Happy new year! I have been remiss in writing because I have actually been busy, like, all the time. I think it's cute to add "like" as a sentence splitter. It makes me feel 16 again, which, as you know, was only a few short years ago.
It is a glorious rainy Sunday morning in Portland, and my guy and I are reading the Sunday Oregonian and listening to Elaine Stritch's Sail Away. On vinyl! Yes, that's right. Santa brought us a new record player for Christmas, and we love it. I forgot how wonderful vinyl sounds. My memories of having a record player are mostly limited to placing my pet parakeets on the turntable and switching the speed from 33 to 45 to 78 and watching them get all dizzy. You may think that sounds mean, but these were hissing parakeets that refused to learn to talk, no matter how frequently I would repeat "Hello, Gorgeous! Hello, Gorgeous!"
Back to the purpose of this entry. SPOILER ALERT: If you somehow have NOT seen A Single Man or Up In the Air, and you still plan to see them, and you have a thing about spoilers, stop reading.
T and I were very excited to see A Single Man with Colin Firth as a gay college professor dealing with the loss of his long-time lover while being pursued by both his haggy lush of a best friend AND a strikingly tan gorgeous young student played by none other than the BOY from About A Boy. The film was directed by Tom Ford so of course the whole movie looked like a Ralph Lauren ad. All crisp collars and tan #2 foundation, blond highlights on everybody and an aura of sex throughout.
The performances were very good all around, and that BOY was quite convincing in his pursuit of Firth. What was not so convincing was Firth's resistance. There is no moddle-aged gay man on earth, I don't care how depressed, forlorn or withdrawn, that would resist the advances of such a beautiful young man, especially while standing NAKED in his bedroom! So, once again, this tragidrama became a farce. Oh, Precious.
One of my favorite films of the year was Up In the Air. I understand many people were not as charmed by this film as I, but it struck a chord with me. Speaking with a good friend whose film critiques I highly regard, I was surprised to hear that she found the film a little depressing. Upon reflection though, I realized that this is one of those films that leaves you to sort out the ending for yourself. I found myself relating to Ryan's journey from beginning to end. Not that I have earned Elite status on any airline or that I get to fly around and fire people for a living (though it is a dream of mine), but his is a journey similar to my own.
Prior to nesting with my numero uno hombre, I was blissfully single for ten years. Those ten years included occasional showmances and maybe even a one-nighter or two along the way. I say "maybe" because, well, who can remember? But I had pretty much resigned myself to always being single. And the thought of sharing my life and everything in it with another person seemed onerous.
In January of 2005, however, I gave in, and happily. I decided this is what I want. And I have never looked back since. I cannot, and will not, imagine my life without Tommy.
Then, last year, we had a mutual impulse to change up our lives even more drastically. We were ready to get out of LA and start fresh in a new city, far away from our comfort zones. This proved to be the ultimate adventure and one we have not regretted in the least.
At the end of Up In the Air, Ryan realizes that he is ready for a relationship. He is ready to connect with someone on a more-than-physical level. Is it heartbreaking when Alex turns out to be the rogue? Of course! But, in my mind, Ryan is now aware of what he wants. Yes, he goes back in the air and resumes his routine. For how long, we don't know. What's apparent to me is that he is a changed man. And I believe he will now embrace life more desirous of commitment and open to possibilities outside of what he knows and with which he is comfortable.
I certainly am not saying that committed relationships are for everyone, or even that everyone has some sort of pre-destined fate. But I love Ryan Bingham because he does open himself up and allows himself to be vulnerable, and I believe he will do it again. And perhaps he is even looking forward to it.
As we charge into 2010, I am excited about what this year brings. I am loving my day job much more than I thought I would, and I am thrilled about the theater scene up here. I have shows lined up through May, and the week after I close Wild Space A Go Go, we leave for a two-week Europe trip.
I am Ryan Bingham. No need to remind me of the differences between George Clooney and myself. Thank you, anyway. My point is I am sailing into this new year in this new city with a lust for life, and I hope you are doing the same.
Love to you and yours, and best wishes for a happy, healthy and life-affirming new year!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
An Education is Precious
SPOILER ALERT: If you plan to see either of these films, don't read on.
Recently, Mr S and I journeyed downtown to the Regal Fox Tower to catch an inspiring double feature of An Education and Precious. Little did we know at the time, these movies are very similar. Both are about a girl turning seventeen, coming"of age", as they say, and experiencing life's little hiccups. Also, both films are uplifting in the sense that they make you happy you are not the main characters.
There's nothing quite like watching movies about miserable people to help you feel better about your life. Why, I remember like it was yesterday seeing Revolutionary Road with my guy. We loved it! It really put our relationship in a new light. I can honestly say neither of us has ever had to chase the other out of the house and into the forest, AND neither of us has given ourself a home abortion and died. So, really, our lives smell pretty sweet.
Anyway, back to An Education, the young lady playing the protagonist, Jenny, is quite a find. She gives a very honest and understated performance as only the British can, and her performance is perfectly balanced by Alfred Molina as her father. Molina is British, but it is hard to see him that way anymore after his stints as Doc Ock and Tevye. Not to mention his portrayal of Diego Rivera. I'm really not sure where he's from anymore. So when I watch him on screen, I feel like I am watching Doc Tevye Rivera. It's a weird juxtaposition.
