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8.31.05 New York A-Z, Part 2 Ellis Island: The experience starts on the crowded ferries, when you can be a part of the whole huddled-masses thing along with hundreds of other tourists. Except it's only about 40 minutes instead of a couple weeks. And you can buy nachos. I'll bet the people who came over 100 years ago didn't get nachos. For some reason, watching people eat nachos, covered in fluorescent-orange cheese, really set me off. I mean, there are concessions at both Battery Park and Ellis Island. It's so American to have food available at all times, even on a brief ferry ride. God forbid I get hungry and can't satisfy my hunger right this second! With nachos! Once we actually got to the island, however, I calmed down. When you enter the main building, there is a bank of computer terminals on the right-hand side that allow you to search for your very own relatives. I typed in Trowbridge and my late grandmother's name came up: Sonya A. Trowbridge, Battle Creek, MI. I clicked, and saw that she had registered her parents' names on the island's Wall of Honor. I wrote down the location of my great-grandparents' names, and went outside, where the long wall curves around a serene, parklike area with a beautiful view of the city. It took a little work, but we finally found them.
The main building on the island has been converted into an extensive museum about the immigrant experience. There are little rooms everywhere with exhibits, and I wish I had had time to see more of them. You could easily spend an entire day on the island. Since I have a fascination with ruins and dilapidated buildings, I particularly enjoyed the photo exhibit of what the building looked like prior to its painstaking restoration. (There are still plenty of unrestored buildings on the island; check them out at saveellisisland.org. Don't miss the cadaver room!)
8.30.05 New York A-Z, Part 1 Avenue Q: The most lovable show on Broadway, "Avenue Q" made me feel all warm and fuzzy with its story about young puppets finding love and a Purpose in life on a set that looks suspiciously like "Sesame Street." Lest you think it sounds too sweet, bear in mind that it includes incredibly catchy songs with titles like "The Internet Is For Porn," "It Sucks To Be Me" and "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist." And it includes puppet nudity and sex. Perhaps the closest cousin to "Q" is the "South Park" movie, "Bigger, Longer and Uncut," which featured foul-mouthed cartoon characters performing show-stopping musical numbers like "Blame Canada" and "Uncle F***er." It's not surprising that "Q" creators Jeff Marx and Robert Lopez are collaborating on a new musical with "South Park"'s Trey Parker. For some reason, "Q" is bypassing a national tour and planting itself in a fancy Las Vegas casino, where a theater has been custom-built for it. First of all, it will never be as good as the Broadway version because the incomparably cute and talented Tony nominee Stephanie D'Abruzzo is still in the New York cast. Secondly, will a simply-staged show that depends on wit and heart make it in glitz-crazy Vegas? "Q" would have been a perfect fit in San Francisco, which has embraced other youth-targeted musicals like "Rent" and "Urinetown." Celine Dion, Cirque du Soleil, Barry Manilow and... "Avenue Q"? Nope, can't see it. Cocktails: I only had one drink that could remotely be described as a cocktail during my entire trip, and it was non-alcoholic (lemon, lime, agave nectar, ice) at a vegan restaurant, no less. I was instantly intrigued when I saw the slogan of The Campbell Apartment, "Cocktails From Another Era," but alas, at least half of my six-member party was not dressed according to their fussy standards (no T-shirts, jeans or athletic shoes allowed), so I had to forgo tasting the Flapper's Delight or Prohibition Punch. It'll have to go on the long list of Things to Do Next Time, along with visiting the Tenement Museum, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and checking out the Frick. Daily Show, The: As everyone knows by now, I'm a total Jon Stewart fangirl, having seen virtually every episode of "TDS" since Jon took over for the far inferior Craig Kilborn back in 1999. A live broadcast of "TDS" was high on my NYC to-do list. I managed to get tix for Aug. 24, the Trent Lott episode. Now, I'm not expecting Jon to come in and give me a neck massage or anything like that, but c'mon, "TDS," you could treat your audience a little bit better. We arrived at 4:15 PM and were first in the VIP line (I was able to trade upon my small bit of semi-fame as the creator of the lineups page). It turns out the only difference between being in the VIP line (which eventually stretched to 50 people) and the regular line is that you eventually get to wait upstairs instead of downstairs. After walking through a metal detector, we got to spend an hour standing around a dingy room with strips of flypaper dangling from the ceiling before finally gaining admittance to the studio. Perhaps they could at least offer a TV