Brigham's Blog: July 2011

29 Jul 2011

I schlepped into work this morning; it wasn't easy. Somehow I managed to figured out how to shave without much discomfort, but combing my hair and threading my belt through my pants behind my back was utterly beyond me. I had to pre-thread the belt through the belt loops before I put on the pants - problem solved. The sling was sweaty; velcro isn't a fabric which breathes.

I didn't have an especially good night's sleep. I woke up at 3 AM when I realized that I needed a Motrin booster, which I took. I kept falling asleep yesterday... it was my body's way of telling me to cool it so it could promote recovery and cell growth, I suppose.

I attempted part one of Don Winslow of the Navy, a 1942 serial, but I just couldn't sit through it. WAY too corny and dated. I tried to watch an incredibly lame 1953 thriller - Jennifer - which starred Ida Lupino, a noir stalwart whom I normally like. I couldn't, I kept falling asleep. But I didn't miss anything as the movie had nothing in the way of a payoff. Then I tried to watch a two hour documentary about deciphering Mayan glyphs - no luck there, either. I nodded off somewhere in the middle of an incredibly detailed explanation of how to date temple stylae. Somehow I made it through a short doc about Disney cruises; I found out that the company has provided for singles and couples without children. If you don't want to socialize with any kids - I won't - you don't have to. I will have to advocate a Disney cruise next time we consider one. I know the food will be superior.

I ended the evening stumbling across a delightful Netflix streamed Roy Rogers Western comedy, San Fernando Valley, from 1944. Roy! Trigger! Dale Evans! I was especially attracted to this one as Burbank is in the San Fernando Valley, and I am familiar with the 1940's song of the title, as sung by Bing Crosby. (Apparently it's gotten a renaissance of sorts by being played at the Disney California Adventure theme park... I heard it there.) I liked the way Roy and Dale sung it, tauntingly, at each other. Good stuff. I watched the first half-hour, now well rested thanks to Mayans and Ida Lupino. I recognize that having a taste for Roy Rogers films is about as nerdly as liking recordings of somebody playing the Mighty Wurlitzer, but I don't care. I go where my Muse leads me. (BTW, my childhood friend Jimmy, who works as the projectionist at the UCLA Film School theater, tells me Quentin Tarantino is a Roy Rogers film fan, and goes there when they show an old nitrate copy.)

Speaking of big organs, my father-in-law bought one not too long ago, a Lowrey Grand Royale. (Check it out.) When we visited Utah we saw it. This Frankensteinian instrument is impressive to behold, and pumps out mighty tone blocks and deep, fundamental bass notes. I would have liked to have heard a organist pump out the fat, Hammond sonorities of Henry Mancini's zoomy "Mr. Lucky" theme upon it.

I also watched Welcome to Macintosh, an uber-geeky documentary about the social misfits who grow all misty-eyed and wanty over Steve Jobs announcements regarding Apple products. As a computer networking professional, I've always been more of a Windows kind of guy, to the extent that I've bought into the PC vs. Macs thing at all. Windows boxes have always seemed to have a slight edge over Macs in that regard - but I'm not willing to entertain any long, drawn-out conversations on the matter. Anyway, this film contained long sequences of bearded men and grumpy liberals over the age of fifty - old hippies - talking about previously-owned Macs in the same rhapsodic terms that a old Lothario might use to describe his youthful affairs with women. Geez.

Look, I own an iPod. I like it fine. And my wife has a Mac laptop - it works about as well as any Windows laptop I've used. Okay, it has an aluminium case - nice. But I've just never seen enough of a difference between the way these machines work to become adamant about the innate superiority of either one, and my observation is that Macs are somewhat overpriced. Actually, in this regard I feel a little like Ross Perot, who famously claimed to never have seen a dime's worth of difference between a Democrat and a Republican.

Another weekend looms. Other than seeking out yard sales with my son tomorrow morning - I think I'll let him drive - I have no plans. Rest up and watch more scintillating Netflix fare, I guess. Have a great weekend!

28 Jul 2011

I got to remove the bulky bandages and sticky tape to recover the incisions with fresh bandages this morning; it looks pretty good. That is, it looks like it's healing. I have about a three inch long linear incision and another much smaller one. I see the doctor next week; he removes the sutures then. I'm off the narcotic pain-killers as I don't think I need them. And they don't seem to work as well as the 800 mg Motrin, anyway. Best of all, I got a good night's sleep last night - even with wearing the sling - no hiccups!

