McGovern and Dean

As I’ve said many times before, one of the most wonderful things about living in Los Angeles is that you never know who you might see on the street or as part of an event. A case in point:

While reading the newspaper Thursday morning, I noticed a small blurb about a book-signing at the Diesel Bookstore in Brentwood, a few minutes west of UCLA. The featured authors were Watergate informant John Dean and former senator George McGovern, the Democratic presidential candidate in 1972.

Tim and I had seen Dean before when he was promoting his book Worse than Watergate, about the Bush presidency. But it had been 37 years since I’d seen McGovern.

I turned 18 the year 18-year-olds were given the right to vote. Encouraged by my aunt, who was a powerful influence in my young life, I jumped with both feet into the McGovern campaign, attending rallies whenever possible, while she worked the phones from home. I remember waiting on line with my aunt before the polls opened so I could vote before running off to class. I also remember staying up late for the election returns, only to have my heart crushed when Nixon won by a landslide. I learned then that as passionate as my family was, I was looking at a lifetime of pain if I remained a Democrat. Nevertheless, I’ll probably stay true to the party till the day I die!

I arrived at the Diesel Bookstore almost an hour early in hopes of getting a good seat. The bookstore itself is tiny—not much bigger than our living and dining rooms combined. I couldn’t imagine how they were going to accommodate a huge book-signing.

I started walking around the small shopping center and eventually stumbled upon an open courtyard, where people were already sitting on benches and chairs facing an unoccupied microphone. I figured this must be the place and claimed my seat. Most of the people there were much older than me and, as soon became apparent, were there specifically to hear George McGovern.

John Dean is entertaining, especially when he tells stories about Nixon and Watergate. His delivery is polished and self-assured and looks a lot younger than he is. Eighty-nine-year-old McGovern, on the other hand, looked frail, but was much more spontaneous and authentic. When a woman, who was asking him a question, was jeered for taking too long, McGovern calmly encouraged her to finish her query and then answered it sincerely. Though he admires Obama, he thinks the president was wrong to send more troops into Afghanistan. He also said Congress should investigate the Bush administration’s role in prisoner torture. My favorite quote of the evening, though, was when he said, "Liberalism is just plain ol’ common sense."

Half-way through the evening, the woman sitting next to me whispered, “Can you imagine how different the United States would be if he had been elected president?”

And I thought to myself, “Yes. I’ve imagined it many, many times.”

Antiques Roadshow (August 2005)

Four years ago, Karen and I were lucky enough to get tickets to Antiques Roadshow, the wildly popular appraisal show on PBS. "Our" episode is being re-broadcast tonight on KCET, so I thought I'd post the pre-blog story I wrote about our experience. If you watch the show tonight, be sure to pay particular attention to the woman with the small, dark sculpture (about 40 minutes into the program). Karen and I are lurking in the background.

The Antiques Roadshow came to Los Angeles this past weekend. Tickets, which were free, were available only through a lottery, so Karen, her mom, Tim, and I all applied through the Internet. Only Karen and I were lucky enough to get a pair of tickets each: hers were for 8AM and mine for 2PM. Tim had a remote broadcast in Colorado and Karen had a bar mitzvah to attend in the morning, so she gave away her 8AM tickets and decided to join me in the afternoon.

To get into the show, everyone has to bring at least one and—according to the tickets—not more than two items to be appraised by the now famous Roadshow antiques dealers. Karen decided rather quickly what to take. I, on the other hand, own nothing that could be remotely considered an antique—in fact, the only things of value that Tim and I collect are sports and pop culture memorabilia. So two hours before the show, I decided to take items that Tim had had autographed by rock and TV stars visiting the radio station. Now I’ve been watching the show long enough to know that people rarely bring just one or two items to be appraised—rather, they bring “suites” of items loosely joined by a theme: a suite of art deco jewelry, for instance, or an entire set of dishes. So I decided to bring two sets of autographs: album covers signed by Ringo Starr and two of the Monkees (the “rock suite”) and items signed by Star Trek actors Scott Bakula and Leonard Nimoy. Karen brought her great-great-uncle’s silver writing set (circa 1880) and a Chinese vase she had won at an antiques club auction. She also brought a small Asian vial as part of her “Chinese suite.”

We arrived at the LA convention center a little before 2PM. Despite warnings on the ticket that no one would be allowed to line-up until half-hour before the allotted time, several hundred people were already there; so we joined the end of an incredibly long queue and started looking to see what everyone else had brought. Most of the treasures were hidden away in rolling suitcases or towels, but occasionally something would pop out and we would secretly render our amateur appraisals. Among the most stunning items were a six-foot-tall spinning wheel, which a woman delicately carried, and an enormous painting of Vikings landing in North America. The painting was so huge that the owner had to lean it on a far wall while his partner stood on line.

The line quietly snaked back and forth through the convention hall and eventually onto the Roadshow set. We could see the blue-clothed back of the set and stage lights poking above, but saw nothing beyond. Everything was surprisingly subdued, perhaps because of the enormous size of the room. After we’d been there for an hour-and-a-half, the 3:30 ticketholders joined the line and we suddenly seemed a whole lot closer to our destination. At 4PM, an elderly gentleman, who apparently also had a 2PM ticket, came up to us and asked which tickets we had. “2PM,” we answered. “But I’m a half-mile behind you!” he sighed and slowly walked back to his spot.

