update on my reading...

Confession #1:
I should be reading more (I have the same problem with exercising...need to do it more...).

I'm what you'd call a s-l-0-w reader. Very slow.

It took me awhile, but I'm finally done reading that book on color (mentioned in a previous posts...). Took it slow and easy, savoring a few pages a night before beddy-bye time.

For anyone who dabbles in color (and who doesn't, really?), there is much to learn from this mini but mighty tome about the source of pigments that make up our lives. Some of it is pretty crazy. You won't believe what the most brilliant red is made from!
[Ladies, you may be smearing bug guts on your lips every day]

Confession #2: I have an issue with not being able to retain much of what I read anymore - even after just reading it. However alarming that may sound, it doesn't prevent me from taking great pleasure in the act of reading. But the vicious cycle of reading and forgetting is so very frustrating, yet continues.

My new approach, as some of you already know (from reading b's blog) is re-reading a book right after finishing it. Of course, this doesn't apply to just any book. It has to be one I'm making a conscious effort to remember significant bits from. The color book qualifies for a re-read. But get this: when I'm done with the second go round, I'll start it again.Why? I'm banking on the possibility that with each repeat perusal, I just might retain more and more of the wealth of information within those pages.

Go on - grill me on color. In about 2 years. By then, I should have something of it etched into my gray matter.

After having just expressed a desire to read MORE, re-reading may seem counterproductive. Why keep with the same book when OMG, there are endless read-worthy titles out there to last a lifetime.
It is so true what 'they' say: so many good books, so little time...

Confession #3: Aside from the read and re-read approach, I haven't quite figured out how to remedy my read n' forget affliction.
Would doing a book report work? In the last few years, I did some extensive book reporting for college courses. The kind of analytical research that picks a book and its meaning apart only to put it back together again (and hope for the best). Comparing and contrasting until blue in the face and/or earning an A for the course. Even having experienced that intense degree of focus on a book, if pressed to recall my analysis, most of the time I still can't...

It's been said that discussing what you've just read with someone is a great way to process the essence of the material. Hence book groups. I'm in one, and it does help a wee bit - but not enough.

I love books.
I want to read more.
Moreover, I want to remember what I read.

Aicheemama!
To be young and to be able to remember things!

Quote of the day - and it's a good 'un

You can only be young once. But you can always be immature. - Dave Barry

Somehow, when it comes to humorists, I've always managed to overlook Dave Barry. (Was his start in sports-writing? If so, that would 'splain it...).
But that quote just hit home for me, so there may be something here after all.

Say - he even has a blog.

For more laffs on the subject of immaturity, go here.

20 minute Zzzzzzzz's

Check it out.
Pictured is a MetroNap pod.

For those of you who nap during the day (I don't - unless ill or had a sleep-deprived night before) and swear by the 10-20 minute refresher (AKA power) nap, here's something just for YOU.

You aren't home or anywhere near a comfy bed. There's no quiet place, available sofa or chair (there's such a risk of neck strain napping on most chairs, though). The ol' bod just can't take catching a few quick zzzzzz's on the carpeted floor anymore.
Say 'hello' to Metropod.

Though touted as an office aid to increase productivity in the workplace, I fancy its significance as a tool to help folks get on with the social interaction of their day - without getting grouchy or party-poopery. Tired grumpy people just ain't no fun to be with, don't you agree?

Have any of you ever seen a Metropod, or (gasp!) actually tried one out?
(BTW, have you ever used the spray-down-with-disinfectant-after -use public toilets?)
(this link is scatological to da max!)

Anyways. Back to Metropod:
What happens after 20 minutes (or whatever the timed nap is set for) is up?
Does a loud and very rude alarm go off? Seems counter-productive.
Does a sanitizing pod spray wash over the napper? Nap + a shower = two bits?
Do the disturbing sounds of the city/office/airport seep slowly back into the pod environment, thereby awakening the sleeper? Reality check!

Haha.
Haha is only 2 steps away from Uh-Oh:
I KNEW the pods would someday return to take over our bodies...

Fo' Real or Fo' Fake?

Are you for a Real Christmas tree or are you for a Fake Christmas tree?

We've always had real.
Whether chopped down on the farm or purchased from a lot, we've always been die-hard afficionados and true to the attributes of Real.

