Out On A Limb's Repost OC: A Memory (101 Words)

I wrote this for an Open Call a couple of years ago in my first life on OS. The idea was you had to write a story in 101 words. I put it up when I came back to OS and started blogging again. However, no one saw it, so I thought I would try it again. :)

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* A Memory (101 Words)

Running barefoot across the scorching grass to my grandfather's shop. The July sun beating down on me. Stopping just inside the shadowed doorway, my eyes adjusting, the soles of my feet absorbing the blessed coolness of the cement.

While I wait for the whine of the saw to stop, I breathe in sawdust, turpentine and varnish. As it slows I call, "Hey, Pop!" I run to hug him. My ten year old head just the right height to smell the Red Man in his shirt pocket. I hop on the counter, content to be in the presence of my favorite person.

Cruisin' Me Down The Highway

I am not a good driver. I am a lucky driver. I know this and appreciate it. When I took my driver's test several things went wrong. For example, speeding in a school zone. My tester's response, "The car doesn't know school is out today." Or forgetting to check the rearview mirror before changing lanes, "You were lucky. That's how accidents happen." Or the final task of parallel parking where I finally gave up three feet away from the curb, "Well, you didn't hit anything." Driving back to the church I was completely sure I had failed. When I parked the car he said, "Well, you passed. You might want to work on parallel parking and checking your mirrors." Woo Hoo! See? Lucky.

Off I went into the world of lucky driving, speeding all the way. Blowing past highway patrolmen I didn't see, narrowly missing other cars and driving down the center of bridges because I was more afraid of hitting the bridge than oncoming traffic. Traffic can move. The bridge? Not so much.

Then came the day I got my first speeding ticket. I was 40 years old. I had to drive 30 miles down the highway from home to work. I was going in late because I was the Mystery Reader for my son's first grade class that day. Ferdinand, in case you're interested. The highway is all farm land and fairly flat with a few trees. I was going a little fast and listening to Death Cab For Cutie, Soul Meets Body. Then I heard the siren. The State Trooper was right behind me! Why does no one ever tell you what to do when a cop pulls you over? It was a little nerve wracking.

I pulled onto the shoulder, turned off DCFC and turned on my hazards. I find my license and insurance and wait. The trooper gets out of the car and walks up to the window.
"Ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"

Conundrum.
Choice 1 - Admit that I know I was willfully breaking the law or;
Choice 2 - Lie and look like a distracted moron.

I go with Choice 3 - "Was I going too fast?"
"You were 92 in a 70 mile per hour zone." (Ok, I still think I was only going 90, but, whatever.)
"I'm going to have to ticket you."

Awesome. Let's try to talk him out of it.
"So. I've never gotten a ticket. This would be the first."
"Really. The law of averages is working against you."

Ok. Fine. No talking him out of it. Then he walks around my car, looking at the hood and grill.
"So, you park under a tree?"
"Yes."
"I can tell. You need to wash your car or you'll ruin your finish."

Dad? Is that you? Did your spirit really need to come to this trooper and harass me about washing my car? Is this really the time? Come to me in a dream and harass me. Geez.

"I'll just go run your license."
"Ok. Thanks."
Did I just thank him? What a moron!

So I sit. And wait. I hang my head out the car window like a dog on a road trip. I watch as a tractor moves down the gravel road in the fields next to me. I decide the trooper is using Morse code or smoke signals to run my license. I watch the tractor turn on the access road. I watch the tractor turn onto the shoulder of the highway and chug up behind me and the trooper. I hang my head out the window to see the picture of a black Elantra, a state car, and a John Deere tractor making a stationary parade on the side of the highway. The trooper motions the tractor around us, but traffic on the highway boxes him in. The trooper stomps out of his car, plants himself in the middle of the highway lane and forces traffic over so that the tractor can chug-a-chug-a around us. Then he stomps back to his car. My kingdom for a camera phone.

Three minutes later I get my license, my insurance, and my ticket. He admonishes me to slow down and I am on my way again.

My daughter took her driver's test last week. It sounds like her tester was a lot like mine. Only she isn't a lucky driver. He failed her. So, we practice some more and hopefully next time she passes. But I hope that this means she'll be a good driver, not just a lucky one.

The Boys of Summer

Summer means baseball. National League, never American League. Atlanta Braves all the way, baby. I love baseball because Pop loved baseball, and I love the Braves thanks to Pop and Ted Turner.

Pop was a farm kid who grew up listening to Cardinal baseball. He and his dad were close enough in age that they played on the same local team in Keytesville. At one of the games a Cardinals' scout saw Pop play and was impressed. He found Pop's aunt in the stands and gave her his information. He told her he wanted Pop to try out for the Cardinals. She never told Pop. Not until years later. She didn't think that baseball was an appropriate vocation for a young man. A fine past time, but never a career. When I asked him about it, he claimed it didn't make him angry or upset. Maybe that was true by the time we were talking about it, I had to take him at his word. Still, it seems a shame that he was denied the opportunity to do something he loved due to someone else's idea of what was appropriate.

In the summer I would stay with Nanny and Pop and he would listen to Cardinal baseball. Later when they moved to town and got cable, he watched them on TV. On afternoons when Nanny was out, and therefore baseball wouldn't interfere with her "stories", Pop would flip around the channels until he found a game. The Cardinals and the Royals were his favorites and finally the Braves too. I would lay on the rough, cabbage rose floral upholstered couch with my nose in a book and listen.

Ted Turner is a genius for many reasons, but the one that sticks out in my mind is putting the Braves on TBS. Ted owned an awesome, popular Superstation and a less awesome, not-so-popular baseball team. He put them together like chocolate and peanut butter and made something great. With 162 games to be televised, you either had to give into Stockholm Syndrome or become a football fan. Baseball Stockholm Syndrome isn't as bad as it sounds.

Pop would turn on the game and I would lay on the couch with Louisa May Alcott or a Harlequin romance. If reading times were really tough, there was the Rural Missourian magazine or the Moberly Monitor-Index available. We would split a Coke and listen to Skip Carey give the play-by-play. I freely admit I still get bored during pitcher's duels.

Oh man, the Braves were rotten. And those robin's egg blue uniforms?! Ugh. When Skip Carey would announce the attendance (usually a little over 5,000 people) the camera wouldn't pan the stadium like at Cardinals' games, but stayed in tight behind home plate where the people were clustered together. None of that mattered when the Braves won. It just made the wins that much sweeter.

I've seen the Braves play at Fulton County Stadium and twice at Busch. Once on my birthday! And someday I'll see them at Turner Field. My hope is to go to Cooperstown when Greg Maddox, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz get inducted. However, since I doubt they'll all go in the same year I'll have to pick just one. Here's looking at you Tommy Glavine.

Lobster Tales

On Foodie Tuesday Ande Bliss wrote an essay on the joys of lobster. Lobster bisque, lobster rolls and, of course, boiled lobster.

I must confess that not one bite of lobster has ever passed my lips, nor shall it. I was scarred at a young age and shall never recover. Here follows my Tales Of Lobster (cue organ music and lightning).

I grew up in the center of a state that is in the center of the country. "Fresh fish" include catfish and trout. "Seafood" is tunafish, from a can, mixed with relish and Miracle Whip. Sorry Charlie.
Our house was small with five rooms. My aunts went to college in town and we were pretty close as they were only 11 and 12 years older than me. One evening my Aunt Deb was to bring her current beau to our house for dinner and she stated that she would bring the main course. In classic Deb fashion, she and the beau were approximately an hour late, hadn't stated what the "main course" was, and didn't own a pot, pan or dish in which to cook it. So, an hour late they arrive with "dinner". Two live lobsters.