screen showing some favorite clips from the show? Or a "TDS" boutique, offering "I One cute thing: there's a plaque over the door to the building that says "Abandon News, Ye Who Enter Here." Doubt: The hottest non-musical on Broadway is a taut, 90-minute, intermissionless play that takes place in 1964, and deals with the conflict between a priest and a nun at a Catholic school in the Bronx. The nun thinks the priest is a serial child molester, but back in those days, such accusations were routinely ignored or swept under the rug. Audiences are certainly drawn to John Patrick Shanley's script, which plays up the differences between the more liberal Father Flynn and strict traditionalist Sister Aloysius—these two clash over everything, including whether or not "Frosty the Snowman" is appropriate for the school musical (the nun declares that the song espouses "a pagan belief in magic"). When Sister Aloysius finally accuses Father Flynn directly, the verbal fireworks are spellbinding. Shanley went to Catholic school and greatly admired the nuns (one of his former teachers inspired the character of Sister James, a young, naive nun who is caught in the middle of the feud). I was so taken with Cherry Jones' powerhouse performance as the righteous Sister Aloysius that the script's ambiguity didn't dawn on me until near the end of the show, when a couple of interesting and even shocking revelations come to light. "Doubt" is the sort of play that would be worth a second viewing to see if your impressions change after you already know its surprises.
8.22.05 Training Diary, Week 11 I need a new challenge, so I'm off for a week to participate in the first annual enneathlon (motto: "When a Triathlon Just Seems Too Easy"). Here is the list of activities I will be participating in:
See you later this month.
8.20.05 The Cinema Corner James and his improv troupe are in Toronto this week, performing at a festival, so I guess I will have to step up to the plate and do the movie reviewin' around here. (I just noticed that I used this exact same shade of purple on James' web site. Eventually I suppose I'll have used every single web-safe color on one site or another.) Anyway. This week's new releases are: "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," starring former "Daily Show" correspondent Steve Carell in the title role; Wes Craven's suspense thriller "Red Eye"; Disney's animated pigeon comedy "Valiant"; and the extreme sports drama "Supercross." Which to choose, which to choose? (Since I have to pay to see movies, I certainly wasn't going to see all of them.) Considering that "The Daily Show" is my favorite program, it wasn't a difficult decision. Carell plays Andy, an introverted guy who works in the stock room of a Circuit City-type electronics store. Andy spends his off hours playing video games, collecting action figures and movie memorabilia (never taking anything out of the box, of course!), and watching reality shows with his elderly neighbors. He doesn't interact much with his co-workers, some of whom are convinced he must be a serial killer. Then one day, they desperately need a fifth for poker, and Andy is recruited. The conversation turns to sex, and in a fateful turn of events, they figure out that Andy is a virgin. Loving a challenge, three of his fellow employees decide that it's about time he lost it—and they want to help. Now, losing one's virginity was a major theme in many of the sex comedies of my youth, such as "Little Darlings," "Porky's," and the cleverly titled "Losin' It." Things are a little different when the chaste one is middle aged. Andy is dragged kicking and screaming out of his comfort zone; his pals take him to nightclubs, get him to try speed dating, and point out attractive women, such as a clerk at a nearby bookstore, that he should ask out. After a few disastrous experiences, Andy meets a customer at his store, played by Catherine Keener. They start dating, and she's delighted to meet a man who doesn't seem like he's only interested in sex. But Andy is afraid she'll lose interest in him once she learns his secret... "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" is a really sweet movie. It's also rather crude, and comes by its R rating honestly. But it's nice to see a comedy that actually seems aimed at an adult audience. Heck, just the fact that the 45-year-old Keener plays the 42-year-old Carell's love interest is refreshingly un-Hollywood. If you're sick of movies that pair up, say, Harrison Ford or Michael Douglas with anyone under the age of 50, that's reason enough to go see this movie. The fab Jane Lynch ("A Mighty Wind") also has a nice role as the manager of Andy's store, and Carell's real-life wife Nancy Walls is featured in a cameo. There are a lot of big laughs in this film—all too often, movie comedies contain fewer funny bits than the average episode of "The Daily Show," but you'll get your money's worth of chuckles here. Plus, in one scene, you actually get to see Carell have his chest hair waxed off. Here's a star who is literally willing to suffer for his art.
