DEC 2014--BOB'S BIRTHDAY AND HOLIDAY CHEER
SUN DEC 21, 2014 TO LA
Well it's that time again, Bob's birthday
weekend--whether it's exactly a weekend or not, we've got ourselves 3 days
holiday in La la land.
 |
| OK IT'S A BATHROBE. (MINK COAT WASN'T AVAILABLE.) |
 |
| CAR TO LEFT IS OUR LYFTE AUTO, BABY CARRIAGE IN TRUNK |
 |
| WE'RE EARLY AS USUAL |
"We're passing the airport where we're not going," says Bob. Looks like we won't be going to the airport with Lyfte after this as our genial Lyfte driver Michael tells us Lyfte can no longer take passengers to or from that repository of rules and regs. He agrees it may be the taxi unions hand in this decision. Drat.
Passing Rocco's condo on the right or think we do. Bob
delighted that the highway we are parallel to he is not driving on today. “Up
the Rose Canyon fault now” Bob announces. He knows these things I'm blissfully
ignorant of. I do remember Mark Wing’s Rose Canyon Cafe we used to frequent 25
years ago. What happens to people?
.wmv)
Bob now goes for bottled water and muffins ("we're
paying for it" - there's complimentary wifi too). We decide not to go
downstairs for bloody Mary's (you don't need it says Bob--I show him my shaking
hands in joking (thank god—so far) reply.
The train is very sparse, an advantage of being the
starting location. We suppose we'll pick up passengers along the way.
Sorrento stop. Pretty green hills. Qualcomm seems to own
it all! "Bringing disaster where we go", says Bob as we wait and wait
at this stop because the conductor finally announces a door is jammed open and
the engine consequently has shut down--go figure. We wait for a south bound
train to eventually pass which will permit us to proceed. Understandeth not but
at least we won't be stranded here for the remainder of the day. Good thing the
concert's at 2. Turns out we are only a hundred yards from the Sorrento Valley
station when the mini-disaster happened.
Bob points out that the seat goes back and there's a
footrest. "All the comforts of home," I say. And here's water, at
first a marsh with ocean beyond and then the ocean, cliffs and dunes.
Next Solana Beach. Bob reminds me that "you lured me
to California" with that magical liquid sound. So-Laaana Beach. The
conductor warns that each stop must be brief to make up for the lost time.
I don't remember it being so scenic a ride in past. Maybe
it's because we're high up. Also Bob reminds that it was supposed to be high
surf yesterday, must be today as well.
Surfers undressing and dressing behind their cars and
those others bobbing away, groups of colorfully clad bicyclists. Oceanside he
announces. But it's Encinitas. Next Carlsbad Pointsettia and the ocean view
gives way for a while to shops and then intermittent glimpses of ocean
interspaced with packs of houses, many of them double wides.
Carlsbad with its Tudoresque houses. These are pretty places--seaside locations
help.
“Oceanside next. A Coaster ticket will take you this far.”
Not by a long shot as pretty as Carlsbad and the others though a sailboat
harbor has charm. Camp Pendelton doesn't. And we're racing the neighboring cars
on I-5. I've been reading a Sue Grafton and I wish I had her powers of
description to describe the magic of Southern California in evidence here.
I hear a woman doing a high minded monologue. Something
about an anthropological perspective. "We don't have to have high-minded
conversations," says Bob. I say we resolutely refuse to. She's saying “What
does it mean.” Good question.
Still plenty of water to be seen; now we are yards, then
feet away then hovering right over the waves. Lovely. Then the backsides of
beach front houses crammed together.
San Juan Capistrano. Pretty stop. Dads taking photos of
toddlers at a petting zoo. Hummingbird cafe feasters having breakfast outside
by the cactuses. Then hills of green.
 |
| THERE'S A PETTING ZOO HERE. |
Bob notes we're approaching the big merge of I-5 and 405.
(Stuff he as driver-in-chief knows) But I see no evidence of that from this
vantage.
"If Irvine is your destination" (it isn't)
"now is the time to gather your belongings". The conductors voice is
convivial, unflappable. He's positively avuncular. Makes even Irvine welcoming.