I haven't tried left hand shaving yet... that ought to be interesting.

As I wrote, I made the mistake of scheduling my Webelos scout swim party for tonight, but I'm not allowed in the pool myself. Well... as least not as far as my shoulder where the surgery was. I think I'll just show up, pay for admission and let the other two adults run the program...

Shalimar Parfum Initial: I bought my wife a bottle of this at the parfumerie in New Orleans Square in Disneyland; according to her it was the highlight of the visit. (At the end of the day or the next day I always used to ask my kids what they enjoyed most.) It smells quite nice - bergamot with a vanilla and tonka bean basenote. It doesn't smell quite as elegant or as French floral as her Jean Patou Joy or the Hermes 24, Faubourg I also like, but that's because it's an Oriental scent. It gets some flak in the write up for being tinted pink, but the fluid in my wife's bottle seems to be somewhat more golden colored. Perhaps Guerlain throttled back on the pink somewhat. Either that or I'm becoming color blind.

The last time we bought perfume at this Disneyland shop was in the early Eighties; we found the now hard to get Flor de Blason by Myrurgia. Cari still has her bottle... and smelling it still reminds me of the early days of our marriage - a pleasant thing.

Continuing the vacation debrief: The night we spent in the Queen Mary was pretty neat; we stayed there for our last night in Los Angeles. Neither of us had ever done that, and it was my idea. We needed to get to the Long Beach airport early that morning, and staying at the QM made that easy. It's a big, floating testament to the mid-1930's Art Deco movement. In fact, that night there were posters hung up for some big Art Deco Conference to be held there. Walking around the ship really took you back to an earlier era of travelling elegance - far from the crass scan your body and remove your shoes cattle car experience that flying has now become.

Walking the empty hallways was an interesting experience... the ship runs ghost tours, and it doesn't take much imagination to suppose that the ship might be haunted.

That's all for today. Typing makes my shoulder ache a bit.

27 Jul 2011

Big organ recital today!

The surgery was successful, the orthopedic surgeon doing all that he said he would do - it was my first real surgical operation. The nurse pointed out that it was good that I had made it this far into life without one. Well, okay... I had my tonsils out when I was about three or four; I guess that counts as surgery.

The procedure lasted nearly two hours. It was very difficult for me to come out of the sedation (propofol, "milk of amnesia," what killed Michael Jackson). I was dozy for hours, sleeping frequently and deeply during the day. My wife told me that in addition to demanding to know how long I was out - it annoys me that they don't let me wear my chronograph - I kept telling one of the nurses that she had brown hair and brown eyes.

My right shoulder feels like it was flattened by a freight train. So my doc gave me a couple of pain medications, which I've been taking. One is 800 mg Motrin, which is nothing more than the "rugby dose" of ibuprofen I'd take after some rugby matches. The other is hydromorphone, a narcotic morphine derivative, which is the generic form of Dilaudid. It's supposed to make you euphoric, but I haven't noticed that at all. Perhaps it takes more than two pills to do it. I also got prescribed an antibiotic and a pill to prevent nausea from the other pills.

I got about four hours of sleep last night due to my sleeping a lot during the day, the necessity of wearing an arm sling and... the hiccups. I had them from 1 AM to 1:38 AM, again at 2:15 AM and lasting until 3:40 AM, and they started again at 5:40 AM. In fact, I have them as I type this. What an annoyance! That and ants... we've had ants trailing though our kitchen for days. We kill them, remove the bodies and they keep coming back. Geez, what's next? Crickets? Locusts? Emerods? Some other Biblical plague?

Once, when I was in the Marines, I had the hiccups for nearly three days. I suspect that with me, it has something to do with acid reflux.

Cari and I went to the movie theater the other night to see the last Harry Potter film - it was a vast improvement over the previous one, Deathly Hallows part one, which seemed to be a travelogue of a camping trip from hell - bad weather, bleak surroundings, a gray color palette and internal strife and arguing. This last film has plot points which puzzle me, however. Giving away part of the plot: Potter becomes the Boy Who Lived, twice, as he surrenders himself to Voldemort to be killed. He survives. So... doesn't that take the drama out of the subsequent epic wizard's duel? Apparently Voldemort cannot kill Harry. And what good did the resurrection stone do?