8.19.05 Actually Ordering This Drink Is A Sign You Have Too Much Money I'm sure all cocktail fans have had the experience of ordering something from a drinks menu that sounds good, but when you taste it, it doesn't quite work. At least you're only out $8 or $10, though. What if you ordered Drinking the Stars, the new $650 cocktail at Harry Denton's Starlight Room, and it wasn't the most delicious thing you'd ever tasted? Or, worse yet, what if you loved it so much you wanted to drink it all the time?
8.18.05 Confidential!
I have no idea whether or not my small contribution to the Tab-ography will result in an acknowledgement in the book, but I trust I'll at least get a signed copy out of the deal. The book is finally coming out (no pun intended) in mid-October, and I can personally attest to the fact that there's plenty of juicy stuff in there, though due to my non-disclosure agreement, I can't tell you any more than that. You'll just have to wait and pick up a copy this fall.
8.17.05 I Like Food Occasionally, I dare to post something that I realize may cause a lot of people to think I'm completely nuts. This is one of those entries. I want to make it really clear that I like food. The pleasures of a delicious cheese, or a perfectly ripe strawberry, or a crisp baguette are not to be denied. But I'm a busy person, and if I have some time to relax, I'd rather read or do a crossword than cook. Every week, I page through the Wednesday food section, see a couple recipes that look really good, think, "Wow, I wish someone would cook that for me!" and then toss the paper in the recycling bin. (Sometimes I'll go so far as to clip the recipes and attach them to the refrigerator with a magnet, where they will stay for months until I finally take them down and recycle them.) I do periodically make something from Everyday Food, a magazine which is to Gourmet as Lego Duplo is to Technic. I don't particularly want to go out to dinner every night, though. Too much money, effort and calories. Then, my personal guru, Marty Nemko, a man who spouts philosophies like, "Workaholics are heroes" and "I will lay on my deathbed wishing I'd spent more time at the office," revealed his own eating habits on his radio show. He eats the same thing every day, five days a week. On the weekends, he goes to his favorite restaurant, the Olive Garden (OK, I differ with him there), or some other economical eatery. After hearing that, I went on a quest to figure out how I could eat the same thing (almost) every day. It had to be nutritionally balanced and healthy, easy to make, and something I wouldn't get tired of. Breakfast is already taken care of; I have eaten the exact same breakfast (Kashi GoLean with fruit and rice milk, with a glass of calcium-fortified orange juice) for years. Kashi is a high-protein, high-fiber cereal. Very healthy. For lunch, I've settled on a whole-grain roll with cheese, raw vegetables (currently cherry tomatoes, bell pepper strips and carrot sticks), and a few Baked Lay's or other low-fat chips. Dinner was the tough one, but I finally came up with it: a small organic russet potato with vegetable-and-bean chili, or chopped broccoli and low-fat grated cheddar. If I desperately need a midday snack, I will eat half a granola or Clif bar. As far as I can determine, this menu has protein, fiber, calcium, and vitamins, an appropriate amount of carbohydrates, and is low in fat. If I feel like cooking something different on weekends, I can do it, but it's one less thing to worry about during the week. As for Joe, I'll probably continue to cook for him most of the time, but luckily, he didn't marry me for my culinary skills. He gets a lot of baked chicken and mac 'n cheese.
