The Ren Faire and Me

The first Renaissance Faire I attended was in the Bay Area. While I am sure I went when I was in elementary school, probably with my best friend B, the earliest photo of me at a Ren Faire that I've found is from when I was in middle school, with my other best friend V.

Once I had my own car, I started attending more frequently. I remember going right before my last year of high school. I went with three friends who I would wind up spending my senior year with, plus one of my very good friends from my freshman year. On our way there, we decided to stop at Jack in the Box to get food, since we didn't want to spend all our cash on food inside the faire. So we pulled up to the window and ordered, and then I started driving to the next window. My friends all started yelling at me - turns out, there was only one window at this drive thru. Laughs all around, I backed up, we go the food. We weren't laughing so hard later, in the parking lot, after having finished. My car had a bad starter in those days, and wasn't always interested in getting back on the road. The Faire was a couple hours from home. It took a few tries, but it came back to life.

I don't remember a ton about what happened at the faire, except we saw a very bawdy show called Testicles and the Sack of Rome, and a lovely entertainer named Broon, who is still performing, and I now see every year at my local Faire.

During college, I doubt I attended a single fair, but in 2006, I started going back, and I haven't missed a year since. Even with the long drive, the expensive tickets and parking fee, and the heat and dust, it's quite enjoyable. This past May, I went with my friend and her eight year old son. I was fun to see the faire through his eyes. Almost overwhelming.

I think that's what keeps the Ren Faire interesting for me, is taking new people. Next year I'm hoping my boyfriend's sister and her boyfriend can make it, we've been trying to get them to for some time. There's really no other place where you can dress in ancient garb and eat a giant turkey leg while calling for someone's head.

Portland and Me II

We arrived while it was still early morning. We had no place to stay, and no specific plans (besides, of course, Powell's). We walked over to the tourist kiosk. After waiting our turn to speak to the woman who worked there, I asked her "So you know that thing where you go to the airport and you don't know where you're going and you just get on whichever plane and then you wind up someplace?" "No ..." she answered, "but that sounds awesome."

She proceeded to give us some names of hotels and things to do. We did wind up taking some of her suggestions.

After using the airport wi-fi to book a motel, we got on the light rail and headed into town. We checked in, then went off for food and adventure. We ate sushi, bought vintage accessories (me), drank coffee (the boyfriend), and spent the entire afternoon at Powell's. We went to the Blue Plate Diner, then back to the motel, exhausted, but ready to do it all over again the next day.

First up: elephant ears at the Farmers Market (basically a lot of fried dough, and then we opted to smother it in peanut butter), followed by a look around, purchases, a quick lunch, and then a walk along the river. Our next plan was the Japanese Gardens. They were on the other side of town, and we could have taken a bus ... but we decided to walk. Perhaps not the most energy efficient way of doing things, but we did arrive, and it and the rose garden we went through on the way were stunning. Now it was time for some dinner and local beer. Then back to the motel, to once again prepare for another day.

We spent much of the next day at the OMSI, Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. They had a great many interesting exhibits, but the temporary exhibit about the history of video games, complete with a ton of consoles to play on, was most addicting.

Voodoo Doughnut's had to be attended before we left, and the haunted venue of Old Town Pizza.  Then back to the motel. My mom had warned us that leaving Portland wouldn't be easy, and indeed, we were up before dawn the next day to get back on the light rail to the airport. But it was worth it. Portland is a lovely town and I can't wait to return.

Portland and Me

My mom works for an airline, so I'm able to make reservations, and only pay for the flight if I actually get on it. My boyfriend has that same ability. A couple of years ago, he said something or someone said something that lead to us taking a trip to someplace where we didn't know where we were going.

Our anniversary is in August, so last year, we started planning a trip to someplace where we wouldn't know where we were going until we actually got to the airport. I did a ton of research to figure out where the airline flew to non-stop, somewhere not too far away, so we didn't spend our vacation on an airplane. After a lot of back and forth, we finally wound up with five options: Albuquerque, Boise, Las Vegas, Portland and Seattle. So I gave my mom those options and those dates and told her to only tell me when we should arrive at the airport that Saturday morning (Saturday's are a better time to fly than Fridays).

The night before we packed for every kind of a weather we could encounter. It was summer, so nothing was too drastically different, although Vegas was supposed to be very hot, of course. And we couldn't take anything but carry-on luggage, in case it wound up in once place and we wound up in another. But we were only going for three days, so we figured we could handle it.

So we got up very early on Saturday morning and drove to LAX. Once there, he went to go stand in the security line and I went to get our tickets. I waited for the machine to tell us where we were going.

Good news! Albuquerque! Bad news! Thunderstorms there had delayed our plane by about four hours. Our short amount of time would be wasted by waiting, and there was no guarantee that the thunderstorms would stop.

I felt bad because it meant waking my mom up at around six on a Saturday, but I called her to see if she could help. In the meantime, we went through security.

She booked us on a flight to Boise. It left in around an hour. While I myself had picked Boise, and I knew that there'd be plenty of hiking to be had, along with inexpensive motels,  I did feel a little disappointed.

I was still on the phone with my mom as we passed the first gate, and leaving out of it was a flight to Portland. I asked her to see if there was any room on it. She said yes, two seats left, but warned me that getting out of Portland, even early on a Tuesday, like we planned, wouldn't be easy. But we decided to be optimistic and get in line for Portland. And so began our Portland adventure.

Tomorrow: Part II

Weddings and Me

Weddings I have attended:

1. In second grade, I was the flower girl for a family friend's wedding.
2. In early high school, I attended a family member's wedding.
3. In 2005, I attended my then-boyfriend's boss' wedding in Capri, Italy.
4. In 2007,  I attended my former roommates' and very good friend's wedding in California.
5. In 2008, I attended a friend's wedding by going with someone who had a plus one available, I myself was not invited. That was in Marina Del Rey.
6. Later that same year I attended my boss' wedding in Wisconsin.
7. In 2010, I attended my boyfriend's friend's wedding in Los Angeles.
8. Later that same year I attended the reception of another one of his friend's - the wedding was fam only.
9. Last month I attended another one of his friend's weddings in Santa Maria.

I think that's it ...

The one in second grade was held in the couple's back yard. That's probably why I want my own someday wedding to be outdoors.

I can tell you what I wore to every one of those weddings. But I won't.

The one in Italy was beautiful. Lots of money went into it. It took place in a Catholic church, with Mass and everything, then a reception in the outdoor pool area of a hotel. I waited all night for someone to get drunk and fall or jump in. Never happened.

Number four took place on a ranch. I thoroughly enjoyed it - people I loved gettin' hitched, outdoors, tasty food, fun dancing. There was also a pig.

Five was at the Ritz Carlton and very formal. I danced so hard I hurt myself and had to take an ice pack with me to work on Monday morning.

Six was where I met my boyfriend. So it's a fav.

Seven was a lot of fun and dancing too. Outdoors. Friends to drink with.

Eight was a lovely reception and the bride had an amazing purse. Afterward, we went to a classic small-town Wisconsin bar. Fascinating.

And nine was quite lovely. That's what the picture's of. Also kind of a ranch setting. The music was okay, but not my favorite for dancing to. I hung out with the bartenders and heard their stories.

I might plus one my way into another wedding later this year. We'll see.

Gardens and Me

So here is my little garden on the balcony. The plant in the foreground is a dumb cane which I am baby-sitting for a couple friends while they live in San Diego. I have heard, though, that they enjoy living there so much that they may not move back here. But I'd rather not be stuck with this plant for the rest of my life (if taken care of, these plants live for generations) mostly because it needs to live inside during the winter and I don't really have a good spot for it.

