Dodgers Game

Karen’s brother was otherwise engaged last Wednesday, so we bought his Dodgers season tickets (and good parking pass) for the evening. It was our first baseball game of the year. Unfortunately, it was also the night that 70-mile-per-hour winds whipped through many parts of the county—but more about that later.

I packed a heavy sweatshirt and blanket. Before I even turned the key in the ignition, we discussed our strategy for getting to the stadium. The Lakers were playing at Staples Center, while the final episode of “American Idol” was being filmed at the Nokia Theater next door. Obviously we wouldn’t be traveling through downtown. Instead, we decided to take surface streets: Third Street to Temple to Alvarado to Sunset Blvd. It took us one-and-a-half hours to drive nine miles.

We parked in the highly coveted section B and entered the stadium. The place was practically deserted. Either everyone was home watching “American Idol” and/or the Lakers’ play-off game, or people were sensibly staying inside.

With fifteen minutes to go till the first pitch, we scoped-out our dinner options. Although Tim had insisted he wasn’t going to eat a Dodger dog, he succumbed at the first whiff. I, on the other hand, had a more difficult decision since I’m not prone to eating regular stadium food. We checked out Panda Express (too expensive!) and Carl’s Jr. (too goopy) before I settled on California Pizza Kitchen. Nine dollars (!!) for an individual pizza, but at least I didn’t starve.

The seats were great—the Reserved Level, right behind homeplate. But the wind was atrocious! I swear I could barely see the ball, at times, for all the hot dog wrappers and napkins blowing around.

Tim and I grew-up following the Dodgers, but have moved on since then: we were Padres season-ticket-holders when we lived in San Diego and then switched to the Angels in 2002 when they won the World Series. No surprise that I didn’t recognize one player on the Dodgers team. I scrutinized each photo they showed on the Jumbo-tron every time a new man came up. One of them had more homeruns than any other second-baseman in 2006. Another hit a triple six weeks ago.

“Yikes!” I said to Tim. “They’re really digging deep to say something flattering about each player.”

“Well, better than putting up a slide that says, ‘Overpaid has-been who sits on the bench for most of the game,’” he sniped.

Just at that moment, a huge gust of wind nearly knocked us out of our seats. Tim didn’t know whether to grab his hat or his garlic fries, but managed to hold onto both. A little girl two rows in front of us quickly put her cotton candy back into its bag. I watched as the palm trees in left field danced a jig. It was going to be a long night!

We ended up having a fun time, of course, despite the weather. Don’t ask me who did what, but both teams played well enough to keep us interested. By the sixth inning, I was ready to leave. The wind had calmed down enough to not blow us and our tiny Honda to Kansas, so we quickly slipped away before we got sucked into any further action. Three days later, I remembered to ask Tim who had won the game!

Speaker of the Assembly

Somehow, I received an invitation to the swearing-in ceremony of Karen Bass, speaker-elect of the California Assembly. Sure, I live in Bass’s district, am a lifelong Democrat and contribute regularly to the party, but I still haven’t figured out why I was invited. Nevertheless, I was very aware of the historical significance of Bass’s appointment—not only is she the first African-American woman to be named speaker of the state Assembly, she’s also the only African-American woman ever to lead a state legislative body anywhere in the U.S. I was already scheduled to be in Sacramento that morning, so I called the capitol and accepted the invitation.

When I arrived at the airport, everyone at the gate was happily hugging and kissing. “This is the Karen Bass plane!” someone shouted. Indeed, it seemed like everyone from the 47th Assembly district was flying up for the ceremony. The founders of the New Frontier Club, the oldest and largest African-American Democratic organization in the state, were there, as was state senator Mark Ridley-Thomas, who is running for L.A. county supervisor. A young man who’s working with Bass on the Obama campaign looked wide-eyed and rather overwhelmed by the commotion whirling around him. I stood on the waiting line next to Mrs. Lee Welinsky, secretary of the Culver City Democratic Club. With so many Democrats on the plane, I knew we’d have a safe flight and so tuned into my iPod and took a nap, even though people were noisily celebrating.

The swearing-in ceremony started at noon. Not knowing what to expect, I headed over to the capitol a few minutes early. The place was a mob scene with dignitaries and school kids clogging the hallways. I asked a security guard where I needed to check-in and was directed to an area on the other side of the building.

“You’ll be in viewing room 4203, on the fourth floor,” the woman at the registration desk said as she handed me a ticket to get into the event.

