Doves Today

Camellia

2012-02-03T09:56:00.000-08:00

“Her delight in the smallest things was like that of a child. There were days when she ran in the garden, like a child of ten, after a butterfly or a dragon-fly. This courtesan who had cost more money in bouquets than would have kept a whole family in comfort, would sometimes sit on the grass for an hour, examining the simple flower whose name she bore.”

― Alexandre Dumas-fils, La Dame aux Camélias

This morning brings the first bloom on a potted camellia plant in my front yard. It's been in the pot for years, and I'm not one hundred percent sure of its identity, but I think it's Camellia japonica "Nuccio's Pearl."

A bushel of magic beans

2012-02-03T07:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think of my daily occupation as counting magic beans.

Farmhands harvest the beans, and bring them into the silo peck by peck, where they are combined to count into bushels.

It's my job to add the number of beans in the bushels and let the owner of our bean farm know how many beans we've harvested each year.

The other day I was asked to prepare a document summarizing the year-to-date take of beans. The head farmhand provided me with a tally of how many beans were in each peck basket delivered each day. By adding up those numbers, I could find out how many beans were in each day's bushel. So I prepared a spreadsheet showing the number of beans harvested each day, and totaling them up.

There was a lot of accompanying data I was asked to track - which peck basket came from which bean-field? What was the total yield of each bean-field? What was a monthly yield? and various other questions.

Then everyone began to nitpick. Were all the beans brought in? Were the baskets completely emptied? Were some north bean-field beans put in a south bean-field basket? Please do another count.

And so I was given another tally of how many beans were in each peck basket delivered each day. I had to add up all the numbers again to compute each day's bean harvest.

It took me several hours, but I updated the document and finally presented it to the Farm Owner for his satisfaction.

The total number was exactly the same as before. Yes - even though I had to completely re-count all the beans we harvested this year and combine them in different aggregate groups of beans, the final report I presented read exactly the same as it had the first time.

Calorie-free magical beans!

In Denial

2012-02-02T09:35:00.000-08:00

It happened again - I was late to work. I pulled into the employee parking lot at about six minutes past nine.

My commute is only ten miles long. The first six miles is on a winding, two-lane canyon road; the remaining drive is on busy Pacific Coast Highway, where the posted speed limit is 55 mph.

Yet this morning it took fifty minutes.

The hang-up is usually in the Canyon, which can be treacherous, especially in bad weather, and where an accident can turn a two-lane road into a stand-still until the Highway Patrol arrives. But most of the time,the problem is at the traffic light at the terminus of the road, where it meets PCH. Due to poor timing or just vehicular volume, the long chain of cars backs up the canyon for miles, moving incrementally between five-minute halts.

And so we sit, listening to the morning drive radio, looking up at the canyon walls, and enjoying the native vegetation and birdsong, watching the digital numbers tick by on the dashboard clock.

On a good day, I can sit at my desk twenty-five minutes after I leave my house. But on a bad day, it can take up to 90 minutes. I usually leave at 8:15 - leaving myself 45 minutes.

You may ask - Why don't I leave the house earlier?

I don't know. I think maybe I'm in denial. I simply can't accept that a ten-mile commute should take an hour or more.

I think many of us in Los Angeles are in denial - Traffic in Los Angeles is a constant presence. Folks avidly debate travel time and routes and how to avoid a hang-up. Running late for meetings, dinner reservations, and other appointments are - usually - accepted with understanding. Unlike in other cities, being hung up in traffic seems to be the guilt-free excuse.

What's traffic like where you live?

A warning to wicked women

2012-01-31T14:01:00.000-08:00

Live a virtuous life or weasels will rip your flesh!

That's the lesson in an extraordinary painting from an exhibit called "Contested Visions in the Spanish Colonial World" that just closed at LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

A double-sided oil painted in the 18th Century in Colonial Mexico, it shows on one side the bland and simpering Virgin of the Immaculate Conception, as a model of goodness for all womanhood to aspire to. On the reverse, it shows the Allegory of the Confession of the Soul - the sinful woman, attended by snaggle-toothed demons and vicious twining creatures who bite and tear at her flesh, being pressed to confess her sins, or spend eternity in torment.

These paintings, probably commissioned by Jesuits to serve as a cautionary lesson to parishoners, were likely painted by a mixed-race Mesoamerican artist, a descendant of indigenous tribes forcibly converted to Christianity by their conquerers; their culture, aesthetics and beliefs shaped and evolved into a uniquely Colonial Mexican artistic style.

"Confiesa!" demands the demon, as his fellow cups his ear the better to hear her entreaty. "Ay!" cries the hapless, doomed sinner.

Although the painting is three centuries old, it is still alive and vivid. Her bulging eyes, her lush flesh, her horror-struck expression all have the crass, immediate quality that reminds me of pulp fiction paperback cover art from the 1940s or 1950s - she could be Velma Valento of "Farewell, My Lovely," twisting from the embrace of Moose Malloy, gun blazing, or the earthy, smoldering femme fatale Cora of James M. Cain's "The Postman Always Rings Twice," suffering the brutal carnality of her murderous lover Frank.

"Flim-flammed! I'll say I was! You and that lawyer!" - James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice

Like on the dime-store pulp covers, her semi-nudity is discreetly hidden, yet tantalizingly glimpsed, twined with the writhing snakes and lizards that torment her. Even her earrings and hair ornaments transform into vicious monsters and fanged insects, as she suffers the dark, inevitable fate that awaits all femmes fatales, whether they be hussies or gun-molls.

Brigid O'Shaughnessy: "I haven't led a good life, I've been bad, worse than you could know."

Sam Spade: "You know, that's good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we'd never get anywhere." - "The Maltese Falcon" 1931

"Ay!" she cries, as she falters.

Watch it, ladies. Change your wicked ways!

Happy hour at the museum!

2012-01-30T16:30:00.000-08:00

We enjoyed our visit to LACMA - the Los Angeles County Museum of Art - but - honestly - sometimes museums can be exhausting. We saw three exhibits that were all wonderful but all completely different from each other, and it was overwhelming to have that much swirling around in our heads. What to do?

Have a drink!

If you think of museums as stuffy places with echoing marble halls and guards who creep about with creaking shoes on polished wooden floors, shushing guests - you aren't going to the right museums!

LACMA has come into the twenty first century, revitalized by new buildings and collections. It's all part of a ten-year rebuilding plan. LACMA is already huge seven building complex, and the campus is being transformed by architect Renzo Piano. In 2008 it opened the Broad Contemporary Art Museum, and in fall of 2010 the Lynda and Stuart Resnik Exhibition Pavilion opened just next door.

The courtyard between the Broad and Resnik buildings and the older buildings to the east is an open space traced with covered walkways, visually linked by bright red-painted steel beams and columns, the color echoed in the stairs and elevators to the parking structure.

The wide plaza displays sculptures by Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, and beyond toward Wilshire Boulevard stands the Chris Burden installation "Urban Light." Beneath the shelter, clustered tables and colorful Eames chairs invite art lovers to relax from their wanderings, while more substantial relaxation can be found at the brand new Stark Bar - which opened in February, 2011.

Like many new LA watering holes, this one emphasizes the art of mixology, serving cocktails made with fresh, seasonal ingredients, "small-batch" liquors, herbs, house-concocted garnishes, and dashed with rare or unusual bitters and European digestifs.

But here, the artsy hipness has a more authentic cachet - it IS, after all, at an Art Museum.

Fascinatingly people lounged on the white-coated wire chairs - originally designed by Harry Bertoia in 1952 for Knoll - that filled the main bar seating area. The bar stools were Bertoia designs, too, with bright red seat-pads. There were sleek, curving vinyl-coated settees, and other modern-design chairs in red, including a few Arne Jacobsen "Egg" chairs, with their sheltering wings. The outdoor dining tables of the adjacent restaurant, Ray's, were set with Eames fiberglass armchairs. The whole place looks like a showroom for Design Within Reach.

It's a great place to people-watch - a different kind of art-appreciation.

It's a new world, baby! When was your last visit to the art museum? You might be surprised at what you find there.

Pig on dog

2012-01-29T06:49:00.000-08:00

Jack gets along pretty well with Henri. We let them play together. I was careful to make sure Jack didn't overpower Henri.

But I don't think that's a problem.

Henri can hold his own on the playground.

He wants to play with everyone, even YOU!

Jack, Henri, and Lola in a quieter moment.

Pig sitting

2012-01-28T14:48:00.000-08:00

I'm pet sitting my neighbor's pig, Henri for a couple days. Henri is a teacup pig. He's a red-head, maybe twenty five pounds, and trots around on delicate cloven hooves.

Henri has breakfast in the morning, then he goes outside, where he likes to root around in the dirt all day.

There are lots of acorns in that soil. Henri roots and makes contented grunts and snorting noises.

At the end of the day, Henri comes inside for his dinner and bedtime.

It's a pig's life, isn't it, Henri?

Pink Saturday - Happy Wanderer

2012-01-28T01:29:00.000-08:00

It's Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

This pretty, lavender flowering vine is growing on my neighbor Patty's fence. Its botanical name is Hardenbergia violacea, and it's a native of Australia. Here in the US, its commonly called Lilac Vine, or even Mexican Lilac Vine, but in Australia its common name is the much more charming "Happy Wanderer."

It's one of those plants that's sort of a shrub and sort of a vine. It twines itself loosely around supports and - overwhelmingly - other plants, and can cover a pergola or fence handily.

Its hard-to-remember botanical name is the fault of Austrian botanist Baron Carl Alexander Anselm Baron von Hügel, who undertook an expedition to Australia in 1833 - 1834, collecting plants and seeds. He named this pretty vine after his sister, Franziska Countess von Hardenberg. There's no record whether she grew it herself or not.

Its narrow, evergreen leaves turn down attractively, and its tiny pea-like flowers bloom on long arching racemes in the early spring. The blooms are very delicate - the one you see here is no bigger than my fingernail. Hardenbergia is not for cold climates, sadly, but could be grown as a tender perennial.

Our spell of warm weather has brought flowers out nicely, and Patty's small garden is wreathed with blooming flowers.

"Happy Wanderer" is a perfect plant to grace the small cottage of my friend Patty, who herself has led a full, adventurous and well-traveled life - a Happy Wanderer indeed!

Road kill

2012-01-27T09:11:00.000-08:00

Found on my morning walk. A lost bunny.

Here in a landscape where the coyotes howl beneath your windows at night, it's not unusual to find gruesome evidence of their nocturnal feasting.

But this is the first time I've found a toy bunny.

Daily journal

2012-01-25T15:00:00.000-08:00

This is the sunset sky last night in Santa Monica.

Our weather is getting strange. At the beginning of the week, it was in the low 40s. I could see my breath when I walked Jack in the morning. I wore double layers to work, and a scarf around my neck, and my fingers were like ice on my keyboard in the office.

Today, right now it's 80 degrees in Santa Monica, and crystal clear. They're saying it might get up to the 90s tomorrow. Crazy.

Design for sunshine

2012-01-24T11:24:00.000-08:00

The exhibition California Design, 1930–1965: "Living in a Modern Way" at the Lynda and Stuart Resnik Exhibition Pavilion at LACMA is part of Los Angeles' Pacific Standard Time, a collaboration of more than sixty cultural institutions in southern California celebrating the birth of the LA art scene.

This exhibition features mid-century modern design for living - the objects, graphics and structures that were part of everyday life. For people my age, these designs are not just art - they are part of our memory, because we lived them. As I walked through the displays, I was overcome at every turn by how familiar this was, personally, to me.

The show encourages these rushes of memory, as it includes not only fine works of design but also everyday things like kitchen utensils, record album covers, toys and even cars - a classic Avanti is among the many displays.

As soon as you enter the exhibition, you encounter a polished and gleaming Airstream trailer - the "Clipper," designed in 1936, its aerodynamic shape and construction inspired by the airplane industry.

Colorful California pottery

As you move through the exhition there are showcases filled with items, including colorful examples of pottery from California-based firms like Bauer and Catalina.

Lounge furniture, with coffee-table planter

There are examples of furniture, even entire rooms - which make me long for the long-lost Heywood Wakefield dogbone dining room set I remember from childhood. (Mom and Dad let Brother Three have it, and now it's gone......)

Sombrero-inspired fabric design

On one wall, examples of textiles are displayed, some patterned with sputniks, squiggles and boomerangs, others with cowboy hats or sombreros.

Play-sets, sundresses and other apres-swim leisure attire

California was also the home of leading designers for leisure wear and swimwear, with manufacturers Catalina and Cole of California producing apparel in downtown Los Angeles.

Austrian fashion designer Rudi Gernreich settled in Los Angeles after fleeing from the Nazis, and pioneered the use of elastics and knits in clothing - like this knit dress that still looks fashionable today. I like this much better than Gernreich's notorious topless bathing suit.

Barbie's Dream House - so hip!

Even kids toys are embraced as both contributions of California designers - like the Barbie doll, invented in El Segundo - and as echoes of popular culture, shown by Barbie's mid-century modern Dream House.

Mid-century architects like Richard Neutra and Rudolph Schindler shaped the landscape of California, and there are photos, drawings, and blueprints of residential architecture that range from the iconic, like Julius Shulman's photo of the Case Study No. 22 house, to more modest middle-class house designs - some look much like my own house, built in 1963.

Certainly not a Neutra, but we like it

There's a very special treat here, hidden among the photos and magazine covers and Danish furniture. Since the Eames Foundation is restoring the flooring in the historic Eames House in Santa Monica, they have lent the entire contents of Charles and Ray Eames' living room to the curators of this exhibition. The Eames' living room has been re-installed right here in LACMA, just as it was at the time of Ray's death in 1988. Since the house is only rarely open to the public, this is a real treat to admirers of the Eames' iconic style. No photos are allowed, though.

The entire show is a wonderful exhibit, and it will surely bring back memories if you are of a certain age. Or if you're young, it shows you the roots from which modern hipster style sprang. Either way - after going through this show, you'll look at grandma's attic differently - and treasure those starburst clocks, boomerang ashtrays, and Heywood Wakefield dogbone chairs. Mom had pretty good taste!

Pink sky for morning

2012-01-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

I know I haven't been posting as frequently as usual, and I'm not sure why. Things just seem very busy. Yesterday it rained and was cold. It was pouring as I drove in, and when I walked to lunch although it was dry, there were dark rain clouds in the sky, threatening.

Both [The Man I Love] and I have been battling this terrible cold or whatever it is that's going around. I feel like we've both had it twice, and never really got well in between. We're both so congested and hoarse that we keep clearing our throats all the time - he said a visitor to the house would think we were engaged in some kind of passive aggressive non-verbal communication - "Ah hhhhhemm!" "Hmmmph!" "Hmm, hmm Hemmmm!"

This cold also saps our energy, so we don't go adventuring, bur rather spend our time off at home, staying warm and resting - and suffering from cabin fever.

I'm also following with some sense of disbelief and horror, the Republican primary race. Dear God. What have we unleashed in this country?

This morning I was greeted by a pink sky over the mountains to the west - taking color from the rising sun I can't see yet, as its disk is still hidden by the mountains behind me to the east. It will be a good day.

Halal Hot Pot

2012-01-22T16:30:00.000-08:00

Islam came to China as early as the 7th Century A.D. Ambassadors from the third Caliph as well as merchants from Arabia and Persia came to the court of the Tang Dynasty emperors and set up trade. In later centuries, waves of Mongol immigrants brought more Muslims to Chinese cities and courts. The Chinese emperors were tolerant of these visitors, who brought science, trade, and architectural innovations, and allowed them to settle. In today's China, the various ethnic groups making up the Islamic community is called the Hui people.

With such large numbers of Chinese immigrating to the US in recent decades, it shouldn't be a surprise that the Hui people are among them. Even so, it's not easy to find Chinese restaurants in America that serve Islamic-influenced food.