The man leading Jenny astray is played by Peter Saarsgaard. I am not really sure how many A's he has in his name, but it's too many. He is not British at all, but he plays a Brit in the film which led me to wonder, "Are Brits watching this and saying 'Oh, it's a good thing he was available to play this role since there are not many actual English male actors available to play it'?" I wonder that because that is the reverse of what I say when I watch Hollywood-based TV shows that star British and Australian actors as American characters. Digression.
The film details Jenny making some bad decisions, being misdirected and ultimately becoming a woman and getting back on track, with no help from that evil Emma Thompson who clearly hates all young women ever since Helena stole Kenneth. All in all, an enjoyable film.
But nothing could prepare us for the second feature, Precious. Actually, that's not true. The trailer and the hype did a pretty good job of preparing us.
Precious is the new comedy from Oprah and Tyler Perry. You might say "Comedy? Vraiment?" And I say, oui. I cannot possibly be expected to take any movie seriously where Monique plays an acerbic drunk, and the main character names her Downs Syndrome child "Mongo." Seriously? Can you? Needless to say, this movie was a laugh a minute. At least, a laugh every five minutes.
How can you not laugh when Monique, sitting on a couch with a grandchild in her lap and a cocktail in her hand, gets up abruptly and drops the kid. Through my laughter, I did hear some gasps in the theater, but I am confident those people were just masking their impulse to chuckle.
In the movie, Precious gets knocked up by her dad a couple times, and it really irritates her mom who is worried that the dad now prefers Precious. It made me think that Oprah is following a certain pattern of films. She gets really excited about movies where the central character is a young girl who is abused, can't speak English and goes around muttering to God all day. Think about it. The Color Purple, Precious, Hairspray. They all have that in common.
Anyway, we walked out on a high note. At the end of Precious, Mariah Carey steps in and saves the day by making Monique feel guilty for dropping the baby. Precious mutters something in Swahili that is obviously a curse on Monique, and they go their separate ways.
If you are looking for colorful entertainment (not a racist slur), I suggest A Precious Education.
Recently, Mr S and I journeyed downtown to the Regal Fox Tower to catch an inspiring double feature of An Education and Precious. Little did we know at the time, these movies are very similar. Both are about a girl turning seventeen, coming"of age", as they say, and experiencing life's little hiccups. Also, both films are uplifting in the sense that they make you happy you are not the main characters.
There's nothing quite like watching movies about miserable people to help you feel better about your life. Why, I remember like it was yesterday seeing Revolutionary Road with my guy. We loved it! It really put our relationship in a new light. I can honestly say neither of us has ever had to chase the other out of the house and into the forest, AND neither of us has given ourself a home abortion and died. So, really, our lives smell pretty sweet.
Anyway, back to An Education, the young lady playing the protagonist, Jenny, is quite a find. She gives a very honest and understated performance as only the British can, and her performance is perfectly balanced by Alfred Molina as her father. Molina is British, but it is hard to see him that way anymore after his stints as Doc Ock and Tevye. Not to mention his portrayal of Diego Rivera. I'm really not sure where he's from anymore. So when I watch him on screen, I feel like I am watching Doc Tevye Rivera. It's a weird juxtaposition.
The man leading Jenny astray is played by Peter Saarsgaard. I am not really sure how many A's he has in his name, but it's too many. He is not British at all, but he plays a Brit in the film which led me to wonder, "Are Brits watching this and saying 'Oh, it's a good thing he was available to play this role since there are not many actual English male actors available to play it'?" I wonder that because that is the reverse of what I say when I watch Hollywood-based TV shows that star British and Australian actors as American characters. Digression.
The film details Jenny making some bad decisions, being misdirected and ultimately becoming a woman and getting back on track, with no help from that evil Emma Thompson who clearly hates all young women ever since Helena stole Kenneth. All in all, an enjoyable film.
But nothing could prepare us for the second feature, Precious. Actually, that's not true. The trailer and the hype did a pretty good job of preparing us.
Precious is the new comedy from Oprah and Tyler Perry. You might say "Comedy? Vraiment?" And I say, oui. I cannot possibly be expected to take any movie seriously where Monique plays an acerbic drunk, and the main character names her Downs Syndrome child "Mongo." Seriously? Can you? Needless to say, this movie was a laugh a minute. At least, a laugh every five minutes.
How can you not laugh when Monique, sitting on a couch with a grandchild in her lap and a cocktail in her hand, gets up abruptly and drops the kid. Through my laughter, I did hear some gasps in the theater, but I am confident those people were just masking their impulse to chuckle.
In the movie, Precious gets knocked up by her dad a couple times, and it really irritates her mom who is worried that the dad now prefers Precious. It made me think that Oprah is following a certain pattern of films. She gets really excited about movies where the central character is a young girl who is abused, can't speak English and goes around muttering to God all day. Think about it. The Color Purple, Precious, Hairspray. They all have that in common.