After three hours of waiting, things started moving very quickly. Suddenly we were split into two lines as volunteers checked our tickets. We were directed to a table where we were quickly quizzed about our belongings and then handed tickets that indicated which appraisal booths to visit. Karen was to go to the “silver” and “Asian arts” tables; my autographs and I were directed to “collectibles.” A volunteer accompanied us onto the set, which was a bevy of activity—very crowded and, of course, a lot smaller than expected. People looked dazed and confused as they tried to find the appropriate appraiser tables. (Thank goodness for our wonderful guide!) Some tables, like “Asian arts,” had short lines. Others, like paintings and collectibles (of course!), had long, long lines. We were shepherded around the perimeter of the set so we wouldn’t accidentally step in front of a camera. The actual filming took place in the middle of the “room” on three separate tables: a small table for jewelry and other more intimate items, and two larger tables. Furniture had its own space toward the back of the set. Karen said that she didn’t want to be filmed, but there was no avoiding it as our guide led us to the next line. “You’re on camera!” I whispered to Karen, as we walked behind an appraiser at one of the larger tables.

As soon as I situated myself on the collectibles line, Karen scurried off to visit the silver appraiser nearby. I took a breath and started looking around. A lamp was being filmed at one of the larger tables. Two strange urn-looking things were being set-up across the way. And an impeccably dressed woman was seated at the small table. Cameras and microphones were centrally located.

My eye then wandered over to the furniture area and...there they were: Leigh and Leslie Keno, the Roadshow’s twin superstars who had become antiques appraisers in their teens. People on the show always talk about how gorgeous they are in person and they are! Karen was still meeting with the silver appraiser, so I turned to the woman behind me and said, “Oh my god! Look, it’s the Keno brothers!” She quickly turned her head and practically yelled, “Oh my god! There they are!”

Finally, after about a half-hour, I got to the head of the collectibles line and was called over by Gary Sohmers, one of our favorite Roadshow appraisers (white hair always worn in a ponytail). His eye was immediately drawn to the Ringo Starr autograph and asked how I got it. “My husband works at a radio station and met Ringo when he came in a few years ago,” I said. “Well, the signature is worth $200-300, but only if your husband writes you a letter detailing how and when he met Ringo.” Sohmers then went on to appraise the rest of my booty: $100 for the Monkees signatures; $25-30 for Scott Bakula; and $75 for Leonard Nimoy. Not a heckuva lot of money, but I was thrilled nonetheless; plus I got to talk to Gary Sohmers!

The rest is, quite frankly, a blur! Karen got her Chinese items appraised ($50 each) and then we reluctantly started to leave. At the exit was a small “feedback” booth where people could tell a camera about their Antiques Roadshow experience. We each signed a release form and then waited on yet another line to get in front of the camera. The woman behind us was carrying a gun that looked like it was last fired during the Revolutionary War. When Karen asked about it, the woman said she had found it hanging in her garage, obviously left behind by a previous owner. The appraiser was impressed by its pristine condition and said it was worth $4000—the most expensive thing we saw all day! Inside the feedback booth, we were both asked to stand on a box and talk into the camera. Karen told about her small Chinese vial, while I stood next to her clutching my Goodnight Vienna album. “I brought Ringo,” I grinned. “He’s worth $300, but only if my husband writes me a letter telling where he met him!”

With that, we picked up our favorite appraisers’ business cards and headed home. The Los Angeles Antiques Roadshow episodes will air some time after January 2006. You can bet we’ll be watching for ourselves standing behind more fortunate collectors who actually got to have their treasures appraised on camera!

August 16, 2005

Anniversary Weekend

Sunday was our wedding anniversary—23 years (yikes)! To celebrate, we decided to spend the weekend at one of our favorite spots: Downtown L.A.

I had already bought tickets to Spamalot at the Ahmanson Theater, so Tim made reservations at a hotel, the Omni , within walking distance of the Music Center. Check-in was at 3PM. Not wanting to appear too anxious, we arrived at 4PM. Our 10th-floor room had a spectacular view (below) of California Plaza, the charming orange Angels Flight station and, beyond that, the park that’s featured so prominently in the wonderful new movie (500) Days of Summer.

Dinner was at the Wolfgang Puck Bar & Grill, the latest restaurant to open in L.A. Live. We put on our fancy duds and drove the ten blocks. The food was fabulous (endive salad with julienned apples—yum!—and a fresh margarita pizza), but the noise outside was atrocious thanks to a celebrity 3-on-3 basketball tourney staged right in front of the restaurant. We did get to see Clark Gregg, the husband on the TV show The New Adventures of Old Christine, compete in the tournament. His team mate was also an actor, but I can’t for the life of me remember his name.

After dinner, we drove back up to the hotel. It was still a little early, so we decided to stroll over to California Plaza, where a free concert was being held that night. We had just turned the corner when I heard Tim yell, “HUELL!”

Sure enough, there was Huell Howser, local TV star and host of his own travel show on PBS. He is much bigger in person than on TV.

“Good evening,” he politely said to us, before joining a gentleman eating cheese and crackers on the hotel terrace.

