The Blog of Lou

City Boy

2008-09-14T08:47:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong, I like living in Los Angeles...at least the part that is near the ocean. But every once in a while, I find myself split by the confines a city creates.

There's nothing like being in a big city, with all the different people hovering around for different reasons. Your senses are constantly excited and challenged. For me, the real draw comes with food and entertainment. 10 minutes from where I live, I can sample creations from anywhere on the planet and hear people from different cultures spin into the meld of the city. That's cool.

But this whole stimulating existing counters right up against some other basic desires I have.

I want to live by a stream
I want to grow fields and fields of cilantro and pick olives from orchards.
I want a 1951 pickup truck (red, of course) that I can take to a smaller, local town with dirt streets and guys sitting on porches.
I want a barn, with that great old wood/oil smell, where I can build furniture and not have to worry about cleaning up.

So, you see, these country stylings are in direct contrast to my city life and, unless I make 18 billion dollars and buy a canyon or a hill on the city outskirts, they will never live in harmony. At some point, one will give.

The L.A. BBQfest is coming!

2008-09-08T20:54:00.000-07:00

How perfect does the smell of hickory BBQ, the beach and a Johnny Cash cover band sound? Anyplace that Baby Blues BBQ serves up their love is good with me.

I am so there.

A Gargantuan Return

2008-08-27T20:51:00.001-07:00

Been way, way, way too long. The spread of my family, finding new means of putting thai food and sushi on the table, and the undeniable proof of some sort of mental tilt -- has kept me away past my shore leave.

So, I return -- with goodies.

This kid should have a show of his own -- or more schooling.

Free

2008-02-25T16:44:00.000-08:00

Chris Anderson has a wonderful essay about the whole notion of the free economy in this month's wired.

Click. It don't cost nothin'

Worry

2008-01-31T10:14:00.001-08:00

I had some family health issues to deal with recently, and I was reminded of a book I read recently by a business acquaintance. There was a particular section that I found very helpful this past weel; I will include some of it below:

The wise words of FDR, “The only thing wqe have to fear is fear itself,” might be amended by nature to “There is nothing to fear unless and until you feel fear.” Worry, wariness, anxiety and concern all have a purpose, but they are not fear. So any time your dreaded outcome cannot be reasonably linnked to pain or death and it isn’t a signal in the presence of danger, then it really shouldn’t be confused with fear. It may well be something worth trying to understand and manage, but worry will not bring solutions. It willl more likely distract you from finding solutions.

In the original form of the word, to worry someone else was to harass, strangle, or choke them. Liekwise, to worry oneself is a form of self-harassment. To give it less of a role in our lives, we must understand what it really is.

Worry is the fear we manufacture — it is not authentic. If you choose to worry about something, have at it, but do so knowing it is a choice. Most often, we worry because it provides some secondary reward. There are many variations, but a few of the most popular follow.

*Worry is a way to avoid change; when we worry, we don’t do anything about the matter.

*Worry is a way to avoid admitting powerlessness over something, since worry feels like we’re doing something. (Prayer also makes us feel like we’re doing something, and even the most committed agnostic will admit that prayer is more productive than worry.)

*Worry is a cloying way to have connection with others, the idea being that to worry about someone shows love. The other side of this is the belief that not worrying about someone means you don’t care about them. As many worried-about people will tell you, worry is a poor substitute for love or for taking loving action.

*Worry is a protection against future disappointment. After taking an important test, for example, a student might worry about whether he failed. If he can feel the experience of failure now, rehearse it, so to speak, by worrying about it, then failing won’t feel as bad when it happens. But there’s an interesting trade-off: Since he can’t do anything about it at this point anyway, would he rather spend those same two days not worrying, and then learn he failed? Perhaps most importantly, would he want to learn he had passed the test and spent two days of anxiety for nothing?"

The Gift of Fear
by Gavin DeBecker
p.347

Who Says Kids Watch Too Much TV?

2008-01-18T20:38:00.000-08:00

Office #3

2008-01-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

With a newborn at home and the office suite next door doing some Concrete Plishing, I had to get a temporary new office. I could get used to this.

A Great Journey of Sauce

2007-12-30T18:32:00.001-08:00

I usually cringe when I pass the salsa section in the market. Beyond the simple vinegar/pepper basic sauces like Cholula or Tabasco, there has never been one that doesn't end up reminding me of bad airports and 2AM meals. The manufacturers of these so-called salsas take the most over-ripe, watery, tasteless tomatoes, mix some vinegar and lots of salt together with what has to be a cup of sugar, to make something that resembles face paint. For the "chunky" versions, they might throw in some odd-shaped thing that crunches, but I could never get beyond the clumpy sauce to see if it was, in fact, a vegetable, fruit or Styrofoam. I suppose there is a place for these sauces -- perhaps on the edge of a chip at a SuperBowl party where you are more interested in what your date/football buddy/drunk/friend/accountant is saying than what you are putting in your mouth.

The newest craze is adding the smoky flavor of Chipotle to these sugar soup salsas, as reminders that there is still some spice in the world that can be marketed and sold as new and improved and invoke some emotion of salsa's original origin.

I remember reading Rick Bayless' classic cookbook when I was a teenager, and I was impressed that a white guy from Oklahoma could nail authentic Mexican cooking so well. The only other white person who "got it" was Jane Butel, the so-called Mother of Tex-Mex, who looked remarkably similar to Betty Crocker but really knew how to hang further South. In fact, if there wasn't such an age difference between the two, I would have really liked seeing the two of them get together as a couple, if only to get invited over to their house for dinner.

So there I am, wheeling my cart with one jammed wheel that wobbles and forces me to compensate else Taquitos will fly, and I decide to take a break in front of the salsa section to rest my driving arm.

Side-story: My wife is VERY, VERY, VERY pregnant, and I find myself making more trips than usual to the supermarket to help out with things, because the last thing I want to do is tell my future kid that he/she was born in the milk section of the supermarket when Mom reached up to the top shelf, while Dad stayed home watching "Scrubs." No, I would rather it be me answering the cell phone in the milk aisle and dashing over the cash register line ala O.J. Simpson to my car, speeding home with a police escort and huffing into the house to find my wife on the couch in labor; and moments later, a child.

And, even though this is our second kid, the whole fatherhood journey repeating again is making me somewhat nervous, and I find myself once again asking the bigger questions in life, though in a mellower and less edgy way. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, imagine a naked whitewater rafting trip where you get tossed around and eventually end up underneath an overturned raft, freezing, bruised, and hurtling down torrid rapids that never seem to end. No, it's not that feeling. That's the first kid.

This is like the same boat, same river, but you're just starting out, and you're no longer scared of capsizing because you know you WILL capsize; it's just a question of when. Yes, that's what it's like.

But I digress.

Most people in "life changing" emotional situations find outlets for their feelings -- Guys have bachelor parties, women have baby showers; me, I stand behind my gimp shopping cart and stare at fake tomato condiments.

And as I stood there, exhausted, awash in the green fluorescent, indirect light, perceptively moaning along to the Kenny G playing over the loudspeaker between ads for Jimmy Dean sausage, I fought the urge to topple my handicapped cart and reach over with one hand and destroy all these impostor salsas, just wipe them into the air and onto the linoleum below for some scary bagboy to mop away after I had been hauled away.

I spent 10 minutes in this coma, and finally came to the realization that I was too tired to go home and make some good salsa myself, but that this salsa aisle represented something bigger. I figured that if I could find a good salsa amongst all these mass-marketed, low-cost "grabbers" just by looking at the ingredients and what shined through from inside the bottle, well then, there might just be hope for our misdirected, consumer driven, idealistic society; and, yes, even perhaps my own future as a father.

If there's one thing we should be able to control in our lives, it oughta be our condiments.

This is what goes through the mind of an expectant 2nd time father. It's not pretty, it's not much fun, but like most such things, it's all about the journey and not the destination, so it's better to just sit back and let the insanity run.

So I did. All 48 bottles, from chunky to green to Pineapple to Lime to Cheese. More MSG and crap that you didn't even knew existed. The ice cream in my pseudo-cart melted, the chicken started to smell and some old lady with a bag on her head was staring at me like i was crazy, but I pressed on, jumping from mass-produced shlock from the same company that brought us Baken Ets, to some salsa from Norway made of salmon mousse, which, the last time I checked, was not salsa but actually fish.

Finally, it was done. It was time to go. I had reacquainted myself with my least favorite condiment and, through the process, discovered what I thought was a decent looking candidate. The boat had been flipped over and I could catch my breath again.

My cart and I did s-turns to the checkout conveyor and, later, I loaded my bags in the car. The air was cool that night and a full moon was just rising over the telephone poles in the distance.

What? The salsa? Oh, yes. Remember Rick Bayliess? Turns out he has made one of the best jarred Chipotle's I have tasted. There still might be hope for him and Jane. I wonder how many kids he has.

What's With The Seat?

2007-12-16T19:49:00.000-08:00

I don't mean this in a disgusting way when I say that, as a guy, I've had about 39 years of experience in peeing standing up. I merely point this out to put the subject of this post in context. Peeing upright is one of the hallmarks of being a man. It's right up their with smoking cigars, pull-my-finger, and NEVER asking for directions, no matter how lost you are. Granted, there are times when I pass on the glory and just sit down on the seat, but it's usually because I'm tired, have something unimportant to read, or just love the warming feature of my Toto.

My son is 4. He started his upright journey (as I'm sure many do) shooting like an Afghan at a wedding -- all willie-nillie, seat up, seat down, toilet, floor, wall, shower curtain -- you get the picture; and it isn't a pretty one.
"Modern parents" suggested throwing Cherrios in the tank as target practice, but I was worried he would reach in and eat one. He's becoming better now, even though, at 3' 4" tall, his unit ends up shooting parallel to the seat; yet somehow, someway, he gets that arc dialed in and all is dry in our happy home.

Which is more than I can say for most people.

Probably one of the worst feelings in life is sitting down on the toilet and noticing that somebody has neglected to raise the seat and, instead, peed all over it. It's even worse when it's not your seat and you don't know who was on it before. Doesn't matter if you use one of those toilet seat covers -- that just turns your butt into paper mache. And the whole feng-shui-design-within-reach-lifestyle mood lighting makes it nearly impossible to see whether or not your seat is safe. You've got to move around to see if you can catch the angle at which droplets reflect. But I digress.