8.16.05 Devo Or Not Devo? I am pretty proud of myself for resisting the lure of nostalgia that strikes a lot of people my age. The Pixies reunion? I saw them so many times back in the day, even when they were touring behind their first EP and opening for other Boston bands, that I see no need to attend any of their current shows, which are no doubt filled with kids who were still in diapers when Surfer Rosa came out. Duran Duran? Their videos were always better than their songs, and I'm sure it would be disillusioning to see what my teenage crush Simon LeBon looks like today. Some of my lesser-known New Wave faves, like ABC, are playing tiny venues like San Francisco's Red Devil Lounge, which is a little sad. Of course, I did go see Wire (who performed mostly new material, so it hardly counts as a nostalgia trip) and Roxy Music (because they're Roxy Music) on their reunion tours. And when I saw that Devo is coming to Oakland's gorgeous Paramount Theater in October, I was sorely tempted, something that only increased after hearing Devo frontman Mark Mothersbaugh interviewed on NPR's Talk of the Nation. Back in the 1980s, Devo was the favorite band of nerds and geeks everywhere, which is probably how they can get away for charging a stratospheric $64 per ticket for their show (their fans had the last laugh—they're the well-paid computer professionals and engineers of today). I loved Devo when I was in high school, and they are one of the few bands from that period whose music I still listen to today. I have fond memories of seeing them live back at Michigan State University in Lansing; my parents were always very supportive of my music fandom, and since I was too young to drive, they dropped me off at the basketball arena where the band was performing. I also enjoyed their wonderfully bizarre music videos and short films, a format which they virtually pioneered in this country. Mothersbaugh said that his favorite Devo albums are the early ones, so those are the songs they'll be focusing on. At this point, Joe is probably going, "SIXTY-FOUR DOLLARS?!?!" Plus, '80s casualty Dale Bozzio (a.k.a. Missing Person) is opening, and as her recent appearances on "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and "Jimmy Kimmel Live" attest, the woman is completely loopy and has not aged well (either her looks or her voice). But I'll bet Devo will be totally worth it. Revenge of the nerds, indeed.
8.15.05 Life In the Fast Lane Three years ago, in a rare moment of prescience, I picked out our new car: the Toyota Prius. Not only was there no waiting list, but I was able to haggle on the price (I did this via fax with the dealership's fleet manager, since I'm the type who'll fold like a house of cards in person). We drove it off the lot on July 25, 2002, not knowing that we would be in the forefront of a trend. I was just interested in buying a "green" car. Gas still cost under $2 a gallon. A couple years later, the Prius was suddenly hot, hot, hot! A woman in my book club bought one and had to wait five months for delivery. Even used hybrids were selling for big bucks on eBay. With gas prices edging toward $3 a gallon with no end in sight, I'm sure they'll continue to gain in popularity. Now, however, there's an even bigger incentive to buy a hybrid car: solo hybrid drivers in California can take advantage of the highway car pool lanes. Naturally, it is not just a matter of edging your Prius into the fast lane. The bureaucracy must be appeased. So this morning, I drove to the FasTrak service center in downtown San Francisco. It was easy to find—just look for the office with a row of Priuses parked at the meters outside. (I know other hybrids exist, but around here, at least, the Prius dominates.) Most of them were the "new" Prius, as opposed to our smaller, classic "early adopter" model. Inside, hybrid owners were lined up, waiting to get the hybrid FasTrak transponder that is required to use the car pool lane. I already had a transponder, so I only had to swap it for the special new model. Was I all set? Not so fast! I still need to send in my FasTrak paperwork along with a completed form and a check for $8 to the DMV in Sacramento. Eventually I will receive a clean-air sticker in the mail, and once it has been affixed to our car, I can finally enjoy a blissful ride in the fast lane. That's a huge benefit, since the car pool lanes here require three people in the vehicle instead of the usual two called for in most areas. Since I hate sitting in traffic with the burning passion of a thousand suns, I trust that when my sticker finally comes, it will help make the Bay Area just a tad more livable. Unless, of course, so many people run out and buy hybrids that the car pool lanes fill up and they have to change the rules. By the way, some hybrids don't get high enough gas mileage to qualify for the special sticker, so forget about buying that hybrid Hummer when it comes along.