This is the first year that I've even considered the idea of a Fake.
For several reasons - the most significant being that I get so sad when the gorgeous looking and delightful smelling Realtree begins its slow but inevitable drying once inside the house (no matter how faithfully the tree stand gets filled with H2O). By the 26th, the extra-crispy tannenbaum only serves to add significantly to my Post-Christmas melancholy.

We live in the forest so I do not want for bringing nature in. All I have to do is glance through any uncurtained window for a view of pines or step out for a 360º of the evergreens.

A live tree to haul in-then-out again is not an option. Too many live bugs.

Cost is another factor. Real has gotten ridiculously-high-priced. Talk about use and discard!

I'm not even going to get into the whole dropped needles issue...

Just thinkin'. Just askin'. Just wonderin' aloud....
Hmmmmmmmmmm...

(BTW, re: cost: no tree on our 1.3 acre property is of the right size/type for cutting down and hauling in as a free-in-the-house Christmas tree)

NO library...

There is one county in California that has no library. I'm not even sure if any version of Bookmobile makes the rounds there.

Sierra County (north of Lake Tahoe) is rural, and no - that doesn't translate to folks who don't read. Over 3500 residents there are in need of a new venue to house books as well as offer community classroom space and a children's center. Even with $2.3 milion dollars raised for the plan, the county is still $500,000 short towards financing construction of such a center. With the coffers already depleted, Sierra County may or may not be able to raise the extra money. No money, no library center.

Following the online article are reader's comments: one reporting that another CA. county has just been financed to erect two new libraries in a city east of Sacramento (where there are already quite a few existing libraries). Cost for new construction: 16 million dollars. Not surprisingly, this is in a high-growth, affluent, residential area which is certainly not lacking for much of anything.
One county struggling to build their very first modest-sized library center (which, at this writing, may or may not happen) and another erecting one of palatial (possibly ostentatious?) proportions. Population and economic differences between the two counties is obvious, but when it comes to libraries, all are equal in their need for one, wouldn't you think?

Everyone should have access to the wealth of information that a public library makes available. A library is a building which houses borrowable books, certainly. Yet the building represents so much more...

When I was a kid, the Chinatown Branch Public Library (posted photo) was my home away from home. Located two and a half blocks from our flat, it was an easy walk, and I could be found there every day after school hanging out with friends and doing homework. An avid reader who didn't own any books of my own, the library was my sole source of reading material (other than my younger brother's comic book collection). I'd peruse the shelves and bring home a stack of books every week. Those would be finished within days, and I'd be back for more.

Even at that young age I realized that the public library was a special place offering unique gifts of knowledge and discovery. A virtual treasure trove of books - all free to borrow, to pore over, to learn from. Every title holds promise of an exciting adventure to new worlds and existences different from one's own. Within the confines of its four walls, the library provides countless opportunities for adventure, travel, fantasy, mystery. Books that prompt questions. Books that provide answers.

In its own quiet way, the library was then and still is - exciting. Comforting. Always welcoming.
Come in, sit down, read a book.
Stay awhile. Or awhile longer.
Take the book home to read. Just be sure to bring it back so someone else can have a turn.

I loved the sounds and smells of the Chinatown Branch Library: old books, new books, the warm mustiness of the central heating system. The heavy swoosh of the big double wood and glass doors as they swung open on smooth hinges. The 'snap' as card catalog drawers were pushed closed. The 'due back' date stamp as it was inked and pressed onto a card by the librarian, then inserted into the front pocket of the book. Creaky wooden furniture.

It was MY library. I owned those sounds and those smells.

Back then, librarians shushed .
I know it's an outdated stereotype, but geeez, I even miss the shushing.

Everyone should have a library of their own 'to own'. A place to make friends with books. Somewhere to escape to from the world and to find new worlds to escape into.

Sierra County is in need of someone who can do an 'Andrew Carnegie'. Will anyone in the 21st century step up to the philanthropist plate for a cause such as this?

Good Gravy!

Seriously.
The turkey gravy I made on T-Day was good.
Damn good.
I whipped up about a gallon of it and there’s still some left.

Tasty! Lovely color! Perfect consistency! No lumps! Smooooooooth as silk! Nothing gooey about it!