Except here, of course, in Southern California.

We stopped in at the China Islamic Restaurant in Rosemead on a weekday after the lunch rush. It was quiet, with only a few tables occupied.

For three of us, we ordered too much food, but we wanted to sample a large variety. First up was pickled cabbage, or "szechuan kim chee" - crunchy and fresh and not too vinegary.

The green onion sesame bread was amazing. A huge round of flatbread studded with sesame seeds, piping hot. It was tempting to fill up with it, it was so delicious, but we had more food on the way.

Stir-fried lamb and more pickled cabbage. The Hui people seem to like cabbage a lot, since many dishes included it.

Bok choy with black mushrooms - this was more like typical vegetables you'd find in other Chinese restaurants.

Eggplant in spicy sauce with ground beef. A rich soy-sweet sauce with some heat, and eggplant chunks cooked until they collapsed into lusciousness.

The stunner of the meal was the Lamb stew warm pot - a hot pot, really, an earthenware dish sizzling hot with a rich brown sauce, fragrant with five-spice, and chunks of lamb neck. Beige cubes of tofu floated among sprigs of cilantro and chunks of cabbage.

The waiter set out three small bowls and then ladled helpings into each for us - a chunk of tofu, a slithering skein of clear rice noodles, hunks of lamb and vegetables. The meat was so tender it simply fell apart at the touch. The broth was so rich and spicy it was a revelation of flavor. The soft unctuousness of the tofu followed the still-toothsome cabbage, followed by a slurp of noodle from the plastic spoon. Oddly, the restaurant didn't provide chopsticks, and as I looked around the room, no one else was using them, either.

Cuisine from western China relies more on noodles and bread than on rice, which is seldom served. Lamb, goat, and mutton are commonly available, and pork is never served. The meat is prepared according to Halal tradition.

The hand-cut noodles made from wheat flour are supposed to be amazing here, but we were far too full to eat more - we'll try next time.We brought leftover soup and bread - which reheated easily in the oven - and had plenty of delicious, warming meals to follow.

It's not easy to find Islamic Chinese food in the United States. In addition to Islamic Chinese in Rosemead, there is another Islamic Chinese restaurant in Orange County. I've heard that you can find Hui restaurants in New York City's borough of Queens, though many of these serve ordinary Chinese food adapted to comply with Halal tradition - but I've never explored them. This puts another item on my bucket list.

If you're interested in a whole new take on Chinese food, and you're in Southern California or Queens in New York - seek out Islamic Chinese food.

Toy cars and trains

2012-01-20T10:27:00.000-08:00

click all photos to "embiggen"

Chris Burden's "Metropolis II" is on exhibit at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. "Metropolis II" is a kinetic sculpture, modeled after a modern city. Rails, ramps, and roadways thread through building-like structures - towers, blocks, models - interweaving through the steel beams that form the bones of the structure. In the center, two massive six-lane "highways" chug fleets of Hot Wheels style toy cars up to a summit from which they wheel away and down through the fantasy city. HO scale electric trains and streetcards also thread their way along the lower part of the structure.

The toy cars have been modified, and the tracks are teflon-coated, so the cars speed at 240 scale-miles per hour, raising a terrific constant din, which, according to Burden, is part of the point he's trying to make, saying "The noise, the continuous flow of the trains, and the speeding toy cars, produces in the viewer the stress of living in a dynamic, active and bustling 21st Century city."

The ramps that lift the cars are motorized and the trains are electric, but all the rest of the frenetic motion is the result of gravity. An attendant is required to monitor the machines, in case a car goes off the tracks and causes chaos, so the piece is viewed in scheduled 90 minute "performances."

We arrived on a Monday, when sponsor Target makes it possible for LACMA to be open for free. There were families and kids everywhere, and the line for "Metropolis II" was long, but once people got into the room, you could see how compelling it is. Everyone - kids and adults - had an expression on their faces that read "How cool!"

The buildings are made of toy-like pieces like Legos, Lincoln Logs, wooden blocks and model parts, furthering the sense of play and fun.

The room where the sculpture is displayed is ringed on three sides by viewing balconies, so in addition to getting a close-up view from the ground, you can see the big picture.

I found the motorized ramps fascinating to watch, and I loved the pattern-like look of the little shiny colored rectangles jig-jig-jigging upward, like cars on a six-lane roller coaster.

As I'm seeing more and more in museums, everyone has a camera or a camera phone, and everyone is taking pictures - like I myself am. At first, this put me off a bit, but as you can see I came around. While I know my photos aren't high quality reproductions of the artwork, it's like having a visual journal to help remember the experience.

What a wonderful way to introduce kids to art - a free trip to the museum, a look at the coolest toy car set ever, and it's OK to take pictures. How many miniature versions of "Metropolis II" are being built in living rooms and kids' bedrooms right now?

Chris Burden's other well-loved piece at LACMA is the installation "Urban Light", a collection of salvaged street lamps arranged in a cluster at the museum's entrance.

I guess as long as everyone else is doing it......

2012-01-17T21:38:00.000-08:00

We're sitting this one out, today, too. Please contact your elected representatives about PIPA and SOPA.

Gliding in a gondola

2012-01-15T16:49:00.000-08:00

Click all photos to "embiggen"

"...the shadows of the sea, those azure, fathomless depths of crystal mystery, on which the swiftness of the poised gondola floats double, its black beak lifted like the crest of a dark ocean bird, its scarlet draperies flashed back from the kindling surface, and its bent oar breaking the radiant water into a dust of gold..."

- John Ruskin, "Modern Painters," 1888

So romantic to think of gliding along the narrow canals in a gondola beneath a sunset sky, slipping beneath arched bridges where, in the shadows, we exchange a kiss.

Alas, it's a long way from Southern California to the fabled canals of Venezia.

But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our own gondola ride.

Naples Island, in Alamitos Bay where the San Gabriel River meets the Pacific Ocean, is a man-made island. And just like its rival, Venice, California, Naples was a real-estate development. Conceived in 1903 by Arthur Parsons, it featured Mediterranean-style architecture, promenades, and winding canals plied by gondoliers giving rides to tourists. Naples Island is in the city of Long Beach, California.

Historic photo of gondolas on Alamitos, Los Angeles Public Library

Those earlier gondoliers are long gone, but today Gondola Getaway is a great example of the way a quirky idea can turn into a successful small business. Begun in 1982 by a couple of high school buddies, they now have a fleet of custom-made gondolas, modeled after the boats in Italy, and offer tours of the canals of Naples and Los Alamitos Bay. They also serve as consultants for other gondoliering tourist businesses.

"As the gondola brought us back along the Grand Canal, we watched the double line of palaces between which we passed reflect the light and angle of the sun upon their pink flanks, and alter with them, seeming not so much private habitations and historic buildings as a chain of marble cliffs at the foot of which one goes out in the evening in a boat to watch the sunset."

Marcel Proust, "Remembrance of Things Past" Vol. II.

We arrived at the pier just before 5:00 pm on a January Saturday. The sun was setting and its rays beamed a golden light at the houses across the still water. We packed a small picnic of cheese, fruit, and a bottle of Brut Rose sparkling wine.

Our gondolier was Micah. He wore the traditional striped shirt and be-ribboned straw hat. A high school senior, he told us of his hopes to study oceanography or marine biology in college. He pointed out the sights as he rowed us through the narrow Rivo Alto Canal, and reminded us that it was good luck for couples to kiss as they rode beneath each bridge.

The boat was comfortable, with a padded couch for us to nestle close together on, and a raised place for our ice-bucket and snacks. A kerosene lantern was mounted in front, for visibility to other boaters.

As you might expect, such a unique and picturesque community is quite an affluent one, and the housing values are quite high.

"Past we glide, and past, and past!
Why's the Pucci Palace flaring
Like a beacon to the blast?"

- Robert Browning, "In a Gondola"

The houses here are a jumble of architectural styles, built so close together they seemed to rub shoulders. Much of the original 1903 Naples was destroyed in the 1933 Long Beach earthquake, although a few older homes remained. Mock Spanish and Italian villas rise next to Cape Cod shingled cottages.

House with Moorish-style architecture

Whispering palm trees lined the narrow canals. Duffy boats - electric powered passenger shuttles - were moored alongside larger pleasure craft at the walkways that descended from the houses.

The oldest house on Naples Island

Sometimes as we slipped silently along the canal we could hear the sounds of people gathered together on balconies and patios, enjoying the sunset. During the Christmas holidays, residents of Naples Island decorate their houses with elaborate lights, and visitors come to boat the canals and see the glittering displays reflected in the water.

As it got darker, the kerosene lantern on the front of our gondola glowed against the water.

Yes, it's a pirate statue on the upper left embankment

"Blue-black, the sky over Venice,
With a pricking of yellow stars.
There is no moon,
And the waves push darkly against the prow
Of the gondola...."

- Amy Lowell, 1777

We emerged from the narrow canal onto the placid water of the bay again, and back to the docks - and back to the real world.

This weekend is our 25th wedding anniversary. I surprised [The Man I Love] by booking this gondola ride. He didn't know where we were going until we arrived at the dock.

If you have a longing for a romantic interlude and you can't fly to Venezia - come ride the gondolas of Naples Island, Long Beach.

Visual arts

2012-01-14T10:26:00.000-08:00

Click to "embiggen"

Seeing and being seen at an Art show.

Have a good weekend!

Goodness, it's Thursday!

2012-01-12T21:01:00.000-08:00

Snowflakes, or Leucojum aestivum

Whoo, I haven't posted in a while. It's true that I came down with a nasty cold and was down for the count for a while....but even so, I spent a lot of my down time on my computer. So....what else kept me from posting?

In January, believe it or not, fuchsia "Gartenmeister Bonstedt"

Oh, I got a new I-phone and spent a lot of time figuring our how to make it work.

Or I've been following the New Hampshire primaries and am too flabbergasted by the clown-car circus show to focus on anything else?

Or work has been insane - when I go there between bouts of fever and sinus infections?

A scented geranium

But wait. Here's something nice.

All the photos are what's blooming in my front yard right now.

Early spring crocus

Here's what's baking in my oven.

Whole wheat and oat bread, left; bread with shallots and thyme, right.

There's a three-day weekend ahead, and we're looking forward to it.

Graduation day

2012-01-10T18:18:00.000-08:00

OK, so I traded up. Now what do I do with it?

What's Icloud? How do I transfer my contacts from my old phone to my new? Why can't I sync to my laptop? Is this more trouble than it's worth?

Don't you wish there were technology tutors? You'd think in LA there'd be some entrepreneur who could teach dinosaurs like me how to work these things.

Good for what ails you

2012-01-08T15:03:00.000-08:00

There's a nasty bug going around - congestion and coughs and sinus headaches. Since the New Year, [The Man I Love] has been brought down low with it.

It's an old wives' tale that chicken noodle soup helps cure the common cold. I'm not sure whether it cures it or not, but a really good bowl of soup can sure make someone who's suffering a cold feel a lot better.

Yesterday, I took him out to South El Monte in the San Gabriel Valley for a bowl of Phở, or Vietnamese beef noodle soup.

Garvey Avenue in El Monte is a wide paved hodge-podge of muffler and auto-body shops, tacquerias, markets and liquor stores and botanicas - and dozens of Vietnamese restaurants. Some have a full dining menu, others are simpler and more focused, but almost all of them serve phở.

Phở is a clear broth made with beef marrow bones, cooked for hours with spices that include cloves, cinnamon, and star anise. The broth is strained, defatted and clarified, and then heated again. To serve, the broth is garnished with sliced onions and cilantro, and poured over boiled noodles called banh phở, flat white rice noodles.

Phở is served with meat, and there is a wide variety. For phở tai, Beef eye of round is thin-sliced, and the raw slices are added to the hot broth - the broth is so hot it cooks the tender raw beef. Other versions serve cooked sliced brisket, flank steak, tripe, something called "tendon," or little round meatballs. At a restaurant, if you see Phở dac biet on the menu, it means you get a little of everything.

It comes to the table in a huge steaming bowl, and alongside a platter heaped with herbs, bean sprouts, sliced green chiles, and wedges of lime. You customize it as you like - add a squeeze of lime, handfuls of sprouts, torn bits of fresh basil or sawtooth herb. Tables in phở joints have an assortment of condiments at the ready, like hoisin sauce, sriracha hot sauce and fish sauce.

We've sampled different restaurants in El Monte. One of our favorites, Phở Minh, is no more. So this time we went to Phở Huynh, which is just a few doors away.

Phở is said to have originated in the northern city of Hanoi. Before the French colonial era, cows were used primarily as beasts of burden, not a source of meat, but the French had different tastes. Lore has it that the French took the meat, leaving the Vietnamese the bones - perfect for broth. The word "phở" may be derived from the French "feu" or fire, as in "pot-au-feu" which is basically beef stew in a pot.

Streetscape outside of Pho Huynh

Hanoi-style phở bắc uses wider noodles and is less fancily garnished than southern phở nam, sometimes called phở Sài Gòn after that city.

Phở Huynh serves only phở - no other dishes. The soup is served in white ceramic bowls except for phở bắc, which comes to the table in huge double-wall steel bowls. Competition among restaurants on Garvey Avenue is fierce, and arose to the local custom of serving phở bac with sliced beef tenderloin or filet mignon.

The broth was absolutely fantastic - spicy and savory and steaming. The raw filet mignon was chopped or minced so that it fell apart in small pieces as it submerged into the noodly depths.

And the noodles - I've been eating phở for decades, but I've never had noodles like these. Thicker than most, they were soft and almost silken, slippery and toothsome. This was one of the best bowls of phở I've ever eaten.

And it's only $7.

You might think it's foolish to drive all the way to South El Monte for a $7 bowl of soup - but it was just the thing to cure a bad cold - worth it every mile!

Muffler Man on Garvey Avenue

If you're under the weather and you're farther than you want to drive from a Vietnamese restaurant, you can try to make your own phở by following this crockpot recipe at Wandering Chopsticks. I might just try it myself someday!

Winter beach

2012-01-06T21:48:00.000-08:00

It's January in Santa Monica. Let yourself relax.

Back from the brink

2012-01-06T09:58:00.000-08:00

Street art, downtown LA

My morning in-box greeted me with the news that I will hear from someone's lawyer today! I am faint and trembling!

But twenty minutes later, I got a voice message saying the check is on its way by courier.

Now - where's that three-ring binder?

Earned my keep today

2012-01-05T22:07:00.000-08:00

So today, I went into work and was presented with a three-ring binder filled with samples of governing documents from peer organizations, that I was directed to study and extract sample language to help my organization update our own governing documents.

Only three pages into it, I discovered that the printed-on-both-sides pages were disarranged in order, missing critical pages, and some documents were printed in 8 point fonts, xeroxed and virtually unreadable.

Mmmm-kay.

I couldn't deal with it, though; because I had to go to a ceremonial departmental quarterly staff meeting. I asked our smart and talented Administrative Assistant to sort it all out while I was gone.

In the departmental meeting, we went round the table and each person gave a sanitized press-release version of what we've been doing lately. Oddly, this format compels participants to overblow their achievements and wax at length about their prowess at - oh, I don't know - their ability to make ledger entries into the institutional financial interface ("Just learned how to pull a new report showing total revenue for the fiscal year and analyze the amount of sales tax paid!" "No, seriously, we've been able to recover our parking permit costs!"). Since there are about fifteeen of us, it takes a while - two hours, at least to go round the table.

Meanwhile - My colleague had met yesterday with a client who was purchasing a service to be delivered on Monday. At that meeting, the client requested services that exceeded their advance payment - so my colleague sent a notice of the additional amount due tomorrow - Friday - so that their delivery could be completed on Monday morning.