I'm sure you're thinking, "Wow. Impressive." Eight year old Sam was thinking, "Gigantic, miracle-gro fed crawdads struggling to get away so they can eat me!"
You say, ""No! Fresh seafood. Thoughtful." Sam says, "Landlocked state in city two hours from the nearest airport. Do we need to go over the definition of "fresh"?"
You thoughts include, "Excellent chance to challenge young Sam's developing taste buds." Sam says, "They are screaming when you put them in the boiling water! Look!! They are trying to escape!" Then she runs crying from the kitchen.

Tears and chicken noodle soup at the piano bench in the living room were my fine dining experience that night. But since the house was so small there was no way to get away from the screaming food in the kitchen.

As I got a little older, lobster continued to gain in popularity along with 8-track tapes and feathered bangs. The 'premier' grocery store in town, Nowell's (with two locations to serve you), had a lobster tank. Those poor bastards probably thought they were in a living hell and would welcome death by boiling water. Plucked from their sea home, thrown in a crate and flown to the Midwest, then driven two hours to be tossed into a 1-1/2 x 3 foot glass box. You could smell them from two aisles away. If you had wanted to pick a lobster, the water and tank were so filthy, you could barely see them lethargically swimming in the murk. Mmm, lobster. Yummy.

My final lobster tale involves actual lobster tails. The date: Prom Night 1983. The place: Bobby Buford's Restaurant. The crime: Cluelessness at fine-ish dining. The scene: Eight teenagers vs. One long-suffering waiter who must have totally pissed off the restaurant hostess earlier in the day. We sit, we finally order: Steak, Steak, Steak, Steak, Lobster Tails, Steak, Steak, Nothing, thank you. I am sitting by Lobster Tails, of course.

We dilly, we dally, we drive the poor waiter nuts and then the bill arrives. Lobster Tails wants to split the bill evenly four ways. Even though I am not paying, I turn and look at him and announce, "Why should C (my date will remain nameless to protect the mortally embarrassed) pay for your lobster tails? Or D, when his date didn't even eat anything? Especially since your stupid lobster cost twice as much as everyone else's dinner." As B and I sat arguing, C looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and the waiter appeared to want to strangle all eight of us and then enjoy an uninterrupted evening with a bottle of Jack.

A week later I read in Ann Landers that when something like this happens you pay and then fix it later. Thanks, Ann! Would it have killed you to publish that little bit of information two weeks earlier? (Sorry again, C.)

There you go lobster. Three strikes and you're out.

I'm Stuck On You

I love magnets. Do you ever look at people's refrigerators? Magnets are casual snapshots of your life stuck on your fridge. And as souvenirs they can't be beat, small portable and usually economically priced. Example: True/False hoodie = $50. True/False magnet = $4. Magnet for the win! I have the usual boring, but necessary magnets: doctor, appliance repairman, but I also have NOUN magnets.

Persons: 9 seasons of photo magnets from baseball, one season of softball and one of the boy and the girl at the zoo. I have Sirius Black on a "Wanted" poster, and Elvis.

Places: I've been everywhere man, I've been everywhere: Santa Monica, Washington DC, Graceland, US Senate, Portland, Seattle and Forks Washington (gift from my sister, hey, much better than the spoon she was promising).

And Things: Oakland Eagles, Cedar Ridge Cardinals, a Hershey bar, Blue Hawaii poster, a magnet of the eight planets (Air and Science Museum), the Smithsonian Castle, the I Didn't Speak Poem from the Holocaust Museum (another gift) and finally Beast and Wolverine. X-Men Rule! I wish I had Ironman and Magneto. Those would be cool and funny.

One of my favorite magnets is from my trip to Las Vegas. It is from the Debbie Reynolds Hollywood Casino and Hotel. Yes, Debbie had a casino and hotel in the 1990s. I went with three friends for another friend's wedding. Before we ever left Missouri I was talking up the Debbie Reynolds Costume Museum and being shot down repeatedly. The first night there, we were shaken down in the lobby of the Luxor so the bride could keep the limousine longer. The next day we ditched the bridal party.

We went to the Gold Coast Hotel and Casino. Awesomely tacky chandeliers, carpet and uniforms. Everything Vegas is supposed to be. I played the dollar slots and turned my $1 into a big 46 smackeroos! I was ecstatic! Taxi rides and Costume Museum tickets all around! And since I was paying the other three were in.

IT WAS FANTASTIC! We sat in a theatre and watched a revolving stage of costumes and sets from all types of movies through the years. The sides of the theatre lit up at different times to showcase even more costumes and a narrative explained the items' origins. It lasted at least an hour. Some of my favorites were the green and white checkered suits that Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor wore in Singin' In The Rain and the ape suits from Planet of the Apes. It was awesome and my friends loved it (of course) and told me I was right to "make" them go (of course). We exited the theatre and went to the gift shop where I got my magnet.

Poor Debbie. She is so wonderful, but the men in her life do her wrong. A while after we went to the museum Debbie Reynolds had a bit of financial difficulty and all of those fabulous costumes are now in storage. But, I got to see them and I have the magnet to prove it.

One of My Favorite Things

I went to an estate sale this weekend and saw some of the ugliest, most expensive pink French Provincial futurniture to ever exist on this planet.

I started thinking about our furniture. The first time I was in a furniture store, I was 27 years old and buying a mattress. In my family, if you needed furniture, you called my grandmother, Nanny. Beds, dressers, desks, portable dishwashers, whatever. You asked there first. I've written about my grandfather, Pop, before and this is another story.

In college, I needed a bookcase. I called Nanny and she had me tell Pop what I needed. He said he would think on it. About two months later he had me come to his basement workshop. He showed me their old console television. It was about 4-1/2 feet wide and about 2 feet deep on 6 inch legs with a decorative scallop on the bottom.

Hmm. Nice. Then he said, "Sam, this is your new bookcase."
Oh-kay. "How's that gonna work, Pop?"
"Well, I'll...blah, blah, Ginger, blah, blah..."

Oh-kay. But, I had to wait my turn. He was finishing something for Nanny and then had to finish a chest of drawers for my cousin and then it would be my turn.

Pop started in bits and pieces. First, all the wiring, tubes, screen etc., were removed. Then after a bit, the decorative piece and the legs. Then, he sawed the console in half, lengthwise. He stacked the front on top of the back, glued, nailed and clamped it. Finally, he cut paneling and white board to fit the back of the "new" frame.

With that part done, he started to work on the doors. He had some trim pieces that he had salvaged from Nanny's childhood home and he always tried to incorporate them into things he did for the grandkids, if it made sense. So, the doors were made out of the trim and varnished to match the television. He made each door two panel and each panel was a pane of glass. He did this so that the doors would have a trim piece that went across the length of the front of the cabinet to hide where the two parts of the television were put together. That way, no one looking at it with the doors closed would see that thick shelf.

Next, he sanded and varnished walnut shelves that were left over from some other project and put in some adjustable holders so that I could make the shelves the size I needed. He attached the legs to the bottom, took the decorative scallop, flipped it so the scalloping went up rather than down and attached it to back of the top of the bookcase. He put on the doors, put in the shelves and Voila! from 1972 console television to glass fronted bookcase.

