August 2006 Archives
On Tuesday, I watched Celebrity Duets, Simon Cowell's latest televised talent show. It's the singing version of Dancing with the Stars.
The show begins with eight celebrities. Every week, they perform duets with various "music legends" and every week, one celebrity gets the boot.
Most of the duets were mediocre, two were superb (both involving Gladys Knight) and the rest were so awful they kept me hooked, hoping to see something worse.
Wayne Brady is the host and I admit he's the reason I watched. He is one of the few hosts that could actually win the show if he were competing instead of hosting. If the producers are smart, they'll give him a chance to sing before the show is over.
Like every other talent show on television, Duets has a panel of three judges. It's an unwritten reality television rule that every panel must have a grumpy British judge, a generic technique judge and a loony, possibly drunk, possibly medicated judge. Duets doesn't stray far from the formula with David Foster, Marie Osmond and Little Richard.
True, Foster is American, but he is undeniably grumpy. Osmond fits her role perfectly with vague observations about pitch and "relatability", which my dictionary says isn't an actual word. Following in the footsteps of American Idol's Paula Abdul and So You Think You Can Dance's Mary Murphy (who began using her hand as a puppet in the last few episodes), Little Richard sets the new standard for all future loony, possible drunk, possibly medicated judges.
Instead of describing his style of judging and for the sake of coherency, let me give you a paraphrased example. After Hal Sparks and Gladys Knight finished singing "I Heard it Through the Grapevine", Little Richard said something to the effect of, "Grapevine, grapevine. Oh yes, I heard it. I heard it in Georgia, where Gladys and I both grew up. Oh yes. My my my. Through the grapevine. Oh my. Oh yes. How I heard it! My my my."
If you missed the season premiere, there's no need to fret. Fox is showing a repeat tonight. It's your chance to see Lucy Lawless belt with Michael Bolton, Cheech Marin rock with Peter Frampton and Chris Jericho, the prettiest wrestler I've ever seen, sing a ballad with Lee Ann Womack. On the other hand, the second showing could be your chance to miss it again and stick it to reality television.
I first noticed it yesterday. Butcher paper lined the windows, hiding the interior from view. The name painted in the window was missing, as were the posters that usually advertised upcoming downtown events. Somebody had removed the outdoor tables and chairs and the sandwich board mentioning Vigal coffee, Krispy Kreme donuts and the morning specials no longer stood on the sidewalk.
It made me pause in confusion. Maybe they're remodeling, I thought. Or maybe they moved. I looked at the windows again for a clue, but the sign announcing when they'd return or where they relocated was nowhere to be seen. It suddenly dawned on me - Cafe Nono's was gone.
The last time I remember seeing it open was two or three weeks ago. The last time I stopped in for an Almond Joy was back in July. At the time, nothing indicated or hinted that they would be going out of business.
Last year, the Mercury News reviewed Nono's. The article reported that the owner had "Lebanese and Palestinian roots". I wonder if the recent violence between Israel and Hezbollah caused him to close shop and travel home to take care of family and friends caught in the attacks.
My overactive imagination, a la Amelie, envisions him returning home and dramatically rescuing people from houses reduced to rubble and rushing them to safety in a battered car while explosions go off all around them. Of course, it's just as easy (and probably more plausible), that he simply retired and is enjoying a round of golf on a tropical island somewhere. In any case, I hope he is doing well.
The folks at Nono's were always friendly to me. They made excellent drinks, especially Almond Joys and mochas, and Ali, the owner whose name I didn't know until I read the article, always greeted me with a smile and asked, "So, what can I get you, boss?" I'll miss them.
Today is my birthday, but as usual, let's keep that between us. I'm 32. How scary is that?
The word this year is low-key. Okay, the word every year is low-key, but it's a good word and a good way to be.
A year ago, water breached the levees protecting New Orleans. A year later, life has yet to return to normal in the regions affected by Hurricane Katrina and her aftermath. Special reports on television and in the newspaper relate how reconstruction efforts have been slow or stalled and impacted areas, primarily in Louisiana, remain in ruins. Thankfully, reports about Mississippi's recovery are more positive.
My wish this year, besides no more disasters on my birthday, is for a faster recovery for those living in the Gulf Coast region.
"Award show banter is not pabulum... [dejectedly] Reality television celebrates the human condition... by illuminating what's extraordinary in the ordinary person." – Jon Stewart's response to Stephen Colbert when they presented the Emmy for Outstanding Reality Competition Program. It was the funniest presentation (viewable at YouTube) of the show and the source of this entry's title.
I watched the Emmys on Sunday because it's fun to hear acceptance speeches from actors who win for shows I never watch. I also tune in for the first ten minutes, which are usually the best minutes of the entire evening, but more on that later.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus (The New Adventures of Old Christine) and Tony Shaloub (Monk) won for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy. I watched Monk once upon a time, when it aired on ABC, and liked it. I'll probably add it to my queue when the list of DVDs begins to dwindle. I may do the same for Julia's show if I can get over my distaste for the title and the aftertaste of Seinfeld, which enjoys syndicated ubiquity.