Well. As I recall, I thought the franchise was beginning to turn into a jumbled mess plot wise towards the end, but the movie seems to sort things out somewhat better than on the printed page. And I am certain J.K. Rowling is crying all the way to the bank. When the movie ended Cari said to me, "I wish I had a small fraction of the money Rowling has made from Harry Potter." Indeed.

As you can see, I can type, putting the mouse and keyboard atop some books - but it hurts a little. So I'll quit. Back to bed... I hope these %#$!^@! hiccups go away soon.

26 Jul 2011

OW.

25 Jul 2011

I found a garage fan new in the box at a yard sale for ten bucks on Saturday morning; I painted it red and installed it as a refinement to the garage project. Nice!

I watched a Vittorio De Sica Italian neo-realist film last night: Shoeshine (1946). It belongs in the same category that Luis Bunuel's Los Olvidados (1950) fits in: poor, wayward boys of the street fall into hard luck and tragic circumstances. Not a Disney film. I liked it, but prefer Buneul's film for the sheer brutal tragedy of it all. Besides, poverty seems a lot more visceral in Mexico than in Italy.

I must sadly announce that, contrary to my assertion during our centennial Burbankia slide show presentation, Marilyn Monroe did NOT get her start in Burbank. The source I found said that Norma Jeane Baker was working in an airplane factory in Burbank when a photographer spotted her, went hubba hubba and snapped her photo for the cover of YANK magazine. After our slideshow, the brother of the photographer approached me and told me the location was really Van Nuys, not Burbank. DRAT. So I'm removing it from my website. Truth is the Daughter of Time.

Over the weekend I finished a bunch of scrapbook pages containing vacation photos - so now it officially happened. As I was assembling it my son was amused by my obsession and musings... only a scrapbooker would stage family photos and occasions in order to use stickers he already has.

Continuing my vacation debrief: Note this photo of my friend Mike in front of his Original Heidelberg printing press, located in the reprographics department of the Burbank City Hall basement. It is the third oldest continually running press machine in existence in the United States, being put into commission in 1948. It's amusing... as Mike demonstrated, as it runs a little arm does a motion reminiscent of a sieg heil salute. Funny, what you recall from vacation.

Riding the Los Angeles Angel's Flight was fun, note this photo; I managed to get the iconic L.A. City Hall in the shot. The neighborhood around the Angel's Flight has greatly changed from its appearance in various films noir. In one of my favorites, Mike Hammer ascends a long flight of stairs in Kiss Me, Deadly and conversationally says to an old women, "Whew. Long flight of stairs!" She replies in a deadpan, "So who asked you to climb them?" Hahaha!

No film noir visit to downtown L.A. would be complete, however, without stopping into the much filmed Bradbury Building. (My photo, film clip from "M" - that tunnel is right next to the Angel' s Blade Runner? It was the housing complex where Sebastian "made friends."

The other grand interior space I visited when on vacation was the lobby of the Hotel Utah, now known as the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. I love going there and reflecting about the people who arrived in Salt Lake Valley with nothing and built up a desert empire, and, later, a stately Utah hotel - a crossroads of the West. I like sitting in one of the grand pieces of furniture and thinking about all the meetings, special occasions and reunions that must have taken place there in the past hundred years. (It was built in 1911.)

I go into surgery tomorrow morning, so there won't be an update. Or it'll look something like "ow my shoulder hurts goodbye," typed one-handed. As I think I reported before, I apparently tore a tendon in my right shoulder while painting my garage doors - after suffering from osteo-arthritis as a result of rugby injuries during my last season in 2006. So the surgeon will suture the tendon back to the bone (he drills a hole, attaches a piece with sutures into the hole and then stitches the tendons onto it), removes a bone spur and generally cleans things up - and makes a payment on his Maserati. My father-in-law once said that he respects robbers more than doctors because they at least wear bandannas around their lower faces so you can see what they are.

As I'll have my arm in a sling for the next six weeks I'm not sure how much typing I'll be able to do with my right hand. It should be okay but I don't know. Then, in ten days, I start physical therapy sessions, which everyone tells me hurts like mad. So I got the garage finished in time. All the other various stuff - oil changes on the cars, lawn mowing - will have to be done by others or contracted out until I get the full use of my shoulder back.