The difference must’a been in the making of the roux to thicken vs. going the cornstarch route. All that butter and flour slowly cooked into a bubbling froth before being added to the mix. Really, the gravy was exceptional, if I must say so myself.

I'll be glad when all the leftovers are gone.
Unfortunately, they won't be until I eat them up. Everything (except the pies) smothered with that Good Gravy (topped with a heaping helping of cranberry sauce).
I can forego additional helpings of dessert, but simply cannot pass up the savouries.
I know I won't stop until there isn’t a drop of Good Gravy left.

Thoughts turn to exercise:
How I need to.
How very good it is for me.
How I really do dread doing it.

Arrrgh. Good Gravy vs. A Healthier Heart, Toned Muscles and A Considerably Less Poochy Tummy.
How/when do I turn my thinking around to loathe the rich foods and love the exercise?!?
Hark! Do these sentiments signal an early start of the Guilt Season?
And here you thought it was the official beginning of the Shopping Season. Not so, at least not in my kitchen...

[The photo posted is from an online image source. My gravy never makes it into a little biddy gravy boat. It's scooped with a BIG ladle directly out of the HUGE stockpot I make it in...]

Black Friday

I live under the proverbial rock.

I didn't know until today that the big shopping day after T-Day is referred to as Black Friday. Frankly, because I make it a point not to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving, I don't give a dang.

The bargain hunter in me fully appreciates sharply discounted prices and incredible deals - especially on top quality merchandise, but I reserve the day-after-Thanksgiving for other things:

• enjoying a quiet, lazy and leisurely morning = followed by
• a restful day hanging out with
• family & friends
• eating leftover T-Day foods (this is one time when leftovers actually taste better to me than when the food is originally served)
  
• staying in comfy PJs or other super casual clothing ALL DAY LONG
• doing crafts, reading and watching movies on TV (no football for me, please)
• cozying with my down comforter and taking a nap (who, me?)
  
• maybe, just maybe - stepping out for some fresh air
• and to take in some natural scenery

I covet this package-deal of activities, and am happy to report that I managed all of the above today.
I would not actively seek to do otherwise the day after my favourite holiday of the year. No matter how incredible the Black Friday Advertising Hype about early morning bargain prices.

It really does suit me better to have an affirmation of life rather than
an affirmation of shopping.

To each his/her own.
Whatever you did today, I hope it was super fun, rewarding, soul-satisfying, Chirstmas shopping productive and/or fattening.

P.S. For those of you who don't recognize it, pictured is Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia.

Thank You...

I thank you for reading my blog.
Y'all have a great T-Day, now!

EqualTime

When zee Mama posts a pic of zee older DollinkDaughter in 'cute mode', zee Mama feels she ought to post a pic of zee younger DollinkDaughter in 'Cute mode' as well.
Post haste, if not before.

Finding cute pix of those two gals is never a challenge.
However, I was hard-pressed to find a 'crying' photo of DDJrS.
She actually - smiles a lot. At least she did as a young'un.

So here's DDJrS at age 3:
She'd just finished having a bit of a cry and was wiping her snotty nose off on the back of her hand.

Who said it first?

This has been bugging me for some time. Have avoided bringing it up (until now) - mainly because I don't want to be challenged or proven wrong in my steadfast belief about:
'Who said it first?'.

I'm thinking that years before Chandler Bing uttered this line on 'Friends', DollinkDaughter LLS said it waaaaaaaay earlier: back in 1977. Matter of fact, I remember her using that phrase quite often in those days - especially when upset with her DollinkMama.

Dancin' Dancin' Dancin'

Today: a prominent newspaper in India featured an article stating that dancing is a great exercise to ward off heart disease. Think: 'Monsoon Wedding' and you get the impression that many in India (at least in the Punjab region) aren't shy about tripping the light fantastic. (We Americans are much more uptight about shaking our booties).

Dance as exercise isn't news to those of us who have oft-heard the refrain: Dance = exercise = aerobic = muscle building - ALL IN ONE.

Music?
Has it got a beat, can you dance to it?
With music, or without, we've all got the rhythm inside of us, and nothin' should stop ya.