Bob says "New Jersey. You're in New Jersey."
Very pleasant. We vowed that this coming year's
subscription at the LA Taper will be the last but I'm thinking if there's a
production we really want to see, we could take the train, stay over at the Omni
(it is a long ride at 2 1/2 hours each way after all) no muss no fuss.
Santa Anna coming up. Very big, very Spanishy station.
We're here only twenty seconds or so; wonder if anyone gets on or off--they'd
sure need to hustle if they did.
"Anaheim next." "Scenic Anaheim; one big
business park," says Bob. There's the Angel Stadium, a relative bright
spot.
 |
| ANGELS STADIUM |
"Fullerton coming up in a moment." (He varies
his signposts.) We're clearly into the industrial look part of our journey but
that station itself is modern and pretty.
The day started out clear (weather talk) and now it's
overcast.
I miss a photo of a long wall of graffiti (great subject, the artistry and colors pop) and realize
how much I love taking photos; and this little trip offers so much photogenic
opportunity. I tell Bob that all of the landscape is beautiful, even the
industrial part with its geometric planes and strange shapes. Mini oil pumps
rhythmically pumping for example are beautiful.
The plenitude. Phalanxes of
trucks, of containers. Power towers. I tell Bob it's sensory overload for me .
He says, close your eyes.
Pass "City of Vernon. Exclusively Industrial."
At least they're honest.
And then in the distance the big city of dreams rises out
of the mist.
We're in the iconically photogenic Union Station with its
exciting passage to a taxi that whisks us to the Omni by noon.
 |
| IT'S LA. THERE ARE HOMELESS PEOPLE. |
 |
| SISTERS. SISTERS. |
 |
| LA TIMES BLDG. |
 |
| SCARY AND BEAUTIFUL. |
And our suite here is ready for us. It takes five minutes
to get all of our vouchers for 3 days of breakfasts, drinks (2 a day each) and
appetizers to compensate for the loss of the club lounge under renovation. The clerk
tells us that it will be "even more exclusive" which I translate as
more expensive. She says it will be $100 more per night because people were
having meals and drinking a lot at the open bar (well I never!).
We better get a lot out of this day as it's the shortest
day of the year says Bob. We no doubt will since there's so much scheduled.
On the way to the Patina Grill at 12:45 we pass the
construction of The Contemporary at The Broad (Eli Broad's erection to himself)
much progressed since last we saw it, swathed in most of its skin now. Plenty
of tables since the adjacent Taper starts at 1 and our matinee is the All Mozart concert
of the Philomonic at the Disney at 2.
We're serenaded by the doo wop duo singing Christmas
Carols this time to the entering Taperites. The fingerling potatoes
accompanying our perfect cheeseburgers are great. Waiter: are u still working
on this? I To Bob. No you're slaving over it. (Hate that favorite “working” expression
from servers). It's 1:10. Guess we don't need that much time to dine here.
Didn't need to be anxious.
Good to know you can catch the pre-concert lecture from
any parapet at any time prior to the concert. But we catch the finale where he
talks about Mozart’s burial at age 35. Oh well.
The program: Trevor Pinnick conductor. Overture to La
Clemenza di Tito; piano concerto No. 9 in E-flat major, Beatrice Rana, young in
a great sparkly lavender gown is technically magnificent, though she sounded tentative
in the andante passages. She takes an encore with Pinnick himself, jubilant and
fun.
Intermission. Time to explore some of the numerous nooks and crannies in this marvel of a sculpturesque hall where there are no bad seats (we're rather high up). Our first time here we sat on opposite ends of the auditorium and traded seats at intermission. Had second row center last year at this time for Master Chorale's Handel's Messiah.
Symphony No 39 in E-flat major. Six German Dances. (This a last minute substitute because the scheduled soprano Miah Persson withdrew--illness.) Not the kind of dances you can Zumba to but lovely and lively nevertheless. It's MOZART for gods sake. Even if he wrote it on the fly as it’s said what could be bad? |
| SKINNY LADS |
Afterward that short walk to the Suite Life. Again it's
so comfortable, hard to leave. But we do have our obligation to trade in our
drink vouchers (2 apiece per day) at the Noe Bar downstairs.