The Plaza was starting to get crowded, so we headed over to the Music Center. Downtown L.A. is nothing like NYC, of course, but the streets surrounding the Omni were jumping Saturday night. Concerts at the Plaza and Disney Hall, Spamalot, and a huge wedding party at the Music Center—it almost felt like we were in the Big Apple.

Although we’d seen Spamalot when it first opened on Broadway, our tickets were (literally) standing-room-only, so I got us 5th-row seats as soon as the play opened at the Ahmanson. Based on Monty Python’s irreverent story of King Arthur pursuing the Holy Grail, Spamalot was a laugh riot. Plus we got to see longtime channel 4 news reporter Doug Kriegel sitting nearby in the audience—a new world’s record for number of celebrity sightings in one night! (WARNING: Results may vary the next time you go stargazing downtown.)

We don’t have kids, but we do have cats who don’t understand the concept of sleeping late (anything past 6AM) on Sundays. We slept till 8AM—heavenly!—then made our way to the breakfast buffet downstairs. Tasty fruit, waffles and, oh yeah, lots of bacon (happy anniversary!).

Even by our standards, there’s not a lot to do downtown on a Sunday morning, so we called the valet to fetch our car. Listening to “Breakfast with the Beatles,” we headed west to Culver City, our cats, and another year of adventures.




(Taken just before being yelled at for sneaking a camera into the theater!)

Julius Shulman

In all the hubbub of the past few weeks, I completely neglected acknowledging the passing of Julius Shulman, certainly the most important architectural photographer of the 20th century. If you are at all interested in mid-century design, it’s no doubt as a result of seeing Shulman’s iconic images of the period. He was 98 years old when he died on July 15.

One of the most magical times Tim and I ever spent was the day we met Julius. It was May 2003 and we were on an architectural bus tour of pre- and post-war homes designed and built by Raphael Soriano. Soriano’s first solo creation was the Lipetz Residence, located above Silver Lake, one of the city’s trendiest suburbs. The home’s round music room was made famous by Shulman, who captured so beautifully its 180-degree view of the lake and nearby hills. Shulman and Soriano became such good friends afterwards that the photographer asked him to design his own house in the Santa Monica mountains in 1950.

On the bus ride over to Silver Lake, we kept hearing folks chatting and laughing about someone named Julius and “just wait till he sees the house now!” We had no idea who they were talking about.

As soon as we exited the bus, we began exploring the grounds. Though the house was very “lived-in” and worn, the view remained timeless. Tim and I were marveling at our surroundings when an elderly gentleman, walking with a cane and carrying a camera, casually joined our conversation. He was friendly, talkative and acted like he’d always known us. We were concerned for his safety and so accompanied him as he entered the house.

Once inside, he really came to life, regaling us with how he took the famous picture of the 180-degree view of the music room and how the house, in its current state, looked so different. Unbeknown to us, we had been chatting with “The Great Shulman,” as Tim so affectionately calls him now.

The rest of the tour quickly became a blur; but at the end, word spread that everyone was meeting at Julius’s house. We got the address and jumped into our car. (Luckily I always travel with Thomas Bros.!) We drove up Mulholland and then angled to the left. We parked and climbed a very steep driveway to the house. I was dying to use the restroom, so went inside while everyone else milled around the backyard. As I entered the front door, I gasped. There, lining a long hallway, were 36”x36” prints of some of Shulman’s most notable photos, including the most famous of all: the 1960 picture of Case Study House #22! It was like walking into one’s own private museum of mid-20th century masterpieces. If I didn’t have to go to the bathroom so bad, I would have fainted on the spot.

After using the restroom—which, by the way, had a glass wall completely overlooking the San Fernando Valley—I roamed around the house and checked out all the original 1950s fixtures. The place was oddly deserted.

“Where is everyone?” I asked myself, starting to worry when I couldn’t find Tim.

Then I noticed a young couple heading toward the garage. Could everyone be in there?

Sure enough, there was Julius holding court in his crowded studio. People were crammed into every nook and cranny. Tim was quite literally sitting at the great man’s feet, while I tentatively leaned against a door frame.

Julius talked about his friendship with Soriano and how they worked together to design the house. He then showed us some of his photos stacked around the studio and described how he took each one. It was an amazing, amazing experience. None of us wanted to leave—ever! But then someone suggested we take a group photo and we all piled out to the backyard. Five minutes later, Julius appeared on the roof of the house with camera in hand, directing us all to squeeze in a little closer. We held our collective breath for fear he’d take a tumble, but he got the shot and, all too soon, we reluctantly started to leave.

“That was really incredible,” I said to Tim as we walked back down the hill in a daze.

"It really was," he replied, stunned.

We’ve met lots of famous people in our time, but none had ever quite touched us like this.

Thank you, Julius, for inviting us into your life, if only for a brief moment. We miss you, but will never forget you.

Diners, Drive-Ins and Comic-Con 2009

Despite reserving my hotel room a year ago and buying my four-day pass back in February, it looked like I was going to miss last weekend’s Comic-Con due to work and family obligations. But just as the sky is always darkest before dawn, late Friday I decided I couldn’t stand it and, like a junky, declared I had to go to Comic-Con! Though Tim didn’t have a ticket, he came along, too, lured by the promise of eating only at restaurants sanctioned by Guy Fieri. We were on the road south by 7:00 the next morning.