"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." ...
Japanese Proverb

To-Do list for this Monday and Tuesday

1. Finish sewing dining room curtains
2. Hang dining room curtains!
3. Find new home for my stack o' paintings.
4. Move old furniture and other piles of purged stuff out to garage.
5. Wash car.
6. Make Turkey Day to-do list.
7. Begin T-Day food prep.
8. Wash kitchen floor so it doesn't look quite so gross.
9. Scrub bathtubs and sinks.
10. Finish reading That Color Book.
11. Begin re-read of That Color Book.
12. Finish watching Netflix rented movies that have been here for over 3 weeks.
13. Send those Netflix movies back.
14. Pay bills before they're overdue.
15. Make Monday phone calls before Tuesday gets here!
16. Touch-up paint on Art-Craft Room walls.
17. Tidy desk/office space.
18. Vacumn AND Dust everything!
19. Return library books before they are overdue.
    
20. Get white Ikea (!!) dinner plates from garage and wash 'em for T-Day.
21. Make more to-do lists....

Hey, I don't want to have ALL the fun!
You make one too!

I'm so confused!

Heather? Barbie? Barbie? Heather?

But y'know, it's been a long day...

Quote of the day

Every increased possession loads us with new weariness. - John Ruskin

Such truth!

After yesterday's missive on Ikea Madness, this quote is especially meaningful. Many of us must admit to having shopped to excess at some point in our lives. Others can confess to keeping most everything we've ever acquired for a lot longer than we need to wish to or that our lives require.

We all understand what it means to feel bogged down with too much stuff ...

A bi-annual purge of one's possessions can alleviate the weariness a tad. Purging serves to lighten and brighten the home environment, cleanse the emotional palate and re-settle the soul.
That is, until the void is filled with more.
Oh that vicious cycle.

I IKEA. You IKEA. We all IKEA.

Saturday afternoon = Looks to be that when the weekend rolls round, many folks have it first and foremost in mind to head for the nearest Ikea. Never no mind the entertainment to be had at local parks, theaters, museums and seasonal fests. They even eschew outdoor recreation offered by the idyllic natural surroundings, on a gorgeous autumn day - to be - HERE.

That said, so did I.
Last weekend was the only opportunity HubbyDear was able to accompany me to Ikea, so we braved the crowds. I had anticipated a lot of people, but didn't expect to meet with the multitudes. After parking waaaaay out in the back 40 of the lot, HD and I boldly entered the store with a decided purpose: to seek out a small piece of furniture for the guest bedroom. We targeted the upstairs furniture displays, weaving in out between and amongst - individuals, couples, small groups and entire families (quite a few multi-generational). Some, but not all - were - shopping.

We encountered a horde of All-American Folk engaged in the Disneylandesque ambience of Weekend Ikea.
Grandparents sat comfortably on the moderne furniture patiently waiting for (and no doubt bemused by) their adult children, who hassled and haggled over home decor decisions. HD and I dodged strollers (filled with clothes and purses) left and right. The toddlers who weren't in their strollers were running amuck, playing with the toys in Ikea for Kids, lying on cute beds, dancing about around as well as on the colorful furniture. They begged for tasty treats from the Ikea Cafeteria (is the food area always next to the Kid Area? Smart planning in this regard, Ikea!). Grandparents, parents and kids all seemed to be having A GOOD TIME. Go figure.

Yet, in the midst of all the carnival-like gaiety, there seemed to be some semblance of order (perhaps I just create a mental order to survive such situations). Even a bit of good ol' American Consumerism.

Guided by the directional arrows on the floor, the crowd managed to move (not quite en masse, but one could detect a flow) like lemmings from department to department. As if on a self-guided Universal Studios Tour. (Yes yes, I says to myself - this is fine, really it is....all is good...HD and I will get through this...).

And so we did. Well, sorta. Just us and all the other local folk enjoying quality weekend hours at Ikea. It was something of a joyous scene, albeit a bit surreal.
Ikea is a STORE after all, innit?
Who knew it could be so - recreational?!?

Thursday evening = HD and I are back for a second look. We needed to see if what we thought we saw on Saturday was anything close to what we actually want/need. There was no chance for reasonable decision-making last weekend. As most of you know, it's tough to make the right choices under Chaotic Shopping Duress.