Bob as we look over the program at the Taper for What The
Butler Saw. "It's geriatric week, Paxton Whitehead (my friend Roger played
with him in Candida--Whitehead wasn't young even then, 40 years ago) Angela
Lansbury, and me"--well his 76 still isn't 89 or whatever age she is. (It is
89.)
 |
| LARGE PATRON |
At intermission we are at a very rare loggerheads, I
terribly disappointed having thought Orton was incredibly funny when I read him
but not now and Bob loving it. He's right. Once I (or they--all practiced
actors) get into the rhythm of this satirical farce lampooning British mores in
Wildean fashion, I'm hooked. Rape, incest, cross-dressing is the norm here in a
psychiatric clinic. "You can't be a rationalist in an irrational world. It
isn't rational," says the insane autocratic psychiatrist from "her
majesty's government" who blithely declares everyone insane as the plot
forces them to remove their clothes.
Then we wander into more over-the-topness in Grand Park, ablaze with Christmas lights. Some teens videoing other kids singing Christmas songs. "All I want for Christmas is you-oo." (U-tube alert.) Bob admitting all of this is what big cities are for.
Vouchers hot in my pocket we are shortly thereafter back in Noe bar, chardonnays please "Buttery, fruit forward, complete avoidance of Barnyard" we joke and the chef's cheese plate. With lots of accompaniments. Just right.
MONDAY DEC 22.
I decide to be silly in bed in the morning because I've
had more than the requisite 7 hours and Bob now that it's 7:30 has had 102.
What to do with myself while he persists in trying to sleep despite my
silliness, making funny noises and such and announcing that I'll photograph the
toiletries. I hear him say "Good God." (Well they are nice.) He hands
me the remote and lies there, inert.
Looking down at the pool. Tip. Next time bring swim
paraphenelia (e.g. suit and goggles),
wear suite-supplied silky chamois robe and lap away; it's open at 6:30.
At the reception I complain that we got only 3 breakfast
vouchers instead of 6 for each of us for 3 days. Louise or Lorraine offers us
extra appetizer and drink vouchers and we, two babes in a toy shop warehouse,
are mightily pleased. She says the new club lounge should be open for New
Year's Eve.
We use our need to get change for tips as an excuse to
wander to the Bank of America, past the Christmas trees, the sculptures, all
the holiday time or any time opulence encapsulated here in downtown LA. Amazing
lofty spaces never cease to amaze.
Listening to Mayor DiBlasio addressing cops who despise
him after the slaying of two cops. That's a tough one.
 |
| MY OLD ITT PROGRAM BLDG. IN BACKGROUND |
Lyfte fails, gives a wrong address for our location and
offers no way to make the correction so cab it is.
$30.42 for the taxi to the museum. Yikes. (I'd arranged
for us to take a bus at the senior rate of $1.50 but Bob decanted).
B says we were here at LACMA many years ago but thinks
they've added pavilions. I remember all the modern stuff actually on the main
floor of the Ahmanson pavilion. Odd collection of buildings displaying art. The
Asian collection is well housed in high ceilinged well lighted rooms of restful
dark brown.
Mid-century Japanese pavilion provides slightly
vertiginous feeling as one wends up the ramps Guggenheim museum style. Lots of
screens. Its special exhibit is art of the samurai.
We even drop into the Korean Art pavilion. lots of modern pieces.
 |
| THE ELEVATOR IS AN ART PIECE |
 |
| LONG ROW OF GOURMET FOOD TRUCKS |
Another $30 something to get back by cab by our
"originally from Ethiopia" driver a bit before 3. Hungry, we buy
bananas and chips from the hotel shop and have this repast in the suite (ok I'm
fixated on the suitenes of it all) with home brewed martinis.