Used to be that this would happen every once in a blue moon -- maybe in bathroom at a concert or in one of those public kiosks in London or at Miami's International Airport (right near the Nathan's stand). But more and more I'm seeing this everywhere. The momentum is gathering. In fancy restaurants and markets, art galleries and bakeries. Either public bathrooms are becoming populated by sub 3' tall people who are rebelling against the Cheerio method, or our country has become so lazy, selfish or angry at each other that they can't even raise the seat. You cut me off on the 405, I'm going to pee on the seat. You asked for a latte and got a mochachado, pee on the seat. Your out of cigarettes, splash away.

Actually, I really don't care why people do it. It doesn't really matter. What does matter is that it has to stop...now...for the good of humanity. War, recession, hurricanes, these things are all fine, but ths toilet seat thing is what is really going to fuck us and put our democracy on the end of a boot in China or India. At least in Rome they had elaborate plumbing and outdoor bathrooms, so you could see whether or not someone was going to ruin your day. Here, it's like "surprise me."

Amtrak Does Not Suck (in some ways)

2007-12-14T21:21:00.000-08:00

Found another little thing to throw up here as wallpaper. somewhere near San Diego.

Santa Monica Mountain Malibu Fire

2007-12-14T20:55:00.000-08:00

I was culling photos today and came across this one from a ride where my city was on fire. Click on it to see it closer.

Laundry in Bermuda -- The Quickie Lickie

2007-12-09T20:40:00.000-08:00

I soiled myself when I drove past this on a recent visit to the island.

No, seriously, what can you say?

I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time

2007-12-02T21:43:00.001-08:00

Bono came to visit the Other Day

2007-12-02T20:58:00.000-08:00

He and my son got along.

Dead Again

2007-11-16T20:20:00.000-08:00

I was driving home from the airport today along Pacific Coast Highway, watching as the winter sun cast an orange glow on the water, beach and mountains of good old L.A. -- white contrails snaking off toward the North — and iPod playing the soundtrack: Coldplay and Matisyahu and Patty Griffin.

And then the Grateful Dead’s “He’s Gone” from Europe ‘72 came on and the scene was perfect.

And the it brought me back 24 years, to Ventura California — the Ventura County Fairgrounds to be exact, and a guy named Marc Hirschfield, the son of a hollywood businessman. Marc loved the Dead as much as I did, and he walked amonst the tripping and hippie Deadheads who milled like stoned sheep kicking up dust. It may have been 1983, but I think that’s the closest I got to the 60’s.

I googled Hirschfield recently. Found out that he moved to Wyoming. It seems pretty perfect for him, as was the memory.

On Approach to Bermuda

2007-11-12T12:39:00.000-08:00

Passing over storm fronts and blue, blue ocean, listening to Bright Eyes' "At The Bottom of Everything."

Now that's fun....

Grow Little Tree, Grow

2007-10-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

i know it's fall and not the best time to plant, but i just had to put this little ornamental plum in the ground. maybe if you all wish really hard it will blossom and grow to be higher than it's current mere 40" tall.

A Little Island on a Pretty Day

2007-10-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

Middle Age Crisis or Stupidity?

2007-10-01T18:43:00.000-07:00

When a man reaches 40 (and you will notice I use the term A MAN here as I am certainly not referring to ME or my rapid decline into the shadow of life).... Anyways, like I was saying, when a man reaches 40, certain changes occur -- things drop, things expand, and everything starts to look a little blurry and center around food. Contrary to most reports, there is very little reflection about taking the wrong path in life or other esoteric musings of madmen; instead, there is an understanding of some sort of wisdom, like those grey-haired gorillas in the forest who get pounced upon by young, feces-hurling prodigies and still maintain a straight face.

But I digress....

Along with this zen-like calm comes a testing-point, like Dirty Harry in Chinatown, where one knows that they could beat the shit out of something IF they wanted to. But you don't actually need to. gritty machoism.

Me, I have one exception to this stoic way of being -- mountainbiking. It's the only time that I get to the point where I say to myself, "Self, what the hell are you thinking." It's where things come too fast and hard to react. No thoughts about health insurance or station in life...Pure Instinct.

I read a story today about some idiot (photo below) who decided to face this beast by mountainbiking down a ski slope -- at 130 miles per hour (212km/h) . I must admit, the guy has got balls, but there's a point, isn't there?

Storytime

2007-08-20T06:17:00.000-07:00

For the past 3 1/2 years, I have been telling bedtime stories to my son. sometimes they involve things he has seen during the day, sometimes people he knows, or sometimes just pure fantastical riffing.

with the extra time, sunday is the best day for stories, and last night was a pretty good one. the tale involved a family of fish -- a rotund dad, a squeaky mom, 20 babies, and a skinny relative fish from deep in new jersey -- in essence, my family to a tee.

these fish swam around and discovered an anchor and a boat captained by my 13 year old and 8 year old nephews, who love fishing and managed to land the dad and the jersey fish onboard and then didn't quite know what to do next. so the relative started talking (in only the way a new jersey relative can) and the nephews were so taken back by the sight of the fat and skinny talking fish noodling their way back in the water that they threw them back and powered back to shore.

at the end of such stories, my son usually has a drink of milk, closes his eyes while rubbing the label of his blankie against his face, and drifts off to sleep as Gorillaz "Demon Days Live" plays in the background.

but last night -- maybe it was the juice -- or maybe he's just growing up, last night he launched into a story of his own about a monkey in a bathing suit and then another about Crazy Frog taking off his helmet and playing in a football game. it was really wonderful to watch his little mind coming up with ideas, mimicking the way i told stories and adding his own little flairs that can only come from being a totally open, developing self.

Tipping

2007-08-16T06:02:00.000-07:00

Knowing that the US economy is heading into what will probably be a not so happy spill (thought I will be buying heavily in a while), and having Esther Dyson tell me that we may be on the tail side of global social and economic domination, I have to think about what effects this might have on our country and what can be done about it.

It's very easy to take news of stock market woes or loss of status emotionally and cry "the sky is falling." Some people I know have fled to countries like Fiji, Costa Rica, the UK and Canada, but I'm not ready to do something like that. I enjoy it here too much at the moment.

I used to like Jay Leno and Dennis Miller and some other comics who were really funny. Then they became political and Republican rah-rah boys which totally turned me off. And, no, this isn't a "I hate Bush" moment so everyone who speaks highly of him in light of what actually happened is crap -- I find Arianna Huffington equally disturbing on the other side, but maybe her unending drawl has something to do with it.

But though I might not agree with the way they attack, I do think there is some validity in their message. Basically, what Leno and Miller (now that's an act) profess, along with others, is that we are a nation of brats who sit on the sideline (or move out of the country) and complain about what is going on instead of actually doing something about it. There is a sense of entitlement and lax acceptance -- a priviliged passivity.

But how does this affect me? I am an active guy. I like to do things to change my world. I take notice.

My new morning ritual (after exercise, a moment of quiet, playing with my son and scooting to work)involves getting a cup of coffee at my new favorite hangout around the corner from my office. It is quiet before the 3rd Street Promenade crowd works in and I can catch up with some other people who have offices nearby.

Now I have been going there for 2 weeks or so, and, even though I only go in and get a cup of coffee, I always leave a nice tip in the jar at the register. And there's a sign on the jar that says "Thanks! We Really Appreciate It!"

But everyday I throw my change in there for a person who pulls a lever on an urn, I don't get any indication from the people who work there that they really do appreciate it.

And this place is not alone. It seems that the tip jar has been popping up everywhere recently, for such crazy things as dry cleaning and hardware. Now I understand that these people don't make a lot and it's natural to move the money around in a tax free way, but the idea of a "Bonus" for job well done is completely out of the window when nobody actually says thank you.

So this morning, after the woman got my coffee and gave me my change, I stood there, and without losing contact with her eyes, I dropped the change in the jar, making sure that it made a nice clank (quarters work best and pennys suck). She stood there, looking at me and then looking away, like I was some sort of werido -- which I am, but she didn't get it, She finally managed a smile, the kind of smile that goes along with a "Have a Nice Day"" nametag, and I walked away with my cup o' Joe.

Maybe Esther and Leno and Miller are right (still a good duo!). Maybe we are on the other side.

Thanks for reading.

Mixing Starchaphores

2007-08-14T20:52:00.000-07:00

So I was making dinner the other night....

Nothing fancy, just some iron skillet Habanero and Green Chile Chicken sausage and lemon garlic braised brussels sprouts (yes, brussels actually DOES have an "s" on the end -- who knew!) and I thought that some hull-on, red rice that I picked up at the Thai market would go well with all this. And since this was supposed to be a simple meal, I thought I would forego the whole "What can I do with rice today" internal conflict/conversation that plagues my every brush with the rice cooker and, instead, opened the fridge, closed my eyes, and grabbed the first thing I laid hands on.

I picked well.

San Marzano Marinara sauce is the best jarred sauce I have tasted, and smothered on top of the rice and the sausage and sprouts on top just made this simple meal RFG.

Summer's Last Stand

2007-08-13T06:16:00.000-07:00

I walked into a staples this morning and came face-to-face with the reality that the summer is just about over, even though, here in Los Angeles, the hot season doesn't usually get cooking until September.

Staples is a strange concept to begin with. The whole idea of a massive store dedicated to probably THE most boring things for sale in the world (office supplies) is sort of like opening a shop dedicated to lovers of enemas; I don't mean that in a crude way -- I guess everybody has their thing.

But there's also something sexy about Staples. Even though I might go in there when my toner runs low or I need a new 50 pack of purple post-it notes, I always end up walking the aisles for a few minutes to see if there's something else I might want or not need.

Oh yeah, back to my point. Today was different. I needed envelopes and some other stuff, but on my sojourn through the aisles, I saw a bunch of mothers and their depressed pre-teen kids deciding between the Spongebob and Lightning McQueen backpacks. And it hit me like a whole frozen side beef -- that almost primordial feeling of dread and general unease that I felt every August growing up when the summer was nearly over. No more dragging Greg Neuwirth behind the Honda Z50 in a shopping cart (really fun turns -- for me); no more hanging out with friends at Marineland or Pepe's Kartland; no more trips to Busch Gardens amusement park, where you could see wild parrots AND take a monorail tour of a beer factory (though I got to hand it to my mother -- when she would drop my friends and I off at the main gate, she would tell us how important it was that we be back there at 3PM, but she never told us NOT to drink beer).