Anyway, we walked out on a high note. At the end of Precious, Mariah Carey steps in and saves the day by making Monique feel guilty for dropping the baby. Precious mutters something in Swahili that is obviously a curse on Monique, and they go their separate ways.
If you are looking for colorful entertainment (not a racist slur), I suggest A Precious Education.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Good Day, Oregon
This morning, I am watching the above titled television broadcast and enjoying the irony. So far, they have featured a story about a man being imprisoned for multiple murders. They found several bodies buried in his front and back yards. Hmm, now we know why those lawns were so lush. There has been a story about a local elementary school burning down. A robbery. And sundry other similar good-time stories. The question that begs to be asked is "For whom is this a good day?"
And the answer is, for me. I have not burned down, been killed and buried in a yard or any other such fate. In fact, I am recovering from an amazing FIFTH anniversary dinner with my guy at Le Pigeon. The only disappointment we encountered was the surprising lack of pigeon on the menu. You would think that with the number of pigeons that seem to thrive everywhere, like the cockroaches of the sky, there would be some good pigeon dishes available. Alas, there were not. At least, not last night. We did, however, enjoy complimentary champagne (thanks, LP!), chanterelle soup with foie gras (yes, I know, PETA; just shut it) and candy cap sandwich, ricotta gnocchi, black cod with mussels and garlic mash in squid ink (thanks, Squid), pork roast over mashed sweet potatoes, bacon cornbread and apple upside down cake with maple ice cream. Needless to say, I have both a food and wine hangover this morning. But it was so worth it.
So, while the local news may be less than inspirational, my own news is pretty darn sweet. I have loved and lived with a fantastic partner for five years who has been a font of support, laughter, adventure, emotion, perspective, insight and love. And we like to celebrate that love by gorging ourselves. Hurrah, Portland, mecca of food!
Back to media, let's talk about the joy and wonder that is The Today Show, shall we? Having not watched it for a long time, I tuned in on Halloween and could not have been more pleased. At first, I was shocked and frightened by seeing Matt Lauer in a blond-ish Luke Skywalker-ish wig and Al Roker wearing what appeared to be a slaughtered animal on his head. Ann was of course the quintessential Darth Vader. We all know she is the one with the whip on that show.
Anyway, just as I was about to turn it off and go spray my eyes with sulfuric acid, the ewoks came out. Oh, the ewoks. Would that there were ewoks on each and every show. What a wonderful world this would be. I am sure I needn't recap their antics as you either witnessed the magic for yourself or you missed it and can experience it first hand by way of YouTube. My explanation cannot possibly do it justice. But it was easily the finest moment in Today show history, and I hope that episode is nominated for an Emmy.
Well, as usual, I have gone on and on talking about pretty much nothing. But my goal here was just to share with you that I am one lucky bastard (not really, I know who my father is), and that, despite what may be shown on Good Day, Oregon, it is, in fact, a good day for me. A very good day. It's fall. We have been having intermittent rain and sunshine every day. The trees on Lovejoy that I can see right now out my window are showing off their peach, red-orange and yellow leaves, and all is well in the world. All except for those people buried in that man's yard.
And the answer is, for me. I have not burned down, been killed and buried in a yard or any other such fate. In fact, I am recovering from an amazing FIFTH anniversary dinner with my guy at Le Pigeon. The only disappointment we encountered was the surprising lack of pigeon on the menu. You would think that with the number of pigeons that seem to thrive everywhere, like the cockroaches of the sky, there would be some good pigeon dishes available. Alas, there were not. At least, not last night. We did, however, enjoy complimentary champagne (thanks, LP!), chanterelle soup with foie gras (yes, I know, PETA; just shut it) and candy cap sandwich, ricotta gnocchi, black cod with mussels and garlic mash in squid ink (thanks, Squid), pork roast over mashed sweet potatoes, bacon cornbread and apple upside down cake with maple ice cream. Needless to say, I have both a food and wine hangover this morning. But it was so worth it.
So, while the local news may be less than inspirational, my own news is pretty darn sweet. I have loved and lived with a fantastic partner for five years who has been a font of support, laughter, adventure, emotion, perspective, insight and love. And we like to celebrate that love by gorging ourselves. Hurrah, Portland, mecca of food!
Back to media, let's talk about the joy and wonder that is The Today Show, shall we? Having not watched it for a long time, I tuned in on Halloween and could not have been more pleased. At first, I was shocked and frightened by seeing Matt Lauer in a blond-ish Luke Skywalker-ish wig and Al Roker wearing what appeared to be a slaughtered animal on his head. Ann was of course the quintessential Darth Vader. We all know she is the one with the whip on that show.
Anyway, just as I was about to turn it off and go spray my eyes with sulfuric acid, the ewoks came out. Oh, the ewoks. Would that there were ewoks on each and every show. What a wonderful world this would be. I am sure I needn't recap their antics as you either witnessed the magic for yourself or you missed it and can experience it first hand by way of YouTube. My explanation cannot possibly do it justice. But it was easily the finest moment in Today show history, and I hope that episode is nominated for an Emmy.