I continued to deal with the binder of documents. I consulted with our Administrative Assistant about the pros and cons of loading pre-punched three-hole binder paper into the copier. I will have to wait until tomorrow to receive a re-vamped binder.

The client for the Monday delivery suddenly erupted into a passive-aggressive, emotionally charged email rant, and then contacted our boss's boss's boss's boss to complain about us - which I learned about because the Administrative Assistant for our boss's boss's boss's boss contacted me to inquire about background information for the incident to provide for her boss.

Where was my boss in this? In a five- hour meeting off-site, inaccessible.

This was at maybe a half hour before I was due to clock out for the day. I was asked to compose a comprehensive account of the history of our dealings with this client, so that the boss's boss's boss's boss could effectively respond.

This was difficult to do, because I had to decide how much of the client's history to disclose. I chose to disclose the fact that in past years he had bounced a check to our organization, but - using my discretion - I omitted the fact that he had stiffed a fellow vendor for services rendered over a year ago, and that our office had successfully fended off calls from bill collectors seeking access to serve papers on the client. I mean - I think I was being fair about this - don't you?.

Almost thirty seconds after I hit "Send" on that missive, my phone rang and I took a call from a minion of the disgruntled client. He emotionally aired his grievances over our despicable unfairness, and then settled down and laid out his counterproposal. He proposes an alternate deadline for the delivery of payment, citing its achievability.

I told him I had no authority to agree to his proposal - since - like, DUH! - his boss had brought it to the attention of the boss's boss's boss' boss, who now had a stake in it. But I said that I'd present his counter-proposal for their consideration.

Then I took a call from the boss's boss's boss's boss who told me that the disgruntled client had been contacted and told via a voice message that we were holding firm on our terms.

I kinda thought the counter-proposal was acceptable. But it was no longer my call. I consulted my own boss.

The verdict? We are standing by the deadline. Tonight I delivered by email our reply - rejecting the counter-proposal.

So - okay - although I think the client had proposed what could have been a good solution to the dispute, I upheld my side's decision to hold firm on what's basically a lose-lose scenario. Tonight I am going to sleep a peaceful sleep and in the morning I will wait and see what happens.

And find out whether that three-ring binder is actually readable.

How's your work week been?

Photos are details of the mural in the nursery of the Los Angeles Theatre. Click to "embiggen."

Short term goals

2012-01-04T12:23:00.000-08:00

Mrs. G and Jen on the Edge have the right idea for New Years Resolutions. Instead of setting unrealistic expectations for excellence in 2012, I'm setting some modest, achievable monthly goals.

My goal for January is - to get my whole phone thing together, for once. This means organize the contacts in my phone, figure out how to retrieve my voice mail (yes, I am that lame!) and get a Bluetooth device for the car.

Then maybe someday I can get an I-pad like Jack!

The easiest bread in the world

2012-01-03T09:58:00.000-08:00

There's nothing finer to eat than fresh, artisan-made bread. The best artisanal bread has a great texture with a web of holes, a good yeast flavor, and a delicate yet crisp crust that almost "shatters" when you bite it.

I've been cooking and baking since I was younger than ten, making Christmas cookies with Mom. And I've made lots of homemade bread that was pretty good.

But most of the time, my bread was not as good as I expected it to be. It was not like the stuff of legend. It was not like the loaves at Blue Ribbon Bakery in New York, or Poulaine in Paris. Or even La Brea Bakery of LA. And especially, I couldn't get that delicate crisp crust.

When my son was visiting, he made bread for us and it was amazing. He sent me the recipe, which was originally that of Jim Lahey of Sullivan Street Bakery in New York City, and published in the New York Times by food writer Mark Bittman.

At first I thought - this is completely wrong. There's not enough yeast, too much water, and it's baked inside a pot with a lid on it! And it takes a whole day to make!

My American son, who now lives in a foreign land - does not use our conventional American volume-based measuring system . Instead he uses a weight-based system, in grams. (Fortunately, he bought a scale for us while he was visiting.) For those who, like me, prefer

But here is his bread recipe. It's so easy you should give it a try.

INGREDIENTS
400 grams bread flour - or 2 1/2 cups
350 grams cold water - or 1 1/2 cups
1/4 tsp yeast
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt

EQUIPMENT
Heavy oven-proof casserole or Dutch oven, enameled cast iron, ceramic, or Corning Ware, with a cover.

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl and add the water. Mix the dough thoroughly, scraping the sides of the bowl. It will be gooey.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit for 12 - 18 hours.

Turn it out on a welll-floured surface - I used my cutting board with a Silpat mat on top, well-sprinkled with flour. It will be a gloppy blob. The recipe advises you use a rubber spatula to scrape all the dough out of the bowl, but I found that it all hung together in a soft elastic mass.

The recipe says to sprinkle the dough with flour and fold it over on itself a few times. It was so formless that, for me, this just meant pushing it around some. It will stick to your fingers. Form it into a rough blob, cover it with plastic wrap, and let it rest for 15 minutes.

Here I departed slightly from the recipe. The recipe says lay a well-floured piece of parchment paper on half of a cotton (non-terrycloth) dishtowel, transfer the blob of dough to the paper, and - after sprinkling with flour - fold the other half of the towel over it, tucking in the sides to make a package.

Since I was using my Silpat sheet, I kept the blob on the mat and covered it with the towel.

Let the dough rise for 2 1/2 hours.

Two hours into the rising time, turn on the oven to 450 degrees, and place your baking dish inside. The recipe recommends a large, heavy casserole or Dutch oven with a lid. I have a cast-iron enamel Dutch oven I use.

After the remaining 1/2 hour of rising time, take the hot dish out of the oven. Transfer the dough into the pot - it will be gooey - shaped roughly into a ball. If the dough falls apart, just scrape the bits up and put them all on top of the ball. My dough stayed together as a soft, elastic blob.

Put the lid on the dish and bake for 30 minutes. Then take the lid off and continue to bake for another 15 -20 minutes, until the crust is a golden brown.

When I took it out of the oven, I initially had a hard time getting the loaf out of the pot, but after it cooled a bit it came right out without sticking. You might want to sprinkle the bottom of your pot with corn meal - I'll try that next time.

The trick to this bread is the long, slow rising time, plus baking the moist dough inside the closed pot. The moist closed environment gives the crust that crackling, delicate quality, while the long fermentation time gives the crumb its large open structure.

If you search around the internet a bit, you'll find people who vary the basic recipe, sometimes by combining different types of flour, or by adding flavorings like chopped olives or raisins. I'm going to keep playing with it and see what I can come up with, but for now this is one of the easiest - and most rewarding - bread recipes I've ever made.

In bloom today

2012-01-01T19:58:00.000-08:00

Today, New Years Day, these bunch flowered jonquils are in bloom in my front yard. Jonquils are Narcissus, like daffoldils, but they are small-flowered, fragrant, and there are several flowers on each stem. They grow well in southern climates, where winters are mild.

A good start to a New Year.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T01:12:00.000-08:00

Who knows what 2012 will bring? But if you're going to ring the year in, you might as well do it with a tasty cocktail.

This is sake infused with candied ginger, vanilla bean, bay leaf, Thai basil and Japanese chiles.

It goes down pretty good with a crudo of ahi tuna.

It's this guy's idea - Paolo works at Blue Plate Oysterette in Santa Monica. The mixture infused for a couple of days before we were privileged to taste it.

They were working it up to sell as New Years Eve cocktails later in the evening. We were given a sample as we sat at the bar in the afternoon.

Damned fine stuff. It didn't have a name, when we tasted it. I suggested they call it a Camera Obscura, after the Santa Monica landmark just across Ocean Avenue in Palisades Park.

Blue Plate Oysterette is one of our favorite places. Fresh seafood, good drinks, friendly staff. We love going there.

How would you like a sake cocktail, with these subtle flavors?

What are you toasting the New Year in with?

Pink Saturday - pink pig!

2011-12-31T00:10:00.000-08:00

It's Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

Take a flying leap into the New Year! It's the fabulous pink pig of Topanga, festooned for the holidays!

Pearblossom HIghway

2011-12-30T08:43:00.000-08:00

Click all photos to "embiggen"

CA route 138 is the Pearblossom Highway. It runs through northern Los Angeles County's Antelope Valley, a high desert valley north of the San Gabriel Mountains and south of the Tehachepis.

It's dry here. It's so dry the vegetation is low, crabbed, and prickly - Joshua trees, creosote bushes, and cholla. The ground underfoot is grey grit studded with rocks that are rounded from being tumbled in sudden washes, or shattered bits of quartz and granite.

The Pearblossom Highway's two-lane route runs through the dry land between Palmdale and Victorville. As a sometimes short-cut between LA and Las Vegas the road can be traffic-choked and dangerous on weekends, or deserted during the week.

We drove out on a holiday Monday - we were visiting some family property in Phelan.

My view from the back seat of the car, was pretty much the same as the one artist David Hockney saw back in the 1980s when he began driving around near the small town of Littlerock, taking hundreds of photos.

His photo-collage, "Pearblossom Hwy., 11 - 18th April 1986, #2" shows the desolate land, the sky, and through it all, the road, leading into the distance.

But I'm not sure Hockney ever stopped at Charlie Brown Farms in Littlerock.

This long, low series of buildings is the epitome of a highway tourist trap. It's a hash house, a gift shop, and a kaleidoscopic chaotic jumble of cheap crap, crammed so tightly inside you find yourself wandering numbly through the aisles, gazing at things you can hardly imagine someone thought to make - let alone to buy.

Novelty joke junk. Clacking teeth and fart cushions.

Bacon-flavored everything.

A "serve yourself" pickle barrel. You can also buy prickly-pear marmalade, Slap-Ya-Mama Cajun seasoning, and Kickapoo Joy Juice soda.

There's even this - Cthulhu mints.

But macaroni and cheese band-aids? I don't get it.

We stood in line for the famous date shakes, and while we waited for our number to be called (ahh! that's how they trap you!) we filled a basket with weird novelty candy for Our Son to bring back to England to show his friends.

We got out of there with our loot, choosing not to join the other tourists eating hamburgers and french fries in a sun-blasted patio surrounded by plaster dinosaurs and bronze-cast statues of skateboarding urchins, and made our way back down the Pearblossom Highway to another attraction.

I'm not sure what Hockney would think of Charlie Browns, but he'd probably enjoy the sandwiches at Valley Hungarian Sausage and Meats.

This little place has been out here for decades, making Hungarian-style smoked and fresh sausage, and selling deli meats and European delicacies from its little store.

We ordered smoked summer sausage sandwiches on onion rolls. While we ate, an elderly lady sat in the area behind the counter, chopping up onions. Perhaps they were destined for the advertised pirogis, which you can buy frozen by the dozen.

The atmosphere here was homey and welcoming, as unlike the sensory overload of Charlie Brown Farms as anything could be. Hungarian maps and photos adorned the wall. Pots of blooming Christmas cactus - clearly, someone's hobby - were arrayed on a shelf beneath the sunny window. Christmas decorations were up for the season.

Fortified again, we got in the car and hit the highway again.

Fancy Fusion

2011-12-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

For several years now, we have enjoyed both the food and the drinks at chef Sang Yoon's gastropub Father's Office.

Earlier this year, the chef opened a new restaurant, just a few doors away from the Culver City branch of Father's Office.

Lukshon is more sohpisticated place, stylish and sleek, serving Asian-inspired re-imagined small plates. Old favorites of Asian cuisine and even street food are updated, turned inside-out, or re-invented.

The menu items are painstakingly described, with a list of ingredients that include things I've never heard of. Even the cocktails are made with specialized teas and herbs and garnished with exotic pickled delicacies.

There were three of us, and by the meal's end we shared eight plates. It was the perfect amount for variety, yet we felt we had dined well without being stuffed full.

The hostess recommended the tea leaf salad for a start, and this was a knockout. Here cabbage is tossed with nuts and crispy lentils in a dressing subtly flavored with tea. Only two prawns were served on top, though, and I let my guys have them.

This was followed by two protein dishes - the spicy chicken pops that have earned mass praise from Yelpsters to Jonathan Gold, and sweetbreads done "orange chicken style," which I haven't seen a single reviewer mention.

Spicy chicken pops

The pops are chicken wings formed into lollipops and glazed with a dark, sweet, salty sauce.

Sweetbreads

The sweetbreads are battered and fried just like the crispy little nuggets you buy at Panda Express, and served with orange slices. The treatment is perfect, as you crunch through the batter and release the creamy, savory flavor of the sweetbreads inside. I've never had sweetbreads before, and this was a wonderful introduction to them.

Next came perfect, tender brussels sprouts braised in garlic, chile and sesame vinaigrette - and if these don't make you rediscover brussels sprouts you're a lost cause.

Lamb belly roti canai

This was followed by another meat course - lamb belly roti canai. This sent me to wikipedia this morning, where I learned that roti canai is a Malaysian style flatbread influenced by Indian cuisine. Here, it was more like a crispy short-pastry, with the tender lamb arrayed on top along with chana dal, herbs and dollops of raita. A little dish of tiny pickled cauliflower florets was served alongside.

After these, we were still hungry enough to order a few more dishes.

Pork ribs

Kurobuta pork ribs were barbecued in a chicory coffee sauce, and served with a cabbagey-cucumber sesame flavored slaw. The sauce had a peculiar grit to it - surely it wasn't coffee grounds, was it?

Chunks of chinese eggplant and fennel were topped with crispy fried curls of more eggplant and cilantro.

Papaya salad

The only dish we got that resembled versions served in more conventional restaurants was Chef Yoon's take on Thai papaya salad - a long favorite of mine. Here the thin slivers of green papaya was served with peanuts and cherry tomatoes, just like at our favorite Thai restaurant in Malibu. It was fiercely spicy, though, a little too much for me.

As a nice trick at the end of the meal, the waiter tipped boiling water over three pill-shaped disks on a tray that turned into warm finger-towels for our sticky saucy hands. Cute!

Tiny complimentary desserts are served at the end of the meal - there's no mention of them on the menu, so I can't tell you exactly what they were but one was a mini pineapple upside-down cake, one was a mango-y custard, and the other was a delectable complexity topped with black sesame ice cream.

One thing I really appreciated about the service was the pacing. Although we initially ordered five dishes, the staff chose which order they arrived in, and how quickly - and it worked perfectly.

As we assessed the meal, we all agreed that the best dishes of the night were the lamb, the tea-leaf salad and the sweetbreads - with the sweetbreads being the real knock-out.

A crisp fruity riesling was the perfect accompaniment to such an array of spicy tastes.

The restaurant is very stylish, and provides seating options depending on your mood and interest. A side room holds comfy booths and two-top tables, while the main room has high-topped communal tables and a bar where you can watch the kitchen work. There's also a pretty outdoor patio for fair weather dining.

I'm a little sorry we didn't try some of the specialty rice dishes, or the noodles. But now I see that Lukshon is open for lunch, during the week, there will be plenty more opportunities to explore the menu.

Dinosaurs in the desert

2011-12-27T09:52:00.000-08:00

We're taking a road trip to the high desert. It's wild out here!

Malibu Christmas

2011-12-25T10:04:00.000-08:00

Click to "embiggen"

Christmas Eve, high on a hill in Malibu, looking out to the Pacific Ocean. That's Santa Barbara Island, to the left, and San Nicholas Island, on the right side.

Jack plays with his friends Franny and Lulu.

To the south and east, the lights of Santa Monica and the South Bay, and Catalina Island. And a giant edifice down the hill, new since our last visit, built by some mogul. Wonder which one of his chimneys Santa will come down?

Look Ma, no tailpipe!

2011-12-24T15:45:00.000-08:00

When Our Son comes home for the holidays, it's a good time for him to catch up with old friends, and one of the biggest differences between London and where we live is that there's no public transportation here. L.A. is a town where you need a car, so this year when Our Son came home, we decided to rent a car so that all three of us could work, Christmas shop and visit friends without tying our schedules in knots.