No, the end of summer stationary run meant that very soon there would be haircuts and homework, and, soon after that, letters sent home about my aversion to both. Basically, the stationary run was the end of living.

So today, I stood in line behind some dour teenagers who looked like someone had sucked all the blood out of their face With my envelopes and dry erase markers in hand, I happened to look down at one of the Staples Easy Buttons, which, at $4.99 has to be one of the most upsetting side-effects of consumerism gone wild. It's a red button that replays a message, that's all it does. A red button. $4.99.

Anyway, for that moment, I went past reality to Lou's Fantasyland, where I imagined that the Easy Button might actually be a way for the good people of teendom to go back in time to the beginning of summer, when there were months of easy days, freedom and Slush Puppies.

And then, smiling, I realized that I didn't have to go back to school, and I wished Staples sold beer.

Vacation

2007-08-03T03:17:00.001-07:00

It has been way too long since I've taken a vacation and way too long since I have posted. I suppose both are similar because they require setting aside time to stop and reflect. Anyways, the family and I have spent the last 2 weeks here in a rented house on the quiet side of Nantucket Island, swimming in the warm Atlantic, taking long walks along the sandy beaches, and getting completely lost on the 14 odd-square miles of unmarked roads. I faintly remember visiting here when I was a kid, but I am still amazed how they have somehow been able to keep the charm and beauty of this place. Unlike so many other places in the world where development has lead to a hodgepodge amalgamation of styles and ego expressions, here everything is the same -- same side-shingeled grey houses, same wooden stairways leading down to empty beaches.

The only part of the island that pisses me off a little bit is Nantucket Town. Sure, it's beautiful with cobble-stone streets and multi-generational family pharmacies like Cogndon's with soda counters where you can get chicken salad sandwiches or a root beer float while a Nantucket policeman walks Main Street with his starched shirt and black cap. It is as if though Walt Disney walked this Main Street when he was planning Disneyland. In fact, the number of families, white families, in Nantucket Center reminds me of the Magic Kingdom without Mickey.

But further out of town, there are some beautiful sites, like the Nantucket Wind/Grist mill and the 3 majestic lighthouses on the island. Food here varies from good to great. You can get pub food at the 1840's The Brotherhood of Thieves or go out to Bartlett's Farm, for some great herbs and greens straight from the fields.

But my favorite place on the island is Nantucket Seafood. The wife and I were looking for some lobster rolls on this island and walked into this shop with no seating. All you see is a display counter and a big window looking into a cutting room with huge fish being prepped. The rolls were over-priced and served on a kaiser roll instead of the normal hot-dog bun, so it took away a bit of the shine, but we had some marinated blue-fin tuna, mako, and mahi-mahi that my bro cooked on the BBQ and they were amazing.

A couple of days before, my nephew had caught a bluefish while surf-casting. I threw it on the grill with some ginger and salt, and it was good, but Nantucket Seafood makes a bluefish pate that is incredible.

So there's my update, from the center of the white world. I've got to go now and get my lime green shorts.

end of day fish in bermuda

2007-06-07T22:33:00.000-07:00

a perfect end to the work week(s). beginning of summer in tucker's town.

somewhere over the east coast of america

2007-06-07T22:27:00.001-07:00

Ground Turkey Donburi thingie

2007-05-23T11:49:00.001-07:00

Made this last week and it was an instant hit. Kinda a mix between cuisines, but it works nonetheless. Wifey is giving it a try tonight.

A) 1 lb ground turkey
B) 2 tbl chopped garlic
C) 1 1/2 tbl grated ginger
D) 1/2 tsp. sesame oil
E) 1 1/2 cups chopped red pepper
F) 1 1/2 cups chopped spinach
G) 1 cup chopped cilantro
H) 2 tsp. Hoisin Sauce
I) Toasted Sesame Seeds
J) 1/4 cup shredded, pickled ginger
K) 2 1/2 cups cooked rice
L) 1/4 cup water
M) Hot Chili Oil or Fried Chili Flakes in Oil

Heat D in a large, high-sided saucepan until shimmering. Add C,E,F, and 3/4 cup of G and saute on medium for 10 minutes until soft and aromatic. add A and B and cook, turning, until turkey meat is almost cooked.

In the meantime, mix H, L, and M and add to the mix. Go easy on the hot sauce...you can always add more. Let the sauce evaporate a bit. Add J right near the end and taste. If not enough sweet sauce, add more H.

Mix in K and I until everything is even. Serve in a big bowl with more I and fresh G on top.

Catalina Burns

2007-05-11T05:35:00.000-07:00

I took yesterday afternoon from Westridge Fire Road.

Great Quote

2007-03-31T16:42:00.000-07:00

kinda busy on a work deadline, but i just heard this great quote.

"You're the criminal who never breaks the law."

If you build it

2007-03-24T21:30:00.000-07:00

Spring brings with it the crisp air, heirloom tomatoes and debates about the necessity of daylight savings time; as well as the desire to throw out and start anew. This, combined with the feeling of being over-sold, over-marketed, and over-segmented by the mass-market retail and advertising industries led me to build the items you see below -- custom designed and tailored to meet the exact (though somewhat screwy) needs I have.

Is this merely a desk and a toy train table? Take them as such if you must, or consider them as somethign else -- perhaps even, say, incidences of rebellion, a sharply focused protest. A blip in the GDP EKG. And I say to ye: go forth...and built ya'll anew.

(Anyway, they'll be pretty cool when they're stained).

Wife's Bday Dinner

2007-02-27T10:26:00.000-08:00

Just so I have for prosperity:

Appetizers:
Ash Cheese and Wood Smoked Salmon Assortment (plain, pepper and cajun)
Warm, Honey-coated, fresh-roasted Almonds
Olive and Rosemary Bread Sticks

Main:
Herb-crusted tri-tip with sauces
Shitake Mushroom Sauce
Caramalized Shallot sauce
Mustard Sauce
Six hour, wood smoked, 5 spice, lemon Rotisserie chicken
Smoked Teriyaki Tofu for the vegetarians
Shitake Mashers
Lemon Asparagus Rafts

Caesar salad with garlic rosemary croutons and lemon garlic dressing

Fresh Berries and whippped cream
Molten chocolate cupcakes

Coffee Anyone?

2007-02-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

The Bean makes me happy, so when I noticed that my Solis Crema 70 espresso machine was underperforming in the crema department, I had a peek inside. Simple fix? Lucky I have a backup press....

Houston, We Have a Problem

2007-01-26T20:39:00.001-08:00

Foudn this interesting little air traffic control/math program on Nasa's website. Kinda catchy, but perhaps this is why there are so many "near misses" in the air.

The Wheels on the Bus

2007-01-19T10:41:00.000-08:00

My kid goes to school just a couple of miles from our house and, periodically, I get a chance to drop him off in the morning and awash in the energetic atmosphere of West L.A. moms and gaggles of kids set loose in a Jackson Pollock meets Lilliputia room of chaos.

Usually we drive the car, snake down the parking structure and take the elevator up to the pre-school center, but today, for some God-unknown reason, I thought it would be fun to strap my son into the bikeseat and peddle my way along Sunset Blvd., through the village center and past the park entrance to his school.

My son had great fun, we got there faster than I thought, and I got to listen to some really good tunes on the way home.

With the progeny safely in the hands of more skilled Lilliputian negotiators, I felt free to plan out my day, which involves some driving to the San Fernando Valley. So imagine my surprise when I saw the map below. I am getting one step closer to retirement.

Driving Chicken

2007-01-05T11:08:00.000-08:00

Over the holidays, I loaded the family in the Subalu and headed East toward the mountains of snow in Colorado. Because of the stories of pain and chains in Grand Junction and Glenwood Springs, we took the Southern road, along Route 66 and up through Flagstaff (where we stayed in a really nice Radisson with Sleep Number Beds and Japanese food room service). The next day we travelled on the dipping, winding roads of the Navaho nation, slowly working our way up toward the Southern tip of the Rockies and on to our final destination.

All this time driving on the open road, miles from stop lights and traffic and signs, can lead any man to think about food (and, in my case, it's just another excuse); so when we arrived in Placerville, Colorado as the sun was chilling it's orange glow in the clouds and snow, I already knew what I would make for dinner.

Lou's Olive Chicken

A) A couple of Chicken Breasts
B) A can of Olives (you pick the kind, though Black are fine)
C) 2 Cloves Garlic
D) Bunch of Cilantro
E) 2 Tbl. Olive Oi
F) 1 Tbl. Balsamic Vinegar (don't go for the expensive stuff)
G) Pinch of Cayenne Pepper
H) Salt and Pepper to taste

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350.

Slice A on a bias, which means you make angled cuts along the side to make little pockets.

Combine B-H in a food processor or blender and mulch into a pulp. Adjust seasoning

Place most of mush in chicken pocket and place all of this in a baking dish. Add a little mush on top, but still keep some for later. Add a little more oil and vinegar if it's too dry. Stick in oven and bake 25 minutes or until done.

When finished, garnish with fresh, uncooked mush on top and serve.

Thanksgiving Soup

2006-11-25T13:46:00.000-08:00

I usually make a Butternut Squash soup for the family feast, but this year I have had it up to my ears with squash, so I came up with this soup instead. Great the next day.

Lou's Roasted Vegetable Soup with Sun Dried Tomato Cilantro Topping

3 chopped leeks
1 chopped onion
2 minced garlic cloves
4 big carrots, chopped to 2"
3 Zucchini (the Itlian greens) chopped to 1"
3 tomatoes, cut in 4
3 Potatoes (go for the smaller ones) peeled and cut into 2" quarters
5 cups chicken stock or veggie stock (don't use Swansons with the MSG)
3 Tbl. Olive Oil
3 Tbl. Basil, Chopped fine
3 Tbl. lemon juice
Salt and Pepper

Fire the oven to 450. Get a big roasting pan and throw all the veggies in with a cup or so of chicken stock and lot of salt and pepper. Roast until the veggies are soft but not really soft (about 45 minutes in my oven)

Meanwhile, make the pesto in a food processor with:
1 clove garlic
2 1/2 tbl. olive oil
2 tbl. pine nuts
3/4 cup of sun dried tomatoes in oil (check out Bay Cities Deli for the best)
2 1/2 tbl. finely chopped basil
2 tbl. cilantro
salt and pepper

Mix this all up until it's good and chopped. Add oil if you need to. Put this aside.

