Trying (and Perhaps Failing) to Not Sound Bitter

Jason Collins came out.

I'm glad for him personally and happy for what that might mean for LGBT people in sports. I am glad that the President even phoned him to express support. While I am sure that he's no going to be asking me out anytime soon (although Jason I am single and like tall guys.. just sayin') I do have do ask what's the fuss about? He's gay. So am I. So are millions of people on the planet. We live here, we do our jobs, and we contribute to society. We're in Congress and we collect your trash. Sometimes we don't do your hair- we tune up your car. Or sell it to you. Or design it for you. We're your co-workers. We're your friends. We're your family. We won't get a phone call from the President congratulating us on our courage coming out; yours would be enough.

Dogs and Wagons

A recent post on FaceBook reminded me of something from my yoof: family drives with the dog. In this case it was the seventies and summer drives in our "beach" wagon (as it was referred to) with our family dog Jackie. Dad would drive us to various destinations of scenic beauty while us kids in the grand tradition of the last century roamed unfettered by safety restraints between seats and cargo areas. We'd go to the Berkshires, to the Quabbin reservoir or to Rockport in a day.

One of the things I clearly remember is Jackie navigating. He's plant his butt between Dad and Mum with his eyes on the road and his nose in the AC vent, scouring the terrain for any objects he might have to warn us puny humans against.

Except when he'd fart.

In the seconds before we could smell it, we'd know it was coming- Jackie would decide that the best place possible to be in this rolling living room was in the waaaaaay back, and this was the sign to roll all the windows down. Even the tailgate. even at the risk of exhaust entering the cabin. Because while exhaust can poison you Jackie's farts could melt your face.

Of course, in retrospect it didn't help that we would insist that Jackie had his own cone at the Tastee Freeze like the rest of us (he preferred butter pecan). Jackie at least had the good taste to look a little abashed.

While I know that this era of strapping the kids and the pets and ourselves in is the safest way to be (and I never even sit in a car without a belt) I do have a sense of nostalgia for the bad old days where "climb over" was common and farting unfettered poodles could drive a family outing.

image: wikipedia commons

Eating Out

This evening I went out to dinner with friends. We went to a local place on Wilshire here in town and I decided that for once I was going to have a starter that we'd share: asparagus in a really nice mustard sauce. I ordered meatloaf with mashed potatoes and sautéed kale.

I loved it, but wish it had been about half the size of what was served. It wasn't one of those Cheesecake Factory portions that should be serving six, but I didn't come near to finishing it, and knowing myself I likely never will, even though I did take the rest home.

With all the talk about the obesity epidemic I kind of wish places did half-sized entrees. Wheeling out a plate the size of a truck tire heaped with food may make people feel they "got their money's worth", but giving me something that is a third the size at half the price will make me comfortably full, save food and money being wasted and just generally make more sense.

Image: my iPhone

The Great Outdoors; I'll Pass, Thanks.

I am not one for the outdoors. By outdoors I don't mean sitting in the park on a warm spring day reading a book and sipping a frothy-frozen coffee beverage while in the back of my mind plotting my next meal. I mean the Great Outdoors. I do not camp. Well, not that way.

I was lucky enough to find this out early. I had (have) an older brother who loved all that stuff. Being the younger sibling I insisted that I was included on some of these trips to the outdoors only to be bored rigid. I can remember one where we went fishing on the Mill River in our little town. I can remember sitting in the boat with my pole and looking up in wonderment at the underside of the bridge spanning Meadow Street. 36 seconds later I realized that for me fishing was the most boring and pointless thing in the world. There are fish at the market and since this was the Mill River in the 70's any fish that might have survived the level of pollution most likely would be toxic to eat.

Then there was camping. My brother and a his friend went camping and I wanted to go. My parents basically forced them to allow it. They sat in the tent whittling or telling stories or whatever and after about 12 minutes of this I realised I was cold, the ground was lumpy, I was bored and we'd had the better part of 200 years of being a country so that we could sleep indoors on our Sealy Posturepedics and chat with our friends on our touch-tone Trimline phones while enjoying steam heat.