This Thursday night I'm taking the Webelos to the pool so they can get their Aquanaut activity pins. I'm not sure this represents good planning on my part...

22 Jul 2011

I am now reading Easy Company Soldier by Sgt. Don Malarkey; if you've ever seen the HBO series Band of Brothers you know who Malarkey is. Essentially, it's a World War II autobiography, and a pretty good one so far.

I got a letter from a three star Marine Corps general the other day; he wants me to participate in a survey by the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry (ATSDR), part of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The question is, "How is the health of those who worked at Camp Pendleton, California?" When I get the survey, the answer will be, "Just fine, thank you. Any other questions?" Nice to know the Marine Corps cares.

The local news is full of the incredible heat in the D.C. suburbs and how it plays a part in the local 150th anniversary of the Battle of First Bull Run event. (Article.) Today's high in Manassas is expected to be 103 degrees and humid; tomorrow it's forecast to be 102. YOW. As I wrote yesterday, I am not attending, and, unusually for me, I don't have the faintest regret at not doing so. I remember what the heat was like at the 125th anniversary of the event in 1986. I wrote, "Let's face it, Manassas was about as big and authentic as a reenactment could ever be, and considering the various injuries and heat-related problems, probably more authentic than one should ever be allowed to get." A lot of the time I recall being miserable - which is totally authentic. But these days I'm less into authenticity and more into fun. So is my 62 year-old pard Don. He's not going, either.

My pard Chris (in his early 30's) intends to arrive on the battlefield early tomorrow morning, do the battle reenactment scheduled for 9 AM, then depart. I salute you! Unless, of course, you pass out from heat stroke on the field and have to get driven to a hospital, in which case I'll taunt you relentlessly and demand to know, "What were you thinking? Next time emulate your elders!"

As long as the subject is the heat ("Everybody complains about the weather, but nobody ever does anything about it!" - Mark Twain), I ought to mention a personal hero of mine, Dr. Willis Haviland Carrier, 1876-1950, superlative engineer, father of modern air conditioning systems, author of the standard text on the subject and founder of a company which still bears his name. That's him above. Were it not for him modern life would be a lot less pleasant. There's a small patch of land at an intersection near my home that is owned by my homeowners association. I have often thought that we ought to erect a statue of Carrier, holding a small refrigeration compressor and smiling benevolently.

For the 1939 World's Fair, Dr. Carrier built an igloo, demonstrating the wonders of refrigeration - advertisement here. Hahahaha! That's my guy! I salute you, Dr. Willis H. Carrier, Benefactor of Humanity!

Remember Roy Drillich? The 1950's Bronx gang member who came to a violent end? I mentioned him in a blog entry a month ago; he's sometimes credited as being the inspiration for Fonzie in Happy Days. When I was in Burbank I had the opportunity to briefly talk with Garry Marshall, the creator of the series. He confirmed that, no, Drillich was not the inspiration for the Fonz - although Marshall and his sister Penny knew him. He emphasized that a fellow named Pete Wagner was the original Fonz. So let's put that one to rest.

Continuing my debrief of my vacation... we saw a lot of fireworks. I love fireworks. There was the Capitol Fourth shoot in D.C. on Monday the 4th, then on Friday the 8th we saw a phenomenal centennial display while atop the Burbank City Hall tower with hizzoner the mayor. There is nothing quite like being near to fireworks and actually seeing where and how they're fired off - enthralling! On the 10th we watched the Disneyland fireworks show from the plaza at the entrance to the park, and the following night we saw the show from within the park. Fortunately we were near the "It's a Small World" ride exterior; during the show they project colors and shapes onto the white buildings - it looks fantastic! We saw some more in Long Beach from the Queen Mary. And when we got into Utah we saw a near nightly display near the I-15 Interstate fired off, I guess, for the 24th of July Pioneer Day. So I got my fill of fireworks this month...

Finally, the Disneyland non-alcoholic Mint Julep - ahhhh. A tradition for me since 1969 or so and a favorite beverage. What I read in a Disney guide book is correct: If you have a meal at the very pleasant Cafe Orleans (I had a delicious Monte Cristo sandwich - Disney theme park food is wonderful!) you can order a julep and have endless refills. A new tradition has thus begun.