Put the veggies in a blender (a little at a time) along with some stock). Puree until smooth. Watch out for the chunks that don't get chopped. Pour this into a large Stock pot and once you've creamed all the veggies, add the rest of the stock, some more garlic and salt and pepper and bring to a boil, then simmer again.

Serve hot and put a pretty little dollop of the topping in the middle of the bowl. Watch out, it's strong stuff.

Puffed Rice

2006-11-15T20:01:00.000-08:00

It can't be that hard. I look at Rice Krispys and Pirate's Booty (side note: I can dust off a bag in 10 minutes on a BAD day) and rice cakes and all that stuff and I think to myself -- self, you can make popcorn. Why can't you make puffed rice at home?

So this led me to investigating, and investigating I did. According to many accounts, puffed rice was first discovered by an American biochemist at the beginning of the 20th Century who got bored and stuffed some rice into an old cannon and voila! puffed rice was born.

Nowadays, there are big "guns" that shoot the rice at high pressure and heat. Not really suitable for West L.A. life (might work on the East side).

Through my investigations, I discovered this gem of a site called the hungrybrowser archives where people ask obscure questions related to food and this guy answers. He takes his job very seriously. Great grass-roots internet stuff.

Meanwhile, I'm loading up the shotgun in the backyard.

Ask Your Neighbor

2006-10-27T20:09:00.000-07:00

Ok, so Bob Allison isn't the coolest looking guy. In fact, I think Restoration Hardware calls him for advise on what retro REALLY means....

But Bob's radio program, Ask Your Neighbor, heard in Detroit on AM690 WNZK, and around the world on the internet, is the real thing. I went looking for a pork marinade and found a whole lot more. Takes you back to those quieter days, when the skies were quiet, apple pie cooled on the window sill and little Jimmy lost his virginity to Elga, the Norwegian Substitute teacher.

Ok, scratch that last bit. I just liked Miss Norway.

Jimmy did his homework, worked hard and turned into Bob Allison's right hand man (see below). Oh come on, chicks love radio guys.

Thanks for the recipe, Skippy.

Uncle Easy's Chipotle Sauce

2006-10-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

This is the stuff. Comes from a guy named Chef Caro at Cajun Power Sauce. I had this fantastic sauce on a boat recently to make up for a lackluster meal preparation. It blew me out of my chair. Great smoky tang and deep, rich, everlasting flavor. I just ordered a case. Pick some up yourself.

If Only Life Could Be This Easy

2006-10-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

Cool Whip?

2006-10-06T05:46:00.000-07:00

So I am in Philadelphia on a layover. It's been a few weeks since I've flown, but I thought I would check out the prohibited items list from TSA before I left for the international terminal.

Turns out that along with knives, gels and water, you are also not allowed to bring on "whipped cream," however, you are allowed to bring on corkscrews and screwdrivers less than 6" long (but ony plastic knives. Hhm. What will they think of next?

When it Absolutely, Positively Needs to be there Overturned

2006-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, now I can tell you

2006-09-14T15:33:00.000-07:00

I've been carrying a secret around for the past month or so and it's been killing me. Apparently everybody else knows about it now so I can tell you.

There's a pretty expensive piece of stereo equipment out there called a Sonos music system. The unit basically takes all of that music from CDs and internet radio and puts it through your house (or apartment) in a really simple and magically wonderful way. This was great for playing all those CDs that were ripped into iTunes, but it didn't play protected songs, like the ones you would buy from the Apple iTunes store.

So a month ago, my friend at Sonos asked if I wanted to be part of a Beta program. Seems that Sonos had found a pretty awesome way to get Rhapsody, the $10/month "all you can eat" music system into the Sonos system. This basically meant that I had access to over 2,000,000 songs. It also meant that I could throw away my CD collection (except for "The Sons of Ralph" from Bob.

Turning this sucker on was like opening up my brain and stepping back into the primordial music of my past. I did the requisite Bob Marley and John Mayer and Etta James, but then I moved into other genres and areas. My in-laws came in for a week and a half, and I put on some Loving Spoonfull...because I could. Wow, that was surprisingly good.

My bro and his brood came over on Sunday and turned the sucker on. He blasted the neighbors with some Grace Jones and John Coltrane and some other stuff.

I cooked dinner listening to Lewis Black's performance at Carnegie Hall and sent Barney's Broadway tunes to my son's room.

This thing rocks. Trade in your iPods and give it a try.

Wow, I feel better now.

What Kind of Crow?

2006-09-11T06:54:00.000-07:00

They're reliving 9/11 on all the networks and one of the things they mention a lot is how far something is "as the crow flies." I don't think I've ever seen a crow fly straight, so where did this come from and when did they stop flying straight?

Interference Robustness

2006-09-04T20:43:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting on my back porch finishing off the 2nd version of my food newsletter, and my wireless signal goes kaput. Damn! All I can see is some guy's wifi called CK and another one called "Israel Wireless," which, given my location in California, must be a pretty powerful antenna -- and one I choose NOT to join for fear of being bombed.

Anyway, on my Apple computer, at the bottom of the list of foreign wifis that does not include my own, I notice an option for "use interference robustness," which gets me to thinking....

This must be a term dreamed up by some computer wonks in mini-cubicles. First off, what is interference robustness and why would I want to use it? Doesn't it mean that the interference would be that much stronger? But if they mean that the computer will be strong in the face of interference (which I hope they do in some cavalier malignancy of the English language), then wouldn't I want this on all the time? Isn't leaving this off kinda like Peyton Manning, the famous American football quarterback, deciding NOT to use his defensive line and instead leave himself open to unending torment and pummel from the opposition?

No sir, not me. I'm not going to suffer the slings and arrows, etc. of misfortune, blah, blah, blah. I put a check next to the "Use Interference Robustness." I wait. and wait. Kaput.

All of a sudden, the bars on my wireless pie go black, telling me I have connected. I check the name -- "Israel wireless." I shut the computer, run inside, and fill the bathtub. Will post more if I make it.

Only in L.A.

2006-09-02T21:09:00.000-07:00

Nice weekend. Nice view from my balcony.

The World On His Mind

2006-09-01T08:08:00.000-07:00

It Must Be Really Good

2006-08-28T15:46:00.000-07:00

So a buddy and I were in line down at the Soup Plantation -- pretty far into the experience -- past the garbanzo beans and the dressings and checkout where we flashed our expired AAA cards so we could save .42 cents on our salad, but not quite yet sitting down to enjoy (I use the term quite loosely here) a salad and some, what seemed to be Clam Chowder but was actually Yankee Clipper Clam Chowder with Bacon -- all of this in the hope that we will make it to the soft-serve dessert with those little baby cones; but at that moment, actually in the soup line, (which, inexplicably, comes after the cash register, for some strange reason) where we both watch as an elderly woman with some bifocals who looks like she came out of the library across the street dips into the "Big Chunk Chicken Noodle Soup," and proceeds to pile mounds and mounds of noodles and poultry chunks into her tiny ladle-handled bowl as the sneeze guard fogs up from her elevated breathing, like a bear near an Alaskan stream munching on some fresh-caught salmon just before the hibernation of winter; and I turn to my friend and I tell him my new term for these voracious John D. Rockefeller wanna-be's of Brentwood; and I tell it to you now so you can register it, start a website and spread it across the far wires of the Internet -- Hogalots -- yes, that pretty much describes them, always hungry, firm believers in the American Dream(s) and all of the plenty that comes with it, including an unlimited supply of overcooked grains and cut-up, canned poultry products -- far more than a normal person (or even themselves) could ever eat...but that's not really the point, is it?

Late Corn

2006-08-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

I've neglected to say that the family and I have moved into our house. It's beyond what we imagined it to be and we're spending time trying to get everything together and working. I suppose the fact that we've not ordered in food for the past 3 weeks is a testament to how sweet this home is. In the rental, every other day was a regular order from the fantastic Thai Bamboo resturant in West L.A (that's 90049) -- best Thai wonton soup and BBQ sesame beef I have ever tasted. Made the loud nights in the cramped apartment roll by like Bangkok afternoons in the sun with a couple of petite women who didn't understand a lick of English working the kinks out of back (don't get any ideas).

Anyway, the real reason for this post stems from the afternoon in the yard, which I must say is looking very magazine worthy. I setup the workbench and used the leftover siding from the house to construct what will become the third iteration of "My Wife's Cathouse," not in the Vegas way, but in a feline way.

When I first met my wife, she, unfortunately, came with cats. I'm a dog person -- through and through, and besides the fact that I'm allergic to cats, she had two rescue cats who had "adjustment issues" and enjoyed the company of none, especially me -- the sneezing, wheezing lumbering dude who was shacking up with the chick who fed them.

Anyway, in my courting phase, beset with guilt, I built my then girlfriend an 8' x 6' house, complete with shingles, 2 floors and a "kitty cam" (don't go there)( so she could watch them hiss at each other from the comfort of her (our) bedroom) or sit comfortably inside while the 1 friendly cat drooled on her arm.

When we got married and moved to our 2nd house, Brady and I demolished the ski chalet and a made a 4'x2' mini-house between the ficus trees -- no camera, no door, no seat.

The birth of my son sent the kittys into a position similar to divorced step-children, and their third house consisted of a 2' x 3' particle board box on the porch of the Thai delivery apartment, where they were tormented by my son with his crayons and a rather large, Santa Monica-based racoon.

So today I built them a nice house where they can spend the rest of their .75 remaining lives in splendid repose amidst the grass and bark.