On the top left is a succulent/cactus thing. It has spines but not very sharp ones. It is a plant I recently inherited from a friend of mine who has moved to Portland and later this summer will move to South Korea to teach English. Along with that plant, I also got the small plant on the top right, the plant in the middle of middle shelf and the one on the bottom shelf. All succulents.

Top middle was supposed to be something ... but whatever I planted, it never took. I recently gave up on it, and planted some basil, which is just now sprouting.

The large plan on the top right is broccoli. It gets very wilty if I don't water it everyday. It has yet to produce actual broccoli yet, but it looks pretty rockin'.

Middle right in the red are sweet peas. They just started growing their buds, I only noticed them today. The plant itself looks a little rough - it has white spots and isn't climbing, but it might well pull through.

The middle of the middle shelf, besides the one succulent pot is all "Wandering Jew," which I got from my mom's hairdresser. You can just cut off a piece of the plant, soak it in a wet paper towel for a couple days until it starts to sprout, then plant it and away it goes. It's really prolific. I have an indoor "Wandering Jew" - all these outdoor plants are from when I tossed some old pieces into the dumb cane for fertilizer and it started growing. I eventually pulled it out so it wouldn't use up all the space and nutrients that the dumb cane needed. This plant doesn't really like being outside come winter, but we'll see what happens this year.

And lastly, in the back, on the left of the middle shelf are some mums that seem to be dying ... except their vines are still green, it's just the flowers that have gone brown. So I'm leaving it to see what happens.

I'm pretty pleased with my garden! Now I just need to work up the courage to ask my neighbor to water it while I'm on vacation ...

The Rose Bowl and Me

Last night I went to the Rose Bowl for the first time. I moved to Southern California twelve years ago, but I just never had reason to attend - my college had a football team, but we're not nationally ranked. And I've never done any particular activity that took place there.

But after having spent the last two years watching fireworks from windows or rooftops, my boyfriend and I decided that we needed a decent place to see some real fireworks. After viewing a commercial that extolled how awesome "Americafest" at the Rose Bowl would be, and all for $13, I was in.

Another friend of ours, C, decided to join us. So after spending the day lounging around her pool and bbqing, we grabbed some blankets and headed to Pasadena.

I generally refuse to pay for parking unless I'm running extremely late to something important (like that time I went to an Aimee Bender reading) or if street parking is just not going to happen (like Disneyland). This time, parking was $20, and it seemed ridiculous to charge more for parking than for a ticket. So the three of us agreed that walking would be just fine, and we headed off into the hills.

But Pasadena had us all figured out. There were cops, traffic enforcers and "police explorers" (high school cops) everywhere, along with blockades and street signs. After searching for awhile, we found an unattended, unblocked, unsigned street. We fretted for a bit, but eventually asked a cop if we could get ticketed. He said no sign, no ticket. Spoiler alert: we were not ticketed. Very nice.

But! We had parked two miles away from our final destination. A healthy walk, but the evening was nice and we all had decent shoes. Once actually in the stadium, we bought our dinner and got in line to enter.

And so chaos. We overheard some police saying that The Rose Bowl Stadium had understaffed the event, and while it didn't seem like that was necessarily right, it did seem poorly planned. There were too many people for the amount of seats they had open. In the end, people wound up sitting in roped off areas ... only to have sparks land on them. Kind of a mess, but nothing like San Diego from what I hear.

All in all, I enjoyed my time at the stadium. The fireworks were impressive and in our faces, my teryaki chicken was good, and no one started rioting (though there were a couple of jerks who seemed like they wanted to). Not sure if I 'll go back next year, though if I do, I'm taking the bus.

3rd Rock from the Sun and Me

So after a couple of Christmas specials that aired in 1989, part of the movie "Jezibelle" and a public access show about sign language, the tape that I mentioned in my last post also had part of an episode of 3rd Rock from the Sun. I have very fond memories of this show.

It's the only show (as far as I remember) that my mom and watched together. She enjoyed everyone on the show, but she's a big fan of John Lithgow, which is what got her interested in the first place. Me? In freshman year of high school, I was pretty much happy to watch any new network show, especially NBC.

But I became pretty hooked as well. The story lines were smart and funny, the cast was great and I found Joseph Gordon-Levitt cute (even with long hair, which I have never been a fan of on men).

It is definitely over the top, but since it didn't take itself seriously, that's okay. Lithgow especially seems to really go for it. I know from watching "Cliffhanger" that he is more than capable of over-acting, but it works really well here. I also feel like Kristen Johnston is a great female roll model - she's aware of the restrictions society has given her, but because she comes from outside society, she just doesn't care. And no one can play an idiot like French Stewart.

The show ended in May of 2001, which would have been right around when I returned home from college for the summer. I guess my mom and I must  have been watching separately before that point, because I do remember watching the series finale with her but I don't recall feeling like I hadn't been watching up to that point. I thought they did a great job with the finale. Heartwarming and plausible. What else can you ask for?

The show also had Mark Hamill as a guest star at one point. So that rocketed it to a special, "Star Wars" place in my heart.

I've bought my mom the first two seasons on DVD as presents for various occasions. I suppose I should get her more. She lends them to me after she has them for a bit, but I'm really bad about watching TV on DVD. There's so much out there to watch!

80s Movies and Me

Last night I had some free time, so I decided to head back to my treasure trove of videos and see if there was one I could watch and then give away to my friend who is always looking for 80s commercials. I came across a tape that started with the 1982 film, "Hanky Panky," starring Gene Wilder and Gilda Radner (the two met on this film and later married. Sadly, Wilder's mother had died of ovarian cancer and he was married to Radner when she died).

The movie was taped off of KTVU, the Fox affiliate in the Bay Area, in June of 1989 - I figured this out because there were Father's Day ads for Ross, some ads had copyright years in the corner, and there was a news update - about the Tienanmen Square protests.

The movie itself was ... okay. It's directed by Sidney Poitier, whom I enjoy as an actor. And Gene Wilder is always fun to watch, and Gilda does a great job with those big eyes of hers. But altogether, it's too violent for me. It's supposed to be a comedy film, but it is more like a weird spy/government/chase/murder film. It's hard to feel sorry for Wilder's character, who gets accidentally involved in a whole conspiracy, because he makes so many mistakes. The film is also difficult to follow - although that might have been partly due to my watching it on such an old medium that the color would sometimes disappear.

It's funny, but not in a way that made me laugh. Maybe because I was watching it by myself. Or maybe because while I appreciate Gene Wilder's humor, it's always been a little intense for me. But it's probably mostly the weird comedy/violence combo that the 80s were so darn fond of. That and helicopters. 80s movies make The Bachelor's use of helicopters look downright responsible. There are two helicopters in "Hanky Panky", along with a by-plane, a gas tanker truck, and Radner's little red convertible.

While I'm sure I can name fifty great 80s films - I wouldn't put this on the list. It's just not my type - it makes me too anxious. I don't mind being kept in suspense if there's a good pay off (like in, say, "Inception") but this film does not give me that at the end. But it brought together Wilder and Rander, so that's nice.

Picnics and Me

I'm always up for a picnic. Combine eating with being outdoors and I'm there. While this is something that I've always been happy to do, I found it was something I really truly enjoyed when I was in Europe for a month seven years ago.

While trying to enjoy the local ambiance, while also not spending too much, my then boyfriend and I would often go to a market and buy a loaf bread, a hunk of cheese, cured meat, whatever fruit they had and some tomatoes, along with a bottle of water and of wine. We ate everywhere - in rowboats, on trains, on museum steps. I preferred it to every restaurant we went to.