I have the cabinet in my living room. I make people guess what it started out life as, but no one has ever gotten it right. Now, it is full of dishes and knick knacks rather than books. I see it everyday and marvel that this man could look at an old television and envision my beautiful bookcase. I know how much work and love Pop put into for me and that makes it even more special. I love to share this story about my bookcase and my Pop.

Same-Sex Marriage and Universal Healthcare

Here's a little something for you to think about.

There are 10 countries in the world which have legalized same-sex marriage.

Argentina, Norway, Iceland, Canada, Sweden, South Africa, The Netherlands, Belgium, Spain, and Portugal.

The Netherlands were a leader once again by legalizing same-sex marriage in 2000. Twelve years now and people are still buying tulips. I would have thought it would be hard to grow tulips once you to go to hell, but apparently not.

Four of these ten countries are predominantly Catholic. One of these countries is on a continent where homosexuality is frequently illegal and/or condemned.

Of these 10 countries, eight (8) have universal healthcare.

80% of the countries that have realized that all people should be able to marry the person they love, regardless of sex, have also realized that healthcare should be made available to everyone.

Happy and Healthy. What a novel concept America.







Information from Foreignpolicy.com and researchmaniacs.com

My Totally Awesome Story

AWESOME

Without ME, it’s just Awe So.



My awesome story is that I got on the elevator today and a guy got on at the same time and with a quick side glance I thought it was Jonathan Capehart. (Fangirl Flutter, Fangirl Flutter). I was all ready to say hello, (and probably something stupid) so that I could go back home and lord it over my comrades back home that I had “met” Jonathan Capehart. Deep breath. Another deep breath. I turn and say, “Hel…lo....” NOT Jonathan Capehart. I’m a dork. He’s looking at me like I’m a dork. (Think fast, think fast, Save the moment, save the moment) “What floor would you like? I can push the button.” (I can push the button? Really. You mean the button he already pushed? Totally NOT saving the moment, but at least I did fulfill the saying something stupid part of the plan.) By that time we were at his floor. He was very nice and said, “Thank you for being so gracious.” No, good sir, THANK YOU for not calling me out on my dorkiness. You are awesome.

Missing Out

My training this week has been great and I know it will help me with my job, but I am a bit bummed out too. My daughter just called me to tell me about her induction ceremony into National Honor Society. Last night she was given for awards for her participation in Amnesty International, Youth in Government (writing and presenting bills for a statewide student legislature), Mock Trial Competition, and Speak Your Mind (Current Events Forum). And I missed that too. Although she also missed it because the soccer team had an away game last night.

Monday I visited George Mason University and tomorrow I go to George Washington University and American University to look them over. She really wants to go to school here in the DC area, but I don't know how we'll swing it. She is very interested in Georgetown, but that isn't happening. The reality is a 3.65 GPA, all honors and AP classes, 13 clubs, soccer, a regional title in policy debate, three honor societies, and tutoring gifted kids for the A+ program (and this doesn't even touch next year) isn't enough. I refuse to tell my sweet, bright, beautiful child that she is not enough.

So take that Georgetown! We don't need you. There are like 2,774 four year colleges in the US. We still have 2,770 to go.

(I'm proud of you sweetheart!)

We Don't Talk Anymore

Yesterday as I was sitting at the gate waiting for my flight, I realized that we have lost the ability to sit and do nothing. Or to sit and make small talk with a complete stranger. Everywhere I looked people were on iPhones or laptops or iPads. Now, before you call me a hypocrite I wrote this in a journal with a pencil (Ok. A mechanical pencil) and I am now sending it out into cyberspace (NOW you can call me a hypocrite).

I was sitting across from a youngish couple. The guy was on his iPad, his wife was texting on her phone while also on the laptop. They may have said 20 words to one another the entire wait. Further down the row was a family. Mom and Dad on their respective iPhones and the boy, around three I'd guess, on his game device. No talking, no touching, no communication at all with the people they were actually with. Weird.

Remember that Star Trek: TNG episode where the two giant robots were battling and in the process destroying a planet? Captain Picard and the Enterprise crew finally figured out that it was two kids, who had no idea of the existance of the other, in different areas playing a game. They had been so isolated that the only way they knew how to connect with the world was through a game device.

As great as all this technology is sometimes I think it is pulling us further apart, even as it brings us closer together.

Missouri State Fair, August 1972

Pensive Person's post got me to thinking about my family and our outings.

Family outings were not big on our list. I live in a state with two major league baseball teams (I saw my first game Cards/Phillies when I was 24), a world famous FREE zoo (I was 13 and went with other people), two amusement parks (we only went a handful of times, which is ok. Newton proved gravity with an apple - I have no need to prove it with a two-ton rollercoaster) and Branson/Silver Dollar City (once was enough for a lifetime). We usually went to the Boone County Fair (Sheep, cows, horses, and Tilt-A-Whirls, oh my!) and I've been to the State Fair twice.

In 1972, I was seven and received an allowance. For what, I have no idea, but I got one. My dad said, "We'll treat this just like a real job. Every week I'll record your allowance in the checkbook and keep the balance. Then, when you want something you can check the balance and see if you can afford it." I know what you are thinking. Smart auditor dad teaching about budgeting, saving and delayed gratification. Hmm. Maybe. If so, it didn't stick. What I truly believe is that if we kept track "like a real job" then he didn't have to scrounge up five bucks every week for me to squirrel away in my room somewhere and lose.

That year what I really wanted more than anything in the world was a red and white portable record player. A real one, not a little kid one. So, I "saved" enought that my dad took me to Radio Shack - then called Tandy - and I became the proud owner of a red and white portable record player with built-in speaker and pop-up ring for the 45s I would someday own. Oh my god, it was a thing of beauty. But then I needed something to play on it. Real music...like The Jackson 5. I loved The Jackson 5.
Shockingly, Tandy did not have a vast array of music and only one Jackson 5 album, which I, my family, and anyone within hearing distance of my home would come to know intimately, "Looking Through The Windows" (released May 1972).

You don't remember it? Really? It had the title song, which I think was a single, an Ashford/Simpson cover, some other songs and a cover of Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes". Only I didn't know it was a cover. Imagine my surprise when I heard the original version. I loved that album. In fact, I still own it.

That summer I heard on the radio that The Jackson 5 were going to be at the Missouri State Fair in August. Can we go? Can we go? No, too hot, too expensive, blah, blah. Ok, pretty much the answer I expected, so I forgot about it.

The evening of August 21, a week before school started, my dad announced that we were going to the State Fair. Great. I've never been. That will be fun. No, dear reader, The Jackson 5 never crossed my mind. I was a fairly clueless child and besides my dad had said no. Unlike with my own kids, no meant no.

We got the fair and spent the day looking at exhibits, riding the rides and drinking copious amounts of soda because it was blazingly hot and humid. As the sun started to go down, my dad said it was time to go. Instead of walking to the gates to the parking lot he led us toward the Grandstand.

Basically as a child and an adult I will wander around watching people, so if I am following you, you can lead me anywhere and I won't question you, which was exactly what I was doing that night.
Then I saw it. A huge poster announcing The Jackson 5. He was taking me to see THE JACKSON 5. I WAS GOING TO SEE MICHAEL JACKSON AND THE JACKSON 5! ME!! I was the luckiest girl on the planet. I EVEN got a souvenir program with bios and pictures! Wow, oh wow. Nothing is ever going to be better than this.

As my dad led us higher and higher up the metal bleachers the opening act was setting up. What's an opening act? I have to sit through something called "The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band"? Who are they and why do I care? Just hurry up....oh wait. I know this "Mr. Bojangles" song. I like it. Ok, that was nice...NOW hurry up!