Well, as usual, I have gone on and on talking about pretty much nothing. But my goal here was just to share with you that I am one lucky bastard (not really, I know who my father is), and that, despite what may be shown on Good Day, Oregon, it is, in fact, a good day for me. A very good day. It's fall. We have been having intermittent rain and sunshine every day. The trees on Lovejoy that I can see right now out my window are showing off their peach, red-orange and yellow leaves, and all is well in the world. All except for those people buried in that man's yard.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Highlights of a fall Saturday in Portland
1) PSU Farmers Market
A) Discovering I can walk there faster than I can drive and park.
B) Hot fresh Pine State Biscuits with shiitake mushroom gravy.
C) Visiting with the soup lady and being interrupted by the bearded lady. I've never seen so much facial hair on a woman. It was dark and long and wiry. I wished I had a Lady Bic to offer her.
D) Realizing the streetcar stops right behind the market and takes me all the way home.
2) Cooking class at Sur La Table
A) Walking through the first big rainstorm in Portland to get there.
B) Getting stuck in a lake while crossing the street and soaking my shoes and socks in freezing cold water.
C) Cutting my pinky finger on a paring knife five minutes into class and spending the next hour hiding it from my classmates.
D) My comment while beating the cream for the lemon mousse about being "the man to turn to for " 'stiff peaks' " which silenced the class.
E) The teacher looking at me when instructing the students to please not refill their own wine glasses during class.
F) Learning not to salt the water until it's boiling.
G) Learning that it's much easier to cut root vegetables if I have created a flat surface on one side first. This also helps me avoid further finger cutting.
H) Shopping on the sales floor for some new pans and having no fewer than four salespeople, inside of twenty minutes, ask if I "need some help."
I) Learning that it is not only acceptable, but advisable, to oil the pan when cooking bacon AND salt my food more liberally while cooking.
3) Ben Franklin: Unplugged
A) Josh Kornbluth's uncanny resemblance to Jay Sherman (aka Jon Lovitz's alter ego).
B) Kornbluth's incredible story-telling skill.
C) Kornbluth's ability to keep an audience rapt for 2.5 hours.
D) Walking home and just happening to walk by Cool Moon, which just happened to be open, and supporting a local business by purchasing a bowl of Cereal Killer (butterscotch ice cream with grape nuts).
A) Discovering I can walk there faster than I can drive and park.
B) Hot fresh Pine State Biscuits with shiitake mushroom gravy.
C) Visiting with the soup lady and being interrupted by the bearded lady. I've never seen so much facial hair on a woman. It was dark and long and wiry. I wished I had a Lady Bic to offer her.
D) Realizing the streetcar stops right behind the market and takes me all the way home.
2) Cooking class at Sur La Table
A) Walking through the first big rainstorm in Portland to get there.
B) Getting stuck in a lake while crossing the street and soaking my shoes and socks in freezing cold water.
C) Cutting my pinky finger on a paring knife five minutes into class and spending the next hour hiding it from my classmates.
D) My comment while beating the cream for the lemon mousse about being "the man to turn to for " 'stiff peaks' " which silenced the class.
E) The teacher looking at me when instructing the students to please not refill their own wine glasses during class.
F) Learning not to salt the water until it's boiling.
G) Learning that it's much easier to cut root vegetables if I have created a flat surface on one side first. This also helps me avoid further finger cutting.
H) Shopping on the sales floor for some new pans and having no fewer than four salespeople, inside of twenty minutes, ask if I "need some help."
I) Learning that it is not only acceptable, but advisable, to oil the pan when cooking bacon AND salt my food more liberally while cooking.
3) Ben Franklin: Unplugged
A) Josh Kornbluth's uncanny resemblance to Jay Sherman (aka Jon Lovitz's alter ego).
B) Kornbluth's incredible story-telling skill.
C) Kornbluth's ability to keep an audience rapt for 2.5 hours.
D) Walking home and just happening to walk by Cool Moon, which just happened to be open, and supporting a local business by purchasing a bowl of Cereal Killer (butterscotch ice cream with grape nuts).
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The wonders discovered during insomnia
I woke up at least twelve times between 12:30 and 4 am the night before last. At 4:00, I finally just got up to watch television. Cops was on, which I wouldn't usually watch, but this episode took place in Hong Kong, and it was fabulous. The police chief was a woman named Julie Lau who could have been my neighbor growing up in Garden Grove, she was so westernized. Actually, she spoke better English than my neighbors from Garden Grove. She probably doesn't smell as bad either. Julie was leading an operative to arrest underage extortionists. Evidently, you can be an extortionist in Hong Kong; you just can't be under 18. They also raided some one-woman brothels during the show. I kind of felt bad for these women. They don't have much going for them. They don't even have co-workers. And here they are getting harassed by the local police. It all made for highly entertaining telly.
Cops was followed at 4:30 by Good Day, Oregon, a show that helps locals get ready for their day. Weather, traffic, breaking news. After announcing our high would be fifty degrees, they cut to a live cam of a local freeway which had one truck on it and announced that the early morning commute was not heavy. The breaking news was about a convenience store robbery that took place late Tuesday night which neighbors called "disappointing." Strong words, Portlanders.