8.14.05 Training Diary, Week 10 I ran for seven miles yesterday, a new record. So now I'm over halfway to the half-marathon distance. But I'm not going to talk about running today. The topic is... fund-raising. In order to benefit from the Team in Training experience, I had to promise to raise $1,800 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. At this writing, I've raised $1,379, the vast majority of it from you, my dear readership, for which I am extremely grateful. I'm not used to asking people for money, so using the blog was sort of a pleasantly passive way of doing it. Then I added a link to my lineups page, which generated a couple hundred dollars (I should really get more, considering the thousands of people who use my totally free page every day!). One local TNT participant (not on the East Bay team) has raised over $10,000. Several have raised over $4,000. I haven't a clue how these people are doing it. Do they have lots of very rich friends? Maybe they're just gutsier than I am about asking people for money. Or perhaps they are the sort of outgoing folks who have hundreds of friends and acquaintances. I guess my often-hermitlike existence isn't the most useful lifestyle for someone attempting to do fund-raising. Anyway, if you have ever made a successful attempt to fund-raise for a cause, and you have any tips, send them my way! I still have another month and a half to raise the remaining $421, but it'll be nice to get it out of the way.
8.11.05 We're #3! How can this be? A new survey compiled by the Bay Area Center for Voting Research has declared Berkeley the third most liberal city in the United States. Detroit is number one, and Gary, Ind., is the runner-up. There must have been some mistake. Berkeley has to be the most liberal city in America! It's, like, our whole identity! This is the city that landmarked a seafood restaurant's parking lot because it has a Native American shellmound underneath the asphalt; the home of the X-Plicit Players, which recently held a topless "Breasts Not Bombs" war protest; the place that has "Nuclear Free Zone" on all of the city-limits sign. The parking meters all state that you can park for free on "Indigenous People's Day" (that's Columbus Day to you Euro-centrics). Take a look at these photos from last year's "How Berkeley Can You Be?" parade (warning: some of the images contain nudity, and these are not the kind of people whom you'd want to see exposed) and tell me this isn't the most insane place on the planet. Maybe Berkeley missed the coveted "most liberal" designation because Measure Q was voted down last year (it would have declared that "the people of the City of Berkeley oppose California state laws making prostitution a crime," and directed police to make enforcing those laws a low priority). Oh well; better luck next year. And to paraphrase an old saying, you don't have to be crazy to live here—but it helps!
8.10.05 Outdoors: Overrated On an episode of the TV series "Monk," about a detective with obsessive-compulsive disorder, the hero has to leave his city home and go to a remote area in order to solve a crime. After accidentally coming into contact with some dirt, he cries, horrified, "Nature! I've got nature on my hand!" It's summer in the Bay Area (ours is August, September and October, thank you very much), and it's time to do things outside, whether you want to or not. Local company Shotgun Players usually performs in a small but exceedingly comfortable theater, but in the summer, we all must troop outside to see their latest production ("Cyrano de Bergerac"). The play is performed at John Hinkel Park in Berkeley, which has a somewhat crude outdoor amphitheater. The amphitheater is built on a steep slope, and the audience sits on weedy stone steps. If we'd been smart, I guess we would have gone out and purchased a couple of those short lawn chairs many well-prepared people had brought along; however, we made do with some old towels I'd brought from home. The play was good, but I was horribly uncomfortable. And the towels got nature all over them. All "outdoor" activities here require that one bring a good supply of warm clothing along. Luckily, I keep a warm sweatshirt in the trunk of our car at all times, and I fetched it during intermission. The theater company was cleverly selling Shotgun logo sweatshirts, and several chilly people purchased them. The Cal Shakes theater in Orinda, which also requires that its patrons sit outside (albeit on chairs), has a huge bin of blankets by the entrance, so you can at least stay warm for free. (By the way, I love this item on the Cal Shakes web site FAQ: "We are making every effort to reduce the yellow jacket population on our grounds. However, as the theater is surrounded by acres of wooded watershed, little critters will continue to be a part of the experience. If you do get stung, please contact House Management at once for assistance.") Killer bees. Freezing temperatures. Rocky surfaces that make your butt ache. Yep, it's summer, all right!