I was disappointed to be relegated to watching the ceremony via closed-circuit TV, but changed my tune when I arrived at the room and saw it was almost filled to capacity! I showed my ticket and was given a program.

Although not as magnificent as the Assembly chambers, room 4203, named in honor of former state legislator and Congressmember John L. Burton, was still very beautiful with its wood-panelled walls and ceiling-high mural depicting California’s history. A large flat-screen television was set-up at the front of the room in addition to the two smaller TVs on the side. I sat behind a woman who talked about staging a peaceful demonstration demanding more funding for Alzheimer’s research.

At noon the TV screens switched from an outside shot of the capitol to inside the Assembly chambers. The caption noted that this was a “floor session.” People in the viewing room began to settle down. Then, after about eight minutes of watching attendees greet each other, someone yelled, “There she is!” as we all spontaneously leapt to our feet and started to clap. Karen Bass had entered the Assembly chambers. It felt like we were right there with her even though we were half-a-building away.

Speaker Fabián Núñez led the festivities by recognizing “special guests” in the audience. Several people on my end gasped and yelled “OH NO!” when he introduced esteemed actress Alfre Woodard as “Alfred.” Núñez then began naming all the various politicos present. Judging by the reaction in room 4203, former speaker Willie Brown was the most popular man at the event. Governor Schwarzenegger, on the other hand, received only a smattering of applause.

We could feel the excitement of the moment through the TV. We stood for the invocation and pledge of allegiance and cheered our favorite speakers. Three legislators spoke of the speaker-elect’s good deeds and Ms. Woodard recited a poem, “Ego Tripping,” by Nikki Giovanni—all while Bass looked on from the back of the Assembly chambers. I almost cried when the governor mentioned Bass’s 23-year-old daughter who had died in a car crash two years ago.

Then came time for the escort committee, made-up of former speakers Brown, Robert Monagan, Cruz Bustamante, Antonio Villaraigosa, and Herb Wesson, Jr., to accompany Karen Bass to the podium. Her stepdaughter Yvette carried the Bible on which the oath was administered. Afterwards, the new speaker admonished her colleagues to unite in responding to “the current economic crisis the way we would a natural disaster." She also announced that she has asked former governors Pete Wilson and Gray Davis to head a commission to examine California’s antiquated tax structure. The viewers in room 4203 clapped their approval. She ended by asking the Assembly to “get back to work!”

I returned to my office across the street and got back to work of my own, moved by the historic event I had just witnessed. Although the plane ride home was far more subdued than the morning, people nonetheless remained joyous as they reflected on the significance of the day. I could almost hear the unasked question on everyone’s lips: is this a sign of what’s to come this November if Barack Obama is indeed nominated?

Viva, Palm Springs!

My family didn’t travel much when I was a kid, but we did go out to the desert a lot. Palm Springs was close enough to drive and, in those days, fairly cheap. Plus my sister and I got to spend entire days swimming and lounging around the motel pool. The desert was our favorite vacation spot.

I no longer do anything that requires a bathing suit, but Tim and I do occasionally go to the desert just to get away. We especially enjoy Palm Springs because, unlike Las Vegas which has turned into a hideous monstrosity, the downtown area looks pretty much the same as it did in the 1950s/60s and the surrounding mid-century modern homes still reign supreme. As far as I'm concerned, Palm Springs is all about nostalgia.

For example, we were taking time out from a conference I was attending there this past weekend when I noticed an ad offering tours of Elvis Presley’s “honeymoon hideaway.” Turns out, May 1 was the 41st anniversary of Elvis’s marriage to Priscilla Beaulieu, the young woman he had met overseas while in the military. To celebrate, the current owners of the newlyweds’ first home were opening up the place to the public, Friday-Sunday, 10AM-5PM.

Now we are not Elvis fanatics, by any means, but we do know a good story-in-the-making when we see one, so I called the number in the ad. It was 10:15AM. A groggy voice answered the phone.

“Hullo.”

“Hello,” I chirped. “Is this the Elvis Honeymoon Hideaway?”

“Yes,” the man curtly answered.

“My husband and I would like to take the tour. The ad says the house is open after 10AM. Do we need a reservation or can we just show up?”

“No reservations needed,” he replied. “But give me a few minutes to get over there first.”

We arrived an hour later.

There was no sign or even an address, yet we knew which house it was. Architecturally significant long before Elvis came along, the 5,000-square-foot home was dubbed “The House of Tomorrow” by Look Magazine in 1962 and is truly a magnificent example of desert modern design. Elvis moved in a year after the original owners, renowned Palm Springs contractor Robert Alexander and his wife, were tragically killed in a private plane crash. Elvis leased the home for a year and lived there for six months with Priscilla in 1967.