Megan Mullally (Will and Grace) and Jeremy Piven (Entourage) won for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy. Will and Grace never seemed funny to me and likely never will. As for Entourage, I'm a big Jeremy Piven fan, so I should rent it just to check it out. I recently saw him in Runaway Jury (with John Cusack, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman and Rachel Weisz) and it reminded me of how much I like the duo of Cusack and Piven. It's a Grisham film, so there weren't exactly opportunities for them to display their comedic chemistry, but it's what I like and remember most about them. Only Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson come to mind when I think of current actors with a similar on-screen rapport and off-screen friendship.
Blythe Danner (Huff) and Alan Alda (The West Wing) won for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama, while Mariska Hargitay (Law & Order: SVU) and Kiefer Sutherland (24) won for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama. Of the four shows, I only watch L&O: SVU with any regularity. One of these days, when I'm bored out of my mind and trapped indoors, I may try to watch an entire season of 24 in a single day (synchronizing the episodes with the clock).
On a side note, after seven excellent seasons on L&O: SVU, Christopher Meloni finally received a nomination for his work. His loss to Sutherland was the second biggest disappointment of the night. The biggest was Lost's omission from the Outstanding Drama category. Had it been nominated, I doubt 24 would have won. And just so I have it written somewhere, The Office won for Outstanding Comedy.
As for the first ten minutes of the Emmys, Conan O'Brien had a great opening sketch (YouTube). It starts with him taking a flight from New York City to Hollywood to host the show. The plane experiences turbulence and Conan stuffs himself into an overhead compartment for safety. We then see him emerging from the ocean and collapsing on an island beach - the island from Lost.
After drying his signature red hair using a hairdryer built from twigs, he encounters Hurley, and together, they discover a hatch. Conan asks Hurley if he wants to come with him to the award show, but Hurley quips, "Well, we weren't exactly invited."
Conan's ensuing quest takes him through The Office, 24, House, South Park and Dateline: To Catch a Predator and ends with his arrival at the Emmys. It was classic.
Yesterday, in light of Sunday's plane crash in Kentucky, articles and blogs slammed the bit and called it insensitive. Instead of receiving kudos for its comedy and creativity, it's received criticism for "questionable taste" due to unlucky timing.
One wonders what the reaction might have been if the plane hadn't crashed, if the Emmys had aired twenty-four hours earlier or if the producers had pulled the sketch. NBC issued an apology yesterday, which is now the required response whenever public sensitivities are offended.
Conan was fortunate that none of his other funny moments offended anyone.
To make sure the show didn't run over the allotted time, he declared there would be consequences this year. An airtight glass booth was rolled onto the stage containing "exactly three hours of oxygen" and Bob Newhart sitting inside. If the show ran long, the "beloved comedian" would die.
O'Brien also introduced a timesaving innovation I think he called the Podium Segway. To demonstrate, Christopher Meloni appeared on a spruced up Segway and gave his acceptance speech while driving across the stage.
And during his opening monologue, O'Brien joked about the infamous (and now taxable) Emmy gift baskets valued at $51,000. He claimed it included "a cell phone, a DVD player and a gift certificate to the Olive Garden worth $50,000." He then proceeded to perform an inspired parody of "Ya Got Trouble" from The Music Man about NBC's rating woes.
Luckily, nobody suffocated to death, died in a freak Segway accident or received serious injuries opening an expensive gift basket earlier in the day. Otherwise, Conan really would have been in trouble (with a capital T, and that rhymes with G, as in "Gee, we're screwed!").
We moved my sister's stuff into her new place on Saturday without injuring anybody or doing any major damage to the furniture. I did drop the old couch on my foot. Luckily, the foot was inside a steel-toed boot at the time. It gave my toes quite a scare though and they're still a bit jumpy whenever I walk near large pieces of furniture.
The only thing we had difficulty with was the piano at my parents' place. My sister chose to take that one instead of the one I had been pianositting for her since 2004. I guess it's mine now. (Sweet!) Anyway, the piano we moved was a standard upright. It was also a pain and a half to move.
We rolled it from its original spot in the kitchen - where it stood for more than twenty years and never moved more than a foot (except for the occasional cleaning) - to the garage door with little trouble, but plenty of squeaking. Halfway across the room, we gave each of the four tiny wheels a generous dose of oil, but it did nothing to stop the whining.
At the door, we had to negotiate two steps down to the garage. Fortunately, we had a plywood ramp my dad had built long ago, when a wheelchair-bound relative visited. With a heave, we slid the piano halfway across the threshold. When it stopped, it was balancing on its belly and the front wheels were hanging four inches above the ramp.
From the back, I did my best to lift and push the piano (which I conservatively estimated weighed a thousand times my body weight) onto the ramp. The instrument slid two inches, but didn't tilt.