Before that, in the spring of 2005, we had visited Italy by itself for his boss' wedding in Capri. We stayed for a week and while there, we dropped in on my best friend who was attending school in Florence for a couple months. We bought essentially the same things we would come to live on that fall in the rest of Europe, and went to her dorm. She pulled the sheets off her bed and we used them as a blanket while sitting in the olive groves just over the hill from her school. It was so amazing, so European, so perfect - until the mosquitos came. But it is one of my fondest memories.

But picnics aren't about where you are, so they're just as wonderful here - as long as the right people are there. From time to time, my boyfriend and I enjoy picnics (the picture above was taken recently at Encino State Park) and it's become a tradition to go on a picnic with his sister and her boyfriend after church on Easter.

I gave up eating mammals about two years ago, so the cured salami and prosciutto of the past has turned into honey roasted turkey or chicken, but that's fine with me. Tomatoes are always a good option - especially grape tomatoes, since you don't have to cut them (kind of a to-do when all you have is a small paper plate and a plastic knife - plus I often forget to bring napkins along).

Living in a LA works out well for me - picnic season lasts from March to October. Couldn't ask for more.

Travel and Me

 I'm not the biggest traveler. Sure, I have Canada, Mexico, Japan and most of Western Europe under my belt, but I haven't been outside the US in seven years. My next out-of-the-country destination is Australia or New Zealand. But I'll have to figure out how to handle a fourteen hour flight since becoming afraid of flying about four years ago. Well, not so much the flying part, but the turbulence part. I hate that.

I do enjoy traveling, though at this point I am bothered by the impact that both air travel and driving make on this planet. Taking trains more often would be great, though it seems it's not quite as simple as having your own car with a bed. Plus I can't take a train to Australia. I'm still waiting for the bullet train to Vegas. Not that I go to Vegas more than once every four years or so, but still, maybe if they built the train they wouldn't need to build an extra airport (honestly, who's heard of building one airport so close to another?).

I just finished a book I picked up at a used book store in Solvang (travelling!) that was called "I Should Have Just Stayed Home." It's a bunch of short stories, true short stories, about nightmare travel situations. Delayed flights, kidnappings by the local authorities, getting sick, getting injured. It's a strange book to read, because it makes one want to both not travel and travel at the same time. It reminds you of all the awful things that can happen when you go to another country, but at least those people are LIVING, you know?

On the other hand, it's not like I've exhausted my options in LA. I've never been to the Tar Pits, Beachwood Canyon or that pier where pelicans think they're people. I have a lot more exploring to do before I leave town to find other adventures ... but, still - Australia. I'm a comin' for ya.

Hats and Me

Hats. I love them. Why - I'm not sure. They're pretty much the best accessory because everyone looks at everyone else's head (generally) and they're big - you usually can't miss them.

When I was very little, like around a year, my parents took me to Coco's. While waiting for the meal, I took the napkin in front of me, and placed it on my head, then began laughing incessantly. It was clear I was making a joke. Look! This thing that isn't a hat is on my head! Get it!

I was just looking through my Facebook profile photos ... and darn if there isn't something on my head in pretty much every other photo. Hats like the one here, which is my Easter/Royal Wedding Hat (there are more Easters than Royal Weddings, but I wore it when I got up at 3AM to watch Kate marry Wills). There are more casual hats, like the big floppy brown one that I love to wear to protect my face and neck from the sun. I used to wear a different, white hat for that, but people thought it was silly, plus the newer brown one is bigger. With hats, bigger = better - most of the time. Because I also love my cloche hat, my pill box hat, and one that is essentially a fascinator. All of them are black with black feathers. Love it.

But it's not just hats. It's also flower wreaths at the Ren Faire, bandannas when out sailing, the ribbons off of presents, and the occasional menu. I dunno, I just like putting things on my head, I guess.

I have also made my own hats. When I was in college, during my last two years, for work study, I worked at a Christian after-school homework house. I was in charge of arts and crafts (for the first year - in the second year they ran out of funds to buy new craft material, so I was in charge of arts and crafts one day to finish the rest of the craft supplies and board games the other day). Anyway, for Mardi Gras one year I had us all make jester hats out of flat foam, tin foil, and bells. I love to wear it on Mardi Gras, except that a friend gave me a very fancy mask a few years back and I find it's difficult to wear a mask with large plumage and a jesters hat. But I make do. Because you all know how much I love Mardi Gras.

Public Transportation and Me

I've talked about this some before, on posts about my relationship with driving and the environment. But more in depth - I'm a public transportation enthusiast. I'm not just okay with using public transportation - I enjoy it.

Most of the time, that is. I don't enjoy it when the Red Line is twenty minutes late and it's a million degrees and humid in the subway and it's nearing midnight and it's just me and some sketchy looking dudes, so I do not want to take off my jacket. I don't enjoy when buses have to travel over incredibly bumpy roads that make me shake so much I can't read the words on my book. I don't enjoy how diffucult it is for the few friends that I have without cars to get around this city.

But I do very much enjoy when a new line opens up. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's pretty exciting. A couple months ago, the Expo Line opened up, travelling above ground from downtown to Culver City. It's current last stop is not that exciting - there's a large parking structure, and a Target a little less than a mile south. In the fall (supposedly) the line will make it out to Robertson and Venice, closer to downtown Culver City. But I can't wait that long, so when the line was less than a week old, my boyfriend and I took the Red Line to 7th Street Station and switched over. They don't have all the bugs out, but since we weren't on a schedule, the glitches were more funny than annoying. After arriving at La Cienega and Jefferson, we walked, in the dark, about a half mile north. There we found a BBQ restaurant I had looked up. It proved to be inexpensive and delicious, just like Yelp said. After dinner, we got some 7Up cake to go, and started the journey back.

Totally worth it. Let's do it again sometime, Expo Line. Only this time, a bit quicker. And without you announcing that the doors are about to close - when they're already closed.

Computers and Me

I don't remember life without computers. I moved to San Jose with my parents at the age of three and as far back as I can remember, my parents both had computers in the home office. My mom worked on an Apple II E and my dad always had some sort of crazy contraption. For awhile, we had a Lisa. I learned to type on my mom's Apple, and eventually got my own computer in my room, to do homework and play games on.

I enjoyed typing more than writing, so I began turning in typed reports much earlier than the other children. My fifth grade state report was typed (I wrote about Connecticut because that's where The Babysitter's Club books took place). We had a computer lab at school, connected to the library. At the beginning of fifth grade, our teacher warned us that we would have to take a test at the end of the year, where we'd have to type a certain amount of words on a keyboard without any letters on it. This terrified my classmates, but I figured it would be no big deal. As it turns out, she was bluffing.

I'm not the fastest typist in the world, mostly because I have a tendency to fix mistakes as I go along instead of editing my work afterward. I tried to break the habit after my dad pointed it out to me in high school, but I didn't really stick to it.

I used my parents computers in middle school, and for some of high school. One night in freshman year, I had to do a report in my current events type class that required a news article. My parents were going out for the evening and I told them that before they left I needed them to go with me to pick up a newspaper. They recommended I just print out an article online. I had futzed around with the Internet before, but only for entertainment purposes (I believe I spent my time on Weird Al's website and Disney's website, both quite fledgling), but this was the first time I had actually found it, well, useful. The Internet and I have been close friends every since.

The video card in my laptop needs replacing. I've never opened up a computer before ... so this should be an interesting adventure. I'll let you know how it goes ... possibly from a computer at the library.

Katharine Hepburn and Me

In high school, I lived in Palo Alto, and my mom and I often went over to the Stanford Theater, where they play films that were made prior to 1963. At some point, we saw something with Katharine Hepburn in it, possibly Bringing Up Baby (this picture is from that film) or The Philadelphia Story or maybe even Holiday. Altogether, I was smitten, and after printing out a list of her films from a fledgling IMDB, my mom and I went to the video store at the end of our street. Unfortunately, the list had printed new to old, so the first movie I checked out was Love Story. It was okay, but she's only in it for a bit.

