Spoon Me

By Fringe Staff

By Ryann Loves Ryann

Nasty, cold, winter months can be an exceptional time for affectionate activities. Because who really likes to hold sweaty hands when it’s 100 degrees outside? There’s nothing sexy about being romantically embraced by a handsome man with reeking pit stains saturated through the clubbing shirt he’s been wearing for a mere two hours. Yes, summertime is the season of skin, sun and hot sex, but some things work way better with the frostbite nagging at your need to caress and be caressed.

Cuddling, coddling, snuggling, hugging and smooching, all great activities, but so much more beneficial when exercised January through March. Get me home and under a blanket with my man and I’ll be warm and happy for hours. The greatest wintertime activity, of course, is spooning. Forget the electric blanket, this stationary position is well-known for its bodyheat- retaining effect. Spooning occurs when the “big spoon” man curls his body around the backside contours of the “little spoon” woman. It’s the closest two people can be without having sex, although it can lead to sex, or be the final chapter in a night including sex.

The beauty of spooning is that it’s not your stereotypical foreplay. It’s not like making out, for instance, where the No. 1 objective is to eventually get naked and have intercourse. Making out and heavy petting causes extreme arousal and excitement, arresting all inhibition, as does taking a hot bath together or a late night dip in a hot tub after a few shots. But spooning, like intimately hugging, is sweet, comfortable, and usually pressure free. It’s mutually exclusive to sex. You can always have one without the other.

But spooning can be dangerous in these instances: When your platonic guy friend needs to crash for the night and you don’t usually welcome a sleeping buddy in your twin-sized bed, and the heater’s broken, and you haven’t been laid in two months; or the big spoon is anatomically fortunate and the physical sensation is exhausting your will power; or the big spoon is a sex freak and misunderstands your concept of spooning for intense stimulation thus creating an awkward night together. Spooning and…forking, two very distinct verbs.

I believe two people who love each other utilize spooning in the most incredible way. Sometimes you spend a long day together and you can’t wait to get wild in bed, but when you both actually get there you realize how exhausted you are, and spooning becomes this beautifully sensual twist, where you can feel and be touched but don’t really have to move all that much. I know the nights I fall asleep after my boyfriend situations me into this perfect puzzle piece against his body, his hand on my hip and his chin against my shoulder, I am a woman on cloud nine, about to have the greatest sleep of my life.

So please, spoon me. I won’t think that you just want to have sex with me, because, really, you need to try a lot harder than that. I will be the little spoon without any intention or imagination if you will be my big spoon ready to scoop me up.

Shooting Myself In The Foot

By Bob Capretto

My name is Bob Capretto. I am the owner of ROC Instruments in Vacaville, CA.

I have been building, designing and repairing basses, guitars, amplifiers and effects for nearly 30 years. I am a member of the Association of Stringed Instrument Artisans, also known as A.S.I.A.

I hope to provide both the novice and even the professional musician with a little information to help make your equipment last longer.

Most musicians today don’t have or don’t take the time to find the information that you should know about the instruments and equipment you own. I can’t blame that all on you though. The local guitar shop, where you learned about and purchased your instruments, is basically history. Back when I was a kid, there was a guitar shop in downtown Vacaville called Monk’s Guitar Shop. The guy that owned the place, Gary Miller, was a musician and a fountain of knowledge. He was also probably the nicest and coolest guy I had ever met. He didn’t have a problem with a 15-year-old punk rocker hanging around his extremely small shop and bugging the hell out of him asking questions. He was happy to answer anything I asked and told me that these were things that all instrument owners should know. Monk’s wasn’t there for long. Soon the Mini Mall, as it was known, was no more.

In the ’80s it was the expansion of the big box guitar stores. I remember when there were only six Guitar Centers. In the entire United States. It was during this time foreign builders started hitting the US beaches.

The 90’s brought mail order and the Internet infiltrated the instrument delivery process. The prices got better, but service became non-existent. Young people didn’t know any better and accepted this. I have had instruments come in that have never been adjusted. Many unknowing owners expect their new instruments to be perfect out of the box. All have been shocked when they get a properly setup instrument in their hands. Today there is something missing from the ownership process. All the things that Gary taught me. How a guitar neck reacts to humidity and temperature and why my action sucks and why it needs to be adjusted? Why shouldn’t I move my tube amp right after I shut it down or plug it in right after I have just brought it in from a rainstorm? Why are there so many different string materials and what is the best for me? I can’t do much troubleshooting here, but if you have questions or comments, send them to the editor.

I believe that these are just a few of the many things that any stringed instrument owner should know. There will always be adjustments and repairs that you will undoubtedly have to bring to a guy like me. There are also so many more problems that you can prevent by listening to a guy like me. I could let you make the mistakes and charge you for them, but my conscience says no. Shooting myself in the foot.

Sometimes Cupid Has a Sick Sense Of Humor

By Brandon Caylor

Many years ago, when I was a striking young lad, I was looking forward to spending Valentine’s Day with my girlfriend. I do not wish to say her name out loud, for fear of accidentally conjuring up some hideous, dreadful, demonic beast from the fiery depths of Hell. So to make things easy, I shall refer to her as She. She and I had plans to go to the drive-in in our pajamas, and sit in the back of my truck with pillows, blankets, and pizza. When the day finally approached, I was excited. I went out in the morning and bought myself some brand new jammies. I had lunch with her, and then went to work. I brought my shiny new pajamas to work with me so I could change into them when I was ready to leave. When I was all set, I called her on the phone. Yeah, I was very anxious and giddy. When she answered, I asked if she was ready to go.

