Secrets in a Foreign Tongue

Today a co-worker of mine moved to the office outside my cube. The thing is, she speaks Hebrew. ALL THE TIME. I understand weird snatches of her conversations. I feel like I should know more. I took Hebrew in college and also in my early teens for the perpous of being Bat Mitzvah. Most, if not all, people know what a Bar Mitzvah is, but a startling number of people have no clue that there is the female counterpart known as the Bat Mitzvah. Weird, but true.

And now I reveal to you, dear reader one of my most embarassing revelations. My parents were not strict about Hebrew school. In fact they very liberally sought my advice on whether I wanted a Bat Mitzvah. Feeling competitive as many younger siblings do, I figured if my brother did, then I should too. Besides there was delicious food, new clothes, a band, and most important of all to a child, gifts. Also, in my youth, I was a bit of a show-off, a performer, a ham (some would say that I have yet to grow out of this annoying trait).

Now, on to my great secret. Which ironically, is no secret at all to the Rabbi, my father, and many of the participants on that fateful day one month before my 13th birthday. I faked my Haftorah Portion, this is the selection from the Prophets, not from the actual Torah, but it often relates to the Torah portion in some manner. Now, this would not be a big deal except A. I was entering Jewish adulthood on a pretense, B. the Rabbi surely knew that I was faking it, and C. the 2 pages of Hebrew that I never learned still haunts me to this day.

Some might say that I am trying to find things to feel guilty about, but that is not it at all. I am merely chagrined that no one ever spoke with me about this rather evident faux pas. Did no one notice? Were people so polite that they did not want to spoil my day? Were they so taken with my incredible guitar playing and singing (yes, I had a captive audience, so I took advantage of that fact) that they didn't see the evident look of demonic concentration on my face up at the bima (the Jewish equivalent of a holy platform on which the ark that holds the Torah is kept and by ark, I mean cabinet).

So, here I am almost 2 decades later exposing my own fradulence. Why? Because that day meant more to me then just the Haftarah Portion. It meant my whole extended family coming to see ME and it made me feel important and loved. I look back on it with joy and happiness because no one said anything bad, they loved me and that feeling has not been mitigated by anything. It's a good feeling, and it's funny to me how much I worried about it beforehand.

Equus 11/20/05 East-West Players

On Sunday I attended a performance of the critically acclaimed play, Equus by Peter Shaffer. This performance starred George Takei or the Original Star Trek series. For those of you unlike myself, who do not gobble up science fiction television, writings, and blogs, Mr. Takei played Mr. Sulu on Star Trek. Reluctantly I admit to a fascination with asian culture and found out about the show from Mr. Takei's blog (as I am fascinated by celebrity blogs too,. my favorites being Margaret Cho and Kevin Smith for their insights and conversational tone).

Also, when I was a theater student at USC, before switching to Cinema-Television, I had read and discused Equus in a class there. It's interwoven dialog style did not make sense to me when I was reading it so I wanted to see how it came together onstage. To give you a sense of the extremities of this play, I make mention of the sign on the theater's box office, "This show contains graphic nudity, loud noises, and coarse language." This is paraphased, but you get the point. To further drive it home, my friend sitting next to me looked over at me at intermission and said, "You're weird", as if somehow I was responsible for the playwrite's words and director's actions. I laughed heartily.

George's performance as psychiatrist Martin Dysart was at turns represssively British, breathtakingly frustrating, and rapturously jealous. He displayed such a range of emotions while treating his fragile, distraught patient, an adolescent, named Alan who possesses a unorthodox obsession with horses. Mr. Takei's voice is distinct and captivating. His words with their bass resonance and slight accent transport me to the office where he does his psychiatric work. I was in heaven closing my eyes and listening to him.

The nudity in the play was less shocking then I expected. It was far less shocking then the scenes with men as horses interacting with Alan in his devotion and defilement. The horse costumes and men playing them were beautiful. They showed the splendor and majesty of the animals with proud tosses of their heads. A great piece of theater for adults to enjoy.

Bitter, Party of One

Last week I was in Target looking around for some necessity items, cat litter, cat food, dryer sheets, underwear and the like. It was a normal shopping trip until I noticed the aisles upon aisle stocked full of Christmas geegaws.

There were stockings, fake trees, ornaments of all shapes, sizes, and themes, wrapping paper, cards, lights, and various household knicknacks to decorate with. So, getting into the spirit of this early holiday ambush I decided that I should find some Hanukkah items to take home (since all the ones at my local party store looked cheap and garrish screaming "Happy Hanukkah" in canary yellow and basic blue). I was hoping to find some classy silver and blue tinsel, maybe some lights, wrapping paper with the Star of David, and some card with a generic seasonal greeting.

Boy, was I outta luck. At first I inquired gently to one of the red vest wearing teens unloading tinsel from boxes in front of a plastic Santa Claus. "Excuse me, where are your Hanukkah decorations?" She looked up, shrugged her shoulders and said, "They might be downstairs?" and went back to her task. At this point there was only mild annoyance at poor customer service amidst the festive atmosphere.

Since I had more regular shopping to do, I chalked this interaction up to age and inexperience. Next I tried a gentle men passing by pushing a palette of toilet paper. He was little more help and instructed me to try Customer Service. Ah-ha, I thought, this will be perfect, they will point me in the right direction and I'll just throw some stuff in my cart and be on my way.

Sadly, things often do not work out the way you imagine. Customer Service was not very customer friendly and pointed me back upstairs with the comment that, "All holiday materials are upstairs and (I) must've missed something."

Coming off the escalator on the second floor my spirits were low and my anger beginning to boil. I was starting to feel marginalized and unimportant to one of the US's gigantic retailers. Silly I know, but this sums up my feelings for so many years about the December Dilemma. It is unclear to me when my "bah humbug" menatality started. Whether it was fostered doing Christmas themed art projects in Elementary School or if it was feeling disappointed that my parents wouldn't put lights on our house (although we did have an electric menorah in the window).

Whatever the reason, the epiphany I experience in that Target last week was the realization that I did not accept who I was and am. It is a deepseated self-loathing of this difference that I am a Jew in an American Culture that has taken Christmas and turned it into a hugely commercial holiday. Basically, I suffer from feeling left out. Pity party, table for one?

Standing, staring up at the flocked and decorated trees the department manager simply stated, "We don't have any Hanukkah stuff, but you might try Party City." My feelings were depressed and introspective as I checked out with my small pile and trudged to my car. In the safety of my drivers seat a wave of guilt and shame overcame me and I cried for all the children that