I borrowed her autobiography and biographies from the library. I remember reading them in the hammock in the front yard. She fascinated me. She's part of the reason I can sit here typing in pants. I know there's more to the woman's movement than just her, but she wore trousers on screen, which is basically just a big 'screw you' to menfolk.

Her affairs were interesting. Howard Hughes was quite smitten by her, but she just wasn't interested in marrying him.

I named my first car, a 1985 Volvo, after her, because my car gave me independence, just like how she was an independent woman.

It's been around fifteen years since my interest in this woman began, and I have yet to see more than half her films. I'll get around to them. In some ways, I don't really want to finish them.

I remember that I was in Vegas when she died. I couldn't necessarily be upset about it, but it was sad nonetheless.

Someone did a one woman show on her at the Falcon Theatre in Toluca Lake a year or so ago. That was really fascinating. I didn't think I would learn anything, but the actress had a lot of insights.

I recently bought her book about The African Queen - I look forward to reading it again and crossing the threshold of viewing more than half her films.

Muppets and Me

I have always loved The Muppets. I think it's a combination of how popular they were in the mid to late eighties, plus the connection I have to them through my last name. I was a devotee of The Muppet Babies on CBS on Saturday mornings and as a small child I was convinced I would marry Big Bird when I grew up.

I still have my VHS tapes with The Great Muppet Caper and A Muppet Family Christmas taped off of television. The Great Muppet Caper, it turns out, is missing scenes, and I've seen them here and there. It's like being introduced to a long lost twin sister - you didn't know you could miss something you didn't know about. A Muppet Family Christmas is on DVD, but is missing certain songs. My video, taped on the initial airing, has all of them. It is currently on loan to a fellow Muppet loving friend.

About six years ago, I was driving home from work at the preschool, past the Improv on Melrose. I saw a sign that said "Puppet Up!: Jim Henson's Muppets" and I knew I had to go, whatever it was. It was, of course, amazing. They didn't have many shows (still don't) but I managed to catch them at The Grove of Anaheim, a couple of times at The Avalon, a couple of times at UC Irvine, and just the other day at The Largo. It's always expensive, but always completely worth it. The name of this Muppet improv show is now called Stuffed and Unstrung. The dark photo is of the 'rack' of puppets that they bring to each show. These are Muppets, as in they came from the Jim Henson workshop, but they are not THE Muppets, the ones that are now owned by Disney, like Kermit and Piggy. Which is fine, because as the show title suggests, things get a little ... weird. Just the way I like it. The puppets, which are on the end of puppeteers arm, whom you can also see, swear and make sexual innuendos and threaten one another. It is awesome.

I plan on introducing my eventual children to the awesomeness that is The Muppets. That ought to give me a good excuse to just watch The Great Muppet Caper over and over.

Disneyland and Me

I don't know how young I was the first time I went to Disneyland. I know I went to Disneyworld when I was very very little. There are photos of me at Disneyland from around four or five, but I don't remember that trip. What I do know is that we went often, like once a year, through high school (although at that point I was going with my high school band class).

I would be lying if I said that Disneyland being nearby wasn't part of the reason I wanted to move to Southern California after high school. I knew I wouldn't go that often, and I've never really been inclined to purchase a pass, but I still liked the idea of it being a 'day trip' instead of a 'vacation.'

But I still usually only go about once a year. And I've been to California Adventure maybe a handful of times. That place is okay, it has some good stuff, though the main attractions of the Tower of Terror and roller coaster and even the Ferris wheel are too droppy/fast/high up for me to want to go on them. My boyfriend did convince me to go on Tower of Terror and I can say with certainty that I did not enjoy it all. I much more enjoyed learning about the ride via the Internet afterward, and I guess it was helpful to have gone on the ride to find out what they were talking about. I found it particularly fascinating that the Imagineers decided that dropping people didn't produce fast enough speeds just using terminal velocity, and so when you "drop," the elevator is actually being accelerated downwards.

My favorite ride has always been Star Tours, even before I'd seen the movies, but especially afterward. I just went on Sunday and was able to go on the new Star Tours ride. It was quite fun and it's exciting that it's going to be different each time, but I'm sad to see Pee Wee's voice and all the other familarity go.

More recently, being into Tiki, I have loved the Tiki Room. My ex boyfriend bought me a record with the Tiki Room song on it after he saw me pine after it in a store that wasn't selling it. It was easily the best gift he ever got for me - unfortunately, it got lost in a move. Sigh.

So far Disneyland has kept up a nice balance of nostalgic with new and exciting. So long as they do, I'll head down every so often.

Farmers Markets and Me

This is a picture of the Farmers Market that takes place on Thursdays in Downtown Los Angeles. I began going there while working in the LA Times Building, and I continue to make weekly jaunts down to the market when my schedule allows. I usually buy a couple of slices of banana-walnut bread for Saturday morning breakfast, some veggies, some fruit, maybe some jerky, and then usually a tamale to eat there, while reading. It's a nice ritual that I can feel good about, in terms of eating organic and locally.

I've been attending several other farmers markets in Los Angeles. Wednesdays at Barnsdale, Sundays in Beverly Hills, Saturdays in North Hollywood. I've never been to one I didn't like.

I don't remember going to farmers markets as a kid, really. I'm sure San Jose and Palo Alto had them, but I remember going to swap meets more. Farmers markets are more popular now than even ten years ago.

What I usually do when I go to the Farmers market, any of them, is get $20 from the bank. When it's gone, I'm done buying things. That way I can't get anything too expensive (yes, that soap smells good, but I already have soap) and I won't get so caught up in buying fancy pansty vegetables that I buy more than I can eat before they go bad.

They're also a nice way of staying abreast of what's in season. Of course, it's also wise to be knowledgeable about that. Years ago I went to a farmers market in Santa Monica with a friend of mine in, I think, January. She bought some strawberries, and then we went to another stand, where a hippie-ish looking guy was selling organic veggies. He looked at the strawberries and asked where they were possibly growing them - the moon? My friend turned as red as the fruit in her hands. I've been careful to only buy strawberries in the spring and summer since then. Although the other day, I did buy some heirloom tomatoes, even though I'm pretty sure their growing season is the fall. Oh well. They're too tasty to pass up.

I'll update on more farmers markets as I visit others. There's a new one on Thursdays at Hollywood and Western I should check out ...

Flowers and Me

When I was in middle school, I got into something of a flower phase. There were time in, I think seventh grade, where I made sure that I wore flower *something* to school. This was somewhat easy because I had a pair of shoes that were made out of a sort of carpet bag material with flowers on them. But I also had a casual dress with flowers on it, a vest, even shorts I think. I had a bedspread with flowers on them.

I haven't really thought about this before, but this weird mini-obsession might have been caused by the flowers that we had growing near our mailbox at the time. When my parents bought a house right before I entered sixth grade, the previous owners had not treated it well. There were doors missing, the house was a miserable tomato-puke color (my mom's interpretation) and there was no grass in the front or the back yards. Now, being an environmentalist, I am not a big proponent of lawns. In California, they use up too much water to keep them up. My previous house had juniper bushes in the front, and a lawn in the back, which is where I acquiesce - it was really nice having a lawn to run around, spin, fall down on as a little girl. So if I have a house someday, I would like it to have a lawn. But only in the backyard. The front doesn't need one - but it should have something. This was just a bunch of dirt. My mom's plan was to first plant a magnolia tree, which she did, but it certainly wasn't very big when we moved three years later. Her next plan was to plant chamomile plants in the front yard as ground cover. But this was a very time consuming thing, and she was also attending graduate school at the time. So she didn't quite get to half of it before we moved.