“Did you read my letter?” She asked.

“What letter?” I asked.

“The one I put in your pocket at lunch,” She answered. (Those that know me know that I rarely ever check my pockets. If you want me to find anything, my coat pocket is probably not the best place to put it.)

“Read the letter and call me back,” She said. I read the letter. She dumped me. On Valentine’s Day! I can’t even begin to explain just how rude that was. Seriously, don’t you think that was rude?

I was completely shocked, as this seemed to have come straight out of nowhere.

At the closing of the letter, she stated, “I hope we can still be friends.”

Friends!?! I don’t know about you, but I generally try to NOT be friends with people that willfully hurt me. Yeah, grind my tender heart into a bloody pulp! That’s what “friends” do to each other, right? Or perhaps I’m just over-protective of myself. Seriously, the last person I wanted in my life at that moment was She. I called her back, just like I said I would…because unlike her, I always try to be a good person.

(Take THAT!) Plus, I was still stunned from what I had just read. I asked her if this was serious (wishful thinking). Yes, She was apparently serious. I was quite crushed, and very angry. I just wasted 20 bucks on new pajamas. While the inside of me was calling her lots of horrible things, I was polite on the outside. I hung up and went home, where I spent Valentine’s Day alone. No pizza, no movie. I threw the new jammies away. I laid in my bed, wondering where I could find Cupid so I could go wring his little neck.

I have a lot of single friends that hate Valentine’s Day. I don’t really blame them. Have you noticed how difficult it is to make dinner reservations on Valentine’s Day? Or how freakin’ expensive flowers are? Yeah, if you ask me, it’s way over-commercialized. Do you really need a special day to love your significant other…while all of the single folks are left out? I suppose that’s why they make valentines for pets now.

Back to my story, I pondered for a long time on why She hoped we could be friends. I honestly don’t think she meant it. I’m pretty sure she was thinking she was softening the blow or something. It didn’t.

Whatever the reason, it felt like a slap in the face, in addition to the knife through the heart.

I saw her a few months later. She was on crutches. Apparently She was involved in a little incident at a Death Angel gig in Hayward. You just got to love Karma, for you never know when or where she may turn up. I had to refrain from giggling, as I’m a Death Angel fan, too. I like my legs just the way they are, thank you very much! Plus, I’m sure her leg healed a heckuva lot faster than my heart did. I never spoke to her again. I suppose you could say I have forgiven her, but it took me a while. Breaking up is never easy, regardless of what side you happen to be on. Most often than not though, it’s necessary, and we learn and grow from it.

Just don’t do it on Valentine’s Day, for crying out loud! Have a heart!

Fleming’s Chicago-Style Deli

By Fringe Staff

The folks at Fringe know a good thing when they see one. On the heels of my debut reviewing restaurants a couple issues back, there was a public outcry for more. Actually, they were in a pinch and asked the husky Italian kid to go eat and write about it.

And of course I obliged and this month we are headed to one of my new favorite delis in town. Fleming’s Chicago-Style Deli isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a glorious meat cache that offers grub from the mid-west.

Sitting on Elmira Drive in Vacaville, Fleming’s is located in the building that formerly housed the Olive Branch Deli. I actually met the owner, David, while still thinking the old deli was still in place. He told me they came out from Chicago in the ’80s.

A co-worker and I stopped through one day while on assignment. What was presented to us was a gut-filling meal full of quality ingredients served up by some of the nicest folks to find their way to Vacaville. The customer service was just as good as the grub, and that’s saying something.

Ambience

Right away it obvious the owners were transplants, as the décor of the place was anchored by over-sized photos and pictures of all things Chicago. Topping the list is their Chicago White Sox jersey timeline. On the rainy day we were there, the place was packed. With only about seven or eight tables, seating was limited as throngs of people were lining up for some hot sandwiches.

Service

Although they have only been there since November, the owners and employees seem to already have a bond with many of the patrons. It truly is a mom and pop business. According to their bio, it’s all family working there. They displayed good synergy that day as they cranked out sandwich after sandwich without causing much wait.

The Food

I’m a bit of a critic of anything labeled Italian. In this case, it was beyond my expectations. Going with the Italian Beef Sandwich ($6.75), there were some doubts. Some other folks who’ve made this dish try to overcompensate for poor quality of beef by trying to over-season the au jus sauce. Not here. The Italian beef was perfectly cooked and the flavor of it stood on its own. Even each side of the buns was dipped in the juice and piles of peppers were thrown on top. An excellent creation all the way around. Now, my co-worker didn’t say much while mowing down his meatball sandwich ($6.50), which was smothered in mozzarella and marinara, but I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it. At least the grunting and nodding in approval seemed positive.

The Bill

With a drink, chips, or a salad, most meals come out at about eight bucks. So going there on a budget is not a problem. If money is not an option, folks should take the opportunity to sample some of the desserts. The variety and flavors of assorted pastries and other sugar-fueled treats is ample.

It’s pretty refreshing to see someone offer a new kind of lunch and not charge too much for it. Most new niche restaurants will try to capitalize on their originality by over-charging. Not Flemings. They take a unique product and happily provide it at a reasonable price. All the previous reasons have caused Flemings to become a popular spot with little advertising.

Fleming’s Chicago-Style Deli
179 Elmira Road #C
Vacaville, CA 95687

February 2008

By Fringe Staff

1. Maya Over Eyes - myspace.com/mayaovereyes/

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