Our first stop was El Indio, one of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’ best San Diego eateries and our personal favorite Mexican restaurant. I had a plate full of taquitos for breakfast—YUM!

Tim then dropped me off at the convention center. The Con was strangely quiet at 9:30AM. In fact, for a moment I actually forgot it was sold-out (125,000 tickets!) and thought the recession had finally conquered geekdom. But reality set in as soon as I ran into a nest of Predators and the fun began. I wasn’t in the mood to stand on long lines to see panels about True Blood or Lost, so focused my energies on the massive exhibit hall instead. The big themes this year: TV remakes (new versions of The Prisoner and the cheesy 1980s series V), sequels (Iron Man, Twilight), 3-D (Avatar, Alice in Wonderland, Tron), and anything having to do with vampires.

I had missed Johnny Depp, who made a surprise appearance on Thursday (boo hoo!), so was on the lookout for whatever celebrities I could see. Nichelle Nichols, Uhura of the original Star Trek, was there (as usual), selling autographs for $20; but this was not nearly as scandalous as Mark Hamill (aka Luke Skywalker), who was selling his signature for $100 (the nerve of some former science fiction icons!). I also saw Edward James Olmos and James Callis from my beloved Battlestar Galactica, plus the entire cast of the TV show Chuck (the boys were all sporting summer beards).

I was bopping around quite satisfied with myself, when suddenly everything ground to a halt. It was a complete human gridlock. I was grumbling, until someone announced that Jon Favreau, director of Iron Man 1 & 2, was standing atop the two-story G4 (TV’s gaming channel) booth! Everybody burst into spontaneous cheering. I called Karen.

“Quick, turn on G4!” I yelled. “I’m in the background screaming and waving at Jon Favreau!”

“Where are you?” she answered, not knowing I had decided to go to Comic-Con after all. Not surprisingly, she couldn’t see me through the hordes.

As always, the attendees’ costumes were a highlight of the day. My favorites: (1) an amazing yellow Bumblebee from the Transformers movies and (2) Darth Vader in a smoking jacket, which made me laugh out loud. Women seemed to be more voluptuous than ever—some wearing hardly anything at all—while fans of all ages continued to dress like the Joker, in all his incarnations, Batman, Klingons, and various Star Wars characters.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Tim had gone to the movies. We reconnected after 2PM and headed over to our hotel. As promised, we ate dinner at Luigi’s, a small pizza joint that Guy Fieri loves. To say we were disappointed would be a huge understatement, especially since we’ve had much better pizza at our own LaRocco’s in downtown Culver City. In keeping with the theme of the weekend, we then went to see the latest Harry Potter film at Horton Plaza. Back at the hotel, we could see fireworks exploding above Sea World. It was a perfect evening.

I was tempted to return to the Con Sunday morning, but had breakfast with Tim instead at the Studio Diner, yet another of Guy Fieri’s recommendations. Located next to San Diego’s only fully functioning film studio, the restaurant is decorated in kitsch movie memorabilia; but again, the food was nothing spectacular. Could Guy actually be losing his touch?

We hopped in the car and headed back to L.A., but not before stopping once more at El Indio for some last minute taquitos. YUM!

MJ R.I.P.

Though we were, of course, saddened by the death of Michael Jackson—someone we both admired when we were much younger—his passing took on a far more immediate note when it was announced that his memorial service would be held Tuesday at the Staples Center, across from L.A. Live, where Tim works. In fact, Tim’s reaction was very immediate.

“It’s going to be a #$%&ing zoo!” he grumped when he heard the news.

Obviously we appreciate the role Michael Jackson has played in the history of pop culture. But after a week, we had had enough of the constant media coverage, especially when so many more important issues were being neglected. (Hel-lo! Has The Today Show truly forgotten that people are still losing their jobs every day?!)

To make matters worse, on Monday the area surrounding Staples and L.A. Live was cordoned-off to memorial service ticketholders, the media and employees only, making downtown traffic even more heinous than usual. The last thing I remember saying to Tim before falling asleep Monday night was that he should leave for work as early as possible the next morning. The next thing I know, it's 5:45AM and he's kissing me good-bye! Groggy, I put on the news to see just how terrible the traffic was. An hour later, I called him to make sure he made it to work safely.

As I feared, despite leaving early he got caught in traffic and ended up paying $25 to park five blocks away. He showed his company ID to a police officer guarding the cordoned-off area, but was refused entry into L.A. Live; so he continued to walk around the perimeter until he found a more enlightened guard. Tim had just got to the office when I called.

“It’s a complete media circus here!” he complained. “Every morning news show is broadcasting from outside Staples.” (Click on the photos to see Katie Couric, Anderson Cooper and—gag!—Billie Bush.)




















I was teaching that afternoon and so watched the memorial service off-and-on while prepping for class. Although I swore I wouldn’t cry, I did get emotional during Brooke Shields’ speech, right when Tim decided to check-in. He had been running around taking pictures of the various news anchors while they were broadcasting. We compared notes on the service.

“It’s finally starting to hit me that MJ is dead,” I cried. “It’s very sad.”

“It is sad,” he said. He later told me that some of his male coworkers teared-up during “We Are the World,” the final song of the service.

I know it’s naive, but I do hope Michael Jackson can now finally rest in peace.