But! Our mailbox was one of those right next to the street kind, where the mail person can just drive up to it. And there was a square patch of land around it. I can't remember if we planted the flowers, or if they grew on their own for some reason, but grew they did. They were as tall as me, nearing five feet, at the time. There were sweet peas and sunflowers, and all manner of who knows what.

I appointed myself household flower person, and every Sunday would go outside with a actual flower basket (it's like a basket, but with a flat area instead of the 'bucket') and carefully snip a bunch of flowers. Then I would take them inside and snip them diagonally underwater, like you're supposed to do. Then I would distribute them into vases, and place them in every room of the house. And I mean every room. Three bedrooms, the living room, kitchen, dining room, front hall and both the bathrooms.

I can't remember how long I kept that up, but I was pretty good about it. What I do remember, is that one year, during El Nino, our street flooded (we were on a cul-de-sac and the gutters clogged) and so to cross the street to my friends house, I had to walk away from the end of the street, around the water, and then back to her house.

That spring, my friend across the street had all my flowers growing where her mail box was! And without even trying! I was super jealous, but that's how life goes.

Civil War Reenactments and Me

A couple of Saturdays ago, I went to a Civil War reenactment. Over a month ago, I was taking the bus to my friends house, and I happened to catch a poster about it in front of Pierce College. Pierce is pretty far out in the valley, and it has this thing called "The Farm" which is a whole bunch of land, as you can see here. This particular reenactment/heritage days has been going on for awhile. I'd never been to one, so I decided to check it out.

The first thing I learned was that it is LOUD. I do not think I'll be bringing my eventual children to this until they're teenagers. We arrived and entered just before the first engagement, and walked over to where there were bleachers to sit. It turned out we had to pay to sit ($4!) but it was hot and we'd saved money buying the tickets online, so we went for it. As I was having my wristband put on me, a cannon went off, which I hadn't been expecting. I yelled loudly, then said "well, I guess it's noon."

Watching the battle was interesting. We never caught which battle they were reenacting, if it was a specific one. Everything was kind of ... slow. It's not like in movies where horses are coming at you and there's guns going off constantly and lots of death and screaming every second. The rebels were advancing on the Union soldiers, and they had to reload constantly, so you could generally anticipate when there would be noise. The rebels were also not wearing uniforms, they were lucky to have guns and horses. Some of them didn't even have rifles or shotguns, just hand guns from the time.

When the engagement was over, we headed over to the town square where Lincoln would be giving his Gettysburg Address. It was interesting and pretty quick. Then he went on to talk about other things, and I began to feel nauseous and dizzy. I thankfully had the wherewithall to remember that those are the symptoms of heat stroke, and quickly went to go sit down and drink water.

After I recovered, we went and took a look at the tents where goods and such were being sold. There was one selling hats, and they had a whole trunk full of fascinators, which I of course wanted, but they were all around $35, too much for me. I did wind up purchasing a ring with a relief thing going on, and a pair of vintage earrings (not vintage civil war, more like vintage late 40s) for a total of $15. I'm pretty stoked about them.

 Then I attended a fashion show while my boyfriend and his cousin, who happened to be in town, saw a Calvary demonstration. The fashion show was quite interesting, and the announcer definitely knew what she was talking about.

Lastly, I watched "Victorian Dancing." I was under the impression that they would have a few people to demonstrate, and then probably get the crowd involved. But instead there was only one, the woman on the left. She was pretty good at organizing, and a lot of students got corralled into it by their teacher, so there were quite a few volunteers. I didn't watch all of it, but what I did see was a lot of circle turning and walking backwards and turning your partner. I felt bad not participating, but I wanted to watch first, and then it was time to for us to head out so we could meet up with my boyfriend's sister.

All in all a good day. Maybe I'll go next year? If there's someone who wants to go. Hopefully it wouldn't be as hot ... but it's always hot in the valley in the spring.

One last thing: are there other countries that do this kind of thing? Reenact wars? Because it seems kind of odd. It's almost a celebration of that time. I know it educates and whatnot, but it's still kind of morbid, falling dead in a field.

Enthusiasm and Me

I've been thinking lately about how enthusiasm works. There are things that I love, but sometimes I wonder if I would love them/did love them as much because there was someone else there to egg me on, to agree with me, to prove that I was right in my excitement.

If I had been totally alone in my love for Star Wars, would I have been as into it as I was? My friend from high school, J, had always loved it, partially because of her older brother. So when it was re-released and I got really into it, she was right there along with me. And together we convinced our other friends that this was something worth spending time on. But without her?

While I've loved Weird Al for many years now without any particular help from anyone, my interest was first helped along by my friend B. And then more recently, my boyfriend wanted to go see Weird Al in concert, and that kind of reminded me how awesome he is (Weird Al, tho the boyfriend is awesome too).

Yesterday I was having lunch with a friend, and we were talking about how much we both love California. On my way home, with the sun out, a cool breeze going through my hair I was driving through the scenic Coldwater Canyon, and I smiled because, yes, I really do love it here.

I would hope that not everything I love is based purely on other people's opinions. And I don't think it is. I haven't met anyone who has as much as an interest in disasters as I do. And it's been a long time since I've spent time with anyone who was as enthusiastic about the royal family (tho there was a night in high school where my friend C and I spent the whole evening pouring over a now lost poster of the royal lineage. we had a great time. then I think we played Set for awhile. great card game).

Anyway, just something I've been thinking about lately. How much interest in a subject is innate in me and how much comes from seeing someone else interested in something. When someone is excited about something, that looks like fun, and oftentimes, you'll find yourself excited about it too.

Weird Al and Me

I have loved Weird Al since ... being very very little. My parents heard him on one of their favorite radio shows, Dr. Dimento. I'm not sure my love for Weird Al would have grown as strong as it has if it weren't for my friend B, the same one who had the horse that I posted about a couple weeks ago.

She was into Weird Al because her older brother was, and she worshiped her brother (briefly). So there we were, around six and five, enjoying "I Want a New Duck" and having absolutely no clue that the song it was parodying was totally innnapropriate for us to be listening to (Huey Lewis' "I Want a New Drug").

We watched UHF over and over and over again. That movie, to this day, is probably the one film  I've seen the most, even more than any Star Wars movie. Even more than Young Einstein, which we also watched together. I haven't seen it in a few years now, but I could still tell you the entire plot and recite a vast majority of the lines to you if you asked (you probably don't want to ask). I didn't understand almost any of the references at the time, but have slowly filled things in. Gandhi II where Gandhi kicks butt is funny because if you watch the first film/know anything about his life, he was a pacifist. I still haven't seen Rambo, but I don't think I need to to get the joke.

I used to own a lot of those Disney Adventures magazines, but I've only saved this one and one other (with Daniel Stern on the cover - not sure what that's about). In it, there's an interview with Weird Al. It's short and silly. I've interviewed quite a few bands for a music website I work for, and interviewing Al would be like some sort of Holy Grail. If I got to, I would like to give him these interview questions, see if his answers have changed.

I have, at least, shook the man's hand. It was at a benefit concert he showed up to, and he hadn't gone on yet. I was in the crowd, near the stage, watching the band that was up. Next to me was what I assumed to be a skinny teenager, who was in love with Weird Al, 'cause he reminded me of him, with the shirt and the hair. It was dark, but I could make out a Hawaiian shirt. It very slowly dawned on me that I was standing next to Weird Al. It was utterly terrifying. He was enjoying the show with his wife, and I waited very patiently until the band ended, then turned and shook his hand. He seemed genuinely happy to shake it. I told him it was amazing to meet him, or some such, but the crowd was so loud I doubt he heard me. I then grabbed my friend and ran off. I texted my parents, B, and J from high school.