Enterprise now includes the Nissan all-electric Leaf in its fleet. Because I work next to a parking garage with an EV charging station, I've been the lucky one to drive it, while Our Son drives my Honda Fit.

It's a beautiful blue, sleek car that glides silently down the "S" curves of the canyon like a spaceship. It can travel 100 miles on a full charge, but with my 10 mile commute, I haven't yet put its gauge in the "red" zone.

You can charge it with a regular household plug with a cord that travels with the car, but that takes about twelve hours. The one drawback about charging EV is that it makes a warm and cozy place for rats to nest - that's an issue here in Topanga. The one time we did charge it at home, we left the hood open, which is our standard rat-abatement method.

Plugged in

It seems much smarter to park it away from rat activity while at home, and let it charge up while I'm at work - the charging stations in Santa Monica are 220 volts and only take three or four hours for a full charge.

Today I went to the mall and found EV charging stations right there on the ground floor of the garage. The other cool thing about EVs are that - at least now - you can always find a parking place. The charging spaces are reserved for EVs, and the number of cars in use hasn't yet exceeded the number of charging stations in newer garages.

The charging station I use near my office is solar-powered - so in addition to driving "zero emission", I'm not powering up with carbon-based electricity, either. Pretty cool, don't you think?

The Leaf is a lot of fun to drive and surprisingly powerful, too. It has more get up and go than the Hondas. Or at least it feels like it, since you can't hear it reving. It has a GPS that also tells you where charging stations are located, if you're taking longer trips and worry about running out of a charge. For a regular commute, though, it's a great no-anxiety choice.

If you need a rental car for a short and predictable routine, next time try out a Leaf.

Have a Tiki, Tiki Christmas!

2011-12-22T20:55:00.000-08:00

A bright, cold windy day and we're in the San Gabriel Valley. This is winter in Southern California. The Santa Anas are tossing the palmettos around high overhead.

Although we don't have snow, or mistletoe, you can tell it's almost Christmas.

The Bahooka Family Restaurant is a pile of dark brown wood - cedar shakes, timbers and pylons - sitting amid the tropical foliage of hibiscus and banana trees. The building is festooned with a variety of maritime-themed junk, from white-painted iron chains to empty rowboats to life preservers. And dark carved wood tiki figures glowering from every corner.

We stepped through the wooden door, and it was as if we'd stepped into a maze. A really cluttered, chaotic maze. The walls and ceiling were hung with more Polynesian-themed junk - Japanese glass fishing floats, plastic parrots, palm frond fans and taxidermied marlins - overlaid with even more junk celebrating the season - Christmas lights, plastic Santas, wirework reindeer and snowflakes.

We wandered past the wicker lounges and '80s vintage computer games, and searched for a hostess stand or maybe the bar. Narrow kitsch-cluttered corridors branched and led through the maze. Neon-lit tanks of tropical fish glowed at every turn. There wasn't a human soul in sight.

It was a truly hallucinogenic scene. I almost felt as though I were lost. We came upon a tank with a giant fish goggling in the blue behind the glass.

Click to "embiggen"

It's Rufus, the giant Pacu Piranha. A sign expresses his feelings about living in his tank for 35 years - you won't be surprised to learn that he's okay with it. You can watch Rufus eat carrots on Youtube, the sign says.

Turning down another narrow passageway, we encounter a glass-topped glowing bar and some booths inhabited by real live people. A friendly bartender invites us to sit down. She explains that the tank under the glass holds a turtle named Nessie - and yes, there right beneath my cocktail napkin, a long-necked greyish dinnerplate-sized creature paddles and nudges the blue fake gravel with its nose.

We're here for drinks, since we've already eaten lunch somewhere else, and order from the specialty menu. The bartender is a friendly older woman, wearing a Christmas-patterned sweatshirt. She asks if we like pina coladas, and explains that they make their own mix from scratch. I haven't had a pina colada in decades, but I took her suggestion and ordered it. Our Son had a Mai Tai, while [The Man I Love] ordered a Navy Grog, which is basically rum, citrus and not enough Coke to make it a rum-and-coke.

Bahooka Family Restaurant came to be in the 1970s, inspired by the famous tiki-bars of the 1940s and 1950s that sprung up to cater to the tastes of World War II veterans who fought in the South Pacific. The most famous of these were Hollywood's Don the Beachcomber (which actually pre-dated WWII) and Trader Vic's, at the Beverly Hills Hilton.

In suburban towns like Rosemead, the tiki-inspired bars were a little more homey and funky, catering more to neighborhood folks and families rather than movie stars.

Our drinks arrive - served in huge glass goblets garnished with fruit skewers. I'm a little disappointed that there are no paper umbrellas, but the bartender is so talkative I can't even formulate a question to ask.

The pina colada tastes like lotion, no trace of pineapple, with the underlying bitterness of an overgenerous pour. Although I'm grateful, I stir vigorously so that the crushed ice will dilute the alcohol.

We hear about the history of the place; the films that were shot on location here; the stories of the fishes behind the glass. We learn about the fabled pork ribs marinated in exotic secret sauce. We marvel aloud at the decor - the aggregate of flotsam and jetsam that covers every surface.

"It's a ship-wreck," says the bartender. "You sit in the booth and it's like you're all alone in a shack on a deserted island." (Note: this concept of the restaurant is confirmed at the website. Follow link to "history.")

We chat about the wind outside, remembering the wind storms of a couple weeks ago. We agree with her that weather in LA is unpredictable.

We drink our oversized drinks and look around - at the model galleons, the carved jaguar heads, the huge fish in the aquarium behind the bar. The bartender knocks on the glass to get Nessie - the turtle - to come over to have his picture taken through the murky portholes on the side of the bar.

Nessie seems a little shy. He doesn't show his face to the camera. I can't get a shot of him.

Nessie's friends

His friends are more outgoing, though.

We wonder if we should try another drink. Maybe a Head Shrinker, with rum, apricot nectar, pineapple and Coke? Maybe a Hurricane Lantern - gin and cherry creme? On the other hand, we need to head back to the west side. We'lll come back, and maybe even try the famous spareribs.

We call for the check and settle up.

When we push out into the cold clear light of afternoon, it feels like we've left an alternate dimension.

Back out on Rosemead Boulevard, the San Gabriel Mountains rise high in the clear, cold winter air beyond the traffic. We're headed back to the coast, and home, and our own Christmas tree.

Brilliant

2011-12-21T06:05:00.000-08:00

This house in the neighborhood on the west side of Silver Lake has a huge tree in its front yard....

And the tree is bedecked with chandeliers.

Dozens of them. Dripping glittering crystal prisms.

They are wired, too.

I'll have to come here at night and see if they light up. I'm not sure whether they are just up for Christmas or whether they are up year-round.

What a wonderful idea.

Here's an LA blog that mentions the chandelier tree, and in the comment the owner/artist explains. Go read it!

The essence of L.A.

2011-12-20T17:29:00.000-08:00

Our Son, who's been living in the UK for a year, has returned home for the holidays. And while he enjoys living England, this afternoon he savored once again the true essence of LA.

Yucas shares a parking lot with a liquor store

Sitting in the winter afternoon sunshine at a flimsy table in a parking lot, eating a burrito from a tiny food shack, while the traffic in the street goes by. The orange grease oozes through the paper wrapping and runs down your wrist.

A cochinita pibil burrito from Yuca's on Hillhurst in Los Feliz.

It's Los Feliz, so you expect hipsters

A liquor store on one side and a nail shop on the other.

Jack likes it, too.

Clarity

2011-12-20T08:29:00.000-08:00

Click to "embiggen"

It's so clear out that I had to pull off the road and take a photo of Catalina Island appearing on the horizon, off the coast.

More punk

2011-12-19T00:17:00.000-08:00

(should I know this guy?)

When Monday comes, punk rock will be far behind us, and all those mohawked guys will be washing gel out of their hair and going back to work at the office.

But tonight - it's Black Flag!

(Note: everyone has a phone or a camera. Everyone!)

Rock on

2011-12-18T00:49:00.000-08:00

How can you be too old for punk rock?

When a show bills itself the 30th anniversary concert, you know there's going to be some creaky bones in the pit.

Crowd surfing? At my age?

But the spirit is still willing.

Grrl band "A Pretty Mess"

What's different from 1981 is that the bands all have grey hair

And everyone in the audience has a camera.

When the air smells like beer and sweat and marijuana, and the steam rises in the hall up to the ceiling

And you wade through a litter of crushed empty plastic cups on the floor, you know it's old school L.A. punk. Rock on till the lights come up and it's time to go, people!

Pink Saturday - pink my ride

2011-12-17T01:53:00.000-08:00

It's Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

It was a typical Saturday afternoon in Hollywood. We'd hopped on the northbound Hollywood Freeway at the Sunset Boulevard on-ramp, and were threading our way through the Caheunga Pass. Past the stacks of the Capitol Records Building, past the Hollywood Bowl, past Universal City, where a sparkling white stretch Hummer limousine glided down the ramp. These things are pretty common in Los Angeles, but moments later, we were startled by a car we saw ahead in traffic.

A Barbie pink Bentley.

Oh, sure, there are lots of Bentleys in Los Angeles, but few as conspicuous as this. Who could it be? Curious, we stayed in our lane and hoped the flow of traffic would bring us alongside.

Click photos to "embiggen"

Pretty soon, we were just alongside the car, and from the passenger seat, I got a quick photo of the driver. A stylish dark-haired young woman.

As we passed and the pink Bentley receded behind us, [The Man I love] looked in the rear view mirror.

"There's another one." The Bentley was behind us, but coming down the ramp was another pink vehicle.

This one proved to be a large SUV or truck, headlights blazing. It soon pulled alongside the Bentley as it changed lanes.

Just what was going on in the Caheunga Pass, with Barbie-colored vehicles racing along the freeway? I expected to see Angelyne's pink Corvette any second.

On came the pink truck. The fork as the Hollywood Freeway split into the 170 and the 101 Ventura Freeway, the Bentley moved to the left and overtook us - gliding past us toward the San Fernando Valley, the pink truck, meanwhile, right behind us and closing in fast.

We took the split to the westbound Ventura freeway, and the pink truck followed, then slipped into the right hand lane and stepped on the gas.

On it came, and soon it was beside us - it was a Ford F150 king cab pickup, driven by a blonde young woman.

Then it was gone.

After we got home, I googled "pink Bentley" and after a bit, discovered that - although Paris Hilton famously drove a pink Bentley for a while - on December 1, 2011 a size called StarzUncut featured a story about pop star Nicki Minaj and her new pink Bentley.

What do you think, was that Nicki Minaj we saw, cruising through the Caheunga Pass all alone in her new, $200,000 pink 2012 Bentley Continental GT? Where was she bound?

And who was the blonde in the pick-up? Was it a coincidence both pink vehicles were together on the same highway? As they drove alongside one another, did their eyes meet? Did they nod approvingly at one another's iconic choice of color?

We'll never know. Los Angeles is full of stories, and I've probably given this one has way more meaning than it deserves.

Vocal fry

2011-12-16T07:35:00.000-08:00

Several years ago I took a job in an organization where many of my colleagues were young, smart and capable women. When I started, I was trained by a young woman I'll call Natalie, and she had a habitual way of expressing the sentiment of affirmation, agreement - that is, "Yes."

She would smile, nod slightly, turn her downcast eyes to the side a little and growl, "Egg-zaaaaaaaaact-ley." Tonally, it would go "Up - down - down." The quality of her voice was gravelly, a kind of almost scraping sound.

Another vocal tick common to young women is the tendency to end sentances on an up note? like you're asking a question? - this seems to convey the sense of uncertainty or submission - you're not sure you're right and would defer to your listener if they chose to contradict you.

But this growly-voice is different. I started to notice it being used a lot, especially when the speaker wanted to be taken seriously, or in a professional setting. It's like they are deliberately pitching their voices lower in order to sound more authoritative. It's an increasingly more commonly heard tone of speech from women salespeople, women spokespersons, radio journalists - the young ones, at least.

Many singers use this growling sound - it's a signature sound for Britney Spears' voice. In this context, I think it's supposed to be sexy and assertive, almost predatory.

I even started to notice myself falling into the habit, and tried to control myself, because I don't like how mannered it sounds.

Well, I just learned the name of the phenomenon, or the name for that register of speech: "Vocal fry." It can be technically described as a low stacatto vibration produced by the fluttering of the vocal chords. For previous generations, vocal fry was considered a speech defect, or something that happened if your voice was damaged. In some languages, vocal fry is a intentional factor that signifies the meaning of a word. Vocal fry also has been used to frighten people - just remember how the child character Danny Torrance said "Redrum!"

A recently published study by Long Island University scholars Nassima Abdelli-Beruh, Lesley Wolk and Dianne Slavin found that college age women are increasingly more likely to use the vocal fry register in their everyday speech - almost 2/3rds of the women in the study. The growling sound was most frequently used at the end of sentences.

Have you noticed "vocal fry" in your friends' and colleagues' speech? What's your take - annoying, or OK?
Do you "fry" when you speak?

At least I'm glad we know what to call it now. Maybe naming a fad mean that it's soon over.

UPDATE: You can hear vocal fry in the opening lyrics of Britney Spears' song "One More Time" or if you're not a Britney fan, you can hear it HERE.

Too much of a good thing - redux

2011-12-15T10:05:00.000-08:00

What's your favorite sinful food indulgence?

What's your second favorite?

What if you had both together at the same time?

That's the question I asked myself when I tried the signature "Lobster macaroni and cheese" at the Santa Monica restaurant Blue Plate Oysterette.

I love lobster. I adore mac and cheese. The combination of the two should be divine!

Only it wasn't. It was too much. The rich taste of the lobster, which would have been wonderful dripping with butter - when paired with creamy cheese just tasted fishy. The tanginess of the cheese was muted.

I learned my lesson - I'll go with simple indulgences over complicated ones next time.

What do you think - divine or over-the-top?

Getting ready!

2011-12-14T09:02:00.000-08:00

We're getting ready for the holidays!

Yesterday our phone and internet were both out at the house. Today they're back. I'm making cookies and in a few hours we go pick Our Son up at the airport - home from London for the holidays.

Fool in a $50,000 car

2011-12-12T10:07:00.000-08:00

Open letter to the driver of a grey Mercedes E350 sedan:

Dear Sir,

Are you crazy? Did you happen to notice it's pouring down rain this morning?

Did it cross your mind that the driver of that 1990 Volvo wagon in front of you might have to brake suddenly, perhaps while hydroplaning on the sheets of water running down our twisting mountain road, or to avoid rocks or even boulders falling from the cliffs?

As a matter of fact, anything could happen.

January 9, 2005, rock on Topanga Canyon Boulevard. AP Photo

So why have you spent the last six miles with barely a car-length between your front bumper and his rear?

Sincerely,

Concerned Topangan

Curbside herbs

2011-12-10T18:42:00.000-08:00

Single French marigold blossoms and perilla - with dandelions

I was walking down Main Street in Santa Monica - actually I was heading for the corner store to grab an afternoon snack. It was a walk I'd taken many times before.

The streetscape here is pretty bleak - there's a row of low, 1920's era storefronts, some, like the corner store, are in pretty good shape and vital, but others are shabby, like a moribund shoe-repair shop and a vacant storefront stuffed with stored junk. There's a '70s era stucco office building and a parking lot - the parking lot is surrounded by a pointy, spear-like steel fence.

Just in front of the parking lot fence is a narrow strip of soil and I suddenly realized that although it was thickly overgrown with weeds, it was planted with an assortment of culinary and ornamental herbs.

Yes, someone had planted an herb garden here in this narrow, gritty strip of soil in front of a parking lot in the middle of the city.