Our next excuse to walk is to pick up our tickets for
tomorrow's Blythe Spirit at the, again those rich endowing Republicans, the
Ahmanson. Important to stop at all those holiday festooned places we've visited
so many times before, the Bonaventure, the Biltmore, plazas, the (thank
goodness) street escalator. The skyscraper lights of downtown are a wonder.
After that long peregrination, we settle into a window table in Noe, quieter tonight--no football game on the TV, instead a piano player, quite good, "let it snow" "taking a chance on love". "0 holy night o night divine." and he can do credenzas while keeping up a conversation. We're happy. Compliments of lovely vouchers. Martinis and steak quesadillas (far better choice than cheeseburgers but likely next time we'll be choosing from the appetizer buffet in the "refurbished" [doesn't look like they've done much up there] club lounge).
A vodka chaser upstairs in the suite and so to bed.
TUESDAY DEC 23.
Our only
"obligations" today are to have the buffet breakfast in the Grand restaurant,
have lunch at Kendall's I think, attend the play starring Miss Landsbury and
use up the last of the drink and appetizer vouchers. How my obligations to
Bob's once a year occasion will fill in the rest is a mystery. Hope he's got
some wishes in this matter. Being me I'll probably badger him and that won't be
helpful. Play against type Olin!
I find a silky ribbon from a hangar in the closet to give
a little pizazz to the tissue paper wrapped present for Bob. He accepts his
t-shirt emblazoned with "SOB. Sweet Old Bob" with giggles and though I
say this time (he never wore last year's Bob t-shirt bearing a more arrogant
legend) he'll want to wear it, I suspect he won't. I say "I'll wear it.
People will ask are you Bob. I'll say he's my husband". Bob: "I once
knew him." Yes, I'm badgering the poor guy already. Damn. And isn't a gift
supposed to be for the receiver not the giver? Though he did receive from me a
plush robe--thank you Amazon--something I thought he'd like; he enjoys the soft
robes suites provide after all though the one I got him is big enough for a summo
wrestler. Well what if he gets really fat in his 80's; he'll thank me then.
I say you know
you're old when you progress from receiving birthday cards sent with 3 cent
stamps to iPhone animated greetings. Now he's looking at my jibjab animated
card, his visage inserted in 50's newsreels plus my message--the thing works.
Then there are greetings from the various cruise lines we've sailed with, RSVP,
celebrity, Princess showing a ship taking him to different destinations. This
of course gives me an opportunity to summarize the destinations he'll be going
to next year, South America soon, good old Puerto Vallarta, then Japan, and then Australia-New
Zealand-South Pacific. I guess the badgering persists. Ay yai.
He reads his horoscope. "You have reached the stage where
you no longer care what others think of you. . . . Be yourself." Perfect
we agree.
Close to 9:30 we stragglers are at the buffet. Good that
they vary it. Today there are chiquilladores which are delicious, pancakes
instead of French toast, that sort of thing, even a new guy making omelettes
though we don't employ his services today. Of the decor Bob notes that the
light fixtures are sending up Dorothy Draper (they've been emphasizing
mid-century in the hotel's refurbishments we've noted). I say a little Draper
goes a long way. Actually they've "branded" the place up--a wonderful
Afican jazz musician mural has been papered over--though the dated stone facing
here and there from its Four Seasons days when we were frequent guests still remains. We notice that there are still many Asian
guests in the hotel (though Bob admits he doesn't know if they're from Asia or
here. I don't hear any Brooklynite Vera Wang accents however). The Japanese
buffet of past years though is noticeably absent.
Returning to
the room for sunglasses (it's pleasant out) we notice our complimentary paper's
headline says New York Mayor Beseeches For Calm" and decide that it's the
wrong usage, shouldn't it be "beseeches calm"? Nevertheless, the theme is there. These
are times of troubled waters needing some oil upon them.
 |
| STAGE MOTHER AT WORK |
 |
| THAT PARK AGAIN |
 |
| MUSIC CENTER NORTH |
 |
| TAKE A RIGHT |
 |
| MUSIC CENTER SOUTH |
Bob requests
that we walk over and look at the Cathedral (which we've also done before). His
wish is today's command.