Then I finally watched Brothers and Sisters from Sunday night which was very well done but became a total fantasy at the end with all the grown-ups jumping on Kitty's bed and tickling each other and laughing. It made me think "When was the last time my siblings all did that?" Oh yeah, never. For that matter, we never all sat out by the pool together watching a hot Frenchman swim either. Clearly, I was born into the wrong family. Or at least the wrong house. How different our lives would have been with a pool. Or a hot Frenchman.
Continuing on in the telethon, I watched the fourth installment of the Monty Python story on IFC which covered their entree into the US and the making of The Holy Grail. Such brilliant minds. How lucky for us that some independent-minded PBS executives caught the show and found it funny. God bless America. Apparently, Graham Chapman was three sheets to the wind for most of the shoot. Imagine...to be so talented, you could still act out an entire performance while under the influence. Oh wait, I don't need to imagine. That describes my years at the Curtain Call.
Finally, after several hours of television, I got up and started functioning like a real human being. It occurs to me that I have no idea when shows are actually televised anymore. Tommy DVRs everything, and we catch up whenever we can. Like at 4 in the morning. It's been an adjustment for me because it feels so strange to watch primetime television in the middle of the night or on the weekend and not watch commercials. I feel like I am cheating them somehow. I actually feel guilty for not watching the commercials. I am really sorry, commercial actors. I know you worked hard for those little paychecks. Oh wait. No, you didn't. You worked one day and made twenty thousand dollars. Screw you. What do you care if I watch your stupid acting?
Ah ah, hold up there, Normino. That's not the attitude to start the day with. Time to get excited about banking.
It's easy to get excited when I know I have people like Ronald to look forward to. Ronald called in last week to get an auto loan. Here's just a snippet of our conversation. I took notes because I knew it would be worth repeating.
Ronald (chewing gum loudly): Yeah, I was lookin to get a car loan.
Me: Great. What kind of car were you looking at?
Ronald (possibly blowing a bubble): I don't know, but it's a nice car.
Me: Hmm. Well, I need a little better idea in order to get you pre-qualified.
Ronald :It's a Malibu.
Me: What year is it?
Ronald: 2002.
Me: I'm sorry. We actually only finance cars going back seven model years, so we would not be able to get you a loan for a 2002.
Ronald: I said 2004.
Me (moving on through the application): So, Ronald, who is your current employer?
Ronald: Oh, man, I don't know.
Me: You don't know who your employer is?
Ronald: Man, I work for a senior living facility.
Me: What is the name of the facility?
Ronald: I don't know.
Me: We kind of need to know that.
Ronald: Never mind. (click)
Oh, the magic of working in a call center.
Cops was followed at 4:30 by Good Day, Oregon, a show that helps locals get ready for their day. Weather, traffic, breaking news. After announcing our high would be fifty degrees, they cut to a live cam of a local freeway which had one truck on it and announced that the early morning commute was not heavy. The breaking news was about a convenience store robbery that took place late Tuesday night which neighbors called "disappointing." Strong words, Portlanders.
Then I finally watched Brothers and Sisters from Sunday night which was very well done but became a total fantasy at the end with all the grown-ups jumping on Kitty's bed and tickling each other and laughing. It made me think "When was the last time my siblings all did that?" Oh yeah, never. For that matter, we never all sat out by the pool together watching a hot Frenchman swim either. Clearly, I was born into the wrong family. Or at least the wrong house. How different our lives would have been with a pool. Or a hot Frenchman.
Continuing on in the telethon, I watched the fourth installment of the Monty Python story on IFC which covered their entree into the US and the making of The Holy Grail. Such brilliant minds. How lucky for us that some independent-minded PBS executives caught the show and found it funny. God bless America. Apparently, Graham Chapman was three sheets to the wind for most of the shoot. Imagine...to be so talented, you could still act out an entire performance while under the influence. Oh wait, I don't need to imagine. That describes my years at the Curtain Call.
Finally, after several hours of television, I got up and started functioning like a real human being. It occurs to me that I have no idea when shows are actually televised anymore. Tommy DVRs everything, and we catch up whenever we can. Like at 4 in the morning. It's been an adjustment for me because it feels so strange to watch primetime television in the middle of the night or on the weekend and not watch commercials. I feel like I am cheating them somehow. I actually feel guilty for not watching the commercials. I am really sorry, commercial actors. I know you worked hard for those little paychecks. Oh wait. No, you didn't. You worked one day and made twenty thousand dollars. Screw you. What do you care if I watch your stupid acting?
Ah ah, hold up there, Normino. That's not the attitude to start the day with. Time to get excited about banking.
It's easy to get excited when I know I have people like Ronald to look forward to. Ronald called in last week to get an auto loan. Here's just a snippet of our conversation. I took notes because I knew it would be worth repeating.
Ronald (chewing gum loudly): Yeah, I was lookin to get a car loan.
Me: Great. What kind of car were you looking at?
Ronald (possibly blowing a bubble): I don't know, but it's a nice car.
Me: Hmm. Well, I need a little better idea in order to get you pre-qualified.