Who could the gardener have been? The owner of the shoe repair shop? The employees of the City of Santa Monica's Housing Division, who occupied the office building?

Tricolor sage - Salvia officianalis

Perhaps it was the flash of deep red from a low-growing single French marigold that caught my eye. Or the specimen of tricolor sage - the rosy, white, and green variety of Salvia officianalis - that was more vigorous than any I've been able to establish in my own garden.

Here on a December day, with the winter sun slanting in low, my photos aren't as clear as I'd hope. But here's what's growing on Main Street.

Oregano leaves and dried flowers

Lavender is only sparsely in bloom this December, but there is a good-sized shrub of lavender - I think it's the Provence variety.

More oregano flowers, some tarragon leaves, and black sage

At the back of the garden, California native Salvia mellifera, or black sage. There's also oregano, having flowered and gone to seed.

I think the purple flowers are chives - although I'm not sure.

The striking red-backed and toothy leaves of Perilla frutescens, an herb popular in Japanese and Korean cuisine. There are different varieties, and this one appears to be red perilla, The green version is known as Shiso in Japan, and is often used to add flavor to sushi.

This gardener like sage - here's pineapple sage, or Salvia elegans. It blooms with tiny red flowers, although in December, there aren't more than a few to see. Instead, the large fragrant leaves are tinged with purple.

Flowers of pineapple sage

The creator of this garden also included herbs for fragrance and ornament, like scented-leaved geraniums. The pretty mahogany-red flowers at the top of this post are French marigolds, still in bloom this December.

Scented leaved geranium

Any passing office worker or deliveryman can pluck a sweet-smelling leaf to rub between the fingers and freshen up their day.

The little herb garden is overgrown with crab grass and dandelions - of course, dandelions are considered edible herbs as well, so who knows whether the original gardener introduced them?

It's a testimony to the resilient nature of herbs that they have been able to thrive here, in this harsh urban setting, and hold their own with the weeds. If you've ever doubted you could grow herbs - this should surely inspire you to give it a try!

Isn't it magical to walk past a weedy stretch of urban landscape and realize it's actually a garden of scented and beautiful herbs?

What secret gardens in your daily routine are awaiting your notice?

Pink Saturday - a pink door

2011-12-10T01:01:00.000-08:00

It's Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

Click all photos to "embiggen"

We recently took another stairway walk using Charles Fleming's book "Secret Stairs: A Walking Guide to the Historic Staircases of Los Angeles."

This time we walked through the streets surrounding Echo Park Lake, and especially Angelino Heights, a neighborhood of preserved historic Victorian homes.

This house, a classic 1900s bungalow, with its pretty salmon-pink door is on Kellam Avenue.

Its next door neighbor is also pink - I wrote about this little bungalow with carved garlands on a previous Pink Saturday.

On this visit we found the homeowner out raking her yard, and chatted with her awhile. She's been here for many decades, and told us how local artist and resident Leo Politi used to sit and sketch the houses on the street.

Politi lived nearby, on East Edgeware Road, in a fine old Craftsman-style home hidden behind shrubs, orange trees, and bougainvillea. The City of Los Angeles has designated the Politi home, like many homes in Angelino Heights, a Cultural Landmark. For more about Politi's life in Angelino Heights, visit Big Orange Landmark's page on the Politi home.

We also learned that scenes from the recent film "J. Edgar" were shot at the house on Carroll Avenue behind her home - and that Leo Di Caprio was a real nice guy!

Google Map's street view of Carroll Avenue

The neighborhood is so frequently used for film and location shoots that when I went to Google Maps to see a street view of the house she mentioned, I found a motor home, blocked-off parking spaces, and a snorkel-lift in the picture.

Kellam and Carroll Avenues have the largest concentration of historic home, with many house-proud owners already decorated for Christmas, like this witch-hat turretted house.

If you've ever longed to buy and restore a Victorian house, this is the place to come to see a collection of styles. From mansard-roofed French Empire to Greene and Greene bungalow, and everything in between, the neighborhood is a living museum of late nineteenth century residential architecture - in a wide variety of conditions.

Some houses are perfectly restored and maintained

Others are being worked on

Some are hidden away behind mature vegetation, offering only tantalizing and mysterious views of their treasures.

While others still are waiting to be rescued.

For a taste of Victoriana you'd never expect to find in Los Angeles, come visit Echo Park and Angelino Heights. You can follow my earlier visits to Angelino Heights HERE.

I bet the Christmas decorations are fantastic!

Jack's a nutcase

2011-12-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

Jack likes nuts. Here, he's enjoying pistachios.

Jack would be a great companion in a bar.

As a matter of fact, he IS a great companion in a bar. Among the many dog-friendly places we've found in LA, we recently enjoyed a lunch at a pub called "The Cat and Fiddle" in the heart of Hollywood on Sunset Boulevard.

The Cat and Fiddle is housed in an historic Hollywood courtyard building. Once the commissary for film studios in the neighborhood, it's a classic Mediterranean-style courtyard, an oasis of serenity off the bustle of the busy streets. It's said that scenes of the classic movie "Casablanca" were filmed here.

British rocker Kim Gordon and his wife bought the pub in 1982, and now their children run the place. Live music, British pub food, and a vast selection of beers and ales - plus a pet-friendly attitude - make the Cat and Fiddle a good place for Jack to hang out and enjoy himself.

You can bring your well-behaved dog and hang out in the courtyard, and the staff will bring a nice bowl of water. If your dog wants pistachios he'll have to buy - or you will.

Nice work if you can get it

2011-12-08T06:35:00.000-08:00

At work we have been going through some staffing and structural changes. Some long-time employees have transferred to other departments, and their duties have been shifted to other people. Some folks are better trained than others.

Yesterday, a man came through the office to empty the trash. We chatted pleasantly, and I watched as he trailed a large plastic garbage bag behind him. He picked up the black trash bin beneath my desk, dumped the contents into the plastic bag. Then he picked up the blue bin, where I'd deposited recyclable papers and plastic, and dumped the contents into the same plastic bag. I watched as he went from cubicle to cubicle, dumping all our carefully separated trash and recycling into the same plastic bag.

Down for the count

2011-12-06T13:35:00.000-08:00

405 on-ramp. Click to "embiggen"

I'm down with a bad cold. Achy, sniffles, stuffy nose, sore throat. It's also cold (for us!) and very dry out, which makes it feel worse.

Raw and bloody

2011-12-05T06:35:00.000-08:00

Just east of Crenshaw on Pico Boulevard, in the Byzantine-Latino Quarter of Los Angeles, amid a clutch of tire shops, a night club, and a carniceria, there's a narrow storefront, safely armored with iron bars and a metal screen door, that serves up some of the freshest seafood in town.

La Cevicheria is owned by a Guatemalan family. All they serve here is seafood - there are no burgers or chicken for the squeamish. As its name indicates, a specialty is ceviche - raw seafood marinated in citrus juice and spiced with chiles. The acid citrus juice causes a chemical process that denatures the protein in the fish - "cooking" it.

All throughout Latin America there are versions of ceviche, and La Cevecheria serves several types - Guatemalan, Peruvian, and the typical Mexican version most Angelinos are accustomed to. Ceviche can be made with white fish like snapper, with octopus or squid, shrimp - or you can find more exotic versions, with abalone, crab, or scallops. Here at La Cevecheria, they make it with blood clams.

Also called mangrove cockles, conchas negras, black clams or patas de mula (mule's foot), blood clams are shellfish in the genus Anadara; the species A. grandis, A. granosa, and A tuberculosa. Their ribbed shells are called "ark shells" by collectors. Because the mollusks inside the shells have a high level of hemoglobin in their bodies, blood clams ooze with a dark, maroon juice - hence the gruesome name.

Pull up a stool and have some ceviche

I have to confess - I'm not fond of clams, generally. I love seafood - adore oysters on the half-shell - but for some reason clams don't really entice me. And raw clams are even less to my taste than cooked clams. Throw in the detail of gory-looking juices and that makes it even more off-putting.

But the reviews for La Cevecheria's blood clam ceviche are so positive I really had to check it out.

We ordered the "Concha negro ceviche" and chose a mix of seafood that included the blood clams, shrimp, octopus and squid. It was served in a huge, footed glass bowl you might expect an icecream sundae to be served in. Whoa! Chopped tomatoes, onions, and herbs piled high atop a thick purple-black mixture of seafood.

A stack of crisp tostadas was served alongside, and also packages of saltines - a typical accompaniment in Guatemala.

Spoon a generous heap onto a tostada and crunch. The dark juices run down your arm, and in your mouth a burst of flavor blooms - onion, lime, salt, tomato. There's a fresh bite of mint here - I've never had mint in a ceviche before, and it was perfect. The juice is rich and vinegary with Worcestershire sauce - another Guatemalan touch, I'm told. The seafood is delicious - chewy, sweet, and ocean-flavored. Here a shrimp, there a chunk of octopus, there a darkly succulent hunk of clam.

[The Man I Love] had ordered mariscadas Caribena for us to share - a mixed seafood stew made Caribbean-style with coconut milk.

When it came, four perfectly cooked New Zealand mussels surrounded a timbale of rice, bathed in a golden curry sauce swimming with shrimp and rings of squid. Nicely spiced, it was rich and tasty.

At the last minute, I jumped up and placed an order for fish tacos - two came with the order.

When they came to the table, the crispy fried fish within were still hot from the fryer. Garnished with shredded cabbage, cilantro, chopped tomatoes and avocado, they were dressed with sour cream and hot sauce. Biting into the cool crunchy vegetables to the hot crispy inner core of fried fish was amazing.

Since our son has been living overseas for a year, and only visits during holidays, we've come to categorize places as to whether they're worthy of sharing with him or not. We will definitely be taking him to La Cevecheria when he visits - if nothing else, so that we can try out other dishes on the menu - how about that Peruvian style ceviche with the yellow chiles?

La Cevecheria accepts cash only, and it doesn't serve alcohol. The waitress kindly mentioned that we could bring our own beer or wine on our next visit, if we wanted it. That's good to know - because we'll be back again.

Echo Park

2011-12-04T17:39:00.000-08:00

Click to "embiggen"

Sunday morning, parking lot, Echo Park, Los Angeles.

Sandwich travelogue

2011-12-03T10:45:00.000-08:00

Throughout America's history, its immigrants have both sought to assimilate and to maintain their ethnic heritage. From the Sons of Norway to the Ancient Order of Hibernians, people coming to America banded together to preserve their ethnic heritage. Towns, streets, and homes were named to commemorate after places in the home countries. In early Los Angeles, Americans from eastern states gathered to remember their homes in Iowa, Ohio and New York. The main street of Boyle Heights - once home to LA's Jewish community - was called Brooklyn Avenue before it was changed to honor Cesar E. Chavez.

Some loncheros have creative ways to bring in more revenue

So it's no wonder that today's immigrants, while working hard to be American, take pride in their former hometowns and do so through the medium of food. Regional specialties and hometown recipes from many regions of Mexico are available throughout Los Angeles.

And what better way to acquaint yourself with them than by sampling food from LA's vast fleet of taco trucks?

Food trucks are all the rage now, from Korean Fusion tacos to artisanal ice cream sandwiches. But LA's loncheras, or mainly Latino food trucks, were here first.

Many taco trucks are beautifully painted, with fantastic scenes or cartoon-like tableaux. One of the most intriguing ones I've seen recently is the Cemitas Tepeaca #2 truck, which regularly operates on North Indiana Street, just south of Cesar E. Chavez Boulevard in Boyle Heights.

The paintings on the truck show views of Tepeaca, a city in Puebla, Mexico. It was founded in 1543, by monks who built the San Francisco de Asis convent. The church itself was built in 1726. Today thousands of pilgrims come to Tepeaca to venerate a somewhat more recent figure, Santo Niño Dios Jesús, Doctor de la Enfermos - or Holy Child Jesus, Doctor of the Sick.

Throughout Latin America, there is a tradition of honoring Jesus as a child, especially during the Christmas season, and at Candlemas, February second, the figure of the child is presented dressed in new clothes - sometimes Aztec-inspired costumes or even soccer clothes.

In 1942, a Christ Child figure was brought to the convent at Tepeaca. As the story goes, people noticed that the figurine's shoes were smeared with mud on some mornings during the rainy season. Tales were told of the Child visiting sick people during the night, healing them. Soon people came from all over to pray for Santo Niño Dios Jesús, Doctor de la Enfermos to bring health to their sick loved ones.

Today, the feast of Santo Niño Dios Jesús, Doctor de la Enfermos is celebrated on April 30

The Cemitas Tepeaca truck shows a scene of the town plaza, its beautiful Spanish baroque church and belfry, with the image of the Santo Niño Dios Jesús, suspended magically in the sky above.

Also pictured is El Rollo - a Moorish-style octagonal tower, built in 1559 as a pillory where native workers were imprisoned, but by 19th century transformed into a clock tower and symbol of the city.

Cemita poblano with carnitas

The cemita is a sandwich originally from Tepeaca's state of Puebla. Like a torta, it's a sandwich with meat - chicken, carnitas, or breaded steak called milanesa - dressed with chopped white onion, lettuce, avocado slices and salsa rojo - but it's distinguished from a torta by the bread, a fluffy, yeast-raised egg bun with sesame seeds. Cemitas poblanas are often served with a fresh Oaxacan string cheese.

You can read more about cemitas poblanas HERE, as Bill Esparza of Street Gourmet LA explains how they came to be.

After a virtual visit to Tepeaca's beautiful plaza, aren't you hungry for a cemita?

Thematic Photographic - Flash of Color

2011-12-02T07:53:00.000-08:00

Carmi at Written, Inc., posts a photographic challenge each week called Thematic Photographic - this week's theme is "A FLASH OF COLOR."

Sometimes all you need for a flash of color to catch your eye is the contrast between subtle autumn earthtones and the bold flash of a classic vintage car - seen here on a quiet residential street in Los Angeles' Highland Park neighborhood.

Anyone know what kind of car it is?

LA weather forecasters strike out again

2011-12-01T21:06:00.000-08:00

Well, once again, the foretold disaster scenario is underwhelming.

Something we should be grateful for, after all. We were warned of hurricane-force winds, high fire conditions in our mountains and canyon - in short, disaster. Last night was blustery. Today, walking across Pico Boulevard in Santa Monica to pick up my lunch, the wind tossed my skirt around my knees.

Right now, here in Topanga? Cold, crisp, clear and quiet.

Part of me is relieved we've avoided a threat of wildfires and destruction. But part of me is a little disappointed that yet again, the LA weatherforecasters have fallen short of their dire predictions. It could have been exciting.

Jack

Good night, all. We're safe and sound. Hope you are too.

UPDATE: Well,this morning I feel foolish and selfish, too. Things weren't so bad here in Topanga, but in other parts of the county, like Pasadena, the winds caused a lot of damage and power outages. So those of you who are dealing with those problems, please forgive my cavalier attitude.

Busy week!

2011-11-30T18:49:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy week. Meetings all day, traffic jams, shopping. Tonight the wind has picked up and here in the canyons we're being told to expect gusts up to 40 mph. I've got the candles and matches handy, and all the flashlights have fresh batteries.

Meanwhile, enjoy this photo of a great neon sign in East Los Angeles.

Just stop!

2011-11-28T19:14:00.000-08:00

Celebrating my youngest brothers' first birthday

I'm going to stake out an unpopular position here, but things have gotten out of hand and it's time for someone to take a stand.

Today at work, I was called to a meeting in the conference room, and as I sat there, my colleagues came in bearing a giant cake topped with swirls of whipped cream, singing "Happy Birthday" to me.

Please just make it stop! I beg you!

In my office, birthdays are important. We post a monthly birthday list on the bulletin board. We surreptitiously circulate birthday cards for signatures - discretely hidden inside manila folders labeled "Confidential" - as if we didn't all recognize the folder when it goes around. People get together and whisper conspiratorially about who will get the cake and what kind of cake it will be. A collection is taken up.