I'll be looking for yard sales tomorrow morning in my air-conditioned (thanks, Willis) VW, but I don't expect to find any. If you knew the weather was expected to be 100+ and humid would you put one on? No matter. Have a great weekend!

21 Jul 2011

Be it ever so humble...

Well, I had a great time on vacation. What have I learned? One week is not enough and two weeks is too long. And upon returning home a reattunement day spent just poking around the house would be nice. I also learned that Disneyland is still the world's greatest theme park, worth even an undiscounted $80 one day admission charge, and that those resort Fast Passes (which are redeemed for instant access into a ride) are worth their weight in gold. And, of course, that family and friends are the most important thing of all.

My finished photo album is here, further proof that I over-document my life. I think I will dedicate one page in the family scrapbook to the dining-out-with-family-and-friends photos. I can't wait to see what my bathroom scale tells me tomorrow morning, not to mention what our credit card statement looks like.

Hot? Geez, it's hot here in the D.C. metro area! And humid! I was wearing a polo shirt and I was absolutely miserable walking the 1/4 mile from the Metro into work this morning. The 150th anniversary of the battle of First Bull Run (aka First Manassas) is coming up this weekend (103 degrees Friday, 98 degrees Saturday), and since the Little Voice in my head is practically screaming at me about it I have decided to take a big pass.

When I started reenacting again in 2007 I decided that it would be in non-summer months only. But I was up for this event and was going to make an exception because of the 150th, but, let's face it, I am a clinically obese, middle-aged guy who has a sedentary job and takes high blood pressure meds. In the time since I attended the 125th First Bull Run event in 1986 I have known of two such who have died of heat-related heart attacks. And I was utterly miserable wearing a polo shirt walking the ¼ mile into work this morning. So no, I’m passing on this one. Mister Lincoln will just have to do without me. I'll spent the weekend puttering around the house with my son and wife (if she's not working Saturday). Maybe go see the Harry Potter film.

I watched Vitus (2006) last night, good flick, recommended. Piano prodigies... I wish I was one. So much easier than having to learn.

My viewing while on vacation and on the JetBlue flights to and from the West were considerably more mundane. We watched one industrial reality show trifecta wherein the Pickers find the shell of a 1957 Chevy, which they sell to the American Restorers who fix it up for the Old Man of Pawn Stars for his birthday. The usual reality show tropes apply: Will we meet the deadline? Of course, they do. They always do. And on the flight back I watched about three hours of American Chopper. I think I lost a few points of my IQ while away...

However, I also read a good book about Disneyland by the Imagineers, the artists and technologists who develop Disney rides and attractions. I am certain that my son Ethan has the right mix of artistry and technical savvy to work at WDI in Glendale, CA. I think I'll nag him about it some, as much as I'd like to see him and his wife move to Virginia somewhere after they both graduate (which they plan to do). Even better, my daughter Julie assured me that she and her husband plan to return to Virginia some day as well. Wonderful! I hate that my kids are nearly a continent away.

I visited Ethan's new apartment; check out this Alexander Calder-inspired guitar he made out of wire. Pretty cool, huh? And, even better, the designs he made for some snowboards for a start up company in Utah are now prototyped and exist. (Photo.) He has some typographical complaints with them, but I think they're pretty neat.

Okay, that's it... I'm back. Life returns to normal, which, all things considered, is a pretty nice thing.

18 Jul 2011

Posted more photos.

Tomorrow: Girls' day out shopping, my day out by myself doing whatever... and a visit to the Madsens'.

17 Jul 2011

Park City, Sunday family dinner, sunsets and rainbows.

Vacations: One week isn't long enough, two weeks is too long. Tomorrow: Undefined! I think we're linking up again with our friends the Madsens - at least I hope so!

I was so interested in that little VW show in Provo I'm attending the big Manassas Bug Out show in September...

16 Jun 2011

Attended a great little VW show in Provo.

15 Jul 2011

Posted more photos. Today I saw a $186,000 Steinway in the lobby of the former Hotel Utah. Also, this interesting Burbank Library Blog entry about our presentation.

14 Jul 2011

More photos. Added some from previous days, too.