We approached the house reverently and knocked on the door. Through the huge front window we could see the living room and numerous photos of Elvis and his “Memphis Mafia” friends.

“This is already worth it!” I whispered to Tim.

We could hear commotion behind the door and then, after about five minutes, were finally greeted by two elderly women.

“Our first customers of the day!” one of them cheerfully exclaimed. The man from the phone was doing something in the kitchen.

We stepped inside as I silently gasped. To our right was a sweeping stairway that we later learned led to Elvis’s enormous bedroom. Poster-sized photos of “The King” decorated the walls above the stairs. To the left was the living room, looking very much like a James Bond set or some other 1960s movie. A built-in white naugahyde couch lined the perimeter of the room. Above it hung a large faded photo of Elvis and Priscilla during happier days. We could see the swimming pool outside beyond the dining room window.

After collecting our money, one of the ladies said she’d lead us on our tour, which began with a brief history of the house. She told us that the current owners bought the house in 1994 and immediately turned it into an Elvis museum, which is usually open by appointment only and on special occasions, like Elvis's birth and death dates and the honeymoon weekend.

She then told us about the Presley wedding as we ogled the various Elvis memorabilia displayed around the room. Seems that Elvis and Priscilla were supposed to get married in the backyard. But when gossip-maven, and local resident, Rona Barrett got wind of the story, they decided to elope to Las Vegas instead. At 3AM on May 1, 1967, the couple snuck through the bushes at the back of house—the same bushes we climbed through ourselves a few minutes later!—hopped into a limousine, which took them to Frank Sinatra’s private plane, and then flew to Las Vegas—all while the paparazzi crowded outside the house, waiting for the ceremonies to begin. When the newlyweds returned home, Elvis carried Priscilla across the threshold before heading upstairs for their honeymoon. Their daughter Lisa Marie was born exactly nine months later.

“Have you seen Priscilla lately?” our tour-guide then asked. “A friend of mine said she was on ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and looked horrible! Too many facelifts! What’s wrong with looking her real age?!”

Although the architecture of the home was spectacular, the decor was garish, to say the least. The master bedroom was done in pink and the lamps throughout the house were gold-chrome. Thank goodness the owners didn’t feel compelled to recreate the shag rug that apparently covered most of the floors when Elvis lived there.

Since we were the only visitors that morning, we got a very special and prolonged tour of the house, including a screening of a homemade video about the grounds. I asked if there were any other celebrity houses we could tour while we were in Palm Springs.

“Well, Frank Sinatra’s home is now owned by a corporation,” our tour-guide revealed. “But no one wanted to buy Liberace’s home when he died. He wanted to turn it into a museum, but the city didn’t want it. Such a loss! There really should be a Liberace museum in Palm Springs.”

Later I asked if this was the house where Elvis famously shot his television set.

“Elvis shot his television set?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” the other woman, who was eavesdropping, said. “He was always shooting his televisions!”

“Really? I must admit that I wasn’t really a big Elvis fan until later in life,” the tour-guide confided. “I was always a much bigger fan of Liberace . . .”

“No kidding,” Tim whispered in my ear.

It was starting to look like there was no graceful way to for us to exit when, after about an hour, a group of tourists knocked on the door and asked if they could see the house. We thanked our hostesses profusely and eased ourselves toward the door, promising to return another day. And with that, we left the building.

Little Rock, AR

It’s no secret that I love the Clintons. As I’ve reported elsewhere on this blog, I’ve met and seen Bill speak twice. Plus, Hillary has my vote for president. No surprise, then, that when my boss asked me to attend a library conference in Little Rock, Arkansas—where Bill was governor for 12 years—I jumped at the chance.

Everyone who loves the Clintons should make a pilgrimage to Little Rock at least once in his or her life. The entire town is something of a shrine to the 42nd president and his family. Included in our conference packet was a brochure entitled “A Guided Tour of President Clinton’s Little Rock,” highlighting relevant sites: the governor’s mansion, the Old State House where Bill declared his candidacy for president, Clinton/Gore campaign headquarters, the firm where Hillary practiced law, Chelsea's middle school, and even the McDonald’s where Bill often stopped to get, er, coffee.

The main tourist attraction these days, though, is the Clinton Presidential Center and Park, located northeast of downtown next to the Arkansas River. Built on land that had been overrun by derelicts and homeless people, the Clinton library is a magnificent edifice that evokes a bridge to the future. I recognized it immediately as we drove into town from the airport and, despite the hot and muggy weather, wandered over there during the first day of conference.