Somewhere between the second and third pushes, I dreamt about how much simpler the move would have been if my sister and I had learned a more portable form of music, say, the violin or the kazoo.
The next lift and push tipped the piano onto the grade and brought a sharp cracking sound that cut my kazoo dream short. A face-to-the-floor inspection revealed a thin strip of wood had snapped underneath. We managed to load the piano onto the rental truck without breaking anything else and only hit a minor snag unloading it.
Somebody thought rolling the piano down the truck ramp would be easier if we put a dolly with large casters under the piano. And the person was right. It rolled much easier after we spent five minutes grimacing, groaning, struggling and straining to hoist the entire instrument four inches off the floor and onto the dolly.
I probably would have been more enthusiastic about how easily it rolled if I weren't the one volunteered to be the human roadblock stationed downhill of the musical equivalent of a Mack truck. Sheer willpower and footwear with a high coefficient of friction were the only things that kept me from becoming a piano crush victim (a fate usually reserved for cartoon characters).
From there, getting the piano into my sister's place was a relative cinch. Once we were done, I promised I would never move another piano ever again - an easy promise to keep, as long as I never do another move.
; "the old couch")
I'll be helping my sister move into her new house tomorrow. Actually, it's a forty-year-old house, but it's new to her. For the last few months, she's been fixing it up - painting rooms, putting in new carpet, redoing the master bathroom and making other minor repairs. She became a regular customer at the hardware store and discovered the magic of nail guns, belt sanders and band saws, of which she recently remarked, "I can see why people love to do home improvements. Power tools make it so easy!" Since I've only ever used a hammer and a hacksaw, I just nodded in agreement and looked forward to the day when home improvement wouldn't mean smashed thumbs and crooked cuts.
Anyway, I'm giving her some of my furniture to help start her off and by "my furniture" I mean furniture my folks gave me, which their parents or grandparents gave them. So, really, this is just the next step in our family edition of pay it forward.
It doesn't make a lot of sense, but part of me is going to miss the furniture, especially the couch in the photo. It originally belonged to my great-grandparents and I can recall exactly where it was located in their tiny house. I remember rolling around on it and thinking it was the biggest couch I had ever seen. It's only an inch or two longer than seven feet in length, but it seemed monster-sized to me back then.
After my great-grandmother passed away, it came to my parents' place and I remember what it looked like before my mom covered it with fabric and added the pillows. Of course, as you can see, I didn't do any modifications or makeovers to it because, frankly, I thought it had been through enough. Now it's going to my sister. I'm sure she'll take good care of it and "make it her own" to fit with her new place.
As for me, I'll relish the empty space for a while and eventually fill it with something new.
When I began reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals, which is primarily about Abraham Lincoln, but also (and more excitingly) about William H. Seward, Salmon P. Chase and Edward Bates (his fellow Republican contenders for the nomination in 1860 and eventually members of his cabinet), I thought it would be fun to find blogs about Mr. Lincoln. In the "fun continuum", finding blogs about American presidents resides somewhere in that hazy region between dorky and hip. Like shabby chic, it's dorky hip.
Well, that part of the fun was fleeting because it took two seconds to locate a Lincoln blog written by a university professor of history in Indiana. Preferring practicality to creativity, he calls it A. Lincoln Blog.
Ironically (but unsurprisingly), the professor doesn't hold a high opinion of the book that prompted my search and led me to his site. In one of his first entries, he calls Goodwin's writing a "first-rate narrative history" that is "light on serious analysis" and doesn't show "a lot of original thinking". It's exactly what critics would say about my writing (if I wrote anything), minus the compliment.
His blog is informative and entertaining. In it, he reviews Lincoln books, highlights Lincoln in the news (Abe appears more often than you know) and offers insight about Lincoln the lawyer (the subject of his upcoming book). He also discusses issues relevant to Lincoln and Civil War historians and tackles misconceptions about the president related to hot topics like race, war, religion, civil liberties, political parties and more. In his archives, one can find top ten countdowns of his favorite Lincoln images and documents.
Ultimately, A. Lincoln Blog is a fine place on the web to gain a little more understanding about America's sixteenth president every day. Now, if I could only find something comparable concerning George Washington, Thomas Jefferson or Theodore Roosevelt, I'd be in dorky hip heaven.
I know it's a no-no to write about work, but I'm willing to take the risk this once (again).
Today was the first time I ever sat on an interview panel to hire somebody. Okay, I know it's probably not a big deal to most people out there, but to me, it was huge.
I'm used to being nervous when sitting before an interview panel, but I thought the anxiety would magically disappear if I ever sat on the other side of the table. Well, I was mistaken. It was the most nerve-wracking experience I've had in a while. In some cases, I think I was more nervous than the interviewee was.
I gained a new appreciation for the process today. Through it all, I had an underlying desire to ease the nerves of whomever we were interviewed, knowing how anxious I was in the past.