Farragut North

Although L.A. is primarily known as the film capital of the world, it’s also home to several renowned theatrical venues. The Mark Taper Forum, Geffen Playhouse, and Pantages and Ahmanson theaters have all hosted—and sometimes even premiered—world-class productions of comedies, dramatic plays and musicals. Plus there’s usually at least one movie or TV star in the cast, always adding to the excitement of the performance.

Farragut North opened last week at the Geffen to rave reviews. Not only was the topic of the play—the behind-the-scenes political machinations of a fictional Democratic presidential campaign—right up my alley, but the cast was stellar: Isiah Whitlock, Jr., who played the corrupt senator on HBO’s The Wire, Olivia Thirlby, the best friend in Juno, Chris Noth, Sex and the City’s Mr. Big, and Chris Pine, Captain Kirk in the new Star Trek movie. As soon as I read the L.A. Times review, I went online and ordered a ticket for the Saturday matinee. My seat wasn’t ideal (way over to the left), but I was happy nonetheless as that day's performance ended up selling out.

Now I’ve followed politics for many years and have seen just about every movie made about presidential campaigns, so I wasn’t surprised at all by what happens in the play: the wunderkind political strategist decides to put his own ambitions above those of the campaign. But I was pleasantly surprised by the cast’s caliber of acting. Thirlby was good as the liberated young intern who’s attracted to powerful men and Noth was excellent as the aging politico. It was Pine, though, who stole the show, playing Noth’s fearless up-and-coming protégé. Since I've only seen him in Star Trek, all I can say is that he takes the confidence of Captain Kirk and redirects it into a much darker place, resulting, of course, in the downfall of at least one character. His performance was so engrossing that the audience loudly gasped a couple of times at his underhandedness, something I’ve never experienced in live theater before.

The play is on till July 26. I highly recommend seeing it if you’re in the neighborhood and want to see some really good L.A. theater.

NYC 2009

We travel to NYC so often that it always feels like home when we arrive. We’re so comfortable, in fact, that we rarely plan our trips in advance anymore, preferring instead to play things by ear once we’re there. Things were especially serendipitous this time around.

We had, of course, bought tickets in advance for Stacey Kent, since that was the main reason we were in New York; but the rest of our three-day stay was purely spontaneous. After checking into our recently renovated apartment-sized hotel room (with fabulous views of the Hudson River as well as the Chrysler Building!), we ran over to Broadway in hopes of buying tickets to two shows: the Tony-nominated comedy God of Carnage, starring Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis, Oscar-winner Marcia Gay Harden, and James Gandolfini (of Sopranos fame), and In the Heights, which won last year’s Tony for best musical. We lucked out and got excellent seats for both plays. We then returned to the hotel to get ready for our first night in the Big Apple.

Although Stacey Kent isn’t too well known in the U.S., the venue where she played certainly is. Birdland, the self-proclaimed “jazz corner of the world,” opened 60 years ago during the height of the postwar music renaissance. Originally named after the great saxophonist Charlie “Bird” Parker, the intimate club is located off of Broadway on West 44th St. We’ve gone to several jazz clubs in L.A., but none as famous as this. The walls were festooned with photos of past performers.

Stacey Kent, who sings mostly American standards and bossa nova, was wonderful: funny, charming, and clearly in love with her husband, who accompanies her on saxophone. She sang old as well as new songs and all within about four feet of where we were sitting. It was a magical evening, well worth the trip to NYC.

We woke-up to rain the next morning, but headed out anyway. En route from the train station the day before, we noticed a poster for the new Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Annex, featuring an exhibit on John Lennon. Only a blizzard could have kept me away! Just a short subway ride to Soho, the Annex is a much abbreviated version of Cleveland’s massive Hall of Fame. Still, we both thought it was effective at capturing the history of rock-n-roll and Tim was particularly impressed by the headphone technology that automatically played relevant music as we passed by the various displays. An entire room was dedicated to John’s life in NYC, including a bag filled with the clothes he wore when he was murdered. I signed Yoko Ono’s petition for gun control at the end of our tour.

After the Hall, we walked five blocks to Lombardi’s, our favorite NYC pizza joint. We then took the subway uptown to our hotel in Murray Hill, where we relaxed for the first time all week. At 7PM we braved the rain again and headed toward Broadway for God of Carnage. It was outrageous and amazingly well acted. But I wanted more plot. For me, the play was something of a cross between David Mamet (i.e., witty and funny) and Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe? (i.e., intense and full of interesting human dynamics). Not surprisingly, it won best play at Sunday night’s Tony awards.

The New York Times tipped us off to a mid-century design exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) on Saturday. As usual, the city was filled with tourists in town for the day. Luckily, the rain had stopped and it was a glorious afternoon. I had a very tasty pork chop for lunch at the MOMA cafe, but Tim held out for street food: an 8-inch sausage dog that would have made a normal person sick. Gag!

At 6PM, we met our friend Stuart for drinks at a bar that’s so exclusive it doesn’t have a name (!) and ended up seeing Tom Hanks’ son Colin, the priest in TV's Mad Men and star of the recent film The Great Buck Howard. We then made our way over to the Richard Rogers theater for In the Heights. The play, which is set in Washington Heights (where my mom grew-up), was fun, but a little too derivative of West Side Story. I did enjoy the Spanglish dialog, though, and even Tim understood the raunchier bits.