So, here we are, about 25 years after I sang along with "Dare to Be Stupid" (one of my favorite of his songs, and definitely my favorite of his videos) and I'm still singing along.

My Trunk and Me

This post will be more about the container than the things inside it. You can see that I have successfully located thew whereabouts of my Tinker Toys (though I will admit that those are the ones I asked for in middle school, during my 'never gonna grow up' phase. Also living in the trunk are several  Star Wars items, including a lightsaber I believe I inherited (from a friend who eventually lost interest) and a miniature Death Star, something of an inside Script joke from my high school friend J. There's a naked doll (there are clothes for her somewhere) with an awful perm and a doll blanket that my or may not have been one of my baby blankets. There's a Garfield window stuffed animal, that was never, I believe, stuck onto a window, but rather dragged around by me as a child during the interlude where my family did not own a cat. There's some sandals in the back, the Greek wrap-around-your-leg kind that I had always wanted and wound up locating at Ross during a shopping trip with two unlikely guy friends. It turns out those types of sandals are not at all practical, the strings do not stay on your legs. Also included is a doll hammock (to be put to good use ... someday) and a denim skirt that is falling apart and no longer fits me, but my parents made if for me, so I keep it.

Okay, now that that's over with, onto the trunk itself. I love it. I've always had it - I really ought to inquire about its origins. When I was small, my dad put a pneumatic sort of rig on it, so it wouldn't slam shut, but rather be lowered slowly once tilted down - the better to not lose small fingers. As a child, having a trunk made me feel like I was from the nineteenth century, a kid of olden days with all my belongings in one heavy wooden box. It was quite romantic.

Over the years the trunk has gone from being a place of storage, to a bedside table, to a dresser, and now back to basic storage. The thing that kept it from slamming shut has fallen off, but as I am no longer five, I'm less likely to slam it on one of my fingers (only less likely, of course - you never know). The trunk has held up surprisingly well, even when it itself was in storage while I was in college, living in a family friends garage, up on a sort of loft. How I got it up and down that ladder ... I seem to have selectively forgotten that memory ...

Anyway, I love the trunk. I suppose it is one of my more precious items, now that I think about it. Seems kinda big for one, but there you go.

Legos and Me

By the way, we've moved on from things under the bed. The clarinet is kept in the hall closet, and the Legos are from a box in a different closet.

Here is a smattering of Legos. Some of them are 'vintage' - like the strange dude with black hair - you don't see them anymore. I don't have a ton of them, they live in that box, which lives in a bigger box. Mostly they're a random assortment, although there are a couple of instruction booklets to make a boat and something else. And there are a couple of small Phantom Menace sets.

I've been told that Legos are no longer sold in just packs of random pieces, but rather, only in sets with instruction booklets, and that this lack of allowing kids to be creative will lead to the downfall of Western civilization as we know it. Well, let's find out if the first part of that is true.

Okay, I just searched for 'Lego' (without the S even) on Amazon and the first result was a tub of Legos, the "Ultimate Building Set", which says it "features a great assortment of LEGO bricks and elements." While it does contain instructions and photos for 'inspiration' this is similar to what I had as a child with my Tinker Toys (hm, where are my Tinker Toys?). So so much for the downfall of Western civilization. At least from the Legos 'problem' side of things.

I played with my Legos a fair amount, making homes with yards (thank you weird Lego tree  you can see in the picture) and vehicles. I never really had enough people to satisfy me though. I generally stuck to Barbies in terms of permanent games, ones that wouldn't get put away. This wasn't because I was necessarily more interested in dolls, it was just that I could tell myself stories more easily with the Barbies since there were more of them.

A couple or three years ago I started babysitting for this kid who was about five and, no joke, was slowly building the full sized Death Star kit, that was at least four times the size of his head and, upon completion, would weigh more than him. He was getting some help from his parents, but I 'helped' him one afternoon, and it mostly just involved me picking out pieces for him, because as a tall person, it was easier for me to survey all the different pieces that had been laid out on the dining room table.

I definitely want my kids to play with Legos, but I think I'll get one of those tubs to compliment my collection that I'll pass on. It's plastic, which I don't like ... but I'll just recycle extra hard when the time comes.

My Clarinet and Me

While in elementary school, my parents had enrolled me in one sport per school year: T-ball in second grade, volleyball in third, soccer in fourth and basketball in fifth. None of these sports particularly interest me, except for maybe basketball, which I was known to play occasionally during lunch in middle school, until my competitiveness caused me to push someone down. I didn't like that side of me, so I decided to stop playing. Over the summer between fifth and sixth grade, my mom and I went to a concert (we went to a LOT of concerts). This was a small one, the quieter half of an orchestra in a small church, playing who knows what. Afterward, they invited the audience up to ask questions about the piece or their instruments, and I went up to talk to the clarinetist. They asked if I was interested in playing the clarinet, and I said I had been thinking about learning either that or the flute - though I did think the flute was kind of a girly instrument, and I was not at girly girl.

So after starting sixth grade, my mom asked if I would like to learn how to play the clarinet, and I said sure. We didn't have a music program at my middle school, hell, we didn't even have water in our pool. We only got an art class when I was in eighth grade, and that was a big deal. So my mom and I drove a few miles away to a music store/lesson place. I was introduced to my music teacher, and my mom signed a contract, renting to own a clarinet.

I liked my music teacher. He was in his late thirties maybe, a father of two small children. He mostly put up with me being silly, and rarely scolded me to get focused. My lessons were probably about a half hour, if I had to guess, and I was also supposed to practice at home everyday (at least every weekday).

And so that became part of my routine. The summer between eighth and ninth grade, we moved from San Jose to Palo Alto, about thirty miles apart. I enrolled in band class at school, and wanted to continue my lessons. This was a problem, but we solved it with public transportation. I somehow got from Palo Alto to downtown San Jose (though I don't remember how that worked) and then from there, took the light rail and then a bus to get to the music store.

At some point, my music teacher told me he'd been diagnosed with leukemia, but that it wasn't bad and he'd probably be fine. I was concerned, but hopeful. He stopped teaching at the store, and I began going to his house for lessons. There was no bus to get me there (he didn't live far) or maybe it was that my friend (who had lived across the street from me in San Jose) had a mom who'd heard about all my bus taking, but she started driving me, picking me up from the light rail station. My mom picked me up afterward.

For some reason, it was decided I needed to learn the flute, to get a better understanding of musical theory or something. My best friend at high school, J, played the flute, so I doubt it was difficult to convince me. My music teacher recommended a friend of his to buy a used flute from, so we went and purchased one. I would alternate between instruments in my lessons.

But suddenly, one afternoon, while J was over and we were goofing around, I got a call from my music teacher's wife telling me he'd died. My reaction was odd "you're kidding" but I had never received a phone call heralding someone's death. I scrawled the time and place of the funeral on the front cover of the aforementioned Script, where it remains to this day.

I was pretty devastated. He'd had a son while I'd known him, so quite young. It was out of the blue, he'd died of pneumonia he'd developed from a cold. I went to his funeral with my mom, and grieved for quite a while afterward.

I continued with band through high school, becoming part of a dual drum major team my senior year. In college, I took, I think it was called symphony for one year, sophomore, I think. In senior year, I took an improv class that I thought would be about stage improv, but it turned out to be musical improv. I thought about dropping it, but continued instead.

That was the last time I played my clarinet regularly. I got it out the other day to take this picture, and I've discovered it needs to be re-corked on one joint. I need to find a place to do that ... maybe see how much they charge for lessons.