I think the experience will help me in the future. The next time I find myself sitting in front a panel, attempting to articulate why they should pick me for the position, I can use this newfound perspective to quell the nerves.
Song on my mind... "Don't Download This Song" by Weird Al
Once in a while maybe you will feel the urge
To break international copyright law
By downloading mp3s from file-sharing sites
Like Morpheus or Grokster or Limewire or KaZaA
But deep in your heart you know the guilt would drive you mad
And the shame would leave a permanent scar
'Cause you start out stealing songs, and then you're robbing liquor stores
And selling crack and running over school kids with your car
So don't download this song
The record store's where you belong
Go and buy the CD like you know that you should
Oh, don't download this song
"In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes" - Andy Warhol
Back in the early internet days of the home page, I had a theory (and not a very original theory) that for every actor or musician, regardless of prominence, attractiveness or talent, there was at least one #1 fan willing and eager to dedicate a home page to him or her.
One could search for any major or minor star on Yahoo! and find, without fail, somebody who had established a GeoCities account, learned HTML, added animated GIFs, scanned photos from magazines and written a worryingly detailed biography complete with film credits, scheduled appearances and upcoming projects for that celebrity.
Of course, I soon stumbled upon a related theory that stated the less prominent, attractive or talented the star was, the faster the page became outdated.
Since home pages are so passé, I thought I should revise (and broaden) my theory to now say, "For every celebrity in entertainment, sports or politics, regardless of prominence, attractiveness or talent, there are at least three #1 fangirls or fanboys willing and eager to dedicate a blog category (if not an entire blog) to that celebrity."
Expanding on this revised theory, I would say true celebrities have at least one hater with a blog or blog category devoted to trashing them. I would go as far as to say that the theory will eventually encompass "blogebrities", too, which may seem too meta, but given time and blogging's self-referential nature, future blogebrity fan blogs aren't much of a stretch.
This weekend, I
>helped my mom celebrate her birthday by taking her to Olive Garden for dinner on Friday. My parents have this thing for the OG, which I don't get, but don't question either because, well, it's their day, be it Mother's Day, Father's Day, their birthdays, their anniversary or any other day the family gets together. I suppose I also don't mind going because it brings back childhood memories. You see, the building Olive Garden occupies was once the home of two restaurants my folks would take us to many years ago: Coco's and Reuben's. We usually had breakfast or lunch at Coco's and dinner at Reuben's (not on the same day, mind you). Both restaurants closed in the eighties. Back then, I thought the timing was an extraordinary coincidence. Only when I was older would I grasp the concept of parent companies. After a few years, Coco's reappeared a block from its original location when Bob's Big Boy, another family favorite, closed.
>toddled around downtown Burlingame Saturday afternoon. Toddling is good fun, whether it be "walking at a leisurely pace" or "walking with short unsteady steps", though the latter is more likely than the former to attract unwanted attention from onlookers and possibly the police. Anyway, toddling affords one the opportunity to gaze into store windows, stop at cafes for coffee and sit at any number of benches to watch people or read.
>read Jasper Fforde's The Big Over Easy. I recently finished an extensive book about the moral history of the American Civil War and just began a lengthy book about Abraham Lincoln and his cabinet. I thought I would take a break from the laugh-a-minute reading and spend the weekend reading something shorter and more serious, which is why I selected a novel that follows Detective Inspector Jack Spratt and Sergeant Mary Mary of Reading's Nursery Crimes Division as they investigate the murder of Humperdinck Jehoshaphat Aloyius Stuyvesant van Dumpty. If you like puns, fun with plot devices, parodies or general nonsense and need a good chuckle or groan, I'd highly recommend this book.
>contemplated hiking, but didn't because I couldn't make up my mind. Part of the problem is that I get bogged down with the possibilities. It's the whole too-many-choices-where-do-I-start predicament, which, by the way, is also known as "The Predicament Most Likely to Garner No Sympathy Whatsoever, so Shut Up and Choose Already". Big Basin, Big Sur and Forest of Nisene Marks are my top picks for hiking in the coming weeks. I'm also trying to narrow down the candidates for hikes starting from the Tioga Road when we return in Yosemite next month.
>watched the pilots of two new television shows on DVD. NBC and Netflix worked out a deal where folks could request a DVD containing the pilots of Studio 60 and Kidnapped. Kidnapped is a single-event drama in the same vein as Lost, 24, Prison Break and every third show scheduled to be on the air this season. I thought the pilot was strong, especially when it focused on Jeremy Sisto as the mercenary hired to find the kidnap victim, but it's difficult to see the writers maintaining the same quality and momentum through all twenty to twenty-four episodes. Studio 60 is Aaron Sorkin's behind-the-scenes look at a sketch comedy television show similar to Saturday Night Live. I'm a fan of Matthew Perry and Sorkin's rapid and sarcastic dialogue (an underpinning of his The West Wing), so I liked it.