And then, inevitably, the birthday person is called to an "important meeting" in the conference room, and - SURPRISE!

Honestly, I appreciate the thought. Really. It's just that I can't keep eating huge slabs of buttercream-iced cakes or giant triangles of meringue topped pie two or three times a month in the middle of the workday.

The week before Thanksgiving, four Marie Callendar pies - apple, chocolate, banana cream and cherry - were brought in to celebrate the boss's birthday. I was hoping it was a co-celebration, for both of us, since our birthdays are only a few days apart. But no, today it was a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, just for me.

In recent years, the retirement of two long-time employees, and the inter-departmental transfer of another employee gave me hope that our long-established birthday custom would soon become obsolete. New hires wouldn't have the same expectations as the old guard.

Yes, we managed to squelch the gift-giving - this had become a pointed display of co-worker popularity. We halted the escalation in party decor - paper printed tablecloths and matching plastic flatware and even fold-out tissuepaper tablescapes. The theatrically elaborate surprise ruses were no longer so complex. But the first birthday after the retirees were gone, the whispers began "What kind of dessert does X like?"

So we are still bringing custom-iced, boxed sugary buttercream treats to work, and stuffing ourselves with fats and sugars.

Hello, people! I don't want chocolate buttercream at 2:00 in the afternoon when I really would rather be finishing up that email I'm writing to Risk Management about a client's insurance certificate - and doesn't that tell you how serious I am about this? I don't like Carrow's apple pies, with crust that tastes like cardboard and filling that comes from a can. Half of us are on a diet, anyway!

Frankly, it feels crappy to lie and say how pleased I am. It feels crappy to say, "only a sliver for me" - meaning I don't want any. It feels even more crappy to eat more than I want, just to make you feel I'm grateful. It feels crappy to feign enthusiasm about taking home a box of supermarket cake to "share with my family" and then throw it in the trash.

I don't want a birthday cake at work! And I think there are other people who feel the same.

But maybe I'm being churlish here. What's your take? What do you do at work to celebrate co-workers' birthdays? How do other people feel about it? Any suggestions how to change it?

Rose for winter

2011-11-28T10:12:00.000-08:00

This is Hybrid tea "Julia's rose." It's growing in a large pot on my deck, and today it has 5 buds or blossoms on it.

It's an unusally colored rose - it's almost tan, because what would be a delicate peach is muted by a colder hue.

Here in bud it's closer to peach-pink, but as it opens and ages, its color changes.

Another bloom.

When "Julia's rose" is in full bloom, the flower opens to reveal the godlen stamens inside. It's a beautiful, subtle rose, perfect in November's slanting golden light.

Weird tech dreams

2011-11-26T20:03:00.000-08:00

The Holy Grail

I think everyone has anxiety dreams, and they are usually about being late, loss, escape, and other universal issues. I've experienced them all my life, but only recently I've noticed that my anxiety dreams have been evolving. They now embody modern technology.

Last night I dreamed that my boss instructed me to write an exam to be given to all our employees. Which I did, although I don't remember what the subject was.

Then, there was some confusion about how the exam would actually be adminstered. Would it be printed on paper, and people would write in their answers longhand? Would it be a computer-given test? Would I email the file of the test to the test administrators, or would I have to print off multiple paper copies of the test and bring them to the testing location to give to people? This was all very unclear, but, nonetheless, a matter of great consternation to me.

I spent most of the night dreaming that I was searching for functioning computers to complete my task. In my dream I sought a computer to - 1) email the file to someone. 2) download the file onto my flash drive so that I could transport it. 3) Print the exam so I could bring paper copies to the test site. And I was thwarted at every turn.

I-Mac

In addition to this, there were other challenges - 1) the stairway leading to the computer lab had crumbled and I had to climb up the side of the building. 2) computers that had keyboards and hard drives but no monitors. 3) I was directed to a broken purple I-Mac (remember those?) in a child's bedroom that showed behind its shattered cranium the machine's internal workings, clicking and glowing infernally. 4) I could not remember how to work a mouse. 5) The flash drive flipped out of my fingers and disappeared in a weed-ridden field.

When I awoke, I was both disturbed by the usual anxious emotion - and intrigued that my psyche had updated itself to modern times.

Do you have anxiety dreams that have become transformed by modern technology?

Seeing stars

2011-11-25T19:35:00.000-08:00

For someone who lives in Los Angeles, I don't actually see a lot of movie stars. I have what I like to call "celebrity dyslexia" - I am unable to recognize celebrities when I see them. I'll pass someone and think to myself, "that person looks a lot like [Fill in Star's Name here]." And only later will a companion say to me, "Wow, did you check out [Fill in Star's Name Here]!"

"Huh?" I'll say, and turn to look and of course the opportunity is gone.

But some celebrities are unmistakable. In 1997 when we moved here, I saw a bright Barbie-pink Corvette in the parking lot at the Hughes Supermarket in Pacific Palisades, and then a tiny but buxom blonde woman unfolded herself from the driver's seat and tottered on high heels to the store. Her license plate read "ANGELYNE."

Famous for being famous, Angelyne is a mystery. She seldom grants interviews, and never divulges personal information. Her means of support is unknown - in the 1980s she bought huge billboards to display her image all over the region - but it's unclear how she paid for them. Her billboards became a symbol of Los Angeles, and appeared in countless movies - although the woman herself appeared on film only in a few cameos. In the 2003 gubernatorial recall election, Angelyne ran for the office, finishing a distant 28th after winner Arnold Schwarzeneggar.

In recent years, photos of her pink-bedecked Malibu condo appeared on LA real estate blogs, up for short sale. Featured in the photos were her jacuzzi, with a plastic inflatable bath pillow (this photo, says the Real Estalker, "hint at an unspeakable loneliness we can't contemplate.") and a king-sized bed with molded plastic pink headboards.

If you Google Angelyne's image, you'll find that most sitings involve her car, parking lots, and Angelyne shopping at supermarkets, drugstores, Kinko's and coffee shops. Her official bio claims she was born in 1958, but her face looks far older.

Today, while in Calabasas at a shopping center called The Commons, I encountered Angelyne's car - somehow, since 1997 her personalized plates have been re-issued as "ANGELNN." She was behind the car, with the trunk open, while speaking to a fan - I could see her teased blonde and pink-tressed hair. As I can gather from Google, these days Angelyne sells memorabilia about herself from her car.

I chose not to take her photo, although I suppose she would probably not have minded - as long as I bought a T-shirt. Maybe next time.

See a gallery of 27 pictures of Angelyne at Calabasas Commons HERE.

Hollywood - what's in a name?

2011-11-25T17:34:00.000-08:00

Toyon - Heteromeles arbutifolia - is also called the California holly. It's an evergreen shrub, native to the chaparral and oak woodlands of the Santa Monica mountains, and grows all over my neighborhood

Its common name came because toyon's serrated evergreen leaves and brilliant red berries resembled Ilex aquafolium, the Christmas holly East-coast settlers of early California were familiar with. One story goes that an Ohio housewife named Daida Wilcox called the real estate development she and her husband sold "Hollywood," perhaps due to the profusion of toyon shrubs in the hills along the Caheunga Pass or perhaps just because she liked the name.

Toyon became so popular for Southern California Christmas decorations that laws prohibiting cutting the shrub were passed in the 1920s to protect it.

Here in Topanga, toyon grows everywhere, and volunteer seedlings spring up in my yard from berries dropped by birds or animals.

Toyon seedling in my front yard

The first year we moved to Los Angeles, before I got a job and I was able to spend days at home, I was in our Topanga back yard and watched as a flock of cedar waxwings inhabited a toyon bush and ate almost all the berries from it. Then they flew off together.

I never saw a cedar waxwing before that, and haven't seen one since. I'm actually not good at seeing birds - somehow my eyes or my brain aren't properly wired to distinguish them.

But I remember that flock of cedar waxwings, each with a yellow band at the end of its tail, and how the brilliant red berries disappeared so quickly as they fed.

It's almost my birthday

2011-11-24T22:55:00.000-08:00

The sky over Saddlepeak, Wednesday morning, 11/23/2011

Hooray for me! Marking another year on earth.

I just wrote a submission to this site. It felt good!

Go visit and see if you can find me. Or, if you have the same issue, write your own post.

Abundance to give thanks for

2011-11-24T08:25:00.000-08:00

Parsnips

I'm so lucky to be able to visit the Santa Monica Wednesday Farmers' Market so frequently. It's just a short walk from where I work - a trip to the market during lunch break is a perfect way to clear my head and energize me.

Squash

Yesterday it was brimming over with abundance - and shoppers.

Flowers of all kinds

Brilliant colors

Exotic offerings, like this citron.

Even everyday vegetables look gorgeous.

Before you know it, it will be time for Christmas.

It's a hard knock life

2011-11-23T07:51:00.000-08:00

15 year old sweeper, Berkshire Cotton Mills, Adams, MA, July, 1916

Speaking at the Harvard Kennedy Business School last week, Newt Gingrich, Republican presidential hopeful said, "First of all, in child [labor] laws, which are truly stupid...Most of these schools ought to get rid of the unionized janitors, have one master janitor and pay local students to take care of the school. The kids would actually do work, they would have cash, they’d have pride in the schools, they’d begin the process of rising."

Madeline Causey, 10 years old, worker at Merrimack Mills, Huntsville, Alabama, November, 1913

In 1981, Seattle's Fifth Avenue Theatre re-opened to present live theatre shows. The opening show was a touring production of the big Broadway hit, "Annie" - which was based on the comic strip "Little Orphan Annie." I was lucky enough, as a junior low-on-the-dispatch-list stagehand with Local #15, to make the show call as a deck electrician for the 10 week run.

Funny thing about a show about kids. Our cast included a dozen or so kids, playing impoverished orphans. But because they were represented by a labor union - Actors Equity Association - their working conditions were strictly protected. They could only work so many hours per week; so many consecutive hours, and the employer had to provide for their education.

On the other hand, the characters in the show were the perfect embodiment of Mr. Gingrich's idea - institutionalized kids forced to work for their own keep. These kids' labor cleaning and cooking offset their room and board.

In the 19th century, it wasn't unusual to see kids working. On family farms, in agribusiness, in coal mines, and in factories, many of the workers were children. In Britain and in the United States, children sometimes worked twelve or more hours a day. Children were paid a fraction of the wages adults would get, and because of their size, could be sent into confined spaces where they were often exposed to dangerous machinery.

Frank, aged 14, has been working alongside his father in a coal mine for three years. Spent one year in a hospital when his leg was crushed by a coal car. 1911.

In 1900, according to the census, almost 1 in every 6 children aged five to 10 were listed as employed in "gainful occupations."

This so alarmed some activists that they formed the National Child Labor Committee in 1904, and hired sociologist Lewis W. Hines to document child labor with photographs. The collection can be viewed at the Library of Congress.

John Dempsey, 12 years old, Jackson Mill, Fiskeville, Rhode Island, April 1909

At one Maryland bean-packing factory, the caption states that there was "plenty of work for even the tiniest of hands."

But in the era the show was set - the Depression of the 1930s - things were about to change for kids.

In 1938, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed into law the Fair Labor Standards Act, which protected the rights of U.S. workers, and effectively prohibited child labor in the United States. This didn't happen simply because lawmakers felt sentimental about kids. It was also because the nation had weathered an economic crisis, and the law helped make sure jobs went to adult breadwinners at competitive wages.

The FLSA - originally and as amended over the years - also mandated minimum wage for workers, overtime at time-and-a-half,equitable wages, and pay equity for men and women. This is the law workers organized and fought over.

Coal miners, Pennsylvania Coal Company, Dupont, PA, 1911

Now the current Republican presidential "front-runner" wants to overthrow it, and put children back to work.

IT'S A HARD-KNOCK LIFE
Music by Charles Strouse, Lyrics by Martin Charnin

It's the hard-knock life for us! It's the hard-knock life for us!
Steada treated,
We get tricked!
'Steada kisses,
We get kicked!

Spinner girls, Lincolnton, N.C. 1908. Girl on the left is 10 years old, girl on the right is 12

It's the hard-knock life!
Got no folks to speak of, so, It's the hard-knock row we hoe!
Cotton blankets,
'Steada of wool!

15 year old "carrying-in boy" at the Grafton, W. VA glassworks, Octobrer 1908

Empty Bellies
'Steada of full!
It's the hard-knock life!

Tipple boy, Turkey Knob Mine, Macdonald W. VA, August 1908

Don't if feel like the wind is always howl'n?
Don't it seem like there's never any light!
Once a day, don't you wanna throw the towel in?
It's easier than puttin' up a fight.

Young Mexican boy cutting spinach, La Pryor, Texas, March 1939

No one's there when your dreams at night get creepy!
No one cares if you grow...of if you shrink!
No one dries when your eyes get wet an' weepy!
From all the cryin' you would think this place's a sink!
Ohhhh!!!!!!!

Young girl spoolers, Lincoln Cotton Mills, Indiana, October 1908

Empty belly life! Rotten smelly life!
Full of sorrow life! No tomorrow life!
Santa Claus we never see
Santa Claus, what's that? Who's he?
No one cares for you a smidge When you're in an orphanage!
It's the hard-knock life.

5 year old Francis Lance, newsboy, St. Louis, MO, 1910

In "Annie", the heroine is rescued by rich Daddy Warbucks, who adopts her and improves the lot of her and her fellow orphans. Also, in a fine example of how big money influences politicians, he intercedes with the President of the United States to promote legislation - the New Deal, in this case.

Angelo Ross, claims to be 13 years old, working at a Pittston, PA coal mine, 1911

In the touring company of "Annie," even though children were working, their conditions were protected by laws and by their labor union. Heck, even the dog playing Sandy was protected by rules and regulations. The current crop of politicians running to be the Republican party's candidate for president advocate doing away with regulations that offer protections to workers, consumers, and the environment. Of these, Newt Gingrich has gone farther than most, advocating an end to child labor laws.

Photos from the Library of Congress, National Child Labor Committee Collection. Just go to the link and browse the photos. Then think about Mr. Gingrich's proposal, and what it says about him.

Illegal use of food product

2011-11-22T14:50:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the internet, this guy will have his face and image go world-wide, showing him comitting an act of brutality. Nice way to cap off your career in law enforcement, buddy!

Disturbing as the original incident was, the image of a militaristic officer spraying pepper at innocents has also gone world-wide as a satirical and inventive internet meme.

I am always amazed at the creativity of human beings.

Meanwhile, in the "you couldn't make this up" department, Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly defends the action, declaring that pepper spray is "a food product, essentially!"

I am equally amazed at the absurdity of human beings.

Pie-pocalypse

2011-11-22T11:02:00.000-08:00

Some people I work with organized a get-together that reached out across many bureaucratic divides, all in the common interest of delicious desserts.

The First Annual Beach House Pie-Luck. At least I think it's the first. Maybe they've been doing it without me in the past?

Who cares? It's time for pie!

Berry cobbler, mincemeat tarts, pumpkin, apple, pear pie. Plus red velvet cake, pumpkin brownies and ooey-gooey butter cake!! Me? I brought a nutty tart.

The problem with Pie-Luck, however, is that every individual brings a dish that can feed a dozen people! There was more pie than we could consume. Fortunately, there was a group of hungry guys around the place, who pitched in to help!

It was a great rehearsal for Thanksgiving!

Delectable Antojitos

2011-11-20T07:28:00.000-08:00

We had lunch this weekend in Highland Park at a little place on York Avenue called Antojitos Guerrero. Antojitos are Mexican street food for when you're hungry - the word antojo means "craving." The food is casual, fast, and cheap.

