covered with a floral cloth, set with floral china tea cups and dessert plates rimmed with gold, and a centerpiece of daffodils, greeted the attendees of  "An Evening Tea" presented by Pittsford Community Library. Patricia Drumwright, the founder of the Rochester-based Bedford Circle Tea Society, led us on an amusing romp through the plant, the beverage, and the foods of teatime.

There is much more to tea than I thought. From one species, and three subspecies, come more than 3000 varieties. White and green are the least processed, with oolong mid-way and black the most. Herbal teas, unless they are actual tealeaves infused with flavor, are not teas at all, but herbal infusions.

Americans serendipitously invented the teabag! Enclosing the tealeaves in silk bags for shipping, some of the purchasers knew to cut the bag and empty the contents. Some others thought, "How clever!" and put the whole pouch into the teapot.

Speaking of teapots, next month the society will be exhibiting teapots at the Brighton Library. Check the calendar in May for details.

Next up: Goodbye to Mordecai

Like most of us, I first "met" Mordecai Lipshutz over the airwaves, drawn in by his distinctive deep, smooth voice that illustrated his love for music as he announced the pieces, often accompanied by bits of interesting trivia. I first met him in person at the first Rochester International Jazz Festival. Impossible to miss in his ivory Fedora hat, we had many a chat as the venues closed down and the festivities moved to the after-party at the Crown Plaza. Each year thereafter I looked forward to running into him and catching up. Such a character, I often thought a casting agent should scoop him up and depict him on film.

On Sunday, April 13, WXXI and the Rochester community bid farewell to Lipshutz after 30 years of radio hosting at a retirement reception at the studios. His contributions will not soon be forgotten, as henceforth April 13 shall be Mordecai Lipshutz Day.

Held in large Studio A, a respectful audience gathered to wish him well. A basket began to fill up with the colored index cards provided to write personal notes as a quartet played in the background. Lipshutz held court as he signed a most befitting and amusing parting gift -- Mordecai Lipshutz bobble heads. I know I will treasure mine.

Next up: Ugly Disco

I didn't like disco the first time around, so I'll admit I used the least amount of energy and imagination I could get away with for my costume for the Ugly Disco. Actually, it wasn't really even a costume, but I got away with it. It was mod, but not, which works just fine in what should be called -- in my humble opinion -- the Ugly 70s. Not at all confined to disco, the costumes were more like Sly & The Family Stone got funky with George Clinton on a fever-less Saturday night.

Anyway, possessed by the party spirit, but with the beer slinging having been exorcised, this year's crowd was a bit more refined than in years past. Mayhaps it was the presence of the undercover police. Yes, there were the roving colored spotlights. Yes, there were the dance cages. Yes, there were the shadow dancers. Yes, that was me and my intern shadow dancing. And, the entire evening was backed up by the insistent pounding of boogie beats.

All said, I did have a few great conversations in the ladies' room -- women are wont to do that -- and on the balcony (Hi, Lamar Billboard Boys!) and some interesting corner -- or is that cornered? -- encounters.

Next up: "Hair" at SUNY Brockport

I must be old, because the presence of hippies in the lobby of the Tower Fine Arts Center at SUNY Brockport didn't strike me as strange until some of the more outlandish costumes and afros began to appear. I then realized they were the actors. The play "Hair" actually begins there -- in the lobby -- and continues within the theater, where the actors lounge around, blowing bubbles, juggling balls, joking, and interacting with the audience. On stage, girls do spaced-out tag dancing while a young man meditates to a singing bowl's song. It is only when a woman with a very large ‘fro strolls down the aisle asking us how we're all doin' and proceeds to tell us to silence our new-fangled phone devices, directing our attention to the exits in case we have to blow the joint -- no pun intended -- that the crowd settles down to watch. But not for long, as this is a participatory play, whether designed to be so or not.

"When the moon is in the Seventh House..." I wasn't the only one who got chills when Ronny began singing "Aquarius." Played to death and sounding like Muzak on the radio, the song is really an eerie and swelling gem done live. With the arrival of Claude in his British flag bikini skivvies and Berger in his loincloth, my two female friends turned to me and said, "Totally worth coming!" There is a lot of male skin in the show. It's totally worth seeing. Which is why, I must admit, I totally forgot to take notes during the first act.

Thank dog I'm not so old that my memory fails me. Seeing the old pro-love and anti-war protest signs sent me on a stroll down Memory Lane. Not just pretty gimcracks, these spoke for very troubled and turbulent times, the present political maelstrom almost being a mirror, except for the lack of public uprising and national demonstrations of outrage.

I don't want to serve up any spoilers, because this show has some surprises, but be prepared to participate. This show begs for you to engage. I was surprised at how many songs I knew, some well enough to even sing along. But more than that, the show made me feel patriotic. Patriotic in that heart-swelling way. You know, like back in grade school when you stood with your hand over your heart reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Proud to be in America, the greatest country in the world. Where purple mountains' majesty and amber waves of grain were part of living the American Dream, not the fodder of new "Green" merchandizing. And, most importantly, before the PATRIOT Act made patriot a dirty word.

Gliddy glub gloopy

Nibby nabby noopy

La la la lo lo...

Next up: Rochester High Falls International Film Festival