Beyond whether or not I liked the shows, I'm sure somebody is wondering why anyone would "waste" a DVD rental to watch two shows that could have been seen for free in a matter of weeks. While I recognize the silliness of it, I let curiosity and novelty get the better of me. To me, it was worth delaying the next movie in my queue by a few days to satisfy that curiosity rather than waiting a month to find out if I liked either show. Plus, a sneak peek of a TV show on DVD sounded like a new and oddly appealing concept. Next year, when every network is promoting their new crop of shows this way, I'm certain the freshness of it all will have worn off.
Have you noticed how the sun has taken to sleeping in lately? He was an early riser just a few weeks ago - peeking over the eastern hills every morning, shining brightly before seven. But now, he doesn't even make an effort to break through the clouds or appear until after nine. I think the change in behavior has something to do with the hubbub over planets in Prague.
Next week, prominent astronomers will vote on a proposal that would promote three heavenly bodies - Ceres, Charon and 2003 UB313 (nicknamed Xena) - to the status of planets. While the possible change in classification is producing anxiety for textbook publishers, teachers and astrologers, can you imagine the stress it's creating for the center of the solar system?
All this time, he's thinking he only has nine kids to look after - making sure they stay in their orbits and out of trouble with comets and asteroids (those rowdy neighborhood punks) - and then some pesky astronomers come along and declare that, based on "size and roundness", three of those troublemakers are actually part of his brood, too. Well, that type of news would come as a shock to anyone and cause even the largest star to sleep in and hide behind the clouds.
Two weeks ago, I wrote that I hadn't hiked for nearly a month. If that tidbit had gone unwritten, I'm almost certain another month without hiking would have slipped by unnoticed, but writing about it made me aware and fueled my desire to get back on the trail that weekend.
The first question was when to hike. Due to family obligations, the only available blocks of time were Saturday and Sunday mornings before eleven. If I got up early enough to be at a trail head by eight and gave myself an hour to get back, shower and drive, I would have roughly two hours to hike. I estimated I could cover four miles of steep terrain or six miles of level terrain in that amount of time.
The next question was where to hike. Since I had recently seen an episode of The Great Outdoors about it and was going to be nearby, I set my heart on hiking Montara Mountain, which is located about twenty miles south of San Francisco and is part of San Pedro Valley Park and McNee Ranch State Park (within Montara State Beach).
Because of the time constraint, I chose to start from San Pedro Valley Park in Pacifica. The plan was to hike the Brooks Creek Trail to the Montara Mountain Trail, which I would take until I reached the boundary between the county and state parks. There, I would backtrack to the trail juncture and take the Montara Mountain Trail down to the starting point. In all, it would be a steep four-mile loop (with a tail, which technically made it a lasso).
From Highway 1, I turned onto Linda Mar Boulevard and took it until it ended at Oddstad Boulevard. I made a right on Oddstad and then a quick left into the park's gated entrance, which opens every morning at eight. Parking was available in the bordering neighborhood, but I felt guilty about leaving my car in front of somebody's house, so I made my five-dollar donation and parked in the empty lot instead.
Before I left the car, I checked the time and temperature. It was 8:10 AM and 60 degrees outside. The trail head was well marked and easy to find from the lot. Despite being a continual climb, hiking the Brooks Creek Trail was a pleasant experience. Eucalyptus and other trees (that I should learn to identify) provided plenty of shade and I could hear the flowing creek below and to my left.
Less than a half-mile into the hike, I came to the first trail junction marked with a signpost and bench. The trail branching to the left was the Old Trout Farm Trail that would loop down to the parking lot if I followed it, so I kept to the right and continued to climb.
The tall trees quickly gave way to manzanita and other shrubs that reminded me of the chaparral in Pinnacles National Monument. I soon came to a second bench that offered a great view of Brooks Falls across the valley. Being summer, the waterfall was barely trickling and hard to spot, but I'm sure it is quite a sight in the winter and spring.
With scarcely a cloud in the sky, I became conscious of the sun and the fact that I had forgotten my wide brim hat. I was obsessing about it and continuing my ascent when I heard slithering by my right foot.
The sound snapped me back to the present and I stopped, looked down and spotted a garter snake parallel parked along the side of the trail. I know they're supposedly harmless, but as soon as the snake started moving again, so did I, but in the opposite direction and at a faster clip.
Just over a mile into the hike, I reached the end of the Brooks Creek Trail and followed the Montara Mountain Trail to the left. For the next third of a mile, I had a fantastic view of Pacifica and the ocean to my right. As the trail continued to rise and bend away from the ocean, I passed two hikers heading the opposite direction. They were the first people I had seen all morning on the trail.
The trail grew steeper and rockier as I progressed. By 9:00 AM, I had successfully negotiated a series of switchbacks to reach the boundary between San Pedro Valley Park and McNee Ranch State Park. The elevation at the border is roughly 1,400 feet, which means I gained just about 1,200 feet of elevation from the trail head.