And then, there they are...THE JACKSON 5! They sing, they dance, they tell corny jokes, they change their clothes for absolutely no reason. They are so nice they let their little sister come on stage. Janet. Janet has a really cool tangerine floor length dress that I covet. She sings a song, but she's nothing special, because Michael is singing again. There is Tito with his hat, Jackie is spinning and looking super cool, there is Marlon with his cute hair and Jermaine! Oh my. I'm singing and dancing on the bleachers and no one is telling me to sit down!

It was one of the best nights of my life.

As I got older and my dad and I became even more alike in personality we weren't close. Communication? The closest we came is the fact that I am pretty sure we could both spell it. I know my mom loves me, but she would never have done something like this. This type of grand gesture complete with fake out and surprise was all my dad and I know it was his way of showing me he loved me.

Thanks Dad. I miss you.

Thank You For Your Support

Last night when I had my mini meltdown and you were there to support me and help me back up meant more than you will know.

I went to the library and just enjoyed the quiet and the books and went home to have a nice cup of tea. Ok, it was actually a pretty crappy cup of tea because I am out of the good stuff, so it was really just one small step up from the the vile stuff you get at a restaurant, but it was warm in the mug and comforting. Then I had a bath and a good night's sleep.

I'm ready to go do my job to the best of my ability and be happy doing it and I thank you, Phyllis, Kim, Deborah, L'heure, Barbara and Patience for that. Now, you, Pensive Person, I am on the fence about, because I really, really want a huge helping of mashed potatoes with cream gravy. :) I'm just kidding. Thank you for your kind comment and support. (Well, I'm not kidding about the mashed potatoes.)

Tonight I will leave work to go sit in the rain and freeze my butt off watching the girl play soccer and it'll all be good. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart!

MM
Froze my butt, but it didn't rain and they won! 1-0. Woo hoo 2-0 for the season!

State Mock Trial

My girl's high school mock trial team won their districts and advanced to state. One of 16 schools. Very exciting, as it is her first year with mock trial. The team lost a couple of people to spring break, but the plaintiff and defense teams worked together to ensure everything was covered and practiced hard to make sure they were as good as possible.

The Plaintiffs went Friday night against a private school from St. Louis and by all accounts, weren't too bad. The Defense (yay!) went Saturday morning against the #1 team in the state and the #2 team in the country (another private school. Shocking). Luck of the draw, literally. The girl was awesome (in my humble opinion). The defense lost. However, their loss was not an annihilation. They acquitted themselves nicely and learned in the process. They were proud of themselves, as they should have been. And we were/are proud of them too.

Then they got to eat the best barbecue in the world: Arthur Bryant's. Definitely a good weekend.

Gaysian

I heard the word for the first time today. Gaysian. I knew immediately what it meant. A gay asian. A hip blending of two things into one easy name. Like Brangelina or whatever. I work with people younger than me, like I could be their mom if I had lost my mind and had children at 20, younger than me. And I have to say, this word, Gaysian, bothered me. "Oh, Steve. He's gaysian." Could there be two less important things for me to know about Steve? Maybe I am being oversensitive, but it feels like a lazy attempt at humor. To "humorous" distill a human down to an easily digestible trendy tidbit.

As a descriptor is doesn't do much. Does he look like Pat Morita, or Daniel Kim, or Richard Lui, or Sendhil Ramamurthy? Those men are all Asian and they look nothing alike. You can tell me anything in the world to describe him and and this is what you choose? How about: Does Steve like Ron Paul or Dennis Kucinich? Is he vegetarian or carnivore? Does he like the Atlanta Braves or the Detroit Tigers? What is his job? Does he like the outdoors? Which is the better trilogy, Godfather or Terminator? Why is it acceptable to freely share Steve's sexual orientation and his racial make up? Because it's cute? Because someone put a clever listing in urban dictionary?

We don't do this with straight people. My friend Maggie is white and straight. Imagine if I said, "Oh Maggie, she's whaight." or "Maggie's strite." Neither one is particularly catchy. This tells you nothing about her beautiful brown eyes, that she makes the best pecan muffins, likes horrible reality TV and is a Cubs fan. It doesn't tell you that she has a kind heart and wicked laugh.

Or my friend Amy, who is black and straight. Again. "Amy's blaight?" or "My friend Amy is strack?" Again, not catchy. What exactly do you get from that? What you don't get is that she is genuinely the happiest person I have ever met. That she is tall and beautiful and has a laugh that can fill a room. That she wants to be a prosecutor and that she likes romance novels and thai food and drives like a bat out of hell.

Maybe I'm too sensitive or looking to be bothered, but I don't think so. Don't we already have enough problems with pigeonholing people?

One of the BEST COMMENTS EVER

 Written by Brad Nelson in response to the post: Mickey Mouse Peed On A House

As you seem to be a fan of pretentious musicians I figure showing up late to the party is the cool thing to do. Besides, everyones usually already tippsy and the conversation as well as atmosphere is more lively. In this case I seem to have gone beyond fashionable and strayed into the tripping over bottles and slipping in vomit stage but what the hell, better late than never!

For my choice I'm betting the house. Using scientific method I must deduce from childhood experience and thorough playground knowledge that any given elimination rhyme must have in it an element of chance or it becomes a sucker bet. Case in point, the color of 'pee'.

The two choices here are, by default, yellow with a form factor of six and clear with but five. Just as in a game of three card monty, the caller can always manipulate the outcome, in this instance by simple placement of the shill. In a four man/woman/child scenario the one to the immediate left of the caller has a zero chance of becoming 'IT' due to simple arithmetic.

Of course to add some subtle nuance to the con, the two words Mickey and Mouse can be combined to make one word and thus the player to the immediate left becomes the dreaded one. The key here is that in either scenario the caller is at all times safe from elimination.

To further my case that the house is the only correct answer, take into account that only the young or feeble of intellect will fall for this simple ruse over time not to mention the guilt factor involved in manipulating loved ones in such a manner, an intangible yes, but one with long range repercussions on the psyches of all parties involved.

Now when one uses 'house' as the designator the game becomes, while still easily manipulated, a far more fair and equitable method of choice. While green and white do nothing to change up the outcome, red and blue do though again, the chooser can still easily manipulate the outcome by use of fast and simple arithmetic.

Now this is where things become more adult oriented and thus the game more interesting. There exists a vast and varied color chart apart from the rainbow, one which, when utilized in the context of this simple elimination rhyme, adds a new element and dimension to this once simple equation.

Chartreuse, vermilion, magenta, aquamarine, the possibilities are too numerous and varied to list and add an element of randomness that was otherwise lacking when use of 'pee' was the sole arbiter.

They also add a learning factor. I myself had to look up the correct spelling on these examples and while there was treated to a lesson on history and origin as an unanticipated bonus. It's like Bill Nye the Science Guy is right there in the circle, eager to see who must go fetch the next round of beverages or wash the carrion scented domestic companion.

In conclusion, I believe I have proven beyond reasonable doubt why the use of 'house' is the correct answer to your conundrum and should henceforth be the only plausable designator in all future uses of the afore mentioned ryhme.

Mickey Mouse Peed On A House

This is stupid, but it is bugging the hell out of me.  The kids still play the Mickey Mouse elimination rhyme.  Except every time it devolves into a grammar argument.  Here we go:

 Mickey Mouse peed on a house.  What color was it?