Ronald :It's a Malibu.
Me: What year is it?
Ronald: 2002.
Me: I'm sorry. We actually only finance cars going back seven model years, so we would not be able to get you a loan for a 2002.
Ronald: I said 2004.
Me (moving on through the application): So, Ronald, who is your current employer?
Ronald: Oh, man, I don't know.
Me: You don't know who your employer is?
Ronald: Man, I work for a senior living facility.
Me: What is the name of the facility?
Ronald: I don't know.
Me: We kind of need to know that.
Ronald: Never mind. (click)
Oh, the magic of working in a call center.
Monday, October 19, 2009
A bit of rain...perhaps?
Maybe? A smidge. We're not saying a lot. Heck, it may not rain at all. Just...maybe...a bit.
This is what the Portland area weather forecasters have been reduced to. I used to laugh at the weather reporters on TV in LA because, well, how hard is their job? With the exception of maybe four or five days out of the year, all they really have to do is guess what time the sun will be hot enough to fry an egg. But here, in P-Town, Mother Nature likes to mess with them.
The first two months we were here, it was a summer like we would have had in LA. Fifteen days over 100 degrees, and most days over 90. Not a spot of rain. Then the game began.
About three weeks ago, network meteorologists started threatening huge storms, saying fall had arrived and would soon be dumping sheets of rain on us. Like a taunting child, fall arrived with cold nights and cloudy mornings that were quickly chased away by brilliant sunshine. Then the weather folks started changing their tune a bit.
A week ago, the report ran "Rain to start on Monday and not end until the weekend." Monday came, as all mornings do now, with cold temps and gray clouds. By mid-day, the clouds were replaced by blue skies and bright sunshine. Each night, local news reported that the rain would be upon us the following day. Each day, the sun came back like it had the day before.
Friday, the reports were firm--"Fall's first big rain to hit tonight and last through Saturday." We were excited. We had been waiting for a great storm. That's one of the reasons we moved here, to see real weather at its most dramatic. Friday night was clear and cool, and when we awoke on Saturday the sun was shining through the little wisps of clouds.
Finally, when Saturday's weather staff had given up and were not about to call rain one more time, it rained. A cool, steady shower of liquid sunshine that started late in the morning and lasted most of the day. Nothing terribly dramatic. No lightning or thunder. Just a warm, gentle introduction to what could be the opposite of last fall/winter here.
Apparently, the local meteorologists hold a convention every year in early fall to discuss and forecast the coming season. According to Saturday's paper, their conclusion from the recent assembly was that this fall and winter could be unseasonably warm and mild. I am amused that they came to this conclusion only after several days of bogus forecasts. As they tell it, last year's onslaught of snow and rain was a result of La Nina; this year, El Nino is predicted to bring warmer and dryer weather. Doesn't that figure? Here we are, ready for the Northwest to show us its best, and we may end up having just another California Christmas.
Having been spoiled with such idyllic weather for so many weeks, we faced a dilemma on Saturday. Do we go to the Farmers Market at PSU? I mean, it's RAINing! How does one shop OUTdoors in the RAIN? We almost decided not to go, and instantly we felt sad like we were missing our one and only chance to see a good friend before they left town. So we went. And so did the rest of Portland. It was so cool to be there getting rained on with hundreds of other people supporting our local growers and stocking up on the week's fresh fare. What I found really cool was that the menu is changing. Suddenly, we have an abundance of beautiful gourds, butternut squash, delicata. One of the vendors had sauteed some delicata up with olive oil and salt and pepper and was serving it up with chips. It was sweet and aromatic and just tasted of autumn. Mushrooms were also in abundance and had more names than I ever knew existed. Every farmer had shiitakes, but they also each had a good four to six other varietals, all with their own distinct appearance and fragrance. The early leafy greens are still around in limited supply but are being crowded out by chard and radicchio and baby bok choy, which is just fun to say. All of the vendors were excited to show off their new harvests and offer samples, and the customers were equally ecstatic to try the new goodies.
One vendor grows mint in what must be a ten-acre field. She has cans upon cans of mint tea and bags of her own home-made peppermint patties. And, as always, there were the apple sellers. I have never seen such an array of apples with different colors and textures and flavors. We love the honeycrisps. Our new favorite pear is something like a Bosc but smaller, rounder, crisper and sweeter. Too bad I can't remember the name. I do, however, remember, the young man of about ten who was handing out samples and offering small boxes for only $4.00. Whether it was the pear's delightful crunch or the boy's salesmanship I am unsure, but Tommy was sold; and when he bought a basket from the older sister, the boy, undoubtedly excited to have made a sale, barked at his sister to "throw another pear or two in that basket. Fill it out a little." This made the purchase so much more worth while. You just don't get that kind of entertainment at Safeway.
After the market, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are. For the first time since we have been here, there was a LINE at the theater. The boy who stars in the movie is from Portland, so it's a pretty big deal up here. We enjoyed the movie but decided it is really not for kids. I won't be too quick to dismiss the film for grown-ups though. While it was not exactly what I expected, it did offer some evocative food for thought about growing up and the pain and difficulty of having and dealing with emotions. Some of us are still learning those lessons. Not me, of course. I have been blissfully emotion-free since the operation in '81.