Because the best of parts of any hike are the moments when I'm standing still, I took a ten-minute break to soak in the view. As I munched on a Clif Bar, I heard approaching footsteps and turned to see a backpacker pass by and continue up the trail into McNee Ranch. Of course, part of me was jealous that he could keep going while I needed to start heading back to the car so I wouldn't be late.
Just as children beg their parents to stay up ten minutes longer, my inner child begged my inner parent to continue hiking just ten minutes more. Apparently, my inner father was on duty because he succumbed to the pleas and I ventured into the state park until 9:20 AM before turning around. If it had been my inner mother, well, no amount of begging would have worked.
Anyway, I made good time downhill. I quickly passed the Brooks Creek Trail junction and followed the Montara Mountain Trail that became a series of gradually descending switchbacks that didn't offer much of a view or any protection from the sights and sounds of civilization, but would be great for trail running.
I reached my car by 9:55 AM. By that time, it was 66 degrees outside and there were only four more cars in the parking lot. All in all, it was a good hike and one I hope to repeat this coming winter or spring. For those who like them, more photos from the hike can be found here.
This weekend, I ate lunch at a fast food joint whose name rhymes with Kurger Bing. It's been a while since I've had eaten there and it was a bit of a shock. Did you know they recently added a burger called the Stacker?
Hanging above the counter was a sizable banner advertising the sizable burger that comes in three sizes: double, triple or quadruple (which also refers to the type of bypass surgery one will need after eating it). Due to its sheer scale and repulsiveness, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the picture of the Quad Stacker.
According to this blog entry from Fast Food Facts (where you can get nutritional info about any item offered by places with names that rhyme with McRonalds and Starducks), the Quad is "4 beef patties, 4 slices of American cheese, 8 strips of bacon, and [KB] Stacker Sauce (featuring high fructose corn syrup!) all on a sesame seed bun". Um, yummy?
As I stood there, I tried to imagine eating one, but couldn't wrap my mind around how I would even fit the thing in my mouth. I finally gave up on that warped mental exercise and ordered something I hoped would be healthier: a plain old chicken sandwich.
Yesterday, the Dodgers completed a sweep of the Giants and they did it in dramatic fashion - with a solo home run in the tenth inning of a scoreless game. It must have been something1 to have been there to witness San Francisco's Jason Schmidt and Los Angeles' Greg Maddux add another chapter to the storied rivalry between the two teams.
By the way, I still can't get over the fact that Maddux is now playing for Los Angeles. When did that happen? He isn't supposed to be a Dodger. He's supposed to be a Brave or a Cub. Before July, he had only ever played for Atlanta or Chicago. I know it's normal these days for players to move from team to team like nomads (millionaire nomads wandering that vast baseball desert in search of more money), but it just seems so strange that he's playing for a team west of the Mississippi.
For eight innings, Schmidt and Maddux made it miserable for the hitters they faced. Schmidt spread five hits over eight innings, while Maddux gave up two singles in the first inning and nothing else. To add to the marvel, Maddux needed a mere 68 pitches to record his 24 outs. It took Schmidt 115 to get his 24.
The sweep helped the Dodgers stay on top of the National League West. It also "helped" the Giants stay at the bottom of the division (7.5 games behind the Dodgers). With a four-game series against San Diego beginning tonight, followed by a three-game series against Los Angeles this weekend, I'm going to be an optimist2 and say their chances of gaining ground in the division are slim.
Because I was curious (and more importantly, because it’s fun), I did a little research to see how Schmidt and Maddux stacked up statistically. Here are five bits of trivia I found interesting. That they all seem to point to the fact that Maddux is better than Schmidt is purely coincidental.- Maddux has won 18 or more games in 9 of his 21 big league seasons. Schmidt has won 18 games once in his 12 seasons.
- Schmidt's best season record was 17 wins and 5 losses in 2003. Maddux's best season record was 19 wins and 2 losses in 1995.
- Maddux has pitched 108 complete games and 35 shutouts in his career. Schmidt has pitched 20 complete games and 9 shutouts.
- Schmidt walks one batter every 2.5 innings. Maddux walks one every 5 innings.
- Schmidt is a career .102 hitter with 7 doubles, 6 home runs and 20 runs batted in. Maddux is a career .174 hitter with 32 doubles, 5 home runs and 78 runs batted in. He has also stolen 8 bases.
1 For Giants fans, that something is known as agony.
2 A pessimist would have said their chances were less than zero.
In an effort to keep my laugh muscles toned, I've been watching this summer's Last Comic Standing. The host, Anthony Clark (whom I liked in Boston Common), claims this is the show's fourth season, but since I have no recollection of seasons two or three, this is the second season as far as I'm concerned.
Until today, I had been reluctant to write about the show in fear that mentioning my favorite comics would somehow jinx them. However, with the finale tonight and the voting over and out of my "control", I feel safe enough sharing some of my thoughts.