Bob has a Plan: to cathedral, down hill to Broadway, then
to Libe and then to the street escalator.
I remark to bob that a group of young Hispanics are switching easily from Spanish to English. "You're bilingual too. English and Yiddish," he responds. "More Gestural than bilingual" I add.
As we approach the cathedral I remark that it's really quite ugly.
Bob replies "Its regarded as an architectural masterpiece." I say I'm sticking
to it. The actual entrance and courtyard is interesting. Then there's something in the distance that looks like the robot from The Day the Earth Stood Still.
Inside, another story, monumental. Bob points out in one
of the many beautiful wall hangings of worshipers of different stripes
"mother Cabrini of martini fame." She doesn't look particularly
louche. I do recognize Mother Teresa in another. One mother is not like
another. (Rhyme).
 |
| WOW |
 |
| ECUMENICAL TIME. ONE NIGHT TO GO. |
 |
| VERY LOUD BELLS EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES |
 |
| DOOR DEVOTED TO MARY |
 |
| WHAT'S INSIDE? |
 |
| VIDEO ART: IMAGES OF CHRIST. |
 |
| THE WORSHIPER TAPESTRIES |
 |
| NO COMMENT. |
 |
| THE OTHER DOOR |
 |
| AMAZING PLACE |
Doing Bob's bidding on to the bookstore which is a kick. Plaster
saints for $12. I offer to buy Bob one of his choosing but he declines. In the
cathedral I asked if this makes him want to be a catholic again. "No. To
be an architect." There's Cathedral of our Lady of the Angels chardonnay
for $14.95. That's more to my liking but it's his birthday.
Since the cathedral's rest room looks like a "t room" (explanation only on request) we avoid it for better. I recall my old NYC friend Roger who frequented them and say that it's ironic that he's now a gay priest. Bob's rejoinder is that he's the kind of priest you can be with an online subscription. I recall an anecdote Bob actually says he doesn't remember me telling him that Roger turned down a "gig" he offered me (when I too was an actor) to be a fake Rabbi for a guy setting up a fake wedding ceremony to appease the "bride's" parents. I turned the rotter down probably less that it was unethical but that I felt I couldn't pull it off and the cheapskate only offered $50 (though I could have used the money then). The point was that Roger would have gladly accepted the gig if he was supposed to play a priest. I've known great characters in my time. Father Roger Fawcett makes the cut.
In the category of doing what we've never done we visit
the LA Times lobby rotunda with its great WPA mural and little museum.
Fascinating display of major front page events over years. And futuristic
prophesies.
Now that we're in what Bob considers to be a close
approximation of our beloved scary NYC 14th St., he leads me to the Bradbury Building
with its magnificent atrium which he says appeared on all those noir movies.
Late 19th magnificence.
YOU WON'T FIND THIS TREASURE IN A "POSH" NEIGHBORHOOD
The million dollar theatre's across the street and next door to that old landmark is the Grand Central Market which we enter. Fabulousness. Bob rightly says we spend thousands to go into places like this in Europe.
 |
| ... which this once was |
 |
| THE BRADBURY. IT'S ABOUT THE INTERIOR. |
The million dollar theatre's across the street and next door to that old landmark is the Grand Central Market which we enter. Fabulousness. Bob rightly says we spend thousands to go into places like this in Europe.
 |
| LONG LINES FOR "EGGSLUT'S" EGGS |
 |
| THE COLORS, THE OPTIMISM! |
 |
| ONCE GREAT. STILL A TREASURE. |
Here's a street artist buttering up a mother. Of her child,
"She's so purty I wanna see how she comes out."
No white faces. "As Sondheim lyricized in West Side
Story of Puerto Ricans (in LA it's Mexicans). "Everyone there is
here."
The streets are Bustling with life. Looming ahead is the
Eastern bldg, a blue crinalinated marvel. Now it contains condos. And with it
the neighborhood suddenly changes to upscale but first . . ..