13 Jul 2011

More photos (Del Mar, the Queen Mary and family). One of these days I'll have to blog about what that ocean spot means to me...

12 Jul 2011

Disneyland photos up. Had a wonderful time... except for that whole Splash Mountain fiasco. California Adventure park - eh. Park Hopper pass not worth it. I'm glad we didn't pay extra for it. There is simply no park like Disneyland; 56 years of evolution and getting it right. The best. We got to the park at 9 AM and stayed until Midnight - slept like logs last night. Today is a recovery day; nothing really notable planned. We sleep on the Queen Mary in Long Beach tonight!

11 Jul 2011

Posted some photos from 7/7 and 7/8. More to come. Disneyland today!

10 Jul 2011

Having so much fun doing things that I haven't had time to put photos up from the camera yet. In a few days...

6 Jul 2011

For some reason, I forget why, I was browsing around at wikipedia looking at Ernesto "Che" Guevara entries. I came across the entry for that famous photographic portrait of him, titled Guerrillero Heroico, or "Heroic Guerrilla." Murderous Thug is what I calls it. Most people are unaware that what they see in the photo is a crop; the original image (taken by Alberto Korda) shows a man's profile on one side and a palm tree on the other. It is funny and ironic that while the center character - Che - has been reproduced ad nauseam, the fellow whose profile appears at left is unknown. Cropped right out of photographic history, he was. Not very socialistic or communistical.

As you might infer from my comment above, I am no admirer of Che Guevara. And the people who find him laudable, trendy, chic, charismatic or fashionable - the Radical Left, aka Fellow Travelers aka Useful Idiots - I find ignorant and pathetic. Far more to my taste (and desire for historical accuracy) is the Che poster highlighted on Michelle Malkin’s website, composed of the faces of Che's victims.

But I'm no grumpy guts, no sir. In fact, I'd like to produce a Che product of my own, ignoring photographer Korda's questionable asserted "moral rights" to the image: quality two-ply toilet paper embossed with the Heroic Guerrilla's image, marketed as "Guevara por Guano." (Yes, yes, I know, strictly speaking, "guano" is the excrement of birds, but I find the alliteration compelling.) El Revolucion de Higiene!

Speaking of iconic art, last night I rewatched Exit Through the Gift Shop 2010, the amusing documentary about street art I first saw in January. This time my wife saw it, too. (My son bought the DVD.) While nominally about the people who spray paint artistic, semi-artistic and just plain crap graffiti on public surfaces, it's really about an interesting and charismatic Frenchman, Thierry Guetta, aka "Mister Brainwash" or MBW for short. (He's shown in his own street art stencil above.) He started out compulsively filming street artists at work, befriended many, and then became an unexpectedly successful artist himself (the film concludes with his successful art show in Los Angeles). Or, because he employed and directed other artists, the correct term might be art entrepreneur or artistic impresario.

What's amusing are the comments from established street artists like Shepard Fairey (the guy who came up with that red and blue Obama "HOPE" poster) and Bansky about MBW. In general, they seem to look down upon his efforts at creating art. But the enterprising Frenchman has the last laugh: he's successful. As Liberace once famously said about his artistic detractors: "I cried all the way to the bank." So. What sets him apart from other successful but artistically impoverished artists, like, say, Thomas Kinkaid, "Painter of Light?" One has the sense that MBW observed that the modern art world is more about sensationalism than real art - and the French have a long history of sensationalism and art - and so he moved right in with some art and sensation of his own. The French call it a coup.

And this, folks, is why the French matter and always will: they are sensitive to culture in ways than people from other nations are not. Above all, they love to astonish and to be astonished. When Josephine Baker decided to shimmy and shake in a banana skirt and wearing nothing above, she took her act to Paris and became a star. Sergei Diaghliev knew there was a French market for Russian ballet, and so founded the Ballets Russe in Paris. I could go on and on. But I have blogged about my admiration for the French before and need not repeat myself...

Getting back to street artists and their dismissal of MBW, it reminds me of a phrase my pard Don once told me: it's like circus clowns with red noses claiming that circus clowns with green noses are demeaning the craft. We're not talking about people who have spent many years with oil, brush and canvas producing something technically and artistically brilliant that a Gainborough might have done. We're talking about guys with stencils and spray paint cans. The disdain seems misplaced - and perhaps a case of sour grapes.