As this (second) season progressed, I became fans of three of the comics: Gabriel Iglesias, Chris Porter and Josh Blue.
Of the ten finalists, Gabriel Iglesias was the only one I had heard of before the show began. He caught my attention when he did a radio interview promoting his appearance at the Improv in San Jose two or three years ago.
On Last Comic Standing, he was one of the funniest and most likable comedians. I was sure he would make it to the end, but halfway through the show, he used a BlackBerry to contact his girlfriend, which was a direct violation of the rules. The purpose of the rule was to prevent comedians from cheating and obtaining jokes or material from outside sources. The unfortunate side effect of it was that contestants couldn't communicate with their family or friends. Breaking the rule cost Gabriel the competition and it was disheartening to see him leave that way.
Of my three favorites, I thought Chris Porter had the best chance of winning the whole thing. In the early rounds, he was often the audience favorite. It probably didn't hurt that he bore a striking resemblance to Willy Wonka (or Gene Wilder, if you want to be technical about it). Sometimes his jokes were a little out there, but I thought he was one of the most consistently funny comics. He made it into the final three, but received the least number of votes last week, which led to his elimination last night.
Tonight, it's a showdown between Ty Barnett and Josh Blue, my last favorite standing.
Barnett has been uneven throughout the competition. He has had moments of sheer genius, but has been otherwise flat. Last night, he was the first finalist of the season to recycle his jokes. I know it's a common practice in the comedy world, but in this competition, where comics only have a five-minute routine every week, reusing material seems sloppy. At the very least, he could have used older jokes from earlier in the competition instead of ones he told just last week.
Most of Josh's routine focuses on the fact that he suffers from cerebral palsy, a topic that may seem like a comedy graveyard, but is actually a goldmine for him. Just as other comedians use their ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or marital status to fuel their acts, Josh fuels his using his disability and he gets great mileage with it.
Tonight, I'm rooting for Josh to win. And I think he'll do it, not because of sympathy votes, to which his detractors will likely credit his victory, but because he's truly funnier than Ty.
Song on my mind... "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley (song starts playing automatically)
I remember when
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions have an echo and so much space
And when you're out there
Well, out there, yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly
Last night, we had dinner with friends at the Sonoma Chicken Coop in Campbell. Although I had walked by it a number of times on my way to Orchard Valley Coffee, I had never made a point to stop in. I'm glad we finally did.
Ever since the original one opened in downtown San Jose, I've been a Coop fan. The prices are cheap, but the food quality isn't. It's a self-serve restaurant, which means there is usually a line to order, but it isn't a big deal because that means more time to peruse the menu and choose what I want to eat. Last night, I tried the tarragon grilled ahi tuna (with potatoes, tomatoes and greens), which was delicious.
San Jose's Coop is long and narrow with an equal number of indoor and outdoor seating. Before, I thought it was a decent size, but now that I’ve been to the new one, it seems tiny.
Campbell's Coop is a two-story joint with a bar and a brewery. The bar offers live music every Thursday night and live comedy every Sunday night. The brewery produces a selection of five beers: Brown Porter, ESB, Kölsch, Kristall Weizen, and Pale Ale. To satisfy one-fifth of my curiosity, I tried a Coop's Pale Ale. I'll have to make four more trips to satisfy the rest of my curiosity to tell you if it's my favorite brew.
Since we arrived early for dinner, we had some time beforehand to wander across the street and explore Trailsloggers, an outdoors store. It's just a small shop that doesn't have the wide selection of REI, but has the undeniable charm of a local business. Of course, I might have a slightly positive bias because it's where I received an early birthday gift in the form of a chocolate brown Life is Good cap with a cartoon mountain and trees and a slogan that says, "Get Out."
This past weekend, San Jose held its second annual Grand Prix. The streets of downtown were closed to let eighteen professional champ car drivers zip through the heart of the city. On race day (Sunday), I could hear the roar of engines all the way from south San Jose.
Competing against zippy racecars was the annual Gilroy Garlic Festival. Although I didn't attend, I could smell the "festivities" from Highway 101. Thankfully, I couldn't hear the singing from Garlic Idol, a new contest they held this year.
Because I dislike the crowds, noise and odor they generate, I usually avoid both events and have actually discovered that it's better to experience them from a distance, usually a distance measured in miles. It's what I like to call remote enjoyment.
So, this past weekend, we stayed away from San Jose and Gilroy and visited Carmel instead. We chose Carmel because we heard celebrities were attending Rupert Murdoch's conference in neighboring Pebble Beach and we thought there might be a chance of catching a glimpse of Bono or Arnold Schwarzenegger or Nicole Kidman or the Clintons around town, if they happened to tire of mingling on the links and decided to escape to Carmel's art galleries instead.
Okay, not really. We were actually there to attend Carmel's Bach Festival. Although, I must admit that it tickled my brain to think I might cross paths with Tony Blair or Al Gore if they happened to like classical music.