We flew home the next day in plenty of time to see the Tonys that night on TV. As we were watching, I couldn’t help but wish we were still in New York even though I was glad to be home.

More Philadelphia

On Tuesday afternoon, we finally got to see Independence Hall, the first Congressional Hall and the National Constitution Center—all free and part of the Independence National Historical Park. But even more impressive was the murals tour we took that morning: 40 city center murals in 2 hours and these were only a tiny fraction of the street art that enlivens Philadelphia.

Established in 1984, the city’s Mural Arts Program was created to help abate a graffiti crisis that was plaguing Philadelphia. Twenty-five years later, the city is home to over 3000 murals—most of which are magnificent and worthy of hanging in the finest art museums. Here are just a few of the pieces we saw on our whirlwind tour. All blank walls have now become potential canvases to my eye.





































Next stop: New York City!

Summer Vacation

About 6 months ago Tim announced that one of his favorite singers, Stacey Kent, was scheduled to perform in New York City the first week in June. Kent, who lives in England, rarely comes to the U.S., so he wanted to see her. I agreed to go with him, but insisted we spend a couple of days in Philadelphia beforehand. I fell in love with Philly when I was there on business (by myself) two years ago and knew Tim would love it, too. He agreed and so I made reservations accordingly.

Sunday

Although we weren't flying to Philadelphia till Monday morning, our vacation actually started Sunday night at California Adventure, where Disney's 3rd annual Food & Wine Festival was being held. The featured food and wine expert was our fave, Guy Fieri, host of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. The meal was casual and good (pulled pork sandwiches, lettuce cups, pasta, etc., and an assortment of desserts); but the best part was listening to Guy chat for two hours about the show, his family, friends, and food. He was funny, cute, and down-to-earth. I would have loved to talk to him afterward, but still had packing to do, so we left as soon as folks started to queue up for autographs. We left for the airport 9 hours later.

Monday

Horrors! As soon as we arrived at our Philadelphia hotel, I realized I hadn't packed my mascara. So off we went (on foot!) in search of a drugstore that Tim remembered seeing on the way into town. A mile later, we were standing in the cosmetics aisle of an inner-city Rite Aid. Tim waited patiently while I decided which mascara to buy. It had been 30 years since I wore anything but Mary Kay products, so I was completely flumoxed by all the different make-up brands and types. After much silent deliberation (did I mention that Tim is a saint?), I settled on Maybelline, the kind my sister and I wore in high school. (More about this later . . .)

We next went in search of dinner. Despite complete exhaustion (in our family, food trumps sleep every time), we found a cute sidewalk cafe called the Kite and Key (I swear, Benjamin Franklin is The Man in Philadelphia!), where Tim wolfed down the “three slider sampler” (pork, beef and crabcake) while I devoured a most scrumptious pork shank. We stumbled back to the hotel, forcing ourselves to stay awake for Conan O'Brien's debut as Tonight Show host--it's impossible to miss home when every other TV show and commercial is filmed in Los Angeles. We passed out in our Sheraton "heavenly bed" at exactly 12:30PM.

Tuesday

With little more than 48 hours to enjoy the sights of Philadelphia, we decided to take one of the numerous tours of the city. First stop: the Liberty Bell, which had moved me to tears the last time I was there. Not so much this time. Apparently every student on the east coast learns about the Revolutionary War in June, because the entire colonial part of town was overrun with kids on field trips. It was fun watching them react to the historical monuments, etc.—some were excited, others were just plain bored--but the sheer number of people sometimes cramped our style. Although we arrived at Independence Hall (across the street from the Bell) at 10AM, we weren’t able to get tickets to the tour until 3:30PM. We opted to go elsewhere instead.


One of our favorite things to do on vacation is sample the local cuisine at large (usually) indoor markets typical of most metropolitan cities. Toronto, for instance, has the wonderful St. Lawrence Market. Seattle has Pike Place. Even L.A. has Grand Central and, of course, the world renowned Farmer’s Market on Third and Fairfax. One of the best, though, is the Reading Terminal Market in downtown Philadelphia. Home to some 80 shops, this former railroad terminal offers everything from ice cream to gyros. Tim waited 20 minutes for a Philly cheesesteak, while I made a beeline straight for the pastries at the Flying Monkey Patisserie (yum!). Bellies full, we then hopped back on our tour bus and headed north.









I was intrigued by the Eastern State Penitentiary the last time I was in town, but had no time to visit, so decided to make it a priority this time. It ended up being a true highlight of the trip. Completed in 1836, Eastern State was the world’s first “penitentiary” where both men and women were brought to do meditative penance for their crimes. A high-concept masterpiece in its prime, the prison eventually became outdated and severely overcrowded and so was closed in 1971. Today it is a fascinating relic that hosts tours and art installations. I highly recommend spending a couple of hours there the next time you’re in Philadelphia.










Although it was starting to drizzle when we reboarded our double-decker bus, we decided to sit top-side for its better view. Within minutes we were drenched. I looked like a wet raccoon by the time we returned to the hotel. Now I know why Maybelline mascara is so cheap!