Luckily the campsite was in our backyard, so I could drop this idiocy and go have a sandwich and watch "Rhoda."

So I learned my limits early. I'm not likely to climb Runyon with you when I can be using an elliptical while listening to techno music. I would like to visit Yosemite, but would do so only to stay at the Ahwahnee. If I am on a boat it had better be flying Cunard colors.

Because my idea of roughing it is going someplace where there isn't a Trader Joe's.

Image: Internets

Winter in Los Angeles

I love winter in LA. It's certainly not terribly cold, although it can get down to near freezing at night and most older buildings aren't built with insulation, so heating can be expensive- I don't use mine.

What I really like is watching people at this time of the year. You'll see natives pulling out parka when it's a little over 60º while tourists from places like Wisconsin are in t-shirts and flip-flops.

This is the time of the year that it rains. Rain is greeted here as, say Tokyo regards the arrival of Godzilla. Action McNews blares headlines about "Storm Watch 2013" while darkly warning about the impeding storm as if it were a shower of man-eating clams rather than water.

Granted, storms here can be fraught. We've had mudslides, trees uprooted, and flooding. Traffic will come to a stand-still because half the people on the roads will go three MPH while the other half will go 20 miles over the limit, presumably because they have not been informed that automobiles are not water soluble.

But the main thing that I like about it is how clean and clear the air is here after the rain, and that I can see snow on the mountains to the east.

From the comfort and safety of the 65º temps on Santa Monica and Cañon...

Image: My iPhone

You Like Me! You Really Like Me!!

Found at HuffPo: they liked my writing on PST and the Posse.

Validation is great; a salaried position doing something I love would be great..

Image stolen from Huffington Post.

YouTube finds: Electric Dreams

I just spent a couple of hours watching the fascinating and wholly excellent BBC Doc "Electric Dreams". It takes a typical Upper-Middle class English family of 2009 and plunks and re-does their home back to 1970. From there, they will "age" technologically one year for every day, until they hit the year 2000.

It's fascinating because the parents long for the days when families would be more together as they remember it, but forget that a lot of the time-savers they take for granted in 2009 weren't standard equipment in 1970- they start out without central heating, an apartment-sized stove, no freezer and with a car they can't find second gear in.

As the go through the weeks they are delivered technology as they would have according to statistics. Color TVs, VHS recorders, computers, game consoles, and mobile phones.

What's really nice about it is that these people seem really, well, nice. They aren't out for camera time and while they might be occasionally petulant, you can tell they really love each other. You'd be thrilled to have them as neighbors.

All three installments are viewable on YouTube:

The 70's

The 80's

The 90's

One of the things I like about it (in addition to the fact that as a kid of the 70's it resonates) is that it is flawlessly scored with period-correct music. Which I enjoyed, even if it made me feel older than dirt.

Whither Twinkie?

Hostess is no more.

The company said that they cannot afford to continue to bake it's low priced treats while paying the wages of it's employees. The unionized employees counter that the top-heavy management was sucking the life out of the company.

So, we can argue that this is a brand that went into cultural irrelevance long ago in the quest for healthier food. You can say (and you'll likely be correct) that they aren't going anywhere because someone will buy the rights and start making them again. You could also say (and are likely correct) that they weren't very good to begin with.

But it is sad to have more lost jobs in this economy.

For the first time since I was about 13 I really want a Twinkie..

Image: Internets..

Sorry I've been away..

But the blog has taken a backseat to other things. Like lying around. I'll try to put a stop to that and post more.

While I am on the subject of things that must be stopped. here's one:

Yes, it's that devilish "please prove you're not a robot" crap that Blogger has instituted to stop spam. It doesn't, since I'm always deleting comments with "gosh, this helpfil info! please blog about black pearl jewelry". It just makes it annoying enough to comment on blogs that I sometimes just give up.

Do you hate this as much as I do? Comment, if you dare..

World Trade Center