Anyway, it was foggy and muggy all day Saturday. There was so much moisture in the air that if I had a bottle of shampoo on me, I could have washed and rinsed my hair in the time it took to walk from the car to the cafe. As it was, I had to wipe down my glasses twice just to see where I was going.
We luckily found seating under an awning at the cafe to shield us from the mist and keep our books from growing damp. After finishing a salad, sandwich and cafe au lait, we wandered around a little before settling down in another cafe (across the street from the first one) for more coffee. The previous sentence covers about three hours of real time, just in case I gave anybody the impression that I was chugging coffee non-stop.
For dinner, we tried a restaurant called Sushi Heaven, which is located on Dolores, between 7th and 8th Streets. The sashimi was mouth-watering, the service was swift (even with a full house) and the prices were cheap by Carmel standards (or moderate by "real world" standards).
Afterwards, we walked a block over to the Sunset Center to listen to some music. Before every main concert, the festival offers a free twenty-minute concert, known as Tower Music, which showcases a brass sextet performing in the outdoor courtyard. Because of the misty conditions, the festival organizers moved the concert inside for the evening.
With the festival being called the Bach Festival, one would think most of the music performed (if not all of it) would be from J.S. Bach's vast body of work, but that wasn't the case. In fact, only two of the seven weekly concerts featured his music and even then, he had to share top billing with Mozart and Handel. It's almost as though the planners were intentionally trying to diss Bach at his own festival. Even the music played during the free concert wasn't written or inspired by Bach. Instead, we heard pieces by Ottorino Respighi.
Afterwards, we purchased tickets for Tuesday night's concert called Encountering Mozart - The "Aha!" Concert (aha!, not a-ha), which highlighted Mozart's music to honor his 250th birthday.
Jumping ahead to Tuesday evening, we drove to Carmel after work and dined at La Dolce Vita, a small Italian restaurant less than a block away from the Sunset Center. The food was so-so, the service was slow (they seemed to forget about us after serving the main course) and the prices were moderate by Carmel standards.
We arrived at the theatre about fifteen minutes before the concert began. I bought a souvenir program for five dollars and then we took our seats in the balcony, which isn't very far from the stage because the hall is cozy (read "not very big, but in a good way").
The program was a combination of arias (from Idomeneo, The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni) and symphonies (No. 36, 40 and 41). In between pieces, a narrator read selected letters Mozart wrote to his father and friends. The orchestra was small (roughly thirty members), but filled the hall with spirited music. The singers were also amazing. The standouts didn't shy away from letting their personality and humor show through, which added a sense of joy to their performance.
Carmel's Bach Festival is a three-week event that began July 15 and ends August 5 (this Saturday). So, if you're interested in listening to wonderful classical music by composers other than Bach, you still have two days to do so. As for me, I can't wait for the festival to return next year.
Because I intend to make August my most prolific month ever (in terms of the number of entries I post, not the number of words I write, which is ironic considering the topic of this entry), I just wanted to let everybody know that NaNoWriMo has jumped on the bandwagon and now has a blog of its own. Only ninety days until the 50,000-word novel challenge begins!
Since exploring Desolation Wilderness four weeks ago, I haven't been hiking much. Okay, that isn't true. I haven't been hiking at all, but I only have myself to blame. More accurately, I only have my low tolerance for high temperatures and high gas prices to blame.
To hold me over while I find the will to leave this air-conditioned dwelling to fill the tank, I've been hiking and visiting parks virtually. Thanks to the wonder of blogs, folks are sharing stories and photos from their latest hiking and backpacking adventures online. They're also offering advice about gear and suggesting parks to explore. It doesn't beat venturing outside, but it keeps me from going stir crazy. Here are some of my favorites:
Two-Heel Drive - Tom Mangan surfs the web and finds all sorts of interesting links related to hiking and backpacking. He also includes his own trip reports from time to time.
The Wildebeat - Steve Sergeant produces this informative, quality audio journal about "getting into the wilderness" (as the host says every podcast). There are interviews, gear reviews and trip reports. Each entry is about five to ten minutes long.
Dan's Outside - Dan Mitchell combines his love of the outdoors with his love of photography. He most recently took some wonderful photos (like this one) of Yosemite and Mono Lake.
Yosemite Blog - Speaking of Yosemite, this one covers everything happening around California's most famous national park - the rockslides, the road closures, the missing hikers, the bears and the fires - all the reasons I love the park. Oh, and he has an entry every now and then showing Yosemite's beauty.
National Parks Traveler - Kurt Repanshek doesn't limit himself to just one park. He talks about them all and issues affecting them. He also covers anything related to the National Park Service, which lately seems to be making decisions that aren't in line with its mission to "preserve the value and natural and cultural resources" of the nation's parks.
Go on and check them out and then get outside! (And don't worry, I'll be heeding my own advice very soon.)