Jewelry markets crowd for space. We Pass a place selling
Rolexes which Bob peruses. "My watch (today it's a vinyl purple Swatch) is
the real thing," I announce. "The real what?" Hmm.
Pershing park. Bob says of the fountain area, "one
of the most awful designs. The wall up around the fountain. Besides its
inaccessible, all walled." But it does have an ice skating rink, the ice
cleaning machine currently doing its dance there.
 |
| ATTACH BALCONIES AND GO UPSCALE |
 |
| KEEP THE FIRE ESCAPES FOR THE GRAFITTI ARTISTS |
 |
| ENTERING PERSHING PARK |
 |
| ICE RINK |
 |
| I LOVE "NO" SIGNS |
A quick turn thru the Biltmore again; we again look at the
photos of assembled stars in Hollywood's golden years.
I take a photo of people being photographed in the
Biltmore's little wonderland setting, and explain to an incredulous Bob that I
find that sort of interaction makes an interesting subject. "You'll take a
photo of anything that . . " "moves . . . or doesn't move" I
fill in," though offended I think there's some truth there.
How can we pass up the library (even though we've yet to
visit San Diego's new downtown wonder) with its colorful ceilings and amusingly charming court.
Not far (thank goodness. I'm getting tired) to the
Escalators which are well populated now when at night we were sole occupants.
Taking respite in our suite before heading out to a late
lunch, we watch the maid scurry around tidying up. It takes a while. We must be
dirty boys.
I tell Bob to his inquiry that I'm a little wobbly.
"That's because you're lightheaded for lack of food." I get Yiddish. "I know they had a big breakfast buffet but I shouldn't hold back so much."
Ha.
 |
| GOOD TO THE LAST BITES |
When we arrive at Kendall's after 2, because they're now
setting up for dinner, that lovely sound of silverware and crockery, we are
given the choice of either the bar or the high table (always fun especially
when there's no one else at it--so that's where we'll dine). Our actor, I mean
server, is very pleasant and serves us a Vega Sindon chardonnay--tasty--and
skirt steaks (large portions) corn potato salad and a mixed green salad.
Bob says "its been a very pleasant day. I'm
kveling." Then asks how does one kvell? I illustrate. "It's The
rolling of the eyes. A slow declining of the head, preferably to the left and
emitting a sound of pleasurable exhalation from high to mid-range
tesatura." His attempt is a mockery.
100 some dollars and we're outta there, sufficiently close
to Disney Hall's shop, where although Bob peruses the beckoning quirky and
pricey items he finds nothing worthy of a birthday takeaway.
 |
| DOWNTOWN TOREADORS |
 |
| THEY GROW THEM BIG IN LA |
We're both bent on doffing our shoes, wiggling our toes
and resting after the effort of dining well. Which we do.
I've got to thank these people (like keep coming here for
starters). We drink our champs watching Josh Barrow on Chris Hayes' show. He's
cute says Bob. I'd like to f- his brains I say. That Bob is amused says much
about our wonderful relationship.
So Bob is really pleased with his day as we approach the
Ahmanson theatre. We've got first row mezzanine so neat. Ten minutes to eight
and the theatre is pretty empty. Will it full up in ten minutes?
Turns out BLYTHE SPIRIT at the Ahmanson is wonderful,
flawlessly performed by a stellar cast--another bunch of Brits like the Orton
production.
This time in the Noe Bar lounge the piano guy also sings, like all those guys
who don't have a great vocal instrument but are musicians, more of a jazz vibe.
Even on Silent Night. Bartender says it's the same guy. I look, same fedora.
Server says he sometimes wears a Phantom of the Opera mask. It's ok (that he didn't), I say.
WED DEC 24
We're quite early (I tell Bob who said there'd be huge
holiday crowds that he worries for both of us and that's ok). The track hasn't
been posted yet so this gives us time to roam around and outside of the great
union station. The gardens seem to be a good place for contemplation. I talk of
the many times I took the train to and from this station to oversee my LA job
training program. This gets me into a discussion of the homophobia at ITT in my
last days there. Then I say one shouldn't dwell on the negative when there are
so many positive moments. There's our resort for example; we shouldn't let the
great times owning it be subsumed by the negative. Treacly thoughts to match
boughs of holly and figgy pudding? Maybe. I suspect that it's just hard to
achieve healthy thinking.
