21.6.10

Fun Stuff

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So, I've had an entertaining couple of weeks.  

On Memorial Day Weekend, we went to Flight of the Conchordsat the Hollywood Bowl.  It was a lot of fun and a really great show.  If you're not familiar with their work, look at this, and this, and this.  Anyway, I love the Hollywood Bowl.  We parked in the Hollywood Dellat the home of one of Wilbur's fancy-pants friends (thanks for saving us $20) and then walked the couple of blocks to the park at the Bowl.  We picnicked with sandwiches from Bay Cities Deli, some delicious salads we made beforehand, and some rose and a great little pinot.  We had unbelievably good seats and took dessert (pastries from Viktor Benes) in with us.  

They played all of my favorites, Albi the Racist Dragon, Rhymnocerous and Hiphopopotamus, I'm Not Crying...  Okay, their almost all my favorites.  The thing that I found interesting is their stage presence.  It's really just the two of them and their guitars.  I was a little skeptical that they could really 'handle' the Hollywood Bowl.  I've seen more than a few shows get swallowed whole by the enormity of the place.  But they were great.  And they sold the place out - which I was also glad to see.

Then, the week before last, I went back to LA to help Wilbur out after a surgery. I realize how much I miss it there.  I love it. Anyway, Wilbur and I saw Exit Through the Gift Shop and we saw it at the Arclight Hollywood, which is hands-down my favorite move theater ever.  We had an appetizer and a couple of drinks before the movie on the cafe patio which is a great place to watch people.  The movie is great. It's really thought provoking and left me with a busy brain.  Even if it turns out to be not entirely what it seems.  If it's playing where you live and you like art, I highly recommend it. And if it's not playing near you, I suggest dropping it in your Netflix queue.


The next day, we had brunch on the patio at the King's Road Cafe with another friend of ours.  I love patio seating.  More now since Vegas is really not a patio kind of place for a lot of the year - between the wind and the heat, outdoor dining really loses its appeal.  We had a delightful conversation and a delicious meal before heading home for naps.  

The day after that Wilbur and I went to Umami Burger.  Um... Yum.  I had the Kombu #3. With fries and a side of roasted garlic aioli.  So good.  And reasonably priced and not gigantic.  The burger is a really manageable size and the sides are good sized, but not ridiculous.  We had planned to see a movie that day and so walked over to the Arclight again afterwards, but we were between shows, so we had another drink in the cafe and then I took Wilbur to vote.  After voting, we picked up dinner (like we needed it) from Hugo's Tacos and watched the Laker game.  

Wilbur and I also saw Micmacs.  It's a delightful little movie by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, the writer/director of AmelieA Very Long Engagement, and my favorite, Delicatessen.  It's whimsical and sweet and in many ways, cartoonish in it's color values and subject matter.  As Wilbur put it, "It was like a live-action Pixar movie."  Yep.  And all the better for it.  

And finally, on my last full day in LA, we drove out Sunset to PCH and had lunch at Paradise Cove and watched the surfers.

Then, last Friday, Matt and I saw Symphonicity, which is Sting's tour with the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra.  It was really enjoyable.  A lot of his music lends itself really well to orchestral backing, but the big surprises for me were Next to You, Moon Over Bourbon Street, and Desert Rose.  They were all really great.  I almost said no to going - which a lot of people in Vegas apparently did, because the show was far from full - but I'm really glad that we got tickets - even though everyone there (besides Matt and me) was 50+ and made me feel extra old.  Again, if you have a chance to see this, it's really fun and musically delightful.  

Finally (and I know you're sighing the same thing right now), I went to a Baptiste workshop on Saturday.  It ended up being 3+ hours of yoga and lecture.  Really, the first hour was a lot of correction and Q&A and modifications and not very strenuous at all.  But then we did another two hours of straight yoga.  It was awesome.  I got a great correction for my chaturanga and for my Parivrtta Trikonasana (aka Revolved Triangle).   I came home entirely exhausted and pretty sore, but entirely excited and ready to save money for one of next year's Level 1 Trainings.  