Antojitos Guerrero is housed in a tiny hillside storefront next to a neighborhood beauty salon. Inside, there's the kitchen, a counter, and a handful of tables. Out a metal screened door to the side, a covered area holds a few more booths, and in front of the cheerfully orange-painted storefront a few more tables with umbrellas grace the sidewalk. Although York Avenue has scores of tempting restaurants both grand and tiny, we chose Antojitos Guerrero because we had Jack with us and needed outdoor seating.

It was a blustery fall day - dark clouds in the northeast, but bright sun where we were, and a brisk chill breeze. We tied Jack up to the umbrella base, and he settled down beneath our table. I wondered if we'd have to order at the counter, but we were brought a menu by a smiling and welcoming waitress.

I was in the mood for ceviche, so I ordered a tostada with fish. I also ordered a huarache with carne asada. [The Man I Love] opted for a shrimp ceviche, and ordered costillas de puerco - pork ribs - in colorado chile sauce with strips of nopales cactus, served with rice and beans. I ordered a jamaica agua fresca, and he ordered a Mexican Coke.

Our drinks came first, with a basket of chips and two salsas. One was a bright, fresh green salsa, and the other a deep smooth red chile salsa.

Shrimp ceviche in the foreground, fish in the back

Our ceviches were served first - and I was amazed! I'm used to taco truck ceviche tostadas, with a thin layer of ceviche on a crisp tortilla that you crunch up while waiting for your burrito. These were lavish, overflowing, the tortillas piled high with chunks of fish, tomato, onion and cucumber, garnished with orange and lime and perfectly ripe slices of avocado.

Costillas de puerco

My huarache was good, but unremarkable. What was really a knockout was the costillas de puerco - I could smell the complex flavors of the salsa colorado across the table. These are short ribs - stewed together with nopales in a finger-staining brick-colored unctuous red chile sauce fragrant with spices. Best of all, it was served with a basket of handmade corn tortillas - tasty, chewy, and utterly delicious.

The people who ran the place were friendly and welcoming. They brought a bowl of water for Jack. While we enjoyed our meal, we listened to the ranchero music from the restaurant's stereo and the chatter from the ladies in the beauty parlor next door. Skateboarding kids flew past. So did SUVs with booming sound systems.

Jack got a few tasty bites, too!

We counted ourselves lucky to have stumbled upon a great find. The servings were so abundant we took them home for dinner, and we also ordered another half-dozen tortillas.

L.A. is full of hidden treasures. I bet your hometown is too. Explore them!

Return to Chicken Boy

2011-11-19T17:57:00.000-08:00

We spent some time in Highland Park today.

You are too much for me, Chicken Boy...... I wish I knew how to quit you!

Pink Saturday - a shared garden

2011-11-19T01:08:00.000-08:00

Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

Dahlia

Even on a grey November day, the Community Garden on Main Street in Santa Monica touched with bright colors. Gardeners were tidying their small plots and planting winter crops. The gate was open, and the sign said the public was welcome to view the gardens, so in I went.

The Main Street garden is the first of the city's three community gardens to be established, back in 1976. It has 69 individual plots. Available to city residents for only $60.00 a year, the program is so popular there is a long waiting list. The city provides water to the community gardens and sponsors garden workshops and classes. The city even has a garden sharing outreach that matches non-gardening property owners with apartment-dwelling gardeners.

Gardeners put their own creative mark on the plots.

Scarecrow with umbrella

Some plots are fenced in with salvaged wrought iron gates.

Others have formal layouts of raised beds.

Unique and quirky ornaments and statues appear.

Squash with your pink flamingo

Some folks grow vegetables, while others go in for flowers.

Plumerias grow alongside tomatoes

There are tropicals as well as cottage garden flowers.

Zinnias

Some plots are tightly planted to make use of all the space, while others have room for comfortable relaxing.

It's a community, where beauty exists alongside utility, and neighbors share.

Do the places where you live have similar programs? Share.

Respect and reward

2011-11-18T13:02:00.000-08:00

Downtown Santa Monica

I know a woman who works in a Santa Monica office. Santa Monica has been jokingly called "the home of the homeless" by comic Harry Shearer, because of the city's policies for homeless people - described by some as compassionate, others as enabling.

My friend often works late in her office, finding evenings a quiet time to catch up on her "To Do" list. It's not unusual for her to be the last person out of the building, her car the last one in the parking lot. It's also not unusual for there to be someone camped outside on cold nights when she lets herself out each evening.

One of these campers was a woman who liked the relative safety of the sheltered loading dock. As the months went on, my friend grew used to her, first offering a brief "good night," then exchanging first names. I don't know how much they actually spoke - my friend is a shy woman, even fearful at times, not one to put herself forward. But she let the woman sleep unbothered behind her building.

She had a friend who worked at the public library, and learned that the homeless woman spent her days there, pestering the librarians for help with reference materials. After several months without further change or incident, the homeless woman just disappeared.

Palisades Park, Santa Monica

My friend's life went on unchanged. Other homeless people camped out near the building, in the park or on the beach, some panhandled on the sidewalks during the day; others raged at the bus-stop. It is Santa Monica, after all.

Two or three years later, a woman came to my friend's office and asked for her by name. It took a moment for my friend to recognize the homeless woman. I don't know her story, so I can't tell you, but counseling, treatment, mentoring and assistance had changed her circumstances. She now had a home, and a job, and no longer took drugs.

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you," she told my friend, "for your kindness, and because you treated me like a normal person even though I was sleeping outside your door."

Almost every morning when I drive to work, there's a panhandler with a cardboard sign standing on the concrete divider at the intersection of Topanga Canyon Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway. Actually, there are several regular panhandlers, each at a different time or day of the week. There's the one whose sign says "Even a Smile Helps." There's another whose sign begs Topanga commuters for a joint - talk about targeting your market demographic. There's a fellow with a dog; a woman claiming to need bus fare home; a man in a wheelchair with an American flag. Sometimes, you see one sitting on the side of the road under the trees, as though taking a break or waiting for a shift change.

Some drivers give money or a cigarette, a can of soda, some food. I don't give - I find it difficult even to give eye contact.

The other day I read this story at Detroitblog - "Ain't too proud to beg." The author speaks with Detroit panhandlers, treating them like normal people, and lets them tell their stories.

"They've classified those who refuse to give too. The drivers who fake a phone call to avoid being engaged. The ones who stare nervously ahead, gripping the wheel. The door lockers. Those who nod and smile but keep the window rolled up. And the cruel ones who play tricks, yell insults or throw things...."

It's made me think. What does it say about my lack of generosity that I can barely meet someone's eyes with mine, let along give the smile requested on the sign?

I have to marvel at the compassion my timid friend possesses, that a homeless woman would return years later to thank her for treating her with respect.

Share your thoughts.

Thematic Photographic - Classic

2011-11-17T21:06:00.000-08:00

Carmi at Written, Inc., posts a photographic challenge each week called Thematic Photographic. This week, Thematic Photographic celebrates all things CLASSIC.

"Classic" is the word we often use to refer to art and architecture - but it also can refer to artists or works considered excellent, especially those of enduring significance.

It's a treat when you experience a classic musical performance. We were recently invited to an appearance at an LA jazz club. The featured act was a well known married musical couple - she sings, he plays the trumpet. They recently released a studio album - ten years since their previous one - and are performing together on tour.

This was an intimate performance at a small club. For us, it was a rare chance to see a real class act up close.

They sang songs you'd know from their repertory - you'd sing along with them if you heard them. They also sang arrangements of other great classic standards and new arrangements of soon-to-be-classic songs that might surprise you. Each artist's talent was showcased, and then at other moments, they came together to share the same microphone for duets, embracing while they sang.

Full disclosure - I first heard these two performers in 1969 or thereabouts, when their bands - her band opened for his band - played Cincinnati Gardens - a giant echoing old basketball arena. It was actually the first major concert I ever saw. My dad took me and a young friend to it. I barely remember that concert now, but perhaps it influenced me in my choice to make a life in the entertainment industry. How amazing, after all these years, to see these artists, and to hear them again up close.

So many years later, they're still making musical magic together. The lasting love and endurance of their relationship was palpable in the room. It was a pleasure to be there to share it.

A classic act, indeed.

Colors of the season

2011-11-16T15:04:00.000-08:00

The November sun slants low, and its light is golden. Here in the garden, a huge specimen of Salvia leucantha, also called Mexican bush sage, or sometimes "wooly sage" - is in lush, brilliant bloom.

The flowers are rich violet, and touched with fuzz. Hummingbirds love it. In cold areas it dies back in winter, but here in my Topanga garden, I have to cut it back.

National Bundt Cake Day

2011-11-15T22:04:00.000-08:00

November 15, 2011 is National Bundt Cake Day - designated by the Food Librarian as a day to celebrate the virtues of Bundt cakes - lots of delicious cake, very little icing, and a time to use those clever tube cake-pans we have cluttering up our cupboards.

Today I dug my silicone Bundt cake pan out of an obscure cupboard, cleaned it up with hot soapy water, and make a delicious cake based on a Martha Stewart recipe for zucchini cake.

I came up short in the zucchini department, so I completed the required 2.5 cups of grated vegetable with carrots. This gave my cake a moist texture and a colorful crumb. Flavored with cinnamon, cardamom and lemon rind, my Bundt cake was finished with a glaze made of tangerine juice and confectioners' sugar.

Bundt cake recipes include a lot of butter and eggs - mine had a stick-and-a-half of butter - so they are rich and moist. They are easy and quick to make. You can't go wrong with Bundt cake. As the song goes - "I like Big Bundts and I cannot lie!"

Thematic Photographic - Classic

2011-11-15T20:04:00.000-08:00

Carmi at Written, Inc., posts a photographic challenge each week called Thematic Photographic. This week, Thematic Photographic celebrates all things CLASSIC.

"Classic" is the word we often use to refer to ancient Greek and Roman art and architecture - or art and architecture derived from ancient Greek and Roman ideas and forms.

Throughout the history of European and American culture, artists and architects have gone back to the well of classicism for inspiration. Whether it's Bernini in 17th Century Italy, Thomas Jefferson when designing his Monticello, or the French of Napoleon's era, dressing in flowing drapery and wearing laurel wreaths in their hair - there's always something to inspire us about Greek and Roman arts.

Here in Pacific Palisades is a museum of ancient Greek and Roman art - the Getty Villa. Many people think the large golden stone villa on the hill overlooking Pacific Coast Highway is the Getty Villa, but no - it's a private home built for a wool merchant in the 1920s.

Its facade is marked with pairs of Ionic columns, Palladian windows, and statuary.

Though striking "classic" poses, the naked ladies standing on posts at gateways and on balustrades seem a little more inhibited and modest than the goddesses Aphrodite or Hera. Perhaps their models were young girls of their era, flocking to Hollywood from more staid hometowns, looking for fame and fortune in the movie business.

Now here they stand - forever looking out at the horizon, forever offering vessels of stone to the sea and sky.

Marathon in high heels

2011-11-14T01:52:00.000-08:00

This has been a marathon weekend - on the social front.

Disney Hall, interior

Two nights out - dinners, followed by events, followed by receptions. Steam-table food, cheap wine, the focus on talking and socializing kept us hungry and thirsty - meaning drive-thru fast food on the way home. Taco Bell or Mickey-D's - what's your pick? Or do you have energy for a meal at a real restaurant?

Disney Hall exterior, at night

On the plus side, excellent music and performances - and some surprising star appearances. Oh, yes, I was certainly glad I was there!

On the downside - tired feet!

Going native

2011-11-13T12:07:00.000-08:00

Leaves of Quercus lobata, the Valley oak.

Although I have a true interest in gardening native plants of the Santa Monica Mountains, sometimes it take a little extra push to motivate me to do something about it.

That extra push was my friend and neighbor Patty, who invited me to join her for a trip to the Theodore Payne Foundation Nursery, located in Sunland in the San Fernando Valley.

Though the beauty of native plants is best appreciated in the spring, when the Payne Foundation's Native Plant Garden Tour allows the public to view dozens of private gardens, the best time for planting natives is during Southern California's drizzly fall and rainy winter.

Calliandra, or "fairy duster"

Patty drove us out to Sunland, through dreary streets of cinder block auto body repair shops and warehouses, and turned off on a little canyon road through the Verdugo Mountains. The homes, behind concrete block walls and fences, were rural and horsey. We pulled into a gravel parking lot near the Foundation's offices, and walked up a gravel road to the nursery.

The plants are categorized by their type - trees, shrubs, grasses, perennials, ground cover. The informative labels tell you the plant's requirements, eventual size, and what its attractions are - does it attract butterflies? Does it feed birds? Is it fragrant or showy, or provide fall color?

Pentstemon spectabilis

Around the nursery, garden beds with mature plants were helpfully labelled, so you could see what a mature specimen of that tiny shoot would grow into.

Patty had planned for this trip, and had brought her reference books so we could learn even more about the plants we chose. I operated more recklessly, succumbing to Plant Lust, scooping up sisyrinchiums here and Fremontodendrons there, calculating in my mind where I could plant them.

Manzanita grown in a clay container

How can you choose between one manzanita cultivar with blue-green foliage and cinnamon-brown bark, and an equally beautiful manzanita cultivar with gracefully weeping branches and flowers blushed a delicate rose? Ground-cover ceonathus with deep blue flowers, or ceonathus "Diamond Heights," with variegated foliage?

"We're going to need another cart"

Answer? get them all!

Of course, this requires rigorous editing prior to check-out, an agonizing contemplation. Are three irises too many? Should I put exchange the gallon-size coral bells for the less expensive, four-inch pot? Should I really risk buying a Fremontodendron now, or wait until I really know where to plant it and come back?

Hyptis "Silver Lining"

As we towed our cart through the gravelled paths, a fine drizzle soon strengthened to rain. Delicious herby scents filled the air, and you could hear birds in the wilder reaches of the garden.

Soon, the chill and damp slaked our greed for plants, and we trekked back to the warmth of the office, where even more temptation awaited - the assorted drawers and packets of wild flower seeds.

I'm so grateful to Patty for getting me out and motivating me to think about gardening.

My loot

Wow. What I am going to do with all these now?

Pink Saturday - Chilling out

2011-11-12T01:54:00.000-08:00

Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

I'm putting on my pink sunglasses. I've had a busy week. I'm ready to chill. Hope you're having a good one, too.

Happy Nigel Tufnel Day

2011-11-11T12:14:00.000-08:00

"It's one louder."

Today is Nigel Tufnel Day - Eleven Eleven Eleven.

Nigel Tufnel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and...

Marty DiBergi: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten?

Nigel Tufnel: Exactly.

Marty DiBergi: Does that mean it's louder? Is it any louder?

Nigel Tufnel: Well, it's one louder, isn't it? It's not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?

Marty DiBergi: I don't know.

Nigel Tufnel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do?

Marty DiBergi: Put it up to eleven.

Nigel Tufnel: Eleven. Exactly. One louder.

Marty DiBergi: Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?

Nigel Tufnel: [pause] These go to eleven.

Paradise in Westwood

2011-11-10T11:55:00.000-08:00

Torshi, or pickled vegetables

The Attari Sandwich Shop in Westwood has always been a unique and almost secret little sandwich joint. There weren't any signs. You enter off a side street, through a courtyard, and find a small room with a couple tables and a deli counter with display cases. The menu is posted on the wall. Unlike the fancy Persian restaurants nearby, this is just a sandwich joint - you can get a tongue sandwich or chicken salad, or even Persian hot dogs. A refrigerated case in the corner holds cans of Coke and Sprite and also bottled doogh, the Persian fizzy yogurt drink.

You order at the counter, pay, and they give you a number on a plastic card to insert in a holder on your table. In a few minutes, servers bring your meal - paper-wrapped sandwiches in plastic baskets, or a bowl of delicious ash (pronounced "Osh") - a kind of multi-bean soup drizzled with cream and flavored oil.