Tomorrow morning my wife and I board a plane and head out to Los Angeles - well, technically, Long Beach airport - there to attend the various Burbank 100th anniversary festivities with my high school pal Mike. On Saturday we give a light-hearted slide show about the history, lore and odd little stories about the town - hopefully, our own little coup. Ought to be fun! On Monday Cari and I go to Disneyland, and on Wednesday board another plane for Salt Lake City, there to spend time with family and friends and, hopefully, get some October wedding logistics done. I intend to spend a few hours at the big Mormon genealogical library to once again pursue what I'm beginning to call the Hopeless Quest: identifying my great-great-great-grandfather Clark. I've been at it since 1982. Perhaps the third decade will be the charm and I'll gain this information next year...

So, two weeks vacation - hooray! I may be checking in with you here, I may not.
And.. a note to any would-be robbers who plan to utilize what I have revealed to their advantage: my son will be home. He brought a shotgun, some shells and a defiant attitude from Utah.

Adieu.

5 Jul 2011

What a great three day weekend! I picked up my daughter-in-law at the airport on Friday and we had our traditional visiting-kid-returns-home dinner at Fuddrucker's. Saturday she slept in and we spent some time at the pool, which is what she wanted to do. I did yard sales on my own and found a new frame for fifty cents, that was it. A Marine Corps poster went in it, and this went in the garage, which is coming along quite well. I'll post photos as soon as I get the VW Bubblehead guy up on the wall (my son is working on it).

Sunday I fixed a few things around the house and we went to the "Capitol Fourth" show rehearsal on the West Lawn of the Capitol - only to be sent home when public attendance at the event was canceled due to severe thunderstorms moving into the area. We got out of D.C. okay despite torrential rain, but one of the Five Families cars had a tree fall on it!

Yesterday we swam again at the neighborhood pool, where I watched the annual 4th of July parade of a nearby home owner's association. It's a curious thing: flag-waving kids are loaded up in the backs of various cars and pickup trucks. They throw candy to the kids watching the parade. The problem with this is that the police only close off traffic heading one way and cars can still go by the other way. So what you've got are children being enjoined to dash out into traffic by other kids tossing candy. My favorite commentator was at the pool one year, a short, Jewish-seeming woman of the Florida retirement type who cried, "Oh my God! Think of the children!" It was like she was watching the Graf Hindenburg go down.

In the evening we went to the banks of the Potomac after a tailgate dinner in the Pentagon parking lot, as is our custom, and watched the fireworks in D.C. When we got home my son fired off some (illegal) fireworks of his own. Today my daughter-in-law spends some time at the pool with her hubby, and returns to Utah - our loss. But we'll see her again next week.

The cypress tree in our front yard was attacked by bagworms. I took it down because we're redoing the plantings with the new lawn going in later this year, but yuck. I understand they're hard to get rid of; I hope they don't migrate to our other plantings.

This Thursday we head out for California and Utah, our son watching the house. In California we do Burbank 100th anniversary activities and Disneyland, and in Utah we're visiting the kids and other family members and friends. Two weeks away! As usual, I may or may not be posting photos for you to look at.

I watched Neil Young's Rust Never Sleeps concert video from 1979; I've known about it since then because I have the Lp which was released with it, but have never seen it. The songs were wonderful (Neil at his songwriting peak), the performances solid (both with Neil solo and with Crazy Horse, his endearingly amateur band who never seemed ready for the big time). The theatricals, however, were exceedingly lame.

The entire production was characterized by stage hands wearing brown outfits who looked like Star Wars Jawas milling about endlessly - their eyes glowed with lights. They took forever to erect a tall prop microphone (I got impatient and fast forwarded, something the poor theater viewer wouldn't have been able to do). According to the DVD features, these were "Road Eyes" (Roadies, get it?). Neil would be playing a guitar solo - naturally you expect the camera to be focused on that - but no, it would wander over to the side of the stage where a Road Eye was shown leaning against a prop. Other aspects of the performance were puzzling: Neil sometimes carried a huge harmonica prop for no apparent reason, and was introduced to the crowd via a giant prop box being lifted with Neil underneath; he was shown as if waking up from a sleep. The Netflix member reviews came up with the most convincing explanation for the concert aesthetic: too many bong hits. What seemed like novel ideas during the drug era seems just plain ridiculous and/or boring now. (Exhibit A: Easy Rider from 1969.)