There were no crowds whatsoever. No jostling. Lots of room to browse. Shopping at leisure. IKEA associates poised, with a smile and at the ready to assist with every little thing. It was almost a luxury to be able to take time to examine the merchandise and seriously consider to buy or not to buy. No urge to indulge in shark feeding-frenzied buying. Much accomplished in far less time than on a weekend afternoon. BTW, we ended up with something altogether different from our weekend choices.

On such an Ikea shopping trip, you can even walk into the delightfully furnished rooms / apartment vignettes and pretend you live there without turning the corner and discovering a 'stranger' in 'your' bathroom. Last Saturday, 'strangers' were in all my fantasy cribs. Geez, you could probably take a wee nap in one of the beds and no one would notice for....quite a few minutes. You can walk round happily filling your HUGE YELLOW IKEA SHOPPING BAG with all manner of cool stuff and not bump into anything or anyone.

Best of all: No need to queue up for Swedish Meatballs.
Nice. I mean, really n-i-c-e.
Like I'm never doing Saturday Afternoon Ikea Again Nice.
[Or Sunday for that matter]

Book me R/T to Ikea for my next mini-getaway vacation, will ya?
Just make sure it ain't on a weekend.
Or during the upcoming holidays.
Or on an Ikea Grand Opening Day.

cats or ketch

UP.
America's favourite condiment?

First of all, is it cats or ketch?
Secondly, where did this tasty sauce originate?
Thirdly, have any of you ever made it from scratch (Oooooh - just look at all the different kinds!!!).
Fourthly (does anyone actually say 'fourthly?!?), what's the secret for getting it out of the bottle (regular bottle, not the squeezy type)?

Finally, if this Lois only knew who Clark really was, wouldn't she feel out of line reprimanding him for pouring cats/ketch-up all over his sirloin steak?

[And just where the heck is the World's Largest Ketchup Bottle anyway?]
[the WHAAAAT?!?]

and a-three and a-four...

Even better ~ is this scenario from 2nd Grade:
March 17, 1959.
Every kid in Room 5 at Jean Parker Elementary School wore an article of green colored clothing that day. Each of us had a huge paper shamrock pinned to the front of our outfit.

At the annual St. Patrick's Day school assembly, our 3rd grade teacher Mrs. Sparks had us sing this song:

'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling' (music published 1912)

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.

As with 'Chinatown My Chinatown', we sang just the chorus.
Mrs. Sparks made it a point to instruct us all to pronounce 'smiling' as 'smoylin'.
I guess that was supposed to make us all appear MORE Irish or something.

My favourite line in the chorus: 'and when Irish eyes are smoylin, sure they steal your heart away' - which I always imagined to be 'and when Asian eyes are smyleeeng', sure they steal your heart away'...
In 1959 I was eight years old.

and a-one and a-two

Picture this:

Who: Room 8, Grade 1
What: Students sing
When: 1958
Where: Jean Parker Elementary School
San Francisco, California
Why: To entertain schoolmates and guests (family and friends) at a school assembly

CHINATOWN, MY CHINATOWN
1910 Words by William Jerome Music by Jean Schwartz

Verse 1
WHEN THE TOWN IS FAST A-SLEEP, AND IT'S MID-NIGHT IN THE SKY,
THAT'S THE TIME THE FES-TIVE CHINK STARTS TO WINK HIS OTH-ER EYE,
STARTS TO WINK HIS DREAM-Y EYE, LA-ZI-LY YOU'LL HEAR HIM SIGH.

Verse 2
STRANG-ERS TA-KING IN THE SIGHTS, PIG-TAILS FLY-ING HERE AND THERE.
SEE THAT BROK-EN WALL STREET SPORT, STILL THINKS HE'S A MIL-LION-AIRE.
STILL THINKS HE'S A MIL-LION-AIRE, PIPE DREAMS BAN-ISH EV-'RY CARE.

Chorus

CHI-NA-TOWN, MY CHI-NA-TOWN
WHERE THE LIGHTS ARE LOW,
HEARTS THAT KNOW NO OTH-ER LAND,
DRIFT-ING TO AND FRO.
DREAM-Y DREAM-Y CHI-NA-TOWN,
AL-MOND EYES OF BROWN,
HEARTS SEEMS LIGHT AND LIFE SEEMS BRIGHT,
IN DREAM-Y CHI-NA-TOWN

Mind you, we only sang the Chorus.