It is always crowded; always tough to get a seat a lunchtime. And it's impossible to find a place to park nearby.

In the last year, Attari has branched out, occupying a side space off the courtyard. Now a real restaurant with six or so tables cloaked in linens offers an expanded menu including Persian stews and kabobs, it's called Attari Grill.

We showed up on a Saturday afternoon, and instead of going through the courtyard to order at the counter like usual, out of curiosity we went into the Grill. There was a large family group assembled in the small space, and the tables had been pushed together to accommodate them. So we told the hostess we would order from the Grill menu, but that we'd sit out in the courtyard, to allow the family group to use the dining room.

Underdressed for this crowd, at least I wore black!

The courtyard has a central fountain and tables with cheerful yellow umbrellas. This is where Los Angeles' Iranian-American community hangs out. And they are an elegant bunch. At a nearby table, a woman wearing thigh-high black Christian Louboutin boots sat with an equally glamorous friend, spooning Ash-e-jo barley and bean soup from a red plastic bowl as they chatted.

Shining black Porches and Mercedes pulled up to the curb in front, disgorging black-clad women in sunglasses, or young men with spiked, dark hair and soccer jerseys who loped up to the order counter. Alternately, huge Escalades parked, while families unloaded elaborate folding strollers with cherubic dark-eyed toddlers. Older gentlemen wore cashmere cardigans tossed casually around their shoulders, and escorted elegant older ladies with lots of jewels on impeccably manicured hands to sit at the outdoor tables. People sit for extended meals and gossip sessions, and many customers seem to know one another.

It was a funny amalgam of two restaurants sharing the same courtyard. Our table received leatherette bound menus and a linen-lined bread basket. The other tables had red plastic baskets and plastic numbers. We placed our order with a waiter, while they had placed orders at the counter. Our Coke came in a glass. Theirs came in a can.

What did we have?

Torshi, a dish of pickled carrots, cauliflower and celery, screaming neon yellow with turmeric.

Kaske badjemon

Kaske badjemon, which is sauteed eggplant topped with herbs and crispy fried onions, and drizzled with sour whey.

A basket of flat lavash bread, served with foil packets of cold sweet butter served to wrap dollops of eggplant or chopped from onions and herbs while we waited for our main course.

Since I ordered from the Grill, my Ash-e-jo came in a china bowl

I ordered a bowl of Ash-e-jo, a thick soup made with barley and various beans, topped with crispy onions, mint oil and a drizzle of sour cream or yogurt. It's filling and complexly flavored, warming on a cold day.

[The Man I Love] ordered Chicken Barq kabob. It was served with a roasted tomato, chunks of sweet onion, and a generous amount of fresh lemon basil. You could choose rice as an accompaniment or sangak, which is a toasted whole-wheat sesame-studded flat bread. We chose the sangak, which was amazing.

The sangak is a whole-wheat sourdough flat bread topped with sesame seeds. It's blistered in the oven, then folded around the grilled chicken. Everything was delicious. Flavors popped! From the bright lemony taste of the herbs to the earthy whole-wheat bread, the puckery pickles and the savory beans.

When we left we talked with the Grill's proprietor. They've been open about a year. The menu has many more items to explore, including their version of Ghormeh Sabzi that I must try next. If you're looking for good Persian food, and a choice of casual or conventional dining, now there are two Attaris to choose from.

PROMPTuesday

2011-11-08T22:09:00.000-08:00

I've joined in the wonderful and creative writing exercise presented by San Diego Momma -.PROMPTuesday These have spurred my creativity, and have been a lot of fun at the same time.

Each Tuesday, she posts a writing prompt. Participants play by the following rules:

You must write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kicks in. Just set a timer, make your kid count to 600 slowly, whatever. It’s an honor system. And I trust you.
Keep to 150 words or less (I always run over a bit!)
Post on your blog or in her comments so everyone can read it.
Have fun!

This week, Deb didn't get her PROMPT up till Wednesday. Today’s PROMPT is:
Write about a reunion.

From L to R - Me, Karen and our friend Nan

This one is easy, since I just had a reunion, of sorts.

I got an email from a friend of mine. Her husband was on an extended business trip in town and she was coming to spend a few days with him - coinciding with his birthday. Other than the birthday, he'd be working and she had some time to explore. Could we hang out?

I wrote last Tuesday about my First Call as a stagehand for Local #15. What I didn't mention was that during that Opera call - which lasted maybe a week, I immediately fell into the custom of going to Dez's Tavern for a beer after work. This was partly because I carpooled with a guy who went to Dez's, but also because I would have done so anyway.

Dez's was a low, cinderblock building on the corner of Mercer and Second, right across from the Opera House and Seattle Center Arena. I've written before about the unique institution that a Seattle tavern is - sells only beer and wine, doesn't sell food, no one under 21 allowed to be present. Dez's sold Rainer on tap, Heidelberg in bottles, and had a couple of computer games like Centipede on the floor.

One Monday night I went to Dez's with the Opera crew when we got off at eleven o'clock. The bar was full. Some of the guys were the Seattle Repertory Theatre crew, but a lot of people were there because they'd come from the union meeting, which took place the first Monday of each month. This Monday, like most, two new members had been sworn in - Local #15 always swore in members in pairs.

This month's new members were my friend Karen and another stagehand I'll call ETA. Karen was the very first female member of Local #15, and that night marked her swearing in. She and ETA bought beers all around.

Having moved to Seattle from New York, where I'd been told that no woman ever would become a member of Local One - this was an amazing milestone for me to witness. Though I was a newcomer, and could not see into my future 18 years membership, it gave me something to strive for, something to hope for, and someone to serve as a role model.

And Karen was quite a role model. In addition to being really good at her job, she was fearless, both physically and personally. She was not afraid to challenge people if she thought they weren't doing things right. She did not fear calling out assholery. She played with the Big Boys, and usually won.

She also supported others. When I started working, aside from Karen there were four other women in the union. We were all from different backgrounds, and we didn't necessarily hang out together, but we bonded. One woman was married to another stagehand. Another had ambitions to be an actress though she was still a good stagehand. A fourth one no one knew before she got hired by the City, And I was number five. I think, diverse as we were, Karen was the glue that brought us women together to support one another. She made me feel I could succeed as a Local #15 stagehand.

As the years went on, and the number of women members and dispatch workers increased, our little sisterhood became more diffuse. We all followed our career dreams - Karen became a Sound Technician and went out on the road. I did too, although my tours were considerably more low-rent than hers. Karen moved to New York, became a member of Local One - proving the old claim wrong - and started working on Broadway.

I stayed in touch with Karen, and when my son went to college in New York, we met up. With her connections, she could always get us backstage for a tour, even at a theatre she wasn't working at. One memorable evening, we saw Patti Lupone in "Sweeney Todd" and after the show Karen grabbed us and walked us past the doorman to tour backstage. Our son met the bass player, and talked about music. It was an amazing experience for him.

This fall, since she was in town, we got together for dinner and Halloween tour of Los Angeles. Our husbands joined us. A good friend of theirs joined us - and a new friendship sprang into being for me.

Later that week, we met at the Getty Museum. We enjoyed the exhibitions, but after we got burnt out by art, we bought a bottle of wine at the cafe and sat in the sunny courtyard and talked. There were a lot of things to reminisce about.

Most of all , it was funny. We remembered outrageous things that happened back in those days. We laughed about tales of drunken escapades, daring scams, and legendary deeds. We talked about old boyfriends - some shared - and we revealed secrets once suspected, now confirmed. We reminisced about a previous reunion - a dissipated evening in Atlanta, Georgia in 1982, where the tour she was on and the tour I was on were playing the same city. We remembered guys we knew who have passed on from this world.

It was a grand reunion. And it was good for me - it made me turn my mind back to the past, and realize what rich experiences I've enjoyed, and what wonderful and inspiring people I have been privileged to know.

Sexual harassment - another go-round

2011-11-07T21:05:00.000-08:00

In 1975 I moved to New York City and got a job working in the office of a high-end rug importer. If you're my age, you might remember the full page ads on the back of certain magazines like The New Yorker and House & Garden showing a gorgeous Oriental rug. I worked in the office of that company and the two salesmen handed me order forms to type out on a big IBM electric typewriter.

It was my first taste of the business world. One day, an out of town buyer asked me out to dinner. He was youngish and handsome, so I accepted. After dinner he tried to kiss me in a cab, surprising me. When I refused, he complained that one of the salesmen had promised I'd put out for him, because I lived in the Village, and was that kind of girl.

I didn't do anything about it. In fact, I had a crush on a salesmen - not him; the other one. I thrilled each time he took any interest in me, whether it was to praise my typing skills or teach me the difference between a Kirman and an Isfahan. The girl I was then would have welcomed a workplace advance from him.

Our bookkeeper, Ruthie, was friends with a guy named Harry who worked for a drapery wholesaler down the hall in our building on Fifth Avenue in the Thirties. I went with her to a Christmas party there, where Harry, wearing a Santa hat and sloshing scotch from a tumbler, leaned in and slobbered on my neck with his red wet lips.

Throughout my years in the theatre - touring and working long hours as a stagehand - it wasn't unusual for co-workers to hook up - whether seriously or casually. Sometimes it worked out and sometimes it went horribly wrong.

As a member of Local #15 IATSE, the Seattle chapter of the stagehand's union, I was in a minority as a woman. There were perhaps a half-dozen of us. We put up with a lot of crude talk and jokes, and in the mid '80s a woman newcomer complained about the guys' behavior, accusing them of harassment. I was sympathetic - until she asserted that the only reason the women who went before her were members - me and my friends - was because we slept our way in.

Although that accusation was actually somewhat TRUE (in my case, I slept with a guy no one liked!) she lost the support of her female colleagues.

In the '90s, as a member of the Executive Board of my union, I had to rule on a complaint by a woman that her male co-worker made her uncomfortable with his behavior. I learned about the concept of a hostile work environment. A few years later, our board had to intercede on a case of domestic violence between two co-workers who were in a relationship.

Sexual harassment is intimidation, bullying or coercion of a sexual nature. It can also be the inappropriate promise of reward for sexual favors. The key component of sexual harassment is that it is unwelcome. Both victims and harassers may be of any gender. A victim can be the direct target of harassment, and can also be someone who is affected by the behavior second hand. It is illegal for people to be subjected to sexual harassment in the workplace - and in the workplace, it is the employer's responsibility to protect workers from harassment.

It is not easy to speak up at work. It is not easy to defend a co-worker against harassment. It is not easy as a supervisor to challenge harassing behavior.

In my lifetime, the topics of sexual harassment and sex in the workplace has dominated the news cycle twice - first in 1991, then again in 1998. Now, it looks like we're in for another go-round.

What's your experience with sexual harassment? Both at work, and in other situations? Have you experienced it first-hand? How about as a supervisor? What about unfair accusations? Let's talk.

Books, Schmooks

2011-11-06T10:32:00.000-08:00

Libros Schimbros at the UCLA Hammer Museum

In 2010, David Kipen, native Angeleno and former director of the National Endowment for the Arts' Reading Initiatives opened a used bookstore and lending library in Boyle Heights, east of downtown in Los Angeles. He called the store Libros Schmibros - an inside joke about the early 20th century Yiddish heritage of Boyle Heights. In the store, Kipen sells used books and allows folks in the community to borrow books if they can't afford to buy. He encourages donations and welcomes volunteers to help shelve, stock and staff the store.

Many of his customers are neighborhood students who commute to universities across town, like UCLA - so it was a no-brainer for the UCLA Hammer Museum's Public Engagement program to bring an outpost of Libros Schmibros to Westwood for a residency. Set up in the museum's lobby gallery, the extra space allows even more of the collection to be made available to the public, and to host a series of book discussions and readings by authors.

Some of the stock of used books in Kipen's collection came to him as independent bookstores in Los Angeles County closed and sold their stock - victims to competition from big chain stores, internet sales, and rising retail rents.

The run of the residency, originally scheduled to end on October 9, was extended until November 5th. We popped in to visit.

When you enter Libros Schmibros at the Hammer, you are welcomed with colorful garlands of papel picados, the Mexican cut-paper folk art used to celebrate holidays like Dias de los Muertos. There are also paper Chinese and Japanese lanterns that glow. The space is lined with bookcases and fitted out with a comfortable curved green couch that invites the visitor to get comfortable and read. Along the back wall of the space, above the cases, is a 23 foot long mural drawn by artist J. Michael Walker.

Titled "City in Mind: A Lyrical Map of the Concept of Los Angeles," it's a literary map of Los Angeles. From the coastline where Joan Didion stands on the beach to Boyle Heights, where Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston writes about internment in Manzanar, throughout the landscape of greater Los Angeles, writers are depicted where they lived and wrote, and Walker shares quotes of their works. Early Iconic Los Angeles authors like Charles Bukowski, Raymond Chandler and John Fante are all here. So are current authors like Pulitzer Price winning food critic Jonathan Gold and wordsmith musicians like Randy Newman and the late Tupac Shakur. The map is multi-layered - it evokes simultaneously the earliest Tongva people, the Spanish missions, the Depression, the Summer of Love.

Detail - "Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I love you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town" - John Fante

When we visited, both David Kipen and Michael Walker were there, and we spoke with them. Michael kindly allowed me to take photos of his map, and signed a copy of his book "All the Saint of the City of the Angels." David, while sharing my disappointment that so many independent bookstores are closing, told us of new stores bucking the trend. In Malibu, Diesel reopens. In Redondo Beach, Mysterious Galaxy Books offers some consolation to those who mourn the loss of Mystery Bookstore in Westwood. Though e-books and Amazon are threatening mainstream bookstores, he said the salvation of independent bookstores lies in neighborhoods like Boyle Heights, where many residents lack internet access.

There are efforts to find a permanent home for the literary map, whether at a museum, library, or university. The original Libros Schmibros is planning a move from its first store to another in Mariachi Plaza. The little room in the Hammer Museum was filled with well-wishers and an excited anticipation to turn the page on the next chapter.

It's that time again

2011-11-05T19:04:00.000-07:00

It's cold out there tonight!! We lit the first fire of the season, in the fireplace. We stopped taking the newspaper this year, so now we use junk mail to kindle the fire.

Pink Saturday - Pink presents

2011-11-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

Who doesn't love pink flamingos?

This one's larger than life, and brightens up a cloudy day. Created by Frederick Prescott at Prescott Studio, these are on display at a crafts fair in Santa Monica. Over 100 vendors of handcrafted unique artwork in glass, fiber, metal, wood and ceramics offer perfect Christmas shopping.

There were other lovely things to choose from - some a little easier to get home, like this button jewelry.

Here some beautiful irridescent silk jackets attract like eye candy.

This felted jacket is a stunning piece.

Who wouldn't want a glass octopus?

I know where I'm going Christmas shopping this Pink Saturday!

Thematic Photographic - Bricks and mortar

2011-11-03T19:23:00.000-07:00

Carmi at Written, Inc., posts a photographic challenge each week called Thematic Photographic - this week's theme is "BRICKS AND MORTAR." Carmi says "There's a certain charm in the way a brick building ages that concrete simply can't match. It's got a kind of texture that never fails to make me want to reach through the screen so I can feel it with my fingertips."

Click to "embiggen"

Here are pictures of brick walls in the Paris Underground. Here, a renovation project in progress has exposed old brick walls with the remnants of old advertising posters peeled off, the layers fragmented and merging together in a kind of ghostly pentimento.

If you click to "embiggen," you can read an advertisement for "Les Chats Sauvage" - The Wild Cats. Wikipedia's entry on Les Chats Sauvage says they were one of the first French rock and roll bands, in 1961.

Here, too, another look of a brick-and-mortar wall once hidden away behind plaster, panels and posters in the Paris Underground.