Announcement as our eyes affixed on the Departures sign,
"Jose Vasquez please come to the ticket window." I speculate that
there'll be at least five Jose Vasquezes lining up from this passenger pool.
Forgot how long a walk it can be to the tracks, this one,
9B is quite. A trek. Tip. Next year take the courtesy car to the train.
As we wait where we think business class will board, the
Coast Starlight train pulls in across from our track. There's the dining car.
Memories of our train journey from Seattle to San Diego on the Starlight, the
club car, our cabin with the shower over the toilet, the sofa seat convertible
to bunk beds. Quite a trip in every sense.
We leave at 10:04, 14 minutes after scheduled departure.
I've got an email reply from the loyalty services lady for my thank you for the
champs and cake and card we got yesterday for Bob's birthday: "Dear Ms.
Olin, I am glad that you and your husband . . . " We are mirthful. Next
time I'll need to say I'm Mr. Olin and it's my spouse's (I used that term
initially) birthday Dec. 23. We guess "Dr. Olin" would be ambiguous.
Trying to sleep (got only 5 hours last night) but
awakened by the conductor at every stop spaced apart every ten minutes or so
but then Bob says “Water". And there it is the sand the surf past San Juan
Capistrano. "Look how beautiful it is, the weather, and it's Christmas Eve
day," I say. Don't want to close my eyes. Might miss the view. It's clear
Bob finds the view enticing too.
IS
 |
| BIG BOSOMS |
 |
| THE SAN DIEGO VERSION IS OUR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR |
Alas there was equipment exchange along the way and this
is a replacement train; hence no double decker level but again we take coast
view seats. And to our Santa Fe station in San Diego no slouch in the cathedral
station department itself.
Need to rest for our next stop in the holiday continuum
our traditional Christmas eve visit along with Don to Rick Campione’s fabulous
house on the park there to join hundreds of others, mostly his salon clients in
gouging ourselves on giant piles of food and drink at one of the two bars at
opposite ends of the pool. On our way down into the living room where the
pianist is playing, Bob slips and falls and gives me a great scare; the only
hurt seems to be to his feelings when a younger man who leaps to help him up keeps
asking him if he’s alright as if he’s attending to his grandfather.
THURSDAY, DEC 25 CHRISTMAS DAY
 |
| DON'S GIFT BOWL COMES IN A PRETTY PACKAGE |
Yes Rocco works on Christmas and he’s in a good mood this
year; he’s got a new condo and he’s getting gifts, exchanging a bottle of vodka
for our bonus check though his conversation focusses on his deadbeat tenant who
has been caught sleeping in one of the warren of rooms he rents out; Rocco has
employed Guantanamo torture technique by playing loud music through the night so
there’s much discussion about how to legally get the guy out without Rocco
falling on the blade of a harassment charge.
My job when we get home is to put together best photos
from the 1000 (!) I took during the 3 day LA birthday trip for a slide show at
dinner for Don and I make it just under the wire for his arrival at 2:30. We’ve
opened the gift he gave us of a beautiful blue glass bowl purchased not at the
swap meet, his usual venue, but from his friend Richard’s antique store. It now sits on the dining table, soon to bear
the fruit of Bob’s labors all morning, a glorious Christmas dinner featuring a
squash soup for starters, an entrée of ham, sweet potatoes, salad and
cranberries and dessert. Don reminisces about his family in Wisconsin and we
reminisce about old times too—this is what old people do. Afterward time to
subject Don to a slide show of our December peregrinations, the West Coast
Santa Barbara Getaway on the Golden, the San Francisco trip for Danny’s
memorial service and the LA stay for Bob’s birthday. This time no glitches with
the slide show but it and drink have put us all in the mood for beddy bye.