Was this cute, or was it slightly weird?
My teacher, Miss Rose M. Crowley - thought it was cute.
I was 7 years old, and I thought it was slightly weird.

painting

HubbyDear and I are re-painting one of our little bedrooms, the one designated as the art-craft room.
The results will be fabulous, pretty, very lovely.
Without a doubt, I will be happy when all is said and done, but the fact remains:
I HATE interior house painting.

Particularly since our walls are textured.
Anyone else have problems with getting good coverage on textured walls?

We've got the extra fuzzy rollers, which help a bit.
My painting tool of choice are the fuzzy pads. I use a little one and load it with paint. Then I muscle those little fibers into the nooks and crannies in an up and down movement, then criss and cross. It always looks well-covered, yet there remain those stubborn little specks of unpainted wall here and there. Needing touch-up.

Also, I HATE the MESS of interior house painting.
The constant clean-up of brushes (ugh!).
The dripping of paint on the floor and carpet.
The dropcloths getting paint dripped on them, then that paint gets on your clothes, shoes (or bare feet).
Then everywhere else (double ugh!)
Needing that second (or third!) coat.
'Cutting in'.
TAPING (triple ugh!).
Painting trim.
Brushmarks on trim.

UGH.
PTUI.

Having bitched and moaned about all this, the room will be delightful when finished. It's always that way after painting.
But the process still sucks.

Twist 'n' Treat

Great dog toy presented by a breed of dog who knows from treaties.

hi-def

Yesterday was a Hi-Def Day.

Whilst driving home from work, I oohed and ahhhhed (audibly and to myself) at the incredibly gorgeous scenery. If/when I ever move away from the woodland forest, these views are what I'll miss most.

Some of my favourite things about living in the foothills/mid-mountain region are

• the clarity and freshness of the air
• the abundance of evergreen and deciduous trees
• the high contrast of blue sky to green forest (when no forest fires!)
  
• the stunning scenic views at every turn (many down the cliffs to the river)
  
• (very little traffic on the road)
  

The colors I took in yesterday were brilliant: bright autumnal yellows, deep burgundy reds, citrus-y oranges. The rolling hills were softly golden, the trees offered every shade and tint of green and the cloudless sky was cerulean blue straight out of a paint tube. Contours around all these natural shapes were precision sharp, as if someone had turned up the contrast on nature's screen (or recently cleaned my windshield!). The vividness so intense it almost hurt my eyes.

I wondered (aloud again) if this was what things looked like on a Hi-Def TV (don't own one nor watch very often). However realistic an image that can be offered by high definition, it couldn't get better than this.

I didn't have my camera so couldn't pull over to take advantage of some great photo ops. But what need for a photograph when pictures rarely capture such indescribable on-the-spot panoramic views anyway?
Technology, no matter how advanced, cannot compare to the Real Thing.

So I savoured the idyllic pleasure of it all and etched the images into my brain for some long lasting and outstanding visual memories.

A great time of year indeed.

May I suggest that you too go out sooooooon to commune with Ma Nature. Be sure to take / make the time to capture some hi-def autumn visual memories of your own. Or let's get together for a field trip.

Trivia Thursday

(1) Not that it matters for anything, but...

(2) How I got to this, BTW - is from clicking around for an online image of Paul Newman on the December 2006 cover of Cowboys and Indians magazine (shades of Brokeback). Whooooo and Hoooooo! Get ye to the magazine stands!

(3) Coincidentally, the DVD of 'Cars' is now available for home rental/ purchase, and I'm heading over to Tarzhay today for my copy.

Pursuit-of-trivia question for today: Who provides the voice for 'Doc Hudson' in the movie and how tall is that actor? You never know if/when these questions will come up in the next edition...

No go 'CLUNK'

Contrary to common belief...

...religion and politics don't serve to unite people so much as divide them.
Not always, but often enough so it's hard to argue otherwise.

[It's ART and MUSIC that tend to bring people together].

Nevertheless, I hope you voted today (if not, there's a few minutes left...).