Anyway, a new week begins. As always, thank you for reading and for commenting. Here's wishing us all a fun and productive new week.
This is what the Portland area weather forecasters have been reduced to. I used to laugh at the weather reporters on TV in LA because, well, how hard is their job? With the exception of maybe four or five days out of the year, all they really have to do is guess what time the sun will be hot enough to fry an egg. But here, in P-Town, Mother Nature likes to mess with them.
The first two months we were here, it was a summer like we would have had in LA. Fifteen days over 100 degrees, and most days over 90. Not a spot of rain. Then the game began.
About three weeks ago, network meteorologists started threatening huge storms, saying fall had arrived and would soon be dumping sheets of rain on us. Like a taunting child, fall arrived with cold nights and cloudy mornings that were quickly chased away by brilliant sunshine. Then the weather folks started changing their tune a bit.
A week ago, the report ran "Rain to start on Monday and not end until the weekend." Monday came, as all mornings do now, with cold temps and gray clouds. By mid-day, the clouds were replaced by blue skies and bright sunshine. Each night, local news reported that the rain would be upon us the following day. Each day, the sun came back like it had the day before.
Friday, the reports were firm--"Fall's first big rain to hit tonight and last through Saturday." We were excited. We had been waiting for a great storm. That's one of the reasons we moved here, to see real weather at its most dramatic. Friday night was clear and cool, and when we awoke on Saturday the sun was shining through the little wisps of clouds.
Finally, when Saturday's weather staff had given up and were not about to call rain one more time, it rained. A cool, steady shower of liquid sunshine that started late in the morning and lasted most of the day. Nothing terribly dramatic. No lightning or thunder. Just a warm, gentle introduction to what could be the opposite of last fall/winter here.
Apparently, the local meteorologists hold a convention every year in early fall to discuss and forecast the coming season. According to Saturday's paper, their conclusion from the recent assembly was that this fall and winter could be unseasonably warm and mild. I am amused that they came to this conclusion only after several days of bogus forecasts. As they tell it, last year's onslaught of snow and rain was a result of La Nina; this year, El Nino is predicted to bring warmer and dryer weather. Doesn't that figure? Here we are, ready for the Northwest to show us its best, and we may end up having just another California Christmas.
Having been spoiled with such idyllic weather for so many weeks, we faced a dilemma on Saturday. Do we go to the Farmers Market at PSU? I mean, it's RAINing! How does one shop OUTdoors in the RAIN? We almost decided not to go, and instantly we felt sad like we were missing our one and only chance to see a good friend before they left town. So we went. And so did the rest of Portland. It was so cool to be there getting rained on with hundreds of other people supporting our local growers and stocking up on the week's fresh fare. What I found really cool was that the menu is changing. Suddenly, we have an abundance of beautiful gourds, butternut squash, delicata. One of the vendors had sauteed some delicata up with olive oil and salt and pepper and was serving it up with chips. It was sweet and aromatic and just tasted of autumn. Mushrooms were also in abundance and had more names than I ever knew existed. Every farmer had shiitakes, but they also each had a good four to six other varietals, all with their own distinct appearance and fragrance. The early leafy greens are still around in limited supply but are being crowded out by chard and radicchio and baby bok choy, which is just fun to say. All of the vendors were excited to show off their new harvests and offer samples, and the customers were equally ecstatic to try the new goodies.
One vendor grows mint in what must be a ten-acre field. She has cans upon cans of mint tea and bags of her own home-made peppermint patties. And, as always, there were the apple sellers. I have never seen such an array of apples with different colors and textures and flavors. We love the honeycrisps. Our new favorite pear is something like a Bosc but smaller, rounder, crisper and sweeter. Too bad I can't remember the name. I do, however, remember, the young man of about ten who was handing out samples and offering small boxes for only $4.00. Whether it was the pear's delightful crunch or the boy's salesmanship I am unsure, but Tommy was sold; and when he bought a basket from the older sister, the boy, undoubtedly excited to have made a sale, barked at his sister to "throw another pear or two in that basket. Fill it out a little." This made the purchase so much more worth while. You just don't get that kind of entertainment at Safeway.
After the market, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are. For the first time since we have been here, there was a LINE at the theater. The boy who stars in the movie is from Portland, so it's a pretty big deal up here. We enjoyed the movie but decided it is really not for kids. I won't be too quick to dismiss the film for grown-ups though. While it was not exactly what I expected, it did offer some evocative food for thought about growing up and the pain and difficulty of having and dealing with emotions. Some of us are still learning those lessons. Not me, of course. I have been blissfully emotion-free since the operation in '81.
Anyway, a new week begins. As always, thank you for reading and for commenting. Here's wishing us all a fun and productive new week.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Billy and Betty
Billy Beadle would have fit right in with my uncles Dick and Earl, and Aunts Dolores and Ethylene would have loved him.