A reception was being held at the library later in the week, so I restrained myself from going upstairs. But I did buy a ticket to see the miniature White House on display on the ground floor. Very cute! I then walked back to the hotel, stopping at the River Market, where I spied the award-winning Shaka Smoke Lodge eatery. Taking a big bite of my lunch, I left a message on Tim’s cellphone, bragging that this was the best chopped pork sandwich I ever had. Why would governor Clinton even bother with McDonald’s when the Shaka barbecue was only blocks away?

Some 60 librarians and I returned to the library two days later for the final conference night’s reception. A docent led us upstairs to a small theater, where Bill narrated a 12-minute film about Little Rock and his ascendancy to the White House. I was thrilled when we all burst into spontaneous applause afterward. I was among kindred spirits.

From the theater, the docent took us to a reproduction of the president’s cabinet room and described the rest of the building. The second floor chronicled the Clinton presidency and its accomplishments. But I was far more interested in the human side of the story, so quickly slunk up to the third floor, where memorabilia from both Bill and Hillary’s younger lives were exhibited. Also there were displays of the First Lady’s gowns, Bill’s saxophones, and various gifts from people around the globe.

The main event, though, was a reproduction of Clinton’s oval office, complete with family photographs and a Rockwell painting that the Spielbergs gave Bill soon after he became president. I had a hard time tearing myself away.

As wonderful as the oval office was, my favorite exhibit was of the correspondence the Clintons sent to and received from dignitaries and celebrities worldwide: a handwritten letter to Hillary from Jordan’s queen Noor, affectionately signed “from your sister,” a note from Bill to Paul Newman jokingly asking him not to run for president, and a congratulatory letter from Elton John expressing hope that he and Bill would work together to fight AIDS. The guard had to rouse me from my reading to announce that dinner was about to be served downstairs.

I flew home the next day and proclaimed that we had to watch “Primary Colors,” the fictional account of Bill’s first run for the presidency. John Travolta and Emma Thompson’s portrayal of the “Stantons” was far from flattering. Still, as full of clay as the Clintons' feet are, I remain a huge fan and care about them even more after spending a few days in Little Rock.

March 2008

One of the difficult things about maintaining a blog is that, when you’re too busy doing fun stuff, there’s no time to write about the fun stuff you’re doing! Case in point: the entire month of March.

Week 1: I had a free Southwest airline ticket that was about to expire, so Tim and I decided to fly over to Phoenix for a little spring training baseball. The only room we could get at the Sheraton (within walking distance of the stadium) was four doors down from the Club Lounge, where we could eat all the complementary breakfast and “happy hour” treats we could stand (bummer!). With no car, we were pretty much stuck in the hotel or at the stadium; but it was just the mini-vacation we needed. Plus the Angels won both games. Tim was in heaven.

Week 2: On Thursday, Karen and I schlepped to UCLA to see NY Times columnist Frank Rich interview Stephen Sondheim, Karen’s all-time favorite playwright. I especially enjoyed his tales of old Broadway and Ethel Merman, Jerome Robbins, et al. Then, on Friday, Tim and I saw the touring company’s performance of “Sweeney Todd,” perhaps Sondheim’s best known musical. The young woman sitting next to me was disappointed to hear that Johnny Depp wasn’t in this version. Still, we both survived and agreed at the end that this was almost just as good.

Tim and I finished the week by attending yet another play, “Top Secret: Battle for the Pentagon Papers,” performed by L.A. TheatreWorks, a local company that stages radio plays for later broadcast on NPR. The plot revolved around the Washington Post’s decision to publish the Pentagon’s infamous chronicle of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. Although a completely different theater experience altogether, I must say I liked “Pentagon” better than “Sweeney” because of its relevance to today. Congresswoman Jean Harmon was part of a panel afterward that compared the Nixon White House to that of George Bush. It was my turn to be in heaven!


Weeks 2-4: As it does every March, PaleyFest—the Paley Center for Media’s (formerly the Museum of Television and Radio) three-week long homage to TV—came to town in a big way. The festival has become so huge, in fact, that it moved this year to the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood so more people (some 800 every night) could attend. We went to the following five events over a span of eleven nights: “Pushing Daisies” (Chi McBride was a riot), “Friday Night Lights” (my current fave show), “Damages” (Glenn Close—serious actress!), “X-Files” (the lead actors were not there, but we did see a trailer for this summer’s movie), and an evening with Judd Apatow, creator of “Freaks & Geeks” and box-office hits “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” “Knocked-Up” and “Superbad.” Of them all, the Apatow event was the most outrageous as he shared the stage with his mentor Garry Shandling, protégés Seth Rogan and Jason Segel, actor friends Jonah Hill and Paul Rudd, and an assortment of other wackos. Clips of the entire festival are available on the Paley website.