But the real reason I'm writing today has to do with the back of my yard, where we had originally transplanted some succulent from a dude in Brentwood who was replacing his yard with a 1/2 basketball court (kudos to Alex for the free plants and fence). I moved the succulent and after trenching the clay-heavy soil, dropped a few seeds of sweet corn in the groove, knowing full well that it's way too late for planting corn, but feeling a tinge of hope that maybe it would take -- and the cats might trade-up to a 3/2 condo off Sunset.

Stunt Cowboy

2006-08-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

So last night, my son was getting ready for bed and he asked me what a cowboy says. "Well, a cowboy says 'Yippee Kay Yea'," I said, leaving out the memorable addition Bruce Willis made in Die Hard. This led to 5 minutes of him trying to repeat the word, and 5 minutes more of me singing "home on the range" in a weak falsetto at the top of the stairs.

My kid was intrigued, so I thought I would show him a little more of what cowboy life was like through the magic of television. Now, I'm not a big TV watcher, but when I do watch, I usually spin around to PBS or FoodTV or G4 or BBC America. So searching for some cowboys on the 600 or so channels was a bit of a challenge and kinda fun.

Unfortunately, it turns out that it's hard to find cowboys on TV, and the closest I could find without keeping the kid up WAY past his bedtime was "The Dukes of Hazzard" on CMT. "Son, these are rednecks," I said. "Oh," was the response. And we sat there for 20 minutes or so watching something that touched way back into the files of my mind to a childhood filled with Atari, wacky packs and banana seats on bicycles -- all good things -- but something that "The Dukes of Hazzard" was not.

Still, despite the pants that showed me a bit more of then, mutton-chop heart-throb John Schneider, the thing that most impressed me about the show were the stunts. This particular episode, aptly titled "Carnival of Thrills" (Episodes 1-2 of Year 3) focused on Bo Duke falling for a girl and trying to jump his car over a bunch of other beaters from the last 70s. (In fact, I think that's what every episode centered around -- I can see the show's producers sitting around and saying to the writers "Come on, you hacks, we need to find something fresh. People don't want to see us jump over the same river every week. Think bigger! Like "The White House."

Today in movies and TV, special effects has reigned in the role of the stuntman in the same way cities and cars have crippled the role of cowboys and morphed them into massive arena monkeys, where they watch glittering singers -- or even worse --actors at dude ranches, where they live a lie based on nostalgic reflection for tourists who pay top dollar to live the same lie for a little while.

In the 70's and 80's, there were companies in Hollywood, like Stunts Unlimited, that modeled themselves after Evil Knievel and basically risked their lives to do stupid stuff -- not so much for the money, but for the sheer lunacy of what producers wanted them to do. They were rock stars, the top of the heap, crazy moffos with a taste for adventure -- so much so that when an actor today says that they do their own stunts, I think "Right. They hang on a wire in front of a green screen so a kid in front of a computer can composite in some explosions and gunfire." No, my friends, these guys were the real deal.

So when I sing "Home on the Range" to my kid from now on, I won't think of Robert Duvall or Kevin Costner sitting around a firepit talking about the coming storm; instead, I'll remember Bo Duke's stunt double jumping the General Lee over 32 cars.

(Epilogue: After "The Dukes," we stayed on CMT for a while and watched "Hee Haw." Besides Buck Owens' great singing, God that was an awful show.)

A Good Start

2006-07-10T21:52:00.000-07:00

I visited my good friend Erich Schiffmann today. We hadn't seen each other in quite a long time -- we both seem to be traveling a lot this year. We talked about technology and yoga and family, and as I was leaving, he gave me a gift -- a large Himalayan Singing Bowl from the Tassajara Center in Carmel.

Every night before my son goes to bed, I take him through a little ritual to close out his day -- brush his teeth, wind the Russian Submarine Clock on the wall, wave goodnight to the TV, bicycle and the picture of the tractor and Super Porky on the wall; turn the thermostat up and then down. Tonight, I added the Singing Bowl to the repertoire. He banged it once with the mallet and listened for 2 whole minutes as the sound slowly resonated through the room. Then he said he was ready for sleep.

My wife and I move into our new house in 3 weeks. It's been a long year in a small apartment with a growing boy. Even though we have designed and crafted the new house, it does not seem like ours at the moment. But I know that when I put this bowl in the entryway and hear it ring through the rooms, the house will find it's soul.

Thanks Erich.

Flatts, Bermuda at Night

2006-06-22T17:24:00.000-07:00

Internet Justice

2006-06-08T21:05:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine recently lost a job opportunity because a background check unveiled some "security issues," which, given his somewhat placid demeanor could only mean that someone had found his pointed, and sometimes critically opinionated blog. It reminded me of how nothing is private anymore on the internet. You have a Myspace profile? It's public record. Ever posted to a Yahoo group with your email address or name? It's in the beast of the Internet forevermore, being archived and stored by such entities as The Internet Archive

But THIS is perhaps the best example of how this information and the Internet community can act together to make things right.

Turns out a guy left his cell phone in a cab in NYC. He was surprised when later he started seeing photos and AOL stuff coming onto his online server from the phone. The rest...well, you should read the story...and get that insurance policy on your Cell.

I Have a Better Idea

2006-05-31T21:35:00.000-07:00

The countdown clock on my desktop says 61 days until we move into our new house. Then I came across this while looking for lighting fixtures. I say I sell my house as is, unfinished, and get one of these instead.

Borobudur

2006-05-29T08:13:00.000-07:00

There's something that happens when you have a personal connection to news from around the world. Most of the time, a report of a violent uprising or a natural disaster in some far-off region of the globe is filtered into the back of your mind where it quickly becomes a distant memory.

But last week's 6.2 earthquake near Yogyakarta on the island of Java meant something to me. 25 miles outside of this crowded, dirty city lies Borobodur, the largest Buddhist monument in the world.

I had visited Borobudur in 1990, while on a 3 month backpacking trip through New Zealand and up to the Far East. This huge monument, built in 750-842 AD, is nestled in the middle of a quiet forest on top of a hill and is the most spiritual religious place I have ever seen. It's scale is unfathomable, but like any great piece of architecture, no matter where you are, you feel intimate and "at one" with your surroundings.

While I've heard their was little damage to the structure, I picture all of the 72 Buddha statues sitting inside of their bell shaped stupas and looking out at the ruined world below. Buddhist philosophy says that reaching into these stupas and touching the Buddhas brings good luck. Since I can't be there, I'll send this electronic wish.

After Mail In Rebate

2006-05-22T22:35:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about shopping for something is when you come across a deal. Kinda makes you a little more interested in buying it, doesn't it? Well marketing gurus and ad execs in large companies around the world somehow found this little nugget and have used it to their advantage.

Now I have been a party to the "deal" tactics in the past, but now it's just getting plain silly. When you walk into Best Buy, they claim to have the lowest price guarantee, but it's not just the price they're selling it at. Seems like everything in that store, from the HDTV sets to the little thing that takes scratches out of CDs (it doesn't work) is on sale, with the added benefit of a mail-in rebate.

Sounds fishy, right? Yeah, to me to. I think this whole idea of walking into a shop for some instant gratification and being told that something is cheaper because 6-8 weeks after you mail in your receipt, your box and your right leg to some hitching post in Deleuth they'll send you a $10 rebate check that you can only cash at your bank -- well, this whole concept just spells BS to me. If they're so intent on saving you money, why don't they just give you the discount right there? I'll tell ya why. Because if you took the total dollar amount of discounts in that store and every store in the country and stuck it in the bank for 8 weeks, you've got a nice chunk of change. And if you make people fill out what equates to a college entrance essay to get the rebate submitted, chances are you're gonna get a few people who are going to just plug that toaster in and forget about the money they're throwing out the window.

Hhm. Commercialism is a shifty concept.

That's my 2 cents (after a 50 cent rebate)

Cool Packaging

2006-05-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

I was in Whole Foods the other day buying a $6 apple and came across this "herbal mood" product. Don't know if it's any good or just another attempt for the Whole Foodites to ripoff wealthy Democrats, but I liked the packaging.

Come to the think of it, maybe if I bought it I would feel better about the $6 apple....

UPS (Utter Positive S*!t

2006-05-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

I order a lot of equipment for work from this one company in Chicago. (Ask for Matt Fisher -- great guy.) Matt processes the order and the stuff ships straight from some warehouse in Vegas direct to my office -- like 2-3 times a week. Matt uses Fedex and UPS and charges me up the wizwang for delivery. But hey, am I complaining? Stuff shows up 2 days later.

Usually, the loot arrives at my office door and I come around and pick it up from Brady, another great guy who is too good at his job and deserves to be in a better position. I give him minor thrills by opening the packages in front of him -- kinda like Santa Claus and Christmas, except here Santa is a geek in Chicago and the children (that being me) like to play with electronics and things that go "beep."

So I'm driving to work this morning and thinking that I'm missing something. You know that feeling where your mind says "you're gonna get your ass kicked for this" but doesn't quite tell you what it is? Yeah, that.

So later, I realize that the "that" is a package that should have arrived from Senor Matt days earlier. But there is no box, no call, no evidence whatsoever that the box has shipped (other than the charge on my credit card bill).

So today, I get a postcard from UPS. Arrives in the regular mail. Tells me that they are sorry, but they could not deliver the package because it did not have a suite number on it. Ok, Postcard...yes, Package...no. Hhm. Here's the letter I sent them.

Dear UPS,

While I appreciate your attempts to always make me a happy recipient of the packages you bring to my door, I am a bit puzzled by a postcard I received from what (I assume) is a confused UPS employee (you do call them employees, don't you? They're not like "courier associates" or "transit enablers", are they?)

Anyway, I got this postcard IN THE MAIL, telling me that one of your happy brown "transit enablers" could not deliver a package I so desperately was waiting for to my office because the sender did not include the suite number. This is very odd since I know Sean, our UPS man, very well (he does a smashup job, by the way -- his socks are always pulled up just below his knees and he's always ready with that plastic pen signing thingie and it doesn't smell like other guy's pens) and I have received packages from the same shipper to the same address many times.

Has something bad happened to Sean? Or has there been a change in policy at UPS regarding me and/or my suite number. I am finding it hard to understand how you can get a postcard to me through the US Mail (and we know how bad they can be) but you can't send the package through. Even worse is that on the postcard it tells me I can pickup my package at the UPS office. While I would love to come and see all of those cardboard boxes and where those little "We're sorry we missed you" sheets come from, I would rather if you delivered the package to my door. Either that or you can give me a discount for me driving -- I mean, that seems fair, doesn't it?