Raccoon or not, our day wasn’t quite over yet. At 5PM I remembered that Macy’s, which houses a 1904 30,000-pipe organ, features a live recital every day during rush hour. We got there just in time to stake our claim to a piece of balcony directly across from the massive pipes. Soon the store’s marble atrium was filled with joyous music. We gasped as locals continued to shop below. What a wonderful way to end our first full day in Philadelphia.



More soon . . .

Star Trek

As everyone who knows me knows, I love Star Trek (ST). I may not own any costumes or belong to any fan clubs, but I have seen every ST movie and religiously followed every TV series since the original Enterprise first launched in 1966.

Like many people, I was extremely doubtful when it was announced that J.J. Abrams, creator of the TV shows Lost and Fringe, was tapped to direct the latest ST movie. I became even more dubious when the release date was pushed from fall 2008 to May 8, 2009. I marked my calendar, but had no hope for the film. A 6-month premier delay usually doesn’t bode well for any movie.

Then I saw the trailer. One of my students was watching it on his laptop during a break in class. I heard a familiar sound and went running over to see what he was watching. I was blown-away. This looked to be unlike any of the other Star Trek movies that came before. I submitted a vacation request for May 8th and began counting the days.

In the midst of deciding which theater to go to on Friday morning, I began noticing ads for Thursday night showings of the film. I checked local listings. Sure enough, the movie was not-so-secretly opening on Thursday night, so I insisted that we see it then. On Tuesday, Tim managed to snag free passes to the Landmark, the hippest theater on the west side. As soon as we finished dinner, we zoomed up to Westwood to reserve our seats. The cashier gave us the fisheye when we handed her the passes, but handed us our tickets with a smile. The first show was nearly sold-out. We got the last two seats in the back row.

Thursday was excruciating. I always have plenty of work to do, so was able to distract myself. But during “breaks” I’d sneak a peak at various Trek-related websites, etc. The buzz about the movie was off the charts. Even L.A. Times critic Kenneth Turan, who hates everything, liked it. I could barely wait!

Tim got home from work early. He had read a survey saying that 10% of people seeing the movie were going to wear costumes.

“Are you wearing any of your Star Trek pins or t-shirts?” he asked while we were getting ready to go.

“Babe, this is the Landmark,” I retorted. “Nobody there is going to dress like a geek!”

The movie started at 7:30PM. Just in case, we left the house an hour early, even though we live only 10 minutes away—unpredictable L.A. traffic, you know. Only four other people were there ahead of us. We settled in and watched everyone else arrive. Nary a costume, pin or Star Trek t-shirt in sight. Lots of fans, though. The young co-ed next to me nervously grabbed her boyfriend’s arm when the lights went down. The boy seated next to Tim turned to his father and said, “Dad, I’m so excited!” My own stomach ached, but was forgotten as soon as the film started.

Needless to say, I loved the movie. Despite an entirely new cast—except, of course, Leonard Nimoy, who (spoiler alert!) plays an ancient time-traveling Spock—and a revisionist storyline, Abrams stays very true to the franchise. The look of the 23rd century has been updated, but the uniforms (1960s miniskirts and boots) and the distinctive sounds of the Enterprise’s bridge remain the same.

Moreover, the actors, who play younger versions of the characters we all know and love, do an excellent job of capturing the essence of Spock, Bones, et al. The new Captain Kirk has the same swagger and cockiness of the old and Scotty still gets turned on by a well-endowed nacelle. Happily, it all felt very familiar. After seeing the movie twice already—yes, I saw it again on Friday; I did, after all, have the day off!—and after spending much of the weekend re-immersing myself in classic Trek DVDs, I can say for sure that themes, plot points and even dialog were directly lifted from previous versions. In particular, the filmmakers seem to have liberally borrowed from Wrath of Khan (more spoilers ahead!), a movie also filled with revenge, a spaceship run by cadets on their first mission, and the Kobayashi Maru. But that’s OK. Khan is perhaps the most beloved of all the ST movies, so why not steal from the best?

I’m hoping Tim will want to see the movie again—this time in IMAX. Maybe some night this week?

Live Long and Prosper!

Accomplice: Hollywood

So, the strangest thing just happened to me. Apparently my recent post on the mystery play Accomplice: Hollywood was being linked to every Neil Patrick Harris website on earth and so was unintentionally providing show spoilers to the world. So I've taken it down.

If you're linking in to read a review of the show: it's lots of fun, even if you're not a mystery buff (which I definitely am not). Wear comfortable shoes and bring water! I dare not say anything more for fear of revealing too much. I apologize if I ruined the experience for anyone else. Who knew my personal little blog would get so much exposure. . .

Happy Easter!

Another glorious day in Culver City! Our friends and family are all otherwise engaged, so we're spending Easter at home with our cats, the barbecue, and our amazing yards. The backyard, in particular, is resplendent in wildflowers—the offspring of last year's abundant crop. See for yourself by clicking on the home movies below.







BTW, in the second video, I goofed and called our lavender plants lilac. I do know the difference!

Have a happy day!

Louis & Keely: Live at the Sahara

Like a lot of baby-boomers, Tim and I grew-up listening to American “standards” as well as rock ‘n roll. In fact, a shared love of Frank Sinatra was one of the things that drew us together. We’re also big fans of Bobby Darin (during his “Frank period”) and Louie Prima and Keely Smith, whom we remember seeing several times on the Ed Sullivan Show when we were kids.