Week 4: The month ended with me taking a three-day trip to Minneapolis, where I attended the Public Library Association conference. Two hours after landing, my roommates and I were riding a shuttle to a free reception, given by an architectural firm that designs libraries. Their offices were located in an old burnt-out flour mill that overlooks the Mississippi River. Before leaving home, I thought for sure I’d be trapped in Minneapolis by inclement weather. But standing there, looking out at the view, I was glad I came. Nonetheless, there were still remnants of snow on the ground, so most of us opted to take the downtown area’s intricate series of skyway bridges from our hotel to the convention center. The skyways, which link the 2nd stories of most of the buildings downtown, look like one continuous mall and are really quite amazing.

Just as I was beginning to miss my garden back home, I wandered into the Macy’s across the street from the hotel and, to my amazement, found a display of succulents and tropical plants in the cosmetics department! I cheered up immediately, but silently thanked my lucky stars that poor Tim wasn’t there, because even he’s starting to grow weary of my born-again fascination with all things botanical.

The weather held long enough for my flight home to be rather uneventful. More than half the plane was filled with librarians, so I relaxed, closed my eyes and happily listened to my iPod for five hours.

The next morning, Tim and I got up early to tour architecturally-significant mid-century homes in Pasadena. It was good to be back in L.A.

Spring has Sprung (Updated!)

Spring is here!

The evidence is everywhere — from Mr. and Mrs. Mallard, vacationing on our block before heading north after their winter migration, to flowers popping up in even the most neglected gardens. Our own yard is festooned in color thanks to the generous rains earlier this year. Wildflowers are in bloom in the back and even our usually benign bushes in front are covered in pink blossoms. Who wants to leave the house when there’s so much beauty just outside the door? Enjoy!

A Few of our Favorite (L.A.) Things (and Places). . .

Los Angeles Magazine is currently running a survey where readers can vote for their favorite places and things in L.A. The list includes many of our top faves—like Disneyland, the Bradbury Building, and the Los Angeles Public Library—but it also omits many others. To rectify the situation, I’d like to offer the following L.A. landmarks—some of which are famous and some known only to us—that we feel help define the wonder that is “Los Angeles.”

1. I may hate to fly (see my January 27, 2007 blog entry), but I do love the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). Despite the traffic, it remains our airport of choice when traveling to places too far to drive. It is also the scene of many childhood bon voyages, including the time the entire family turned out to wish my uncle Manuel and aunt Eva “adios” as they winged their way to Spain, ca. 1964. My favorite features at LAX are the spectacularly mid-century-modern Theme Building and the more recent installation of internally-lit pylons that sit at the entrance of the airport. They are always the first thing I look for when landing at LAX.

2. There is nothing quite as exhilarating as driving the Miata topless (the car, not me!) to downtown L.A. on a Sunday afternoon. The city can be very peaceful on the weekend and oh so beautiful on a clear, sunny day. To me, the most iconic of all L.A.’s many landmarks is City Hall. We’ve toured it twice and never tire of its majesty. The fountains outside the Department of Water & Power building, a few blocks away, are also amazing, especially on a summer night. Despite its tendency to turn into a ghost town after dark, downtown Los Angeles remains one of the most magnificent places in the entire city.

3. OK, so the world famous Farmers Market also appears on Los Angeles Magazine’s list of top 64 places. But it’s far too important not to include on my list, too. Farmers Market has always been something of a foodie’s United Nations, so naturally it was my family’s favorite destination when I was a kid. It was also our signature haunt when Tim and I lived across the street in Park LaBrea during the 1990s. We feared “the Farmers,” as Tim’s aunt used to call it, would become severely overshadowed the day The Grove opened next door, but the 1934 Market’s charm happily remains in tact. Life as we know it would cease to exist without Dupar’s pies or baked goods from the ancient but tasty Bread Bin.