Please let me know that Sean is ok and, if he isn't, could you have someone bring my package by the office?

Thank you,

Your ever thankful customer,

LK

Focus

2006-04-26T20:12:00.000-07:00

I went to a focus group tonight -- not because I'm so hard up for money to finish my house that I'll take (or give) anything just so I can have those special mini halogen bulbs in my laundryroom. No, I went because when the droning lady from the research company called me and mentioned that the subject of the group was Amtrak, I got tremendously excited at the opportunity to spout on in a room full of strangers about something I care about. Come to think of it, that's all this blog really is....

So the group consisted of mostly older people -- a retired, tanned dude in shorts who kept telling us how he was an eternal child (one you would want to spank), a granola-y plump woman with a bubbly (and slightly over-stoned) personality, a man named Clarence who just needed to talk to someone -- anyone; and a skinny, 70 year old woman who had to stand through the entire group due to a medical condition -- in short, your average Amtrak passengers. And me, Mr. Food Snob, Mr. Attention to Detail, Mr. Son of a Doctor...you get the picture.

The moderator started the "session" by asking each of us about our last Amtrak trip and our overall impressions; somehow, this got translated into an opportunity for each "focuser" to launch into stories about fear of flying, dying relatives and/or birthday parties, or even birthday parties for Aviophobs who were about to die.

Anyone, somehow we rolled past this through a reading and critique of the Amtrak Dining Car Menu, the importance of proper spoonware, why "Bob Evans" is the only item in Red on the breakfast menu (and it's a mean scramble, let-me-tell-you), until finally, after 1 1/2 hours, arriving at the AHA! moment of the evening -- PLATES.

Turns out that Congress, spurred on by an administration bent on spending more money on Thanksgiving meals in Baghdad, and less on -- well -- plates, has ordered Amtrak to cut, cut, cut millions from their food budget. Besides laying off the cooks, wait-staff and chefs that used to make $30/hour over-cooking barely mediocre food for diners with a combined median age around the size of the national deficit, and moving toward "pre-cooked", "reheat-ready entrees", they now want the remaining members of Amtrak (minus the engineer, of course) to serve us the rolling equivalent of a hungry meal on a plate that looks like a plate but is actually a piece of disposable plastic -- a close, very close facsimile of the real thing that you don't know is fake until you use it (slightly akin to the way I have, in the past, mistaken Paris Hilton for an actress.)

So the issue is plates, and my fellow focusers now wax on about food placement and color combinations and the size of the salad dressing packs (which look like crap, by the way), and how Uncle Fillbert used to take his teeth out to eat the chocolate ice cream onboard because it would stain). And as this symphony of noise is swirling around in my head, I'm looking at the plate of Chocolate Cake with White Chocolate sauce on top that they've put down in front of my nameplate which indicates my "focus spot," and I find myself getting sad in a way I haven't experienced in months.

It's not that Amtrak has to cut back and find other ways to do the things they've always done. Hell, they're great at that by now. It's not so much that the plates being thin plastic are now disposable and environmentally unsound, which removes the romance of train travel, It's not even that all of those people will lose their jobs and we'll get crappier food in return. No. Not those things.

It comes down to this. The people who called this group together have a problem: they need to cut the budget. So they look at numbers and pick areas and then get out to people to see how they'll feel about the change so they can craft an advertising and PR campaign around these reductions, to keep their already tenuous brand from becoming so unappealing that people stop taking the train. These "train execs" are human tourniquets put on in Amtrak's last hour arm to stop the flow of money that continues to make our country's railroads more like a dinosaur getting stuck in the mud for the last time.

No, the big sadness for me on this is the complacency. I'll admit it, I love train travel. It's easy, cheap, fun and a great way to get somewhere. Everything onboard is stuck somewhere around when the Berlin Wall came down, but it's the little things onboard that make the difference (the flower in the vase, the route guide, the free coffee dispensers). It gives it character and makes it unlike any other experience. Taking away plates is just a step closer toward making it like other modes of travel.

My motley crew of fellow yappers did not share my romantic view of things. They said, "hey, it's a train, what do you expect?"

I expect a lot more, not less. There's a saying I have: "Don't break something that isn't fixed."

Old Fashioned Cooking

2006-04-23T21:40:00.000-07:00

I picked up a Lodge cast-iron skillet the other day (that's Mr. Lodge in the picture above). Have wanted one for a long time but have been hampered by memories of the one my father owned that developed a nice layer of rust speckles all over it (most likely due to the fact that he wouldn't know how to wash a dish if his life -- or anyone else's-- depended on it).

Yes, memories of this pan and the meals he continued to make even after it's transformation have kept me from actually getting another. Whenever I thought about it, I would get this funny metallic taste in my mouth.

But I have heard chefs speak about them for years -- how they help to bring out the flavor of everything and how you don't need any oil and the likes and so easy to clean, blahblahblah.

So I heated up the pan (after seasoning it, of course. You do know you have to season it first) and waited until water droplets did their little crazy mariachi dances across the surface. (God I love that). And then I put some chicken breasts that I've been marinating in Korean BBQ sauce for a day in and they immedately jump up for a second and say "what, you gotta be kidding" before falling back down and charring in seconds. Now most of the time, I can tell when things are done, but this was a whole new world, so I used my second favorite new cooking utensil -- my Instant Read Digital Cooking Thermometer that I got the from the good folks over at King Arthur Flour. Best item I've gotten in years.

So I finish the chicken, let it rest, and take the pan to the sink. It's not as easy as they say in the books and videos -- you've got to doa fair amount of scrubbing to get that stuff off. There's got to be a better way. Anybody know?

Catchup

2006-04-23T15:06:00.000-07:00

Hey, how's it going? Yeah, it's been a long time, huh? Well, I've been good, but I decided to take a break from blogging for a month or so to look around and have something to write about. I think too many people just blog for the sake of blogging, and we end up with a whole bunch of chatter about the most mundane things.

So I won't be doing that right now. I think I'll just show you some pictures and tell you where I've been, what I've seen and what I've eaten.

BARCELONA
A fantastic city. Very friendly, very old, very cool. Eat at Cafe Los Caracoles off of La Rambla and be forever happy.

Fantastic shrimp and razor clams and Murietta Rioja wine. The iron stove IS a room. Flan is caramelized with a fire-heated branding iron.

This is looking toward the harbor on Good Friday. The tower in the distance is an aerial tramway.

MY HOUSE
Guess what? They're behind schedule. But not to worry -- if they go too far past, we get into penalty phase and I'm moving to the Ritz Carlton.

TODAY
An epic ride to the top of the mountain. The rains a couple of weeks ago brought out some beautiful grasses and flowers.

See you soon. I'll try to keep in touch more often.

Best Band of the Decade

2006-03-28T22:38:00.000-08:00

I didn't know their name at first, but I knew the song. Later they appeared again on some complilation album and I got interested.

But it wasn't until after I saw them at the Henry Ford Theater in L.A. that the lightbulb went off and My Morning Jacket became the best band of the decade -- and the hairiest -- between all of the band members, Supercuts could get out of their stock slump.

Looks aside, these guys, especially Jim James and Carl Broemel (a guitar genius) remind me of early Who, Kinks, Ramones and Glen Campbell all mixed together.

Bravo, boys. See you at Bonnaroo.

Why Would Anyone Want to Live Here?

2006-03-20T15:10:00.000-08:00

Between the free public transportation, the weather, the Kid's Room at the Public Library, and the Chili and Pizza at Baked, I can't understand why someone would want to subject themselves to all this community and ease. It's so much more annoying than a place like, say, Los Angeles.

Shiprock, New Mexico

2006-03-17T08:44:00.000-08:00

I love this new wide-format camera.

Yahoo!

2006-03-17T08:40:00.000-08:00

Speaks for itself.

The southern chief

2006-03-15T21:02:00.000-08:00

I'm writing from somewhere outside of san bernadino onboard amtrak's southern chief.

I've decided to take the family on an overnight train ride to gallup, new mexico, where we'll pick up a car and drive the 5 hours to colorado.

I haven't been on an overnight train in 20 years, and I can now tell you, for absolutely sure, that nothing has changed. It's as strange and magical as it has always been.

Dinner is included in the dining car. What a strange feeling to be eating a salad and steak watching the baseball diamonds and truck depots fly by. Strange and magical.

Its hard to believe that it's so much cheaper to ride the rails than to brave the security lines and delays at the airport and be stuffed into a can. There's so much more life here.

We arrive in gallup at 9am. Photos to follow.

Maybe A Crank Will Do

2006-03-08T19:27:00.000-08:00

With siding going up on the house, I'm turning my attention to more important things, like how many different places I can watch a movie in my new house. The whole issue of "TV in the master bedroom or not" came up for a second, but since my wife's a TV writer, I put a big check in that column and moved on.

Being a sensible fellow, I didn't just want to stick an LCD up on the far wall (I really hate the need for binoculars at home to read the crawl) so I thought of a better solution. I said to myself, "Self, why don't you get one of those motorized lifts and put it at the foot of the bed?" Pop up, pop down. Form and Function. Happy husband, happy wife.

When I owned a "digital contractor" company that designed systems for people's homes, we used these all the time. Besides being a bit slow, they were fantastic...and expensive...like $10,000. Well, it's a couple of years later, and the price (and weight) of plasma TVs have dropped considerably, but somehow, the price of these little lifts haven't dropped proportionately.

You can now pick up one of these suckers (frame only, no cabinetry) for about $1,800. Nice drop, you may say; but just to put it in perspective, for about $300 less, you can pickup a lift that will raise your car up 7'. Plasma lift: 51 lbs. and 2', Car lift: 8000 lbs. and 7' You do the math...no, I'll do it for you.

LCD lift: $35/lb.
Car Lift: $5/lb

Somehow, that "convenience cost" is a bit out of whack. If anyone has any old elevators (or maybe Grandma's Inclinator) lying around or have bright ideas for finding a solution, let me know.

A Little Bit of Happiness to Brighten Your Day

2006-03-07T15:54:00.000-08:00

Feeling a bit down? Then read this excerpt from The S.F. Chronicle and just chase those blues away.