Louie and Keely were the Sonny and Cher of their day. Not only did songwriter-singer Louie Prima marry a much younger woman (22 years his junior), he—like Sonny did with Cher—also helped make her into a legendary songstress. What was always most fascinating to me, though, was the way they interacted on stage. Louie was uncontrollable, leaping around the stage like a banshee, while Keely stood cool as a cucumber, refusing to be moved by his antics. Sonny and Cher imitated this schtick a decade later, but (even to my young eyes) never did it quite as well.

Last year, a play called Louis & Keely: Live at the Sahara opened to rave reviews at the Sacred Fools Theater in East Hollywood. We were too late to get tickets, but did see it when it moved to The Matrix on Melrose a few months later. We were totally blown away. Written and performed by Jake Broder and Vanessa Claire Smith, the play chronicles Louie and Keely’s relationship from the time they met to the end of their marriage. Smith is good as Keely; but it’s really Broder’s show as he sings, jumps and sweats his way through more than ten highly energetic songs. We were exhausted by the time we left the theater.

Though Tim isn’t much for repeat performances, he did eagerly agree to see the show again when it returned to L.A. two weeks ago. Now at the Geffen’s intimate Audrey Skirball Kenis Theater in Westwood, the play has been reworked (i.e., tightened) by Oscar-nominated director Taylor Hackford, who is also a big Louie and Keely fan. New characters have been added, including Sinatra, who plays a major role in the couple’s ultimate breakup. I didn’t think it was possible, but this revamped version is even better than the original.

So if you’re in the L.A. area and love the old Vegas singers of our youth, then I highly recommend grabbing tickets to Louis & Keely: Live at the Sahara. The play runs till April 26 and is well worth the price of admission.

Eating Our Way Through Arizona

It’s March, so of course that means we spent last weekend in Arizona watching spring training baseball. As usual, we stayed at the Sheraton within walking distance of Diablo Stadium (over the I-10 freeway and through a cemetery), home of the Angels. The hotel’s food is adequate to sustain hungry baseball fans. But this year we decided to sample some of the local cuisine and so drove the six hours from L.A. to Phoenix so we wouldn’t have to rent a car.

Our first stop was Joe’s Farm Grill, one of Guy Fieri’s featured spots on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives. Located in Gilbert, about 25 miles southeast of the hotel, the Grill was built in the shell of what used to be the farmhouse Joe Johnston, the owner, grew-up in during the 1960s. In keeping with the retro theme, Joe runs continuous-loop videos of one of my top childhood TV shows, Fireball XL5, in the bathroom, which is decorated with enshrined Barbies and GI-Joes. If the food wasn’t so good, I could have easily spent the entire day in the bathroom watching TV, but didn’t. Instead I got a salad and Tim a hot dog with real potato French fries, which they serve without salt, if you ask. Heaven on earth!

The next morning, we tried to get into another Guy Fieri favorite, Matt’s Big Breakfast, in downtown Phoenix, but the wait was too long (20 people ahead of us!). So instead we headed over to The Waffle House, a national chain of greasy-spoon restaurants not available in Southern California. Despite the name, the best thing on the menu is the hash browns, which are served in a round patty in three different sizes (single, double and triple), with or without four different types of toppings! Like a fool, I got a plain single, but am already smackin’ my lips in anticipation of next year when I’m going to order a double serving smothered in onions. Talk about your morning wake-up call!

For lunch, we ate both days at the ballpark. Tim couldn’t get beyond his ubiquitous sausage hot dogs (b-o-o-o-ring!), but I ventured forth and discovered the machaca beef tacos. Though I stopped eating beef almost 20 years ago, I’m still a sucker for a good taco and so I was in my glory. Who cares about baseball when there are tasty tacos to eat? I have no idea who won the games.

We went to a movie Saturday night, followed by a quick meal at Johnny Rockets. Quite a comedown from the rest of our dining experiences. But then suddenly, at 8PM, the jukebox started blasting the Village People’s “YMCA” as the entire wait-staff dropped what they were doing and began dancing a choreographed routine! Afterward, I asked our otherwise mild-mannered server what the deal was. He told me they dance every half-hour. So if you’re ever shopping at the Arizona Mills mall in Tempe, run over to Johnny Rockets at the hour or half-hour to see the staff dance. They do a pretty mean boogaloo.

We drove home Sunday morning, but not without first eating breakfast at Matt’s. Even though we arrived before 7:30AM, there was still a bit of a line. Since there were only two of us, we were able to squeeze in ahead of several large parties. The restaurant is tiny, but the food is good. Tim had the salami scramble. The weekend had finally caught-up with me, however, so I just ordered oatmeal.* We were back on the road again by 8:15AM.

Lots more diners, drive-ins and dives to sample in the Phoenix area, so we can barely wait to return next year.









*If you follow this blog, you know I’ve been battling the ear disease Meniere’s for the past few months. This trip was the first big test of my newly regained health, though I’m still very careful about what I eat, especially in restaurants. Luckily, most places are willing to prepare certain foods without salt and there’s always the option of eating a salad without dressing. My ear and I passed the test without any serious side effects. I continue to cautiously edge my way back to normal.