4. As reported elsewhere on this blog, Tim and I are all about mid-century-modern houses and so have spent many enjoyable hours touring homes designed by Richard Neutra, Rudolph Schindler, and Gregory Ain. In one of the most magical days of my life, the two of us spent the afternoon in the company of Julius Shulman, perhaps the single most famous photographer in Los Angeles history. His black-and-white shot of Pierre Koenig’s Case Study House #22 might just be the most iconic photo ever taken of the L.A. lifestyle. We were thrilled to be able to visit the Koenig house last year and have been inside many others that are almost as famous. Long live modern architecture!

5. Certainly among Tim’s top 10 L.A. landmarks is Mt. Wilson, home to a world-renown observatory as well as to most of the area’s F.M. radio and television antenna. Visible from the end of our block, Mt. Wilson is part of the San Gabriel mountains which form the city’s snow-covered backdrop during especially cold winters. My sister and I built many a snowman in the shadow of Mt. Wilson when we were kids. Today I find the roads just a tad too narrow and windy for a casual drive; but Tim loves visiting his radio station’s antenna and seeing Los Angeles county from above.

6. And speaking of viewing the county from above, one of our favorite L.A. “things” is the Goodyear blimp, which lives about 15 miles south of us and frequently flies over our house en route to sporting events, etc. We’ll be quietly sitting at home when suddenly we’ll hear the distinctive hum of its motor. “BLIMP!!” one of us will yell as we go running out of the house, looking up at the sky. For some reason, I still can’t get used to seeing a zeppelin fly overhead in the middle of the day. Silly me!

7. What would Los Angeles be without cars—especially phenomenally gorgeous cars that would rust anywhere else in the country. Even with the gas crisis, Angelenos adore their cars. The annual L.A. Car Show is a “must see” event every year, while Culver City’s annual vintage auto show always makes my heart weep for the many wonderful cars that have come and gone in my life. If I were a millionaire, I’d build a garage big enough to keep examples of all the cars I’ve ever loved.

8. Whenever we can’t think of anywhere else to eat, we always default to Dinah’s, a Los Angeles institution since 1959. Located on Sepulveda, about two miles from our house, Dinah’s is the perfect place to stop before or after going to the airport. Their fried chicken is among the best in the county and their oven-baked Apple Pancake is to die!

9. One of our favorite local “sights” is the "square tree" located on Sanford, within a mile of our house. Come rain or shine, the square tree just sits there completely oblivious to its natural surroundings. My sister has called it an “abomination.” But the square tree brings me comfort to think that there’s still some order in the world.

10. And while we’re on the topic of abominations, no tour of L.A. would be complete without the “house of Davids,” located on 3rd St., one block west of Rossmore. The front yard, festooned in hundreds of naked white statues (dressed up here for the holidays!), is the horror of upscale Hancock Park. It is also, of course, one of our favorite places to take out-of-town visitors.

L.A. in Winter

One of the best things about rain in Los Angeles is how clean the city looks after a good storm. And one of the best places to see L.A. is Kenneth Hahn Recreation Area, a massive county park located a couple of miles from our home. Although most people think of Griffith Park as L.A.'s premier playground, for my money Hahn is far superior because not as many people know about it, plus its views of the city are nothing short of spectacular. We go there several times a year to marvel at the beauty of Los Angeles, especially after it has rained. Tim's very quick movie (fasten your seatbelts!), taken two days ago, shows the entire L.A. basin rimmed in snow. Happy winter!

Ford's Filling Station

Downtown Culver City was pretty much a ghost town when we moved here ten years ago. Despite being the self-proclaimed “Heart of Screenland,” there was only one sad movie theater—a Mann multiplex across the street from Sony Studios—and absolutely no nightlife. Things have certainly changed since then!

Five years ago, a new Pacific movie theater opened, followed soon after by the renaissance of the live Kirk Douglas Theatre, now part of the Centre Theatre Group. But the really big news came in 2006 when Benjamin Ford, celebrity chef and son of actor Harrison Ford, decided to open his restaurant Ford’s Filling Station in the middle of Culver City’s downtown district. Before long other high-end and well-reviewed restaurants were springing up downtown and in Culver City’s newly artsy eastside. Suddenly our sleepy town had become L.A.’s latest hot spot, and all because of Ben Ford.

The food at Ford’s is wonderful: healthy American fare that’s a tad expensive but, oh, so tasty. My favorites are the flatbreads, salami platter and roasted chicken. Tim loves the “pub burger” and just about everything else on the menu! Ben Ford calls his restaurant a “gastropub,” where people can eat good food and meet other like-minded diners.

To celebrate the Filling Station’s two-year anniversary, Ford held a special dinner-lecture last night, where he talked about and introduced several new items to his menu. I made reservations for Tim, Karen and me as soon as I heard about it. The event was sold-out, despite it being a rainy weeknight.