Each morning, I sip my coffee from a genuine Billy Beadle mug, some of which were crafted especially for me by the artist. This morning, it's my Eleanor mug, dedicated to "Motor Mouth Norman." I believe it was during Eleanor that I received a call from a sweet, daft elderly woman who claimed she had seen my performance in the show (I was in the chorus), and proceeded to leave a message raving about how wonderful I was. What a charming and talented young man I was, etc. Very Dame Edna. It took me several minutes to realize it was Billy, and several more for the message to end.
The Old Mug Shop sat on Redondo Blvd just across the street from The Silver Fox. The nights I spent with friends at the Fox seem an eternity ago. In fact, some have gone completely from my memory, thank God. But visiting Billy at the Old Mug Shop might as well have been last week.
The summer after Eleanor, I was cast in my first production of Joseph, and I went to Billy to have mugs made for all my brothers. He offered me a good deal if I ordered a dozen, so of course I had to get one for me. This would be the first of many good deals. Billy was all about friendship and memories.
While I did not spend much time with him outside of theater, one would never know he wasn't one of my best friends, or uncles. When one of us was in a show, the other would come see it and stay for a hug afterward. He was always ebullient and effusive. One might think he was my father. In fact, he was warmer and more accepting. He encouraged my goofiness and praised my attempts at dancing even while mocking my total lack of grace. When Billy teased, it was so good-spirited and funny that it only made me want to be more of a goof.
I remember being backstage at the Carpenter Center in the green room getting ready for an opening night performance, and Billy strolled back moments before curtain, as he always did, to wish everyone a great opening. I think each one of us felt he was there just for us because he had a special way of making each person feel loved and appreciated.
When I sip my morning coffee from a Billy Beadle mug, I think of that sweet, funny man in his red hat and his red beard and his "Stormin' Norman!" greeting. His voice rings as clearly in my head today as it did ten years ago when he stood right in front of me and laughed his mischievous laugh. His smile is equally vivid in my memory, as I am sure it is in many others'.
During The Music Man, I always had so much fun watching him banter with the late, great Betty Motsinger as they played the Mayor and Eulalie Shinn. The two of them together made quite an entrance and could not have stayed too long on that stage. Even though they tried.
The last time I saw Betty was on the bluff in Long Beach. We often crossed paths there, and she would usually say something like "Don't I know you?" and then let out a hearty laugh, not dissimilar to Phyllis Diller's but unique to Betty Motsinger.
These two magnificent people are now magnificent shining stars in the heavens, and the other celestial residents must feel quite blessed to have them in their midst. I am thankful for the time I got to share with them, and I look forward to one day crossing their paths again.
Each morning, I sip my coffee from a genuine Billy Beadle mug, some of which were crafted especially for me by the artist. This morning, it's my Eleanor mug, dedicated to "Motor Mouth Norman." I believe it was during Eleanor that I received a call from a sweet, daft elderly woman who claimed she had seen my performance in the show (I was in the chorus), and proceeded to leave a message raving about how wonderful I was. What a charming and talented young man I was, etc. Very Dame Edna. It took me several minutes to realize it was Billy, and several more for the message to end.
The Old Mug Shop sat on Redondo Blvd just across the street from The Silver Fox. The nights I spent with friends at the Fox seem an eternity ago. In fact, some have gone completely from my memory, thank God. But visiting Billy at the Old Mug Shop might as well have been last week.
The summer after Eleanor, I was cast in my first production of Joseph, and I went to Billy to have mugs made for all my brothers. He offered me a good deal if I ordered a dozen, so of course I had to get one for me. This would be the first of many good deals. Billy was all about friendship and memories.
While I did not spend much time with him outside of theater, one would never know he wasn't one of my best friends, or uncles. When one of us was in a show, the other would come see it and stay for a hug afterward. He was always ebullient and effusive. One might think he was my father. In fact, he was warmer and more accepting. He encouraged my goofiness and praised my attempts at dancing even while mocking my total lack of grace. When Billy teased, it was so good-spirited and funny that it only made me want to be more of a goof.
I remember being backstage at the Carpenter Center in the green room getting ready for an opening night performance, and Billy strolled back moments before curtain, as he always did, to wish everyone a great opening. I think each one of us felt he was there just for us because he had a special way of making each person feel loved and appreciated.
When I sip my morning coffee from a Billy Beadle mug, I think of that sweet, funny man in his red hat and his red beard and his "Stormin' Norman!" greeting. His voice rings as clearly in my head today as it did ten years ago when he stood right in front of me and laughed his mischievous laugh. His smile is equally vivid in my memory, as I am sure it is in many others'.
During The Music Man, I always had so much fun watching him banter with the late, great Betty Motsinger as they played the Mayor and Eulalie Shinn. The two of them together made quite an entrance and could not have stayed too long on that stage. Even though they tried.
The last time I saw Betty was on the bluff in Long Beach. We often crossed paths there, and she would usually say something like "Don't I know you?" and then let out a hearty laugh, not dissimilar to Phyllis Diller's but unique to Betty Motsinger.
These two magnificent people are now magnificent shining stars in the heavens, and the other celestial residents must feel quite blessed to have them in their midst. I am thankful for the time I got to share with them, and I look forward to one day crossing their paths again.
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