The boy and I say it is about the color of the pee, which obviously limits your color choice options.  The Man and the girl-child say it is about the color of the house.

So, which is it?  Pee or House?  Argh!  Who thinks of these stupid rhymes anyway?

The Island President and Secret Screening Orange

Saturday at True/False started at 10.30 am with The Island President. Directed by Jon Shenk, The Island President documents the story of President Mohamed Nasheed's first year in office as President of The Maldives.
The Maldives is a nation of a string of 2000 islands in the Pacific. When President Nasheed was elected, the country had been under the military dictatorship of the former President for 30 years. The most pressing issue facing President Nasheed was climate change. As The Maldives are only 1.5 meters above sea level, as the earth's temperature and ocean's rise, The Maldives and its people face extinction. President Nasheed states, "It won't be any good to have a democracy if we don't have a country." This film shows what he goes through and what he is willing to do to save his country and his people culminating in his game-changing speech at the Copenhagen Climate Summit in 2009.

I loved this movie. It was humorous, inspiring, serious and educational. It made me realize that as well read on world politics as I think I am, that I really am not and that I need to correct that. Here is a link to a news website on the Maldives. http://www.democracymaldives.com/ The cinematography is beautiful and the soundtrack by Radiohead adds and isn't distracting. I ranked this movie #2 out of 9. If you get the chance, please go see The Island President.

The next movie I saw on Saturday was Secret Screening Orange. Here is the deal about Secret Screenings, they are like Fight Club. First rule about Secret Screenings, you can't write about Secret Screenings. Here is what I can tell you. The directors wanted to cut four minutes from the movie and were using us as guinea pigs. My answer?  Yes!  Please cut at least four minutes from this incredibly depressing movie. Please.

Finally, I didn't get to see this one, but in between The Island President and Secret Screening Orange the Man and the girl-child went to see Searching for Sugar Man. It's the story about a musician from the '70s who didn't really hit it big, or apparently even hit it little, disappeared amongst all these bizarre death story rumors and then somehow his music gets to South Africa during Apartheid and he becomes bigger than Elvis. Seriously. Only no one knows if he is even alive. Man and girl both loved this movie. One ranked it #1 and one ranked it #2. So, I'm sorry I missed it.

Next up...Vivan Las Antipodas! and Comic-Con Episode IV: A Fan's Hope.

www.truefalse.org

Paraiso and Building Babel

Friday night was Building Babel and we were treated to the short film Paraiso.

Paraiso directed by Nadav Kurtz is the story of window washers in Chicago, what they do and what they see. I have to admit I don't have a head for heights and some of the camera angles gave me vertigo, but that's on me, not the movie. At only 10 minutes long Kurtz packs in a lot. You see the danger and the great pride they take in their work. You also get to know them on a more personal level, their humor, how they feel about their families, their job, and their lives. I loved this movie. I saw eight full length films and one short. This one was ranked #5 out of 9.

Building Babel directed by David Osit tells the story of the attempt to build an Islamic Community Center approximately 2 blocks away from Ground Zero. The protagonist is Sharif el-Gamel, an American born citizen of New York who is a real estate developer. He wants to build an Islamic community center with a prayer room. This has all the hallmarks of being a great idea and a great story, a la Frank Capra, but Sharif el-Gamel is no Gary Cooper or Jimmy Stewart. This story was a bit unsatisfying, as this project could literally be tied up forever it obviously it has no end. In addition, the protagonist is just not that likable and the director really wasn't able to make me care about Sharif and the project one way or the other. Additionally, I just could not suspend disbelief enough to go with the idea that Sharif el-Gamel had no idea whatsoever that this community center would cause such a firestorm. I think he thought he would get some free publicity and was completely unprepared for the backlash. I was disappointed. This one ranked #8 out of 9.

Busker's Last Stand

I must start by admitting I was wrong. Previously I stated that I didn't really enjoy the busking that goes on between movies at True/False. I have now decided that I must take it on a case by case basis. Some of the bands I saw were good, some were bad, one was fantastic and one I could not hear or understand, but that wasn't really their fault.

Friday night's band was a brother duo from Bloomington, Indiana called Busman's Holiday http://www.myspace.com/busmansholiday. A snare drum/ guitar duo, who are the Mutt and Jeff of brothers. One tall and slender, one less tall and less slender with a full beard. They were in the Globe Theatre, which was a transformed church community room that sat about 200 people. (I'm totally guessing.) They were very good, harmonized well and did mostly original songs and one Kinks cover. When the tip hat came around, we contributed and I made a mark by their name in my True/False guide.

Saturday morning was Richard the Lionhearted, a local band http://lionheartedband.com/. They are a five piece band, although I have to be honest and tell you I never could figure out what one guy was playing. It looked like a toy upright piano/spice rack from the back, but it was plugged into an amp, so who knows. I wasn't too impressed, but it was 9:30 in the morning and they were playing to a hall that probably holds 1200 people (totally guessing again). Their voices/instruments were just not "big" enough to fill the hall. And the lead singer told a lame joke about "Hello, we're Mumford and Sons". The best part was a really long instrumental where the singer got to rest his voice. I guess I damn them with faint praise when I say they didn't interrupt my newspaper reading. No money in the tip hat.

Saturday afternoon at the Globe and the band is...Richard the Lionhearted! Yes! Thirty-two bands playing and I get a local band two times in one day! They were much more accessible in a smaller venue and I enjoyed them much more. Their mandolin player looked incredibly uncomfortable, think Stuart Sutcliffe with The Beatles. Same lame Mumford and Sons joke, still couldn't figure out what the spice rack guy was playing and guiltily didn't put anything in the tip hat. They are being watched by the french busker darlings Les Trois Coups.

Later Saturday afternoon, standing in line outside the Missouri Theatre, I hear a band busking by the entrance. No! Could it be? Yes, Richard the Lionhearted as a three piece! At that point, I say to my musical higher power, if I see them tomorrow I will give a dollar for every time I saw them today. Promise. Into the Missouri Theatre we go. The most beautiful venue and holds approximately 800 people (you know the drill...totally guessing) Les Trois Coups are the the musical act. They're ok. I don't think they are all that. They are a four piece from Lille, France http://www.myspace.com/troiscoups and co-conspirator Paul Sturtz saw them whilst he was on vacation and "had" to have them come play True/False. Yeah, that's not at all pretentious. They played a guitar, an accordian, a flute/saxophone, and a wooden box. They reminded me of the Marx Brothers in looks, but Jerry Lewis in attitude. All wacky slapstick on stage and then you know they walked off stage and were all serious and demanding and smoking their Gauloises and discussing Jean-Paul Sautre, sounding like Paul Belmondo. Ok, maybe not, but that is where my imagination took me. No tip hat in the balcony. Hmmm.

The final band on Saturday was Pearl and the Beard http://pearlandthebeard.com/ from Brooklyn, NY in Jesse Auditorium. They were fabulous. A three piece with guitar, snare drum (and other assorted instruments, including a kazoo) and a stand up cello. Their harmonies were beautiful. They filled the auditorium with their prescence and sound. They were infectious and fun. All three people took turns singing lead and every few songs they had a violinist come out and play with them. I would love to see them again! They got their tip money and someone else's when the hat came around.