In the early days (San Francisco - early 1970's) I cast my ballot on voting machines that had levers to lift (or lower) for your choices and a big red handle like this to pull when you were done.
You could hear the voting machine go 'CLUNK' as it counted your vote.

I hope we all don't go 'CLUNK' before the night is over...

Playing at Playland

After commenting last week on a friend's blog where she wrote of sightseeing in San Francisco, I received an e-mail from her which included this link. She also sent another link that ultimately led me to posting this photo.

It's the The Fun House at San Francisco's Playland-at-the-Beach. As amusement parks go, Playland was no Disneyland, but it did serve to amuse for decades. Sadly, time moves on, neglected places fall into disrepair, real estate becomes more valuable, developers move in and both venues are no longer.

Just about every weekend, the family would load up in the Chevy and Dad would drive us to Playland and/or The SF Zoo and/or GG park. You have to understand that 'going for a ride' meant adventures outside of Chinatown, where we tootled around taking care of life's business every day. Needing an escape from the boredom of our routine (as if living anywhere in San Francisco could be considered humdrum), we were all for hopping in the car for a frolic in the outer reaches of Fogland.

Without fail, The Fun House could traumatize me with every visit: those moments of panic and confusion at the entry trying to figure my way through the mirror maze, followed by a dizzying squeeze between huge, spinning barrel sized drums made of fabric, only to make my way into the main room of The Fun House to find myself dodging erratic blasts of air that would shoot up from holes in the floor (aimed at gals wearing skirts, no less!). Having braved all of the above, my reward would be a climb to the top of, then a thrilling descent down - the longest and coolest wooden slide in the world.

Playland-at-the-Beach was also where I first experienced Skee Ball and bumper cars. It's the place where my young and impressionable taste buds were introduced to yummy beef enchiladas covered with zesty red sauce and savory chicken pies that featured a mouth-watering flaky buttery crust.

Another image which stands out as a distinctive memory is of an ornamental frieze above the exterior fronts of Playland restaurants and businesses. The frieze looked like a façade of doll-sized row houses, and were painted in bright colors. With their cottage style windows and doors, I liked to pretend they were the homes of the Seven Drawfs.

Though she and she alone represents all that was wild, crazy and demented about The Fun House, I waited till the end of this post to mention her: 'Laughing Sal'. It is her haunting heehaw laugh in that earlier sound byte. The image of her laughing is the stuff of a young child's nightmares, to be sure.

Those who visited Playland or the Cliff House between 1928-1972 can re-live their memories at this website. Or visit Amusing America and see something of the way it was back in the day.

Yes, I had fun times playing at Playland and The Fun House. Though I suspect the latter is also where my dislike of clowns began...

Not-so-lite entertainment

Perhaps one reason I welcomed the 'lite entertainment' of yesterday morning's 'Major League 3' was because last Friday night, I watched a not-so-lite movie.

There are as many, if not more, foreign-made movies on my Netflix as there are Top 40 style American blockbusters. Quite a few titles on my queue are Japanese. Most of those are classics.

'Ikiru': Read the synopsis here; reviews here and here. Released in 1952 (54 friggin' years ago!), the storyline is timeless as well as timely to contemporary lifestyles. The lead character is brilliantly acted by Takashi Shimura; the movie artfully directed by the legendary Akira Kurasawa (mentioned in an earlier post about 'Rashomon').

It's not enough to describe 'Ikiru' as a great film, but boyohboy is it a great film. As the story unfolds, one is drawn into the desperate, anguished state of mind of the protagonist, Kanji Watanabe. The slow pace of the film (attributable to Kurasawa's direction) appears to be a deliberate ploy to increase our (the viewer's) frustration as we desperately try to urge the movie on to a happy, or at least - satisfying ending.
Alas, we can't and the ending doesn't deliver with any such predictability.

Instead, invaluable life lessons to be learned here.
Sorry to give away anything of the ending, but for me, it did reek of futility at one level, hope at yet another.

Prepare yourself before screening this one.
It's from the glass half full or half empty genre.

One word movie review: heartwrenching.

good morning entertainment: quite L-I-T-E

Major League Three: Back to the Minors

This morn, I stumbled out of bed and into the living room, where HubbyDear was multi-tasking (!!!!): reading the newspaper and watching TV.