8.8.05 Reality Bites I am very proud of the fact that I've managed to break my addiction to summer reality TV shows. Of course, it helps that most of them have been pretty bad this year. I don't want to watch people trying to dance; and I'd rather read a book or listen to NPR than subject myself to the likes of "Beauty and the Geeks," "Average Joe: The Joes Strike Back," "Being Bobby Brown," "Britney and Kevin: Chaotic," "Rock Star," "Big Brother 6," etc. Of course, I was addicted to the six-episode FX doc series "30 Days," directed by the fab Morgan Spurlock, but that show was kind of classy and educational compared to the usual fare. Except for "Dancing With the Stars," there haven't been any big break-out reality TV hits this summer. However, the good people at the U.S. Tennis Association believe that reality is a great marketing hook. Have you seen the cringe-worthy ads for the U.S. Open, billing the tennis tourney as "summer's hottest reality series"? Running in both print and on TV, these promos try to make the venerable tournament into an athletic version of "Survivor," following the familiar formula of reducing each participant to an archetype. Serena Williams is "The Diva"! Sister Venus is "The Goddess"! Andre Agassi is "The Legend"! Andy Roddick is "Rocket Man"! Vera Zvonareva is "The Drama Queen"! Anna Kournikova is "The One Who Can't Play Very Well But Yowza, Will You Look At That Cleavage?!" (Just kidding.) I have nothing against televised tennis—I personally don't find it particularly interesting to watch, but my dad loves it. But if the campaign helps the Open generate better ratings, where will this madness end? ABC's Olympic coverage has generated criticism for years over its tear-jerking, soap-opera-like profiles of obscure athletes ("After the horrific threshing accident that tore off both of her father's arms, 15-year-old Janie Smith had to work full time at the mill in order to support her nine younger brothers and sisters, while spending all night practicing her javelin throw so she could pursue her dream of becoming an Olympic superstar..."). We admire athletes for their achievements, not their personalities. Or, in the case of Andy Roddick, their achievements and their incredible hotness.
8.7.05 Training Diary, Week 9 Well, I did meet my two goals for the 10K this morning—I finished, and I didn't come in last. Here is a photo of me crossing the finish line (I am circled in red):
See, I was moving so quickly that Joe's camera could barely capture me! Actually, my finish time was just over 72 minutes. I was worried about going too fast at the beginning of the race and tiring myself out, but I probably could have gone a tiny bit faster; I think I picked up some speed near the end. I was sweaty, but not completely exhausted when I crossed the finish line. Afterwards, I chugged some complimentary Propel fitness water (like Gatorade, except without the enticing neon coloring) and realized that in a couple of months, I'm going to have to run more than twice as far as I did today. And if I continue training and do a full marathon, over four times as far. Gulp. I guess I'll probably do what I did today, which is: start running, and just keep going, and going, and going. Favorite person of the race: the guy who set up a sprinkler right by the curb, about 4.5 miles into the course. He sat in a lawn chair and cheered us on. That water felt great! Least favorite person: the motorist who was loudly swearing at one of the race volunteers because she wouldn't let him drive onto the route (Central Avenue in Alameda), which had been blocked off by orange cones. "Are you a f*&#ing policeman?" At another intersection, several cars honked impatiently when the light turned green but they weren't allowed to move, as racers were passing through. Geez, people, have a little patience.