Sunday morning, 9:30 am. Nick Jaina, Portland, Oregon http://nickjaina.com/. According to Paul Sturtz he saw Nick in Portland and knew he had to play True/False. At this point I feel I can say that Paul and I do not have the same taste in music. It was early, it was a large hall, Nick was flat, Nick didn't seem excited or at a minimum happy to be there. He introduced himself and ignored his band members. Then he introduced himself again later in the set and said, "This is my band." Nice. The girl-child and I were sitting there and saw the tip hat going around. After sitting through this I felt even more guilty for not giving to Richard the Lionhearted. Girl and I talked and decided to give Nick a tip. I got out a piece of paper and she wrote a "tip" that went something like this: "Dear Nick Jaina, This tip is of the "underwear first, then pants" variety. Introduce your band and give them props. It's a nice thing to do. Yours constructively, girl-child and Midwest Muse". After the movie we get Nick Jaina again (we spent the entire day at Jesse) and he introduced his band. Once, but still...Hello, Max and Macon! Nick can be taught! Yay!

Sunday evening, Run-On Sentence, also from Portland, Oregon http://runonsentencemusic.com/ . There isn't much I can tell you about them, they had the unfortunate luck of being the band that had to play before the big closing night movie, so they couldn't hardly be heard. I think they might be a pretty good five piece and their lead singer must hold Ronnie Van Zandt as a fashion icon if his outfit and beard was anything to go by. In the lobby, we heard Bramble (very good) http://runonsentencemusic.com/ and Why Are We Building Such a Big Ship? (also good, although the bigger question is why do you have such a long name?) http://whyarewebuildingsuchabigship.bandcamp.com/

That's my musical review. I hope to get to the movies soon. You can find out more about the bands at www.truefalse.org.

Gimme Truth!

True/False is more than just your favorite part of a multi-sectioned test, it is excitement, movement, movies and fun.

Every year around the last weekend in February/first weekend in March the dynamic duo of "co-conspirators" David Wilson and Paul Sturtz put on their Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland hats and put on a show. A documentary film festival called True/False. David and Paul showed movies in the little indie arthouse movie theatre, The Ragtag, where people paid to sit on donated office furniture and one of the ugliest couches ever known to man, drink adult beverages and watch wonderful films that we didn't get to see in our mainstream theaters. Then they got the brilliant idea to begin True/False about 9 years ago. It was small, but mighty. The main venues were The Ragtag, The Blue Note (a vaudeville theatre that now is a music venue) and the Missouri Theatre (a beautiful movie palace full of stained glass and chandeliers). They don't just show the films though, every film has the director or someone associated with it come to our town and do question and answers about the film, workshops, etc. (Hi Algis!  hint hint)The weather can be a bit dicey.  We've had clear, cold, 70s and sunny, 70s and cloudy, tornado warnings and snowstorms.  Every year, it gets bigger, but still retains the feel of the earlier years.

This year, there are 8 venues - Little Ragtag (the original), Big Ragtag (the new and improved), The Blue Note, The Globe (aka The First Presbyterian Church), The Picturehouse (aka Missouri United Methodist Church), The Missouri Theatre, The Forrest Theatre (aka a venue in the Tiger Hotel named for a beloved local columnist who passed on), and Jesse Auditorium. There are parties where ticket holders and film makers mingle, secret screenings, a game show (Gimme Truth), a 5k run, workshops, a parade, music and buskers. I know, I know. Buskers are music. Yes, they are, if you like them, which I usually don't. Buskers are outside the venues and sometimes inside the venues prior to film. Everyone else seems to love them. More power to you. There is usually a big concert at the close of True/False. In the past we have had Of Montreal, Apples in Stereo, and They Might Be Giants - those are the only ones I can think of off the top of my head.

The parade is called The March March, even though sometimes it is in February.  Anyone can participate, you can dress up in costumes if you like, play music, individually or as a group, including a punk rock marching band and the University drum line. You can run, walk, skip, sing, whatever makes you happy. You don't have to sign up, just show up. It gets things off to a fun start.

This year I won two Simple Passes from the radio (thanks KBXR! www.bxr.com). I was so excited. 10 movies for each pass.  I'll be spending most of the weekend in the Missouri Theatre and Jesse Auditorium with a couple of stops at The Globe.

For me, Friday night starts with "Building Babel" http://buildingbabelfilm.com/.  

Then Saturday the man and I see "The Island President" http://theislandpresident.com/, and  "Vivan Las Antipodas!" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1757939/plotsummary.   In between those two, the man and the girl-child will see "Searching for Sugar Man" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2125608/ and then the girl-child and I will see "Secret Screening Orange".   Secret screenings are movies that haven't yet had their debuts, so it's like a super sneak preview. Then the man and I end the day with "Comic-Con Episode IV: A Fan's Hope" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1605782/.   I am sooo excited about that one. It was the first one I picked!

Finally on Sunday, the girl-child and I will go see "How to Survive a Plague" http://www.howtosurviveaplague.com/, followed by "Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry" http://aiweiweineversorry.com/, then she and the man will see "1/2 Revolution" http://www.half-revolution.com/updates.html and we finish the festival with the man and I seeing recent Oscar winner "Undefeated" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1860355/.

Who has time for parties with all that? I'll let you know next week how it all went. In the meantime, check out www.truefalse.org

Me and Betty

"The man you marry will know the way he likes his eggs.  And chances are he'll be fussy about them.  So it behooves a good wife to know how to make an egg behave in six basic ways."  - Betty Crocker Cookbook, page 205, 1969 edition.

I like to bake and I'm pretty good at it.  I'm no Bellwether Vance (unless you haven't read Bell, then I am EXACTLY like her, without the southern charm), but I do ok.  I have my grandmother's orange 1969 edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook, complete with my, then teenaged, aunts' handwritten notes of "delicious" and "beautiful, but extremely rich".  It also includes multiple clippings taped inside to ensure a faultless meringue (obviously an issue), and my own addition, a lovely circular burn imprint on the back where I laid it on the stove for "just one second".  This book has fantastic recipes with truly helpful information of all types, as well as unintentional hilarity such as the above quote.  I don't know about you, but the only eggs I intend to make behave are the ones that have become my teenagers.

Apparently we have a force within our garage that is interested in the contents of the freezer.  Recently, said force gave the contents a thorough look-see.  However, said force either has no upper body strength or lacks the knowledge to shut the freezer door.  An open freezer door all night makes things...less frozen.  After throwing out the boring stuff , I find two thawed pie crusts and some thawed cranberries.  This is where Betty comes in, 'cause it's pie time!

This pie is simple and tastes great.  Everyone likes it, even the ones who tell you they don't like cranberries.  Plus, you can use it when you get those chain emails that want you to send a recipe off the top of your head.

Fresh Apple-Cranberry Pie*

2 pie crusts
3 medium tart apples, pared and sliced (I like Granny Smith)
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1/3 cup flour
1-1/2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons butter

Preheat oven to 425 degrees
Peel and slice apples
Stir together flour and sugar

Layer apples, cranberries and flour/sugar mixture in crust, beginning and ending with apples
(Use a liberal hand with the flour/sugar mixture)
Cut pats of butter over the top
Place second pie crust on top, crimp and vent.
Place strip of aluminum foil around the edge, so the edges don't get too done.

Bake for 40 - 50 minutes until crust is golden and filling is bubbling.  Remove aluminum strip about 15 minutes before you take the pie out of the oven.


Here is an alternate cranberry recipe, just in case you aren't a pie person.

Cranberry and Vodka**

3 oz. Grey Goose Vodka
9 oz. Cranberry Juice
Stir together in tall glass half filled with ice
Garnish with lime if you like
Serve
(No freezer required)


Do not doubt the Power of Betty.  We make a great team.