"An 11-year epoch of increasingly severe solar storms that could fry power grids, disrupt cell-phone calls, knock satellites back to Earth, endanger astronauts in space, and force commercial airliners to change their routes to protect their radio communications and to avoid deadly solar radiation could begin as soon as this fall, scientists announced Monday."

""I'm really excited about this (discovery)," said NASA's {David} Hathaway.

Barn Door

2006-03-07T14:10:00.000-08:00

Every house in our neighborhood has a beachy feeling -- probably because we're 1/2 a mile from the beach.

Anyway, the wife and I wanted to shake it up a little and give our place a little bit of a ranch feeling. There's an opening from the main stairwell to my office, and we're gonna add a barn door on some very cool hardware that can swing open or closed (depending on if the in-laws are in town).

Give thanks

2006-03-05T14:35:00.000-08:00

My wife, son and I returned from a trip to the shoestore today (it's amazing how fast those litttle feet grow), to find a group of people in black suits standing in the courtyard below our apartment.

It's a scary sight to see groups in black at your home. After the initial wondering, I realized death was here.

Our landlord was one of the sweetest men I have ever known. He was always welcoming, always kind, always around with a knowing and wise face. He let us put my son's toys in his courtyard and gave him presents at the holidays.

We never knew he was sick until last week when he collapsed and was taken to the hospital for tests. He died friday.

today hiis son said that the lung cancer he had been living with had spread to his brain, causing extreme headches and ultimately, his death. We never knew.

I want to say something like "how fragile this all is", but if you understand that black, solemn wave of mourning people, you already know.

Thank you for welcoming us into your home, jay. It was a pleasure knowing you.

Dog Walker Available

2006-03-04T16:50:00.000-08:00

Took a nice hike up Westridge Fireroad with my parents and the family. Finally, my kid will start paying me back for all those diapers.

Vonage Phone Service

2006-03-03T17:38:00.000-08:00

I've been using Vonage voice-over IP since we moved out of our house. We had a killer home number, and Verizon wanted $120/yr. just to hold the thing until we got back. I said no, I don't think so.

So I hooked up with Adelphia cable for high-speed internet, signed up for $24.95/month unlimited nationwide calling, and ported my number over. Goodbye Verizon.

The service is, for the most part, fantastic. You get all of the features Verizon charges $90/month for, PLUS voicemails are sent to an email address, so you can listen to them anywhere you are and forward them to other people. The only problem is when the internet signal goes out (which in Adelphia's case is FAR too often) everyone says I sound like I'm underwater in an echo chamber. But overall, I think everyone should make the switch. Monopolies hurt everyone, especially me.

(I still use Skype for international calls. You can't beat their rates. I called someone in the Seychelles the other day, was on the phone for 10 minutes, and it cost me $2.50).

It's about time for this revolution. Ma Bell's been dead for years now, but nobody really wanted to believe it.

Powder Rooms

2006-03-02T13:53:00.000-08:00

Powder Rooms are the strangest rooms in a house. They're a leftover from the Victorian age where style was everything, and the sight of a tub in a public restroom was strictly declasse. For some reason, this "license to do anything" has spilled over into the modern age, and we are left, oftentimes, with rooms that look more like they belong in Cirque De Soleil, rather than a place where your guests can remove the piece of spinach lodged between their teeth.

That's why I'm following suit and putting reeds on the ceiling of my powder room, to give it a natural, earthy tone with a little bit of Singapore Raffles thrown in. Kinda fits with the beachy theme.

anyone with interesting places to find this stuff?

Fanimation

2006-03-02T06:53:00.000-08:00

I love ceiling fans, probably because they remind me of airplane propellors.

In my house, I get one room that is mine to do anything I want with (except when people come to stay over). That's why I've decided to put this in "the studio". These guys at Fanimation make some of the most interesting fans I've seen. Each one reminds me of a different adventure travel trip around the world. Check out their other models.

A Great Home Sound Resource

2006-03-01T07:21:00.000-08:00

I recently had the house pre-wired for stereo. Boy, I forgot how much those A/V guys markup work and other stuff. Along the way, I ran into a great user forum where you can get real-world stories and perspective.

Very helpful.

98 Days and Counting

2006-02-28T18:04:00.000-08:00

They've started wrapping the house using a fancy new product called Styrofoam, that's right, Styrofoam. Maybe my house will come with a bean roaster as well.

God, I Love My Town

2006-02-23T20:37:00.000-08:00

There's a New Mayor in town, and he's a Captain.

According to my local Palisades Post, Steve Guttenberg, mayor for the past 4 years, will be passing the keys to the city to Gavin McLeod. I feel safer already.

Women are Pretty Cool People

2006-02-23T07:21:00.000-08:00

As a belated birthday present, the Wife took me up to Napa valley for the weekend. It was a brilliant surprise, full of little gems that were perfect for me. We stayed at a wonderful, romantic resort, ate brie and ham sandwiches at the Oakville Grocery in Yountville; had amazing French mussels in red wine sauce (dip the French bread!) at Bistro Jeanty.

With the Wife not drinking, the wine tasting was left up to me, and I'm not a big taster (I like what I like and don't want to mix it with too many other things before driving 20 minutes to wait in line), but we stopped off at my old boss' vineyard in St Helena and got invited to taste in Dennis' office, the guy who runs it. I'm not a big sparkling wine fan, but this stuff was really good. The executive chef from Roy's in San Francisco stopped by and brought some brownies, and the afternoon slipped away.

But the best part of the weekend involved the most amazing meal I have ever had in my life. I don't throw that phrase around lightly. The wife had, by some twist of luck or timing, managed to get a reservation at The French Laundry, a small California, eclectic restaurant that gets 4,500 phone calls a day for reservations and books 2 months in advance.

Our reservation was at 5:30, and as we rolled into Youtnville at 5:15 and parked across the street from the restaurant, we saw a bunch of chefs sitting at picnic tables in a small park holding up vegetables from a nearby garden. We checked in and walked back across the street to the garden -- a perfect layout of exquisite herbs and vegetables laid out in neat little rows. The chefs had finished their meeting, and now milled about as Thomas Keller, the owner and inspiration for the restaurant, lowered the flag from a flagpole and chatted calmly with the chefs.

The restaurant seats 62 people. I think they had as many servers and wait staff. Everything was perfect -- the presentation, the decor, the service -- but the best thing was the food. I have never tasted anything like what I had that night, and over the 3 1/2 hours and 9 courses, I found a gentle, persuading calm wash slowly over me.

We left full, but not stuffed. The perfect amount.

The French Laundry is a wildly expensive restaurant, but I have to say, it is the epitome of food as art and life. It reminds you of why you eat in the first place and is worth every penny.

Sharp is Good

2006-02-14T06:17:00.000-08:00

I love sharp knives and I can't stand those auto sharpeners they sell in stores. I like a nice two-grit stone and a little water. Only problem is it's hard to get the angle right.

Well, these guy's guides are great. Get your knives together and I'll come over and sharpen them.

Thank God for Jim and Mark

2006-02-05T19:51:00.000-08:00

This was a stellar afternoon. I tuned my bike while smoking a cigar, did the Times crossword, laid on the couch, cooked dinner...and watched The Superbowl in 2 1/2 hours.

You may say "so what", anyone can watch a football game; and you're right, this is no special feat. But what made it stellar was the ability to skip forward 30 seconds, WHICH, it turns out, is the exact length between plays in a football game. So I was able to skip past all the B.S. -- the huddle, the weird stats, those annoying ex-players-turned-sportscasters. And I timed my viewing so that I "caught up" with only a 1:30 left in the game. Time Mangement nirvana. This wouldn't have been possible without Jim Barton, one of the guys who invented Tivo. Thanks, Jim.

So who's Mark? Mark, AKA Bittman, is a brilliant, no-nonsense, ex-cabbie, minimalist cookbook author and TV host. He wrote a great cookbook last year with recipes from around the world that brings together all sorts of weird creations.

At about the time I started watching the SuperTivoBowl, I also started one of his recipes -- a slow-braised, Filipino Chicken Adobo. When the game was over, I finished the chicken on the grill and served it with some brown rice and sauteed Chinese Greens.

I'll take Superbowl Sunday anyday. Screw nachos.

A Gift From The Gods

2006-01-30T07:19:00.000-08:00

I went to a friend's birthday party the other day at a Tapas Bar. Now, I know Tapas arre the hottest things since Flashdance leggings these days, but I think it's just a great way for most restaurants to make a bunch of really over-priced, mediocre food.

The party was too large to enjoy at a long, rectangular table, but the high point was when a friend's boyfriend mentioned that he had just left a caterer's house where they enjoyed the leftover fish from an event the night before. He said she had so much that she gave him some, and that he had it in the car, and that he didn't cook, and that if I wanted it, it was mine.

Even if the fish was bad, this was a good invitation to leave the party; and so, my wife and i said our goodbyes and headed to his hatchback, where he gave me a big white garbage bag with what looked like fish and a bunch of ice. I was not impressed.

The wife and I had another party to go to at a friend's house (I know, the life of a married man with a kid) and so I stuck the bag in the freezer next to the vodka and coffee beans.

When we finally got home, I opened the windows and went to the bag, expecting to find some fetid fish that i MIGHT feed to the cats.

Much to my surprise, what I discovered was gold. This stranger had given me 9 pounds of some of the freshest ahi and salmon I have ever seen. There was so much fish, I didn't know what to do with it. So, of course, I made a feast. The menu is listed below. Thank you to the caterer and this guy sleeping with my friend for allowing me to have some fun (and a little bit of fish).

lou’s night o’ fish

Hawaiian Tuna Poke on rice crackers
Tuna Rolls with tempura crisps
Salmon Skin Rolls
Miso Soup
Pepper and Sesame Crusted Seared Tuna with Wasabi Soy Whiskey dipping sauce and julienned green onion
Teriyaki Seared Tuna
Cucumber Salad with Arame, Thin Sliced Red Onion and Bonito Flakes
Zucchini with paprika, lemon and pepper

Deep Husk Red Brown Rice with Edamame and Carrots

Jean-George Flourless Molten Cake
Ginger, Vanilla and Mint ice cream

Music to Pedal By

2006-01-28T23:22:00.000-08:00

Top 2 Songs to Ride up a Mountainbike trail with:

"The Magnificient Seven" by The Clash
"Beatomatic" by The Scabs

Get on a bike and try them out.