We were, of course, among the first people to arrive. The restaurant is fairly small, so we could see everyone coming and going. Karen and I were chatting when Tim suddenly grabbed my arm. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were bugging out of his head. There, scooting behind Karen’s chair, were Harrison Ford and TV celebrity girlfriend Calista Flockhart! In all the times we’d eaten at Ford’s, we’d never seen them, even though we’d heard they eat there regularly.

“Harry and Calista just came in and are right behind you!” I whispered in Karen’s ear.

The couple hugged and kissed the people seated next to us, but passed us right by. Apparently the restaurant was filled with Ben Ford’s friends and family—how we were able to get reservations, I’ll never know.

The dinner was fabulous. As appetizers, we had smoked lake trout (Tim), oxtail-stuffed cabbage (Karen), and chilled marinated leeks with tomato vinaigrette (me). For their main course, Tim and Karen each ordered the shoreman’s pie (lobster, leeks, sweet peas, and truffle potato), while I had roasted hen with champ (root vegetables), pea tendrils and roasted porcini mushrooms. Lots of sharing went on, but mostly between Tim and Karen as I don’t eat fish or red meat. There were several appetizers and entries to choose from, so our heads were spinning trying to see what everyone else was eating. Meanwhile, Tim, who had a clear view of Harry and Calista’s table, reported on everything the couple ate (chicken and beef).

Finally, after eating and talking for about three hours, dessert was served. Karen and Tim enjoyed their persimmon bread pudding, but I was sorely disappointed in my toffee apple ice cream (a cored and baked apple with vanilla ice cream down the middle). Still we all declared the evening a huge success, with Tim saying he got his money’s worth after the first course. I did him one better and said I was satisfied as soon as Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart walked in. By the way, they both look exactly like they do in the movies and on TV and seem to be very happy.

Where No One Has Gone Before . . .

As I’ve reported elsewhere on this blog, I’ve been a “Star Trek” (ST) fan since it first aired in 1966. I’ve seen every movie—some several times—and almost every episode of all five TV shows. Cartoon cels and photos (some signed) of ST actors hang on my office wall, plus I own copies of most of the hardback novels inspired by the series.

Tim, on the other hand, can’t tell a Klingon from a Vulcan. Still, after accompanying me on many “Star Trek” adventures over the years, even he has developed a reluctant fondness for some of the characters and plot lines. No surprise then that he agreed to go with me to “Star Trek: The Tour,” a traveling exhibit of ST memorabilia and sets being displayed in Long Beach for one month only. We were, of course, among the first people on line opening day.

Although I was excited to go, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought there would be showcases filled with phaser pistols and costumes, as usual, but this ended up being much, much more. Walking into the dome that used to house Howard Hughes’s Spruce Goose, we were greeted by a good-sized replica of the starship Enterprise from the original (i.e., “classic”) series. Just beyond the ticket-takers was the actual Guardian of Forever, the oval-shaped time-portal from my all-time favorite classic Trek episode “City on the Edge of Forever,” written by science fiction author Harlan Ellison. I almost started to cry, but was stunned into silence by the sight of the original Enterprise bridge just a few feet away. I could have easily turned around and gone home happy right then, but, no, there was so much more to see and do!

Hidden down a hallway and around the corner was Captain Jean Luc Picard’s quarters from “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” complete with a wedding picture of crewmates Deanna Troi and Will Riker. Tim then called me over.

“Look, Babe, Jean Luc’s flute!” he pointed out, remembering how much I love “The Inner Light,” the episode where Picard learns to play the flute.

1/21/08No time for getting dewy-eyed, though, as a line of people were already queuing up to be “transported” (i.e., beamed up) via the Enterprise’s famous teleporter. I got on line while Tim waited to film the video of me being beamed. (Either I’m in serious need of a diet or the old adage that video adds ten—or is it twenty?—pounds is certainly true—yikes!)

After spending an hour looking at the multitude of exhibits—everything from the mythological Sword of Kahless to the innards of the android character Data—we finally made our way to the back of the hall. There we discovered yet more people standing on line to ride in a couple of automated escape pods. Wanting to get our money’s worth, too, we joined the crowd.

I was too busy eavesdropping on the couple behind us (film students who were planning to shoot a short “Star Wars” parody using Barbie dolls) to really pay much attention to the ride. Then suddenly, after waiting for 45 minutes, I started to scrutinize the escape pods more closely. Not only did they bounce around, but they flipped end-over-end and upside-down. I could hear people screaming from inside—not at all my kind of ride!