*source: Betty Crocker Cookbook, 1969 edition
**source: my best guesses according to my preferences

Lucky 13 Halloween Songs

Grimly Fiendish - The Damned (Sinister Fun)

Bela Lugosi's Dead - Bauhaus 

Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult 

 

Dead Man's Party - Oingo Boingo (Remember when Danny Elfman was just a fun, pretentious front man for an odd pop band)

This Corrosion - The Sisters of Mercy

Cities in Dust - Siouxsie and the Banshees

 

Possom Kingdom - (Vampirism or Murder, you decide)

She Sells Sanctuary - The Cult

(Everyday is) Halloween - Ministry (Mandatory and Beloved)

Burning Hell - REM

Sympathy for the Devil - The Rolling Stones (No list is complete without a Stones song)

 

Sunrise - New Order

So Alive - Love and Rockets (Sexy Halloween)

I've shown you mine, now show me yours!

 

(I'll add the videos later)

Happy Birthday To The Modfather

On this glorious day, May 25, 1958, the world was graced with the birth of musical genius Paul Weller, leader of The Jam, leader of The Style Council, solo artist extraordinaire.  Paul Weller strikes me as a bit pretentious, but I'm ok with that.  I mean, during The Style Council years, the liner notes were written by someone called The Cappuccino Kid.  Yeah, that doesn't smack of pretension.  Most singers I like seem a bit pretentious...Michael Stipe of REM, Matt Bellamy of Muse, Thom Yorke of Radiohead, Arcade Fire in its entirety...they're not coming over to my house for a night of pizza and Wii, so what do I care?  I think you probably need a bit of pretentiousness in order to survive the music business.

I first became aware of Paul Weller and The Jam in early 1983.  A friend was saving every penny to go to England after graduation, marry her boyfriend and see The Jam on their farewell tour.  Yes, I learned of The Jam as they were breaking up.  (I lived in the middle of nowhere, give me a break!)  And while our young couple did get married and then get divorced, everyone's love for The Jam is enduring.  For Paul Weller and I, well, it was love at first "The Bitterest Pill".  From there I moved backward to "A Town Called Malice", "English Rose", "Absolute Beginners", "Modern World" and on and on.  However, "That's Entertainment" is my favorite The Jam song and so I share it with you.  I love his hair in this video.  And with Paul Weller, that's not something you can say very often.

Toward the end of The Jam, you can hear a new direction in their music.  Paul Weller continues this direction through the 1980s with The Style Council.  Many hardcore The Jam fans find The Style Council to be a bit dodgy, but I like them.  Stylish, jazz-tinged, romantic love songs, longing love songs, songs about the terrible economic times that Britain was going through in the eighties.  I think it is safe to say that he has been marked off  Margaret Thatcher's Christmas card list.  When he sings "may I slash my wrists tonight", the brutal word picture is a jarring counter to the lilting melody and it is just damn beautiful.  I have favorite The Style Council songs as well, "It Didn't Matter", "Waiting", "You're The Best Thing", "Long Hot Summer" and "Wanted".  I think their best album is Our Favourite Shop, released in America as Internationalists.  You have to buy the import now, so just look for the first title.  As The Style Council went on, Paul's hair got more and more blond.  It was a little weird at first, but then he started dressing in all white, like the coolest Good Humor man on the planet, and it just seemed to fit. 

On to Paul Weller, the solo years.  Let's face it, you don't care about Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler from The Jam, nor do you care about Mick Talbot and Steve White from The Style Council.  You want to see and hear Paul Weller, and since he's now solo, you can admit it without shame.  He is friends with and collaborates with Neil Gallagher.  (Oops, I forgot to add the Gallagher brothers on my pretentious list.  Sorry guys!)  He has influenced Blur, Oasis, Arctic Monkeys and who knows who else.  And he has done an album of cover songs, because Paul Weller does not care what you think!  He knows how cool he is!  And what a glorious album of cover songs it is.  Below is his cover of Sister Sledge's "Thinking of You".  Yes! Sister Sledge of "We Are Family" fame!  Who would have made that connection! I sure as hell do not remember this song.  This is a wonderful live version, although I have to admit the flute kinda bugs me.

Well, we have now come to the end of our homage to Paul Weller, brilliant, beautiful musician.  As an added treat, I will give you one more song, "A Town Called Malice".   Happy Birthday to The Modfather, long may he reign. 

(I'll add the songs back in later.)

Random Thoughts on Sexy, Sexist Hawaii 5-O

I was ambivalent about CBS attempting to resurrect the glory of the original Hawaii Five-0.  As a kid in a landlocked state, I loved Hawaii Five-0.  The catchy theme song, the beautiful scenery, and the cool Jack Lord as the cool Steve McGarrett.  Icy cool, not hip cool.  I have only seen the show twice, but there are a few things that I have noticed.

First, what is up with the car?  Why are they always showing me the man with his car?  I know in Magnum P.I. the Ferrari was front and center, but Magnum doesn't count.  Magnum isn't Magnum without the Ferrari and a Chevy Camaro is not a Ferrari.  I think Camaros were pretty popular when I was in high school...in the '80s.

Second, everything is incredibly attractive, the people and the scenery.  One thing I do like is the location montages between scenes, like the original show did.  The Oah'u Tourist and Visitors Bureau thanks you.  The actors are very pretty too.  Alex O'Loughlin as the new Steve McGarrett is cool, but not icy.  It seems very important that the man arrive at work in a form fitting t-shirt or with his shirt unbuttoned.  The tattoo on his very well muscled bicep is always visible.  Scott Caan is Danny Williams (Danno).  He, at least, wears a tie, but neither gentleman appears to own a fully functioning razor.  Daniel Dae Kim as Chin Ho Kelly is the third outrageously attractive man on the team and the alleged "bad" cop attempting to redeem himself.  As such, his is the only razor that gives a clean, close shave.  He is also a fan of the form fitting t-shirt.  Have police uniforms and suits been outlawed on the Hawaiian Islands?  Finally, there is the token female.

Let's talk about the token female.  Grace Park plays Kono Kalakaua a new police officer and former surfer.  Who knew Kono was an unisex name? Kono in the original Five-0 was a guy.  Kono is attractive and wears form fitting, but not flashy clothes, because after all she is a serious police woman...who is always getting saved.  She gets paired up with the McGarrett or Kelly and she never gets to give directions.  As I said, I have only seen two shows and in those two hours she has been: kidnapped, beaten up, snuck up on from behind by a bad guy and saved by McGarrett and sent into a shelter with a mom and kid.  She doesn't get to clear the house with the big boys, she gets to check out the garage and find the dead body and call in the big boys to show them.  I thought this was some elite, crack team.  If she is so good that she gets to be on the special team, then let her kick some ass.  Let her save the men occasionally or come up with the genius idea that breaks the case.  If not, then get the girl some clothes that show her cleavage and get the sexual tension going with someone.  Her dialogue isn't interesting , humorous or smart and she never smiles.  Clearly her entire reason for being is the fact that she has breasts and ovaries and thus brings diversity to the testosterone laden crew.  Maybe she needs some inspiration.  Grace.  Go home and watch some old "Police Woman" shows from the '70s.  Angie Dickinson was awesome as Pepper Anderson.  She was sassy and sexy and kicked felonious booty.  Sorry, alleged felonious booty.  Always innocent until proven guilty.