As to Into The Woods, I disagree with the premise as evidenced in the song
"you are never alone" since some are. Bob says "That's very
sensitive of you." I say "I meant it to be discursive." Actually
I disagree with reviewers who dislike the second half probably because it's dark and people die. Bob was disappointed. Prefers stage productions of it. I on other hand didn't
much like the last production of Woods we saw, a minimalist version at the Old Globe
(where it originated many years ago and our first glimpse of it before Broadway) that I felt
wanting and I found this incarnation a natural and well realized for the screen.
Head to J. P. Changs. The 2 person 4 course prix fixe for
$39. Bottle of chard for $20. Hot and
sour soup and appetizer both very good. Kung Pao shrimp "delicious"
and Mongolian Beef "lovely", meat seared and something else happened
to it". "Sauced?" Bob "good choice. Glad we came here. I've
been dreaming of a good Chinese meal. Or an American version of one." Two
forks and one delicious "incredible" peanut butter and chocolate icecreamy thing. "Authentically Schezuan." $63.75 pre tip. Some waiter eye
candy too. 
We're home after 3, confident that we've accomplished a
great deal. After all today being Sunday, we neither of us will exercise (day
of rest says the Bible or Ben Franklin's Almanac or something) so cramming
stuff into the morning--film started at 9:45--is an age appropriate
accomplishment.
SUNDAY DEC 28.
 |
| NOT EVERYONE IS FORTUNATE |
What better way to spend the holidays than at the mall, a great American trradition.The mall in this case being one of the better ones, The Mission Center mall. Now our Mission this morning Centers (ha) around going to the movies, catching the opening of the movie adaptation of Sondheim's Into the Woods. On the way we pass Tifany's and see Rocco's client who he charmingly dubs his "Jew" working behind the counter. "What am I? Chopped Liver?" is my retort. Am I not a Jew too? to misquote Shylock. Rocco is an equal opportunity faux-bigot. Calls his Mexivan-Chinese client his "Asian Rose".
Head to Sur La Table where all that neat stuff we saw in
the San Francisco branch just weeks ago resides. Hence some little foody gifts
for Beth and her "boys".
 |
| STUFFED DINER AND STUFFED HORSE |
It's still holiday season, we're in a great mall so
shopping beckons. There's the Container Store where I find a container for all
the freebee stuff we get or plunder on trips and snag pretty, pretty
superfluous office things. Obligatory strolls through Neiman Marcus, where 50%
off one $64 plastic wine glass is not the 98% off it should be and
Bloomingdale's where Bob has us carefully avoid the men's department. Just as well. Though
I once bedded a scion of the Bloomingdale clan, It netted me no discounts.
(Maybe I wasn't any good?)
Perfect balance of the afternoon watching the Clint
Eastwood 1998 film Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (featuring who knew
his daughter Allison Eastwood). I always thought it was Kevin Spacey's movie.
In a sense it is as a wealthy gay southern gentleman accused of killing his
lover and John Cusack covering the case. Stealing the show is a drag queen,
Lady Chablis.
ADVANCED STYLE is
next through the auspices of Netflix, a doc about older women with great
fashion and personal style. I was meant to see it to reinforce my belief that
you must not go gentle into that good night.
 |
| FABULOUS WOMEN |
Then it's ALTMAN about the career of Robert Altman, the
great Hollywood director maverick whose breakout film was Mash.
This seems to be a theme evening starting with Garden and
the Spacey character focusing on charismatic people who develop a mode of being
that they stay true to despite barriers.
THURSDAY. NEW YEAR'S EVE
This will be a quiet day and a quiet evening. Going out on New year's Eve has struck us as insane for decades, though commerce dictated that we attend that holiday at the Wine Lover and The Villa Resort. Beth comes over after 7, we toast, have pizza and salad and subject her to some slides of recent trips. I of course nod off early but adventitiously awaken minutes before midnight, which gives me a chance to wake up Bob dozing as Kathy and Anderson salute Auld Lang Zyne; We can actually smooch at midnight and hope for the best in the new year. |
| PERFECT DAY FOR A FIRE IN THE FIREPLACE |
Comments
Post a Comment