My palms started to sweat as I fully realized what I had gotten myself into. At our turn, we deposited all loose items, including my purse and sweater, in a small bin and then proceeded to walk up three steps. The machine operator strapped us in and pointed to a button to push if we got too scared. He then lowered the hood, admonishing us to “Get those Borg!” (the worst of all Star Trek villains).

A large screen in front of us came to life as Lt. Worf began narrating the action. Soon we were lurching to the left and right as our pod deflected Borg torpedoes. Then, without warning, we flipped all the way around to the right. I screamed as something went flying toward my head.

“MY HAT!’ Tim yelled. He had forgotten to take off his baseball cap, which lodged itself behind the screen after missing my face. It eventually freed itself as we flipped 360 degrees backwards. Tim laughed as I held on for dear life.

Needless to say, we survived both the Borg and the pod ride. We next had our picture taken on the bridge of the newer Enterprise commandeered by Captain Picard and then decided it was time to head back to Earth.

I called Karen as soon as we got home. She agreed to go with me so I could experience it all over again before the tour leaves in February.

As they say on TV, to be continued . . .

Star Sightings 2007

One of the fun things about living on the west side of Los Angeles is occasionally running into famous celebrities. For instance, we saw actor Jon Voight on New Year’s Eve, while running through the Century City mall en route to one of our favorite restaurants, Houston’s. Tim and I both had babyback ribs on our mind and so didn’t pay Voight much attention, but I did notice he was unusually tall (for an actor) and far more handsome in person than he is on film. He was the third Academy Award winner we’d stumbled upon in a month, so we considered 2007 an especially good year for stargazing.

The year had actually started pretty well when I saw Rob McElhenney ( the “cute one” on “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”) buying furniture at the Pier 1 within walking distance of our house. He was with an attractive blonde woman, who helped him load various purchases into his convertible. A week later, Tim and I saw Fred Ward (Gus Grissom in the movie “The Right Stuff”) buying cold cuts at Gelson’s. It must have been after noon, but he looked like he’d just got out of bed.

Character actor David Paymer (Oscar nominee for “Mr. Saturday Night”) apparently attends the synagogue near our home because we saw him getting into his car there one Saturday. He looks exactly like he does in the movies.

Better yet was the time Tim and I were cruising my favorite science fiction bookstore in Santa Monica, when in walked Joss Whedon, creator of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and (more importantly!) the beloved but short-lived TV show “Firefly.” I looked around to see if any of the staff recognized him, but they didn’t. I could hardly breathe! Luckily he left after only a few minutes, because I was bursting to tell Tim.

“Guess who was just in here!!” I gasped. “JOSS WHEDON!!”

“Who’s that?” he asked unfazed.

“You Philistine!” I screeched. “Don’t you know the genius behind ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘Firefly’?”

Still no clue.

Tim was all ears and eyes, though, when we recently attended a comedy writers event at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences. The guests of honor were James L. Brooks (Oscar-winning director and screenwriter for “Terms of Endearment”), Larry Gelbart (creator of the TV show “M.A.S.H.” and screenwriter for “Tootsie”), and Judd Apatow (current media darling and screenwriter of “The 40-Year-Old Virgin”). We arrived early so we could get good seats, plus scope-out any celebs in the audience. The pickin’s were slim at best. In fact, I was just about to voice my disappointment when here came comedian extraordinaire Garry Shandling and newcomer Jonah Hill (the heavyset kid from “Superbad”). We were thrilled. By the way, the speakers were all brilliantly funny, but especially Apatow, who was obviously humbled to share the stage with such accomplished writers like Brooks and Gelbart. It was a wonderful evening.

Not all star sightings are on the west side, of course. The night of Tim’s staff Christmas party, we saw Academy Award-winning actress Diane Keaton taking photos of her family and friends in Downtown Disney. She looked exactly like Annie Hall!

“She didn’t even try to disguise herself!” I told Karen later.

Karen concurred. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around town a couple of times and she looks exactly like herself.”

Our biggest coup, however, occurred after seeing the movie “Beowulf.” As we were leaving, I thought I recognized someone who was entering the theater. Tim was his typical ten paces ahead.

“Babe!” I yelled, madly gesturing for Tim to come over. “I think I just saw Tom Hanks!”

Without missing a beat, Tim turned around and went racing after his prey. Returning two minutes later, he congratulated me on my catch.

“Good eye!” he said. “It was definitely him!”

I wonder who we’ll see this year. . .

1/3/08