How could I forget my own anniversary? Interbridge.com turned 10 on July 29. Little did I know back in 1995 that I'd be pumpin' out web sites for a living 10 years hence, and that I'd have over 50 clients, with new ones coming aboard all the time (no wonder it seems like I'm always working). But more importantly, Sunday is my parents' 40th anniversary. They will be spending it in Stockholm, and since I was just there in May, I couldn't very well pop over again to celebrate with them, much as I would like to do so (hey, Sunday is my race day!). So I will wish them en trevlig bröllopsdag and say, you are the best parents in the world—thanks for always being there for me, and I hope you have many, many more happy years together. Grattis!
8.3.05 Training Diary, Week 8 It's been a while since I've written one of these, but rest assured, I am still at it. In fact, I have my first event coming up on Sunday: the Alameda Run for the Parks 10K. Initially, I had been hoping to finish in an hour, but I suspect that's overly optimistic. If there's one thing I've learned about myself in the past two months, it's that I am slow. Every week, I participate in two organized TNT runs: one early Saturday mornings, and the other on Tuesday afternoons. The Saturday run is for the entire East Bay group, so it's large. The Tuesday run is more localized and there are usually around a dozen runners. Most of them are young and gazelle-like, loping far ahead of me on their long, cellulite-free legs. There are two other "older" women (yes, I have to face facts, I'm "older" now—it's just like on "Survivor" where the twentysomethings square off against the 35+ set!). One appears to be in her mid-40s and is way faster than I am, though she's often kind enough to run alongside me. The other is 50-plus, and I thank heaven for her every Tuesday, because she is literally the only person whom I can outrun. I know this is not about being the fastest, but it's still sort of humiliating. Maybe it's a leftover emotion from Field Day in elementary school, but I hate being last. Yesterday afternoon, I was chugging along, watching the gazelles far up ahead, and I tried to think about which animal I would compare myself to. Most animals are pretty fast—they have to be, in order to either catch prey or run from predators. Even my couch potato dog can race like a little greyhound when he wants to. Then I remembered the movie "March of the Penguins." The black-and-white wadders are not particularly graceful or fast, but they cover astonishing distances in pursuit of their goals. According to the film, every year, they head 70 miles inland to breed, finding a location far from the sea where the ice will be nice and solid. Once they lay their eggs, the penguin moms go back to the water in order to get food for their chicks. (In the meantime, the penguin dads are tending to the eggs.) It's quite a remarkable documentary, even though I'm convinced that part of the reason for its surprising box office success is the fact that it was released during one of the hottest summers on record (watching penguins shivering in 70-below arctic temperatures really cools you down). So I'll try not to be too jealous of the gazelles. I can't achieve speed, but I will draw my inspiration from the penguins and their incredible persistence.
8.2.05 Welcome to the Glass! I mentioned a few months ago that I was interested in "rebranding" my weblog, and my fab friend Janet suggested naming it The Conical Glass, due to my well-documented interest in the iconography of martini-glass signage. I loved the name (and unlike my own idea, it didn't appear to be taken), so here it is. Just bear in mind that The Conical Glass endorses enjoying an occasional cocktail in the company of good friends—whether it's a Cosmo or a Shirley Temple. Whatever you do, don't "imbibe" to excess, or you'll risk turning into Rita Begler. And nobody wants that! Ironically, my beloved pooch is wearing a conical collar on his head all week long, due to an interdigital cyst on one of his paws. He kept licking and biting at it, causing an infection, so the vet prescribed a week's course of antibiotics and cone-wearing. Luckily, he seems to have adapted to the cone, and it's not interfering with his rigorous napping schedule.
Keep your fingers crossed for a speedy recovery—if it's still causing problems after a couple of weeks, they'll need to operate. |
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The Fake News" T-shirts? I'm just sayin'. We did get really good seats, so I was only a few feet away from Jon during the brisk half-hour taping. ![[cover]](images/tabcover.jpg)
Last year, as some of y'all know, I spent many an hour transcribing tapes of hunky Hollywood superstar 
8.5.05 Anniversaries 