My final thought is that these people have no life except for when they are at work.  This happened with the original show and it happens with other shows too, but these are young, sexy people living in Hawaii in 2011.  They probably aren't going home and putting on their fuzzy slippers and pjs and watching tv.  Well, Kono probably is, because she is just that boring.  I don't need to see it, but maybe they could allude to it to try to make these characters more three dimensional.  Pretty scenery, whether it's nature or human, will only go so far.

Book him, Danno.

A Memory (101 Words)

Running barefoot across the scorching grass to my grandfather's shop.  The July sun beating down on me.  Stopping just inside the shadowed doorway, my eyes adjusting, the soles of my feet absorbing the blessed coolness of the cement.

While I wait for the whine of the saw to stop, I breathe in sawdust, turpentine and varnish.  As it slows I call, "Hey, Pop!"   I run to hug him.  My ten year old head just the right height to smell the Red Man in his shirt pocket.  I hop on the counter, content to be in the presence of my favorite person.

Beyond: Visions of Our Solar System

I spent the afternoon at the National Air and Space Museum.  It was fascinating.  Rockets, missiles, airplanes, lunar modules, space craft.  It was amazing stuff.

My favorite part was a photography exhibit by Michael Benson.  Photos of space, planets and asteroids taken by Magellan, Viking Orbiter 1 and 2, Voyager 1 and 2, Galileo and more.  The exhibit was a beautiful trip around our galaxy.  I think sometimes people just imagine the solar system as a vast darkness with some small bright lights.  The exhibit shows how wrong that it.  Be blinded by the vibrant blue of Neptune surrounded by its super-thin rings .  See how Saturn is pale yellow with the thick band of rings and looks almost like a drawing it so perfect.  Feel the different textures of the dunes, dust storms and polar ice caps in the black and white photos of Mars.

NASA photography is art, even though the photos are taken by machines, not humans. 

Here are some websites: 
To see examples of some of the photographs in the exhibit go to:
http://www.nasm.si.edu/exhibitions/gal211/beyond.cfm
To visit NASA's website (it's just cool), go to:
http://www.nasa.gov/
And here is information on Mr. Benson's book:
http://www.kinetikonpictures.com/news/books/beyond/index.html

Irony

I sat down to breakfast this morning by a man who was eating bran cereal, strawberry yogurt and ice water.  I thought, "Dude.  You need to live a little."   

This week I have eaten every meal at my hotel, except for dinner at a friend's house one night and lunch one day with the same friend.

Dude.  I need to live a little.

Organic Drycleaning

I just passed a sign for Organic Drycleaning.

Raise your hand if you can say oxymoron.

DC Cab - Updated

I hate flagging down taxis.  In my hometown, there is zero reason to ever have to flag a cab.  Quite frankly the driver would probably think you were waving at him and just wave back.

When I am in a big city and trying to get a taxi, I can act like I am waving down a rescue plane and still not get a taxi to pick me up.  Apparently, I don't "own" it.  Whatever.  Do people just randomly stand on the side of the road in big cities?  Just stop the car and pick me up!  I tip well.  I promise.

I think I have found a new way to hail a cab.  It is fairly easy and I think it will work for almost everyone.  No "owning" involved.  First, go outside your hotel and wander around.  Look lost and confused, walk toward the taxi, hesitate and then stand still.  The nice Ethiopian taxi driver will then take pity on you and yell out the window wanting to know if you need a taxi.  You reply, "Yes, thank you."  I cannot stress enough the importance of politeness.  He will then take you where you need to be while the two of you discuss the dubious wonder of snow (a  lesson learned from Miss Marianne Dashwood).  Arrive, pay, tip, and get receipt. 

Voila!  Success.

This foolproof (or perhaps foolish) method has worked for me two whole times... in a row.  (In the interest of full disclosure, the second time I had to discuss rain.)

**UPDATE**--Well, the Ethiopian cab driver was super nice, but the Indian cab driver was super nice AND told me how to flag a cab and waited to make sure I made it across the street to the right building.  I have been in seven different cab with drivers of seven different nationalities, yet one thing remains the same.  They all listen to NPR.

Alysa' Open Call - New Favorite Things

Here is a list of some new things that make me happy.

 1.  Residence Inn -  Good free breakfast, good free dinner, pretty good free internet and I can turn the heat up to 80 degrees and walk around in shorts and a tank top.  It's too damn expensive to do that at home.

2.  Easy Wonderful - Guster is one of my most favorite bands ever.  Easy Wonderful is their most recent album.  I have played it non-stop since I got it.  

Do You Love Me?

3. Jellypop shoes - I almost always wear Doc Marten boots or Born flats if I am not barefoot.  Heels are horribly uncomfortably and I sound like a Clydesdale when I walk.  These heels are awesome.  They fit, I can walk all day in them and they are cute and quiet.  

4. Kresley Cole and Nalini Singh's new books - Yeah, yeah.  I like paranormal romance.  Sue me.  I read other stuff too.  I just cannot stand most modern fiction with it's "I'm-s0-smart-I'm-having-some-sort-of-existential-life-crisis-someone-dies" themes.  And why is it ok to read Stephen King, but not romance novels?  Let's see, murderous telekinetic scapegoat prom queen or murderous rabid family pet or murderous humanity annihilating virus versus a rage demon and a valkyrie trying to save the world and having sex while they do it.  I'm good with the rage demon and the valkyrie.  You pays your money, you takes your choice.

5. Insomnia -  Insomnia has decided to become my new best friend and I have decided to embrace it.  Just gives me more reading time.

Flying With Rob Sheffield

Yesterday I flew to Washington DC for a conference.  I really don't like flying.  I mean, I don't hate it or anything, but I don't get all excited at the prospect.

We drove the two hours to the airport and got stopped for speeding (let off with a warning).  I went through the security line, put my clothes back on and drug my bag to the gate.  Why is your bag always heavier at the airport?  Do airplanes cause more of a gravitational pull?  Twenty-five minutes to departure.  Perfect.

"If I have not put a pink tag on your luggage showing it is checked, I will do it when you come through the boarding gate", comes over the intercom.  Every eye in the gate area looks at me.  Great.  I'm going to be the one that delays the flight.  Who's everyone's favorite passenger?  That's right.  Me.

On the plane and I open the in-flight magazine to figure out when I can break out the iPod.  The last page is an article by Rob Sheffield.  I love Rob Sheffield.  My ideal man would have Rob Sheffield's brain.  This would make the real Rob a zombie, but, oh well.  (ha!  Rob Zombie.  I crack myself up.)  While I read Rob's article on how great MTV used to be I missed the safety lessons.  Fantastic.  Now I have no clue on how to turn my seat cushion into a flotation device should we unexpectedly land in a large body of water.  Hmm.  Large bodies of water between Missouri and DC include...the Missouri River and some other miscellaneous rivers that I may have learned at one time, but have since forgotten.  Even the reflecting pool on the Mall has been drained.  I'm feeling pretty safe.  No large bodies of water.  No wonder Thomas Jefferson was so hip on the Louisiana Purchase.  Baby needed a new swimming hole!

The flight was smooth and landed 30 minutes early.  Must have been my day to ride with speeding men.  I don't care as I got where I needed to be on time and safely.  Kudos, gentlemen. 
 
Hello, Washington DC.

Good Morning

Good Morning!

This blog was created solely for the purpose of archiving my other blog on the chance that that site implodes.

If you found me: 1) Welcome! and 2) You have way too much time on your hands.

Have a great day and see you soon!

Samantha