Gifts and Me

 

When I wrote my post about the most precious objects that I own, I should have included these. These are my Space Spoons, given to me by my friend P (the one from my freshman year group I wrote about earlier) for my fifteenth birthday. They are the characters from Star Wars, Return of the Jedi more precisely, made out of various plastic utensils. Because P rocks - I mean, who would of thought of this kind of stuff?

 That 'script' that I talked about before - my friend J and I began to film it. At first we used ourselves as actors, but that quickly proved almost impossible. She didn't want to be onscreen (as I recall, tho this later went away when we did The Show) and we didn't really have any costumes besides Princess Leia. So film switched to action figures, but we didn't have all those right ones either. So we switched, finally, to the Space Spoons. We got only a few pages into the script.

From left to right: Greedo, an Ewok, a Jawa, Yoda, Bib Fortuna, Jabba, the Twilek Dancing Girl, the Rancor Master, Lando, Princess Leia (in a combo of A New Hope buns and her Return of the Jedi chain bikini), C-3PO, R2D2, Luke, Chewie, Han, Obi-Wan, Boba Fett, Darth Vader, a Stormtropper and The Emperor.

The detail, the care, the time that went into these spoons - that's what makes them one of the most amazing gifts I've ever received. My boyfriend gets me some great gifts - I love the thought he puts into them, so many of those would go on the list as well. The Barbie house I spoke about before was a gift, so that would be on there. The trip to Hawaii I've described before was a gift, that as well. My laptop was a gift from my parents, my friend S gave me a beautiful gown I'm quite fond of. My friend C has given me some fun ones throughout the years.

Anyway, it's easy to feel pretty lucky when I think about all the nice things people have given me over the years, but it's the ones with thought behind them that I really appreciate. I think I'll go read a book now, one that was given to me by a friend.

Video Tapes and Me

When I think about what's under the bed, this is usually the first things that comes to mind. Yes, that's right, it's a box of roughly fifty video tapes.

When I was small, Sesame Street, as I understand it, came on while I was in kindergarten (or maybe preschool) (perhaps they didn't run it twice a day in my neighborhood at the time) and so my mom would tape the show. Or maybe I just liked watching the episodes over and over. I've never known a time where I (or my family) didn't own a VCR - I learned how to program it quite young. Anyway, once I graduated from Sesame Street to Duck Tales, my mom began taping a lot of that. So I have several episodes of Duck Tales still, with their awesomely ridiculous and totally nostalgic 80s commercials. At this point, I also own Duck Tales on DVD, so I have been able to rid myself of some tapes.

That has been a 'to-do' of mine for the past several years - watch them and either purchase the DVD, so I can own in it an more permanent (though not permanent) format, watch it and then put the DVD on my Amazon wish list, so I can at least remember that I would like to own it again someday, or watch it and throw the tape away. Because it's going to be ridiculous enough carting around DVDs soon enough, what with that Cloud and all - I really can't be this far behind.

So last night, after taking this photo, I busted out a tape. It said "Disney cartoons and Laugh-In." It turned out to be about a cartoon and a half from a Wonderful World of Disney Valentine's Episode (it was on NBC back then!) and the 25th Anniversary of Laugh-In, which my mom taped (and presumedly watched) in 1993.

I'd never seen an episode of Laugh-In, but luckily this special spent most of it's time showing clips instead of just interviewing Goldie Hawn. I had heard the show was edgy, but, man, they got away with a lot. They spoke about the government and Vietnam in ways that, if a comedian or a show wanted to say those types of things about the messes we're in now, it'd have to be on HBO. They also successfully predicted in 1968 and '69, in their Future News segment, that Reagan would be president in twenty years and that the Berlin Wall would come down in 1989. Quite impressive.

So I stayed up late and watched the whole thing. One tape down! ... Forty-nine to go! ...

Star Wars and Me

Star Wars has come up a lot in this blog. It's the reason I started working (see 'Work and Me' Oct, 2008). I mentioned the Princess Leia buns I'd been known to wear my freshman year of high school in my popularity post from last month. And I spoke about it in my books post from January. It used to be a big part of my life. It still is, to some extent.

This is my box of 'Star Wars Insider' magazines. I subscribed in the spring of 1997, shortly after seeing the re-releases of the films, which were my first time seeing them (that I remember. I have a vague memory of seeing a film with a desert in it that looked a lot like Tatooine, but I remembered it as a Star Trek film). Any magazines from before that time period were ones that I purchased from the Internet or at a convention. Now I'm ... not quite sure what to do with them. Unless you frame them, there's no good way to display magazines, and I already have a ton of posters if I wanted to do that (none of them are up at the moment...). I don't really want to sell them - I'm not super hard up for cash and they're not in mint condition anyway. Reading old magazines is always a little strange (with the exception of most National Geographics). So they live under the bed.

Oh, and there's also that 'Time' magazine, with an article about 'Start Wars' with all these lovely quotes by George Lucas, back before he started making what most people think are questionable choices about his work.

After I saw 'A New Hope' on January 31st, 1997, I thought it was a good movie. It was fun and I had a good time.My feelings about it crept up slowly. Or, sort of slowly. It wasn't love at first sight, but by the time 'Empire' came on screen two weeks later, my hair was in those Princess Leia buns.

I saw the movies A LOT in theaters. I started writing what my friends and I called 'The Script' - or something of a parody of 'Star Wars'. It's full of immature jokes, bad puns and just overall silliness. By the time 'Return of the Jedi' was re-released on March 14th, I was up to 57 hand-written pages. The script was my main creative outlet until my junior year, when the prequel came out. Around that time I started watching Conan - see post: The Show and Me.

My last entry is on August 29th, 2005, noting that the last prequel has been released. Page 319 is where it ends. But my love for 'Star Wars' never will.

Horses and Me

Moving onto the other side of the bed, there is a large container mostly filled with old stuffed animals and doll clothes. Additionally, there is a shoebox, within which there are a few art projects from childhood, a few random frames and this horseshoe.

The horseshoe was given to me by my best friend from childhood, B. When I was three and B was two, our fathers met at a conference, and got to talking. They found they lived not too far from each other and that they had daughters of roughly the same age. The early years with B are kind of a blur. I do remember that when she started sleeping over at my house, she asked that her older brother stay at the house as well. I believe he slept in the living room. I had no such requests being older, and an only child.

She lived in a two (three?) story cabinish looking house in Saratoga. Her room was on the lowest level, you had to take stairs down from the living room. At one point, I think she fell down those stairs - I wasn't there at the time. One day, I remember, we saw a bug in the overhead light fixture in her room, so we decided the best thing to do was to get a broom and jump on the bed with the broomstick handle hitting the light cover until it broke. Why, I'll never know. Children do crazy things like that when they're young.

I do recall playing a lot of some sort of Sesame Street board game while having Disney's Pinocchio on in the background. Her backyard extending into the woods behind the house. It was altogether pretty rocking.

But when she was four, her parents got divorced. Her mom stayed in Saratoga, her dad moved to northern San Jose. At some point, B got really interested in horses, and her mom shared her interest.

So B started going to a stable a lot. And often times I would go with her. This formed pretty much my only encounter with horses.

My mom is not a fan of horses. Before I was born, she had been kicked by one. She was always wary of me visiting the stable. I had to promise to wear a helmet and such.

B eventually bought a horse, an Appaloosa. Often I would just watch her ride, and I definitely went to more than one of her shows. I was envious of her beautiful ribbons, but never actually had interest in doing anything horse related myself.

I'm almost finished reading "Animals in Translation" by Temple Grandin and it is so interesting. Lots of insight about horses and things. Stuff I wish I'd known when I had more contact with animals.