Cruising

2006-01-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

I'm a little behind, and I promise to do an update on the whole cruise trip, but in the meantime, I found this little riff I wrote somewhere off of Cuba.

Gliding along the sea
Hovering
Twelve Stories Up
Just me and the radomes
Hideously Beautiful

George Carlin's New Rules for 2006

2006-01-16T17:01:00.001-08:00

I love this guy...

New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.

New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout?

New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: lucky bastards.

New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're a dope. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man , they're pictures of men.

New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them?Okay, we're done.

New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You wantflavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.

New Rule: Stop f***ing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.

New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the ass hole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extradry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge ass hole.

New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again,the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.

New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.

New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damnedexciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."

New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.

New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.

New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.

New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.

New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place

Happy day

2006-01-12T09:37:00.000-08:00

Hideously beautiful

A Humble Bow

2005-12-29T10:56:00.000-08:00

I know I promised that I would stand at the bow of this massive ship every morning at 1230 PST. Apparently, 9/11 ruined a lot of things, especially guys waving their arms on the bow of ships for webcams -- that gift is now reserved only for crew members, who use it as an opportunity to escape the constant yammerings of ship guests like me.

I'm sitting in a cowboy bar on the island of St. Thomas at the moment, catching up with world and having a Carib beer before I sail off in a couple of hours -- for St Marteen, I think -- I've sorta lost track.

All in all, the cruising life is a pretty fantastic thing. I can see why many of the people onboard say this is the 10th or 20th cruise they have taken. We left Tortola last night at sunset, probably one of the most beautiful and friendliest of places I have ever been. I stood on the aft (back) deck, eating sushi (yes, sushi) with my wife as my son ran back and forth through the automatic doors and the waiters did sharp turns to avoid him. We pulled away from the dock, turned around on a dime and started skating, ever slowly, away from the small blue and white lights of the town. At that moment, I didn't feel like I was on a ship with 2,000 other people.

I'll give a more detailed review when I get back to servilization...right now, I'm having too much fun. I hope you are too.

Can't promise anything, but I may be editing in the computer lab tonight-- check the cam.

Tomorrow, It Starts

2005-12-23T08:12:00.000-08:00

On the way to the airport. Ready to cruise. Remember to look for me at 1230 PST everyday right under the flaghead seen above at Celebrity online

First person to email me a screengrab wins a leisure suit.

Cruise-o-matic

2005-12-19T07:24:00.000-08:00

My family and I are leaving next week on a cruise. That's right, a cruise. Some people (myself included) think that cruises are great places for old people to get together and spread all the wonderful germs they pick up at the various ports-of-call as they touch the varnished clam-shells-glued-to rock napkin holders in the local gift shops; but I'm an open kind of guy, and it's a wonderful opportunity for my grandmother to get to know my son, so Captain Stubbin, where's Gopher?, we're coming aboard.

I'm a research kind of guy. I like to read up on all the exciting things I plan to do in my life -- it gives me a sense of expectation, like standing in line at Space Mountain and watching the rollercoaster roll around every once in a while. In my reading up on "cruising" and this whole new world, I find that, besides the stories of people who have far too much time and too little life on their hands, some really wonderful tid-bits.

For example,This Link has live webcam views from the ship I'll be traveling on. I'll tell ya what -- I'll stand on the bridge foredeck at 12:30 EST everyday and wave my hands -- let me know if you see me.

There, that was fun, wasn't it? Actually, in my research, I have found that cruising is not as old or as lame as it seems. Take THIS for example. Turns out that Dave Matthews Band, along with Bob Weir, Toots and the Maytals, and a bunch of other great musicians, like to get together for a few days and play some music on cruise ships and islands around the Bahamas. God, would I hate to be a deck-hand on that ship.

I'll let you know how this all goes and try to send updates on the ship when I'm not discussing false teeth with Bob and Sylvia, the "Cruising Koslowski's" of Toledo.

Cash

2005-12-05T21:25:00.000-08:00

So Rhapsody came out with a web-based version of their subscription music service, which means I can use it on my Mac and finally get rid of my PC. Rhapsody makes so much more sense than buying music. Here you can just rent it.

So I look on their "top of the charts" list and there at number 1 is my favorite rebel, Johnny Cash. Now I haven't seen "Walk The Line" -- I feel kinda funny about watching actors pretend to be someone who can't be imitated. Felt the same way about Ray a couple of years ago.

But the good thing is that the movie is giving people who have never heard of Cash a chance to discover his life and his music. And that is pure rhapsody.

The Grey Zone

2005-11-30T12:39:00.000-08:00

New idea for a parking zone -- The grey zone is for immediate loading and unloading of indecisive drivers only.

Walk About

2005-11-13T09:49:00.000-08:00

Went on a little drive yesterday with the family out to Westlake Village and then down the coast through Oxnard. Amazing that only 15 minutes from freeways and outlet malls and airports lie these peaceful fields of red pepper, artichokes and strawberries.

Funny

2005-11-11T14:17:00.000-08:00

This cracked me up.

A Little Happy Music

2005-11-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

I'm away from L.A. in San Francisco on business and I've decided, for various reasons, not to treat this like a typical business trip and instead travel in a way that makes sense -- no first class, no car and driver, no taxis.

Its been Southwest Airlines, self parking and The BART subway. Waiting for room service has been replaced by standing in line at the Coffee Bean.

Sitting on the subway platform this morning, sipping my coffee and listening to some music, I was reminded of my college days living in New York City and taking the train 30 minutes northwest to Sarah Lawrence College. All around me, people on their way to work, and me, not quite in with the masses, and yet feeling a bit like one of them.

There's something infinetely sad about Los Angeles not having a viable subway system. Unlike buses, a subway is the great equalizer. You don't necessarily take it because you can't afford a car -- you take it because its easier --unbound from traffic and stupid drivers and hassle -- something sensical amidst a city of chaos and uncertainty.

So why doesn't the BART system have more character? From walking into the station, waiting for a train and even sitting in your seat, the first thing you notice is the silence, punctuated only by the computer generated stop announcements. No music, no hum, no nothing. And so people sit quietly, almost glumly, isolated in their common experience.

Las vegas hotel designers discovered something a long time ago that makes a lot of sense. You know how if you get into a crowded elevator everyone gets very quiet and you stand staring dumbly at the digital floor counter? A real mood killer. It has something to do with a violation of your personal boundaries. Well, at places like the Wynn, they've eliminated this awkward silence and simultaneously taken elevator music to a new dimension -- matching music to the mood they want you to feel - going down you get rocking, sultry music that gets you pumped up and itching to spend some money, like the warm-up song just before a concert. On the way up, you get inspirational, comforting music that somehow makes you want to order room service and watch a pay per view movie.

So come on San Francisco BART officials, get happy. You've got something I can never have in L.A. Make it sing.

Houston, we have a Problem

2005-11-06T09:15:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder why kids these days seem just a bit more messed up than usual?

I came across this toy in a Target newspaper ad. Here's some of the specs

• Luxurious SUV party limo decked out with glitz and glam
• Includes working lights, a beverage bar, fancy seats and a real hot tub
• Limo top really pops up
• For ages 6 and up

6 and up? When I was 6, I was skidding out on my Big Wheel and watching Emergency! Squad 51 -- not getting jiggy with Barbie and her friends in an Escalade jacuzzi drinking Apple martinis.

Change In The Weather

2005-11-03T16:31:00.000-08:00

Summer is finally ending here in Southern California. The sun is still strong but the air is getting crisper and the temperature shifts quickly from hot to cold when the sun veers toward the ocean.

The leaves are falling from some of the trees, and all the animals are growing big, fluffy coats.

As modern human beings, we all seem to think of ourselves as somewhat separate from all of this change -- like we're outsiders observing all of these transformations through a distant looking glass.

But I have seen it come out lately in a lot of people around me -- uncertainty, questioning, anxiety, depression -- all symptoms of change, all signals from within that everything is not ok the way it is.

A friend of mine who is a yogi once shared some great insight that's been helpful to me during some hard times. I hope it helps you or someone you know who may need it today.

shavasana introduction:

now the technique is simple. keep it simple.
all you do is relax
everywhere
and be aware of how you feel
eyes closed
eyes soft
and all the muscles around each eye relaxed
and as your eyes relax, let the relaxation spread
so there’s no holding anywhere
let go so much that you feel wide open like the sky
get very quiet
very still
undefended
and see what happens
feel the energy you’re made of

for love is what’s left when you get rid of everything you don’t need
let this become the norm

209 Days

2005-11-01T07:07:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's amazing what happens when you pay your construction bills on time. The second floor went up in 2 days.

The Builders

2005-10-27T22:17:00.000-07:00

A lot of people have asked for the name of the builders putting up our house.

It's Structure Development Group in Woodland Hills. Run by Bob Kleiman and Mark Sapiro, two very white, very honest guys. Give them a call and tell them I sent you -- they may actually finish on time and I get a free tote bag.

This from Craigslist

2005-10-27T22:11:00.000-07:00

Damage from Rita .

Reply to: anon-100381033@craigslist.org
Date: Tue Sep 27 14:31:17 2005

Attached is a photo illustrating the damage caused to my friend's home
in Houston from the hurricane Rita that passed through on Friday night.

It really makes you cherish what you have, and reminds us not to take
things too much for granted.

Creation!

2005-10-26T20:19:00.000-07:00

"And like the Phoenix rising from the Ashes of its Pyre" Murray J. Towle

Anyway, here's a construction update.

Pyramid o' Babies

2005-10-25T12:55:00.000-07:00

I spent Sunday shooting a video around a bunch of babies near feeding time in a really hot, low-ceiling room; their sleep-deprived mothers, and this wonderful Mother Goose, standing helplessly nearby.

I worked for 10 years in the movie business -- filming in many different parts of the world with prima donna movie stars, pets, stunts -- even fake snow -- and I don't think I had nearly as much fun as watching a bunch of toddlers slowly meltdown on a set (much to the chagrin of Ed, the soundman). Still, it looked really good.