I watched a chilling National Geographic Explorer documentary: MS-13 - the World's Most Dangerous Gang. Repetitive and not terribly informative, it was nonetheless interesting. According to this, they now have a presence in 33 U.S. states, and are found even as far as Spain. Deporting the gang members from the U.S. back to San Salvador doesn't help and imprisoning them doesn't help, either - they just run things from prison. Looks to me like it's past time to arm federal and state SWAT teams and go all Eliot Ness and exterminate them. Profiling? Sure. How many innocents are tattooed waist to head with MS-13 insignia? The bleeding hearts (who don't live in MS-13 neighborhoods) will howl predictably - it helps make them feel morally superior - but this is a bunch who thought nothing of stabbing a pregnant woman 22 times to death for turning informer (in my state and county, by the way). My sympathy is far more with the victims than these soulless perps. Pass the ammo, boys. Lock and load.

4 Jul 2011

1 Jul 2011

I did a real bear of a mechanical job last night, replacing the battery on my Beetle. (The car has been telling me in no uncertain terms that the battery is about to die. I can't have it barely starting during yard sale hunts, no, sir.)

Normally this is a very easy job which any guy can do: simply remove the two cables from atop the battery, undo a bolt and clamp and reinstall with the new battery doing the reverse. Not so with a 2007 Beetle! In fact, I went to a VW forum for instructions on how to do it, but found nothing very helpful - so I wrote my own instructions to post there. It's my way of being helpful - and cutting dealerships out of some business. Yes We Can (do it ourselves.) One clown wrote that the car's master computer completely resets once the battery is disconnected and that you have to get it to a dealership to reset some master computer code when the new battery is in. Scary. I'm guessing this guy is a plant from a dealership. Nothing like that happened with me.

I was hunting around the vegas.com website yesterday, looking for hotel deals for my daughter's October wedding at the LDS Temple there. I was pleasantly surprised to see that rates at the bigger hotels on the Strip aren't bad. My parents used to go to Vegas every year for vacations; we mostly stayed at the (now defunct) Mint on Fremont Street in downtown. I understand the Strip is now where it's at, with the downtown section being less desirable.

Perhaps we'll stay at the Circus Circus, or the Tropicana or Flamingo. I wish the Stardust was still there - that's the one I always liked the most as a kid, being into space and all things related thereunto. And I liked their sign the best, too. (I remember this vintage "globe" sign, which was later updated. The modernized replacement wasn't bad, but it lacked the Jetsons/googie appeal.)

Ha ha! I remember one family trip to Vegas where my mother and I decided to walk from casino to casino on the Strip to collect ashtrays. She was always up for a sudden or instant collection of any kind. I was thirteen, I think. We reckoned not on the distances involved, the dryness and the desert heat. Suffice to say that after skirting heat exhaustion, our ashtray take was not at all what we had planned. And for the most part they all looked the same excepting logos, anyway. We cooled off at the Stardust; we gulped sodas, she played some slots and I... watched. Not a lot for a kid to do in Vegas back then.

The coolest Vegas hotel, bar none, was, of course, The Sands - now sadly also defunct. It was the Rat Pack's hotel of choice. Other than the United States Marine Corps or the (reenacted) Third Maryland Infantry Regiment 1985-1990 was there ever a cooler assemblage of men? I think not.

I posted some City Hall stuff on Burbankia. Not as exciting as a photographic collection, but hey, it's history.

I watched Michael Cacoyannis' immortal Elektra (1962) last night. It stars the fabulous Irene Pappas, one of my favorite actresses. She is FIERCE! This production is such a class act... one of my favorite films. One annoyance: my son and his friend asked what it was I was watching. I answered. "The Marvel superheroine?" they asked. Grrrrrr. Don't they teach Euripides in the schools?!?

I pick up my delightful daughter-in-law from the airport today; she's staying with us for a few days to see Ethan while he's away on his internship. So I have some yard sale companions tomorrow morning, perhaps. Hooray! And... Five Families stuff on Sunday and Monday.

Have a great three-day Fourth of July weekend!

Brigham's Blog