I still can't say horses particularly interest me. I love all animals, but horseback riding has always been right on the edge of scary for me (lack of total control), plus it always makes my butt hurt.

The Show and Me

Alright! We've reached the last of one side of the under-the-bed. Keen observers will see that there is in fact more under there that I have yet to discuss, but those boxes are full of personal/financial-type documents that I will, shocker, not be sharing on my blog.

This plastic container is full of every document I have that relates to "The Show." I've discussed some of this before, but in the summer between my junior and senior year, I began watching Conan. I don't even remember how I came upon that red-haired man, but suddenly there were many nights where I stayed up 'til 1:30AM or taped the show. Probably taped more often - I did work at a preschool at the time. But come August, it was quite apparent - I had to have my own show. My two best friends were in agreement, and wanted to be a part of it. One of them had interned at our local cable access station, and knew that getting a show was plausible. But we were so determined, we would have just done it in my living room if having our own half hour of local access wasn't possible.

But, lo and behold, I was given the time slot. And so in November, we shot our first show. The format followed Conan's - opening, monologue, first sketch, first guest, second sketch, second guest. We had a house band - namely, a fellow Conan-lover friend of mine. My co-host was one of my best friends, the other directed the show. I produced, and wrote and was the host. Some of the sketches were roll-ins (pre-taped bits), some were in-studio. Our audience was my mom and our friends - that is, the ones that weren't operating cameras.

We did ten shows before the following fall, when I (and several others) left for college. The following summer we did two more. The shows still exist as video tapes and a few video files my mom converted.

The way I accomplished having a show and taking AP classes in my senior year of college and working as a nanny after school four days a week was - well, I think I had a lot of energy. The show was taped (live) once a month, and so I would spend the two weeks leading up to it working on the scripts, and the roll-ins, getting guests, and writing monologues. During this time, I would generally neglect all long-term homework. Then for the two weeks after we taped a show, I would catch up on my school work again. I did this until the summer, when I was only working as a nanny.

Would I do it all over again? Oh yes. A thousand times yes. I would now, even, but the cast and crew are so spread out, it's impossible. And with the Internet expanding, everyone can (and, it seems like, does) have their own show. But this was back when cameras weren't on everyone's phones (which no one had anyway) and having one's own show was novel. I miss it. In many ways, it reflected, and made me, who I am today.

Looney Tunes and Me

This box contains boxes. Because that makes sense, right? In here, I have three bobble heads, all from giveaways at Dodger games. I don't want to get rid of them, I don't want to display them. So they live in this box.

Underneath Gagne (oh, I have fond memories of Gagne-such a silly guy) is my box for my old cell phone. Supposedly, I am supposed to keep my old cell phone in case my new one dies. But I'd like to recycle it. We'll see what happens with that.

In the Looney Tunes box are old day planners. It used to be a shoebox for a pair of Tweety Converse.

The thing is, I've never really liked Tweety. But I did like Converse. So I wound up with those shoes. This was like, middle school, mind you, so back in the mid-90s, when, for some reason, the Looney Tunes got really big again.

But I've always loved Looney Tunes. Even if most cartoon shorts make references to things I did not get at the time. On Saturday mornings, I used to get up early and find my parents cancelled checks. Then I would take them and a notebook out to where the TV was and add up all the amounts while watching Looney Tunes. Why? Honestly, I haven't a clue. It was like how small kids play school sometimes, but I skipped past school and went straight to accounting. Which isn't to say that's a particular passion of mine. I'm not bad at numbers or math - but why I was so into those checks ... well, I am somewhat intrigued by small, rectangular pieces of paper - which is why I have saved so many of my Metro tickets.

But I digress. Bugs Bunny is just so smart. And he always gets the best of those with less than upstanding intentions. My favorite cartoons are the absurd ones. The more absurd the better, like Duck Amuck. The cartoon I really want to see is Porky in Wackyland but it has yet to show up in any of the episodes that I've been DVRing from time to time on the Cartoon Network. But I will wait ... or eventually give up and buy the Looney Tunes collection with this short when I am feeling particularly flush with cash.

I've always enjoyed Looney Tunes more than Disney cartoons, probably because the humor is more 'out there'. Disney occasionally hits on things more my speed, like The Emperor's New Groove, Lilo and Stitch, or Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Okay, now I've made myself just curl up and watch movies. Drats.

The Old Gang and Me

Interesting box ... the clay piece is a self-portrait, probably from sometime in elementary school. I think I made my lips gigantic on purpose. The plastic thing sticking up in the back is my name plate from a company I worked for back a few years ago. The horse painting is one of those things where I don't know where I came from - I've just always had it. Similar to the blocks I blogged about last, I used it in my Barbie house, as a large painting that dominated the living room. There's a shell of unknown origins, which has now joined the others in the bathroom, and a cork and a screw top. Those got thrown away - I'm not sure why I had them.

But the photographs are of my 'group' from my freshman year. The one on the left was taken during our freshman year of high school, when we were very close. The one on the right is the same six people, tho sitting in a different configuration, four years later, sometime around our graduation.

When I arrived in high school, I hadn't gone to the feeder middle school, so I knew absolutely no one. By the end of the day, I'd found a fun, nice set of girls who were friends and were accommodating. I hung out with them initially, but I also found several other girls who, like me, had not gone to the feeder middle school. Two of them, A and M, had gone to a different middle school and recently moved, just like me. The other, L, had been home-schooled until this point.

I wrangled two of the girls from that group I'd met on the first day away and suddenly, there were six of us. Three of us were in band together, some of us shared classes, but I think what really interested us was we were all social misfits. A had a lot of energy, same with P (from the initial group), though of a different sort. L was adjusting to going to school, M was from a different racial background from the rest of us. J (also from the initial group) was sort of finding her place - she and I became the closest, but she left school in our junior year.

The six of us hung out at lunch, after school, weekends, holiday breaks, and all that summer. But when we got back to school that fall, things were a little different. We started to move off in other directions, pursue friendships that were closer to our own interests. M and J and I stayed close, but the others drifted apart from us. These things happen, and I wasn't especially hurt by it. I still feel privileged that for one year I got to be a part of such a strong and supportive group.

Blocks and Me

I have had these blocks for as long as I can remember. There's something very special about them. I've busted them out every so often throughout the years, and whomever I'm showing them to, be they 1 or 40, they get pretty stoked about them. They're wooden and just the right weight. They're colorful. And there's just the right amount of exciting, differently shaped blocks to make them rare (such as arches, half circles, and very long rectangles).

If you look closely at that yellow block towards the front of the photo, you might notice that it has some marker on it. This is because I decided as a child that these blocks were the perfect size for Barbie TVs. Several blocks have this design, because it was easy to misplace the specific block with the markings along all the other ones. One or two of them even has a design on the side to make it resemble a VCR.

When I was very small, between one and two, some of my parents friends owned some crazy, much more complicated blocks. There are photos of me standing next to towers that my parents had built with their friends (because it was the early 80s and people did stuff like that). After the photos, my parents would encourage me to knock down the towers, as they were done with them. I've been told I was quite hesitant, but eventually convinced to do so. I, of course, loved it.

Similarly, my dad used to work in an office where one of the conference rooms had a wall that was covered in white board. So at a holiday party, I was given a white board marker and told that I could go ahead and color on the walls. I wasn't buying it - I had been punished for this exact thing before, at home. But after a lot of convincing, I put marker to board and had a good time.

I don't remember either of those events, but what I do remember from visiting offices where my dad worked was that I used to steal sugar cubes out of the break rooms. They were such a dichotomy - the sugar was tasty and came in such a cute little shape, but on the other hand, the sharp corners cut my mouth. I still remember how those break rooms smelled - like old coffee and white board markers.