A movie was just starting on HBO. Initially, I didn't catch the title, but it starred Scott Bakula and Corbin Bernsen (whose relationship to Jeanne Cooper from 'The Young and the Restless' is his biggest claim to fame, as far as I'm concerned). Hmmmmm - baseball uniforms. Maybe I'll stay to watch a bit.
So I settled into my favourite chair to catch a few scenes before heading off to start my day. After a few minutes, my still-hazy morning mind became riveted to the story, the jokes - and THE BASEBALL.

HD left for work (yes, on a Saturday) and though my just outta bed goal was to grab a quick breakfast, shower and start what promised to be a very productive day, I ended up watching the whole movie. Truth be known, it was such a FUN flick that I was reluctant to leave my seat even for the two minutes it would take to rustle up a cuppa.

This was definitely morning entertainment of the LITE variety. Yet another feel-good All-American baseball movie with a predictable plot and fairly cliché characters. The kind of movie where you know everything is gonna turn out OK when there are designated good guys and bad guys, team players (united we stand) and nothing but a string of sunny cloudless days as a backdrop to it all.
Some LOL dialog in this one.
And what's not to like about Scott Bakula? SUCH a nice guy!

What really kept me watching was the fact that in the midst of fairly stereotypical characterizations, there were some (just a few) pleasant and welcome surprises. I give the filmmakers half a kudo for letting up (just a little) on the Hollywood Obvious.

One word movie review: Cute.

P.S. Bob Uecker was a hoot in this. I especially liked his change of outfits!

Talk about cooooool guys...

James Dean is pretty darned cool, but check out these guys. They don't even break a sweat.

oldies but goodies

Atop my morning webboard, I surfed upon some great wave (OK, surf analogy ends here) sources for 'oldies but goodies' streaming radio.
At this moment, I'm having a listen to WPON: Rare Oldies, and a silly Halloween song called 'The Blob' ('beware of the blob, it creeps and leaps and glides and slides across the floor...'). Never heard of it. Now Gene Pitney sings 'I wanna love my life away' 'Love love love - love my life away with you - Oooh Ooooh'.

Hmmmmm.
'Hooka tooka my so-da cracker? Does your mama chaw tabaccah?'

Lots of 50's to early 60's offerings there. Quite a variety, actually. Crazy and unusual stuff - a cover of 'Mellow Yellow' by 'Senator Bobby [Kennedy] & Senator [Everett] McKinley'.
Hmmmmmm again.

Think I'll head back to search for more of the mid-to-late-60's tunes that are set into the plaque of my old veins..songs which I know ALL THE WORDS to...or can at least fake pretty convincingly.

Hey, did ya know that 80's music (if you aren't able to link, try: www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOyGmBhUdBo) now falls into the 'oldies but goodies' category?
80's! Old?!?
Gosh, wasn't that just a few years - argggggh - it was 20-someodd years ago!
Geeeeeeeesh!
Aicheemama!
Ai ya!

The characters on 24th century StarTrek TNG would sometimes go back in holodeck time to 'The Ancient West' - that era which we in the 21st century know as 'The Wild West'. By the by, you'll never guess where their 'Ancient West' town was located...

The question remains - when does 'old' become 'ancient'?
If 80's is old, does that make 60's ancient?

Oy!
Ouch!
ROCK ON?

[surfing+oldies+streaming radio+yasgur's farm+ancient+star trek+oldwest+jimmy dean (+ sal mineo??!??!?)]
[this blogging broad is alllllll over da place!]

Happy day after Halloween!

Back (to Halloween) by popular demand (read: as per Jessamynit's request)...

DollinkDaughterLLS in The Hershey Kiss costume.
I always thought it a cool homemade costume - with the trailing paper (the 'wrapper opener') and a bit of brown satin at the top (it's the 'chocolate tip' of the Kiss). Still, DollinkDaughterJrS refers to this costume as the 'Spaceship'.

Pictured alongside The Kiss is aforementioned DollinkDaughterJrS as the Little Bathing Beauty (wearing 1800's style swimsuit - also homemade - dig the rickrack!). Photo in previous blogpost was from the Halloween before - when JrS had taken off the 'swimming cap'.