I hope this isn't a case of all the fun stuff happening at once... 

17.6.10

I Swear...

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I love my husband... In spite of the fact that he is SEVERELY directionally impaired.

Case in point: Last week I was in LA all week. On Wednesday, I got a call from him asking me how to get to the post office. It's literally less than two miles straight up the road. He's been there a few times (with me). I told him that it's up the road on the left. I gave him cross streets. He called back a few minutes later to tell me that he can't find the post office. I asked him where he was and he told me the corner (or what he believed was the corner). Yeah. So he was on the totally wrong street. The saddest part is, he even located himself on his phone and still couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. So that was kind of funny.

Then, yesterday, he left the house at 8:30a to go for a quick run. At 10:15, I realized he'd been gone for a long time and decided to call him. Only problem? His phone started to ring in the bedroom. So I started to get a little concerned. I decided to take the car and see if I could find him. Just as I was about to lock the door he walked up.

Yep. Lost. While running. I swear he's not an idiot, but he couldn't find his way out of an envelope without directions. He's lived here for 7 years. SEVEN. And still can't remember how to get to Caesar's. And the worst part? He panics.

When I was a wee girl, I hated the idea of being 'lost.' Lost meant irretrievable. We would never see home again. If my mother mentioned the word 'lost' in the context of me and where we were, I flipped out. And by this I mean I sobbed uncontrollably until we were 'found.' Fortunately, I have a really good sense of direction. And as I got older, I developed a willingness to not know exactly where I am. As an adult, I've never felt really lost. I feel like the only place I can really be lost is in the woods of Burkittsville, Maryland with the Blair Witch after me, in the desert, or in the middle of the ocean. All three of those places could mean I'll never find where I'm going. But in any reasonably populated area, I'm fine. In a city where I live/have lived, I'm totally fine.

The last time Matt and I drove back from Phoenix, we ended up on the 'wrong' road. Matt freaked out. Like I did when I was little. Like we'd never find our way home again. I knew where we were. Not exactly, obviously, but we were in Vegas. No sweat. I had to convince Matt to pull over, though, so I could drive, because he was (as my mother used to say of me) beyond zebra -- which is one of the best non-contextual uses of part of a kids' book title ever. I've never heard anyone else use it in this fashion, but it's kind of perfect for describing his state of mind at that moment. He was so upset.

I kind of understand because I remember the feeling. What I don't understand, though, is why, as an adult, he gets so irrationally upset. We've talked about it and he doesn't know either. I'm sure part of it is embarrassment. But it's more than that. However, until we find him a therapist (because he has issues), that will wait. I think whatever it is is kind of huge. In the meantime, I'm making him take the GPS everywhere he goes - even running. That way all he has to do is press the Home button and a nice lady we call Gypsy will tell him, turn by turn, how to get there.

Wouldn't it be fantastic if someone would develop a Life-Direction GPS? Teleporters would be fucking awesome, but for my money, a GPS to point me home when life goes astray is much more useful sounding.

5.6.10

It Has Begun

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Summer, that is. In a matter of about three days the temperatures have gone from quite pleasant to absolutely painful. It's like hell on a particularly warm day.

At 8:30 this morning it was 82. By 10, it was already 92. Ack. I'm not made for this. I hate the sticky-icky film that covers my entire body the minute I step outside. It also doesn't really make me want to step foot in the hot room to do any kind of yoga.

Matt and I had a discussion yesterday about how he'd rather live with the heat than the cold. I see his point. But he's never lived anywhere that requires more than a jacket in winter, so he's not really qualified to make that call. I hate winter, but I'd give at least half of my shoe collection for a light frost right now. Just to cool everything off and remove the stickiness.

The next few months will be hard. I'll feel like a roast by the time the temperatures start to cool off in October. Until then, I'll keep the blinds drawn and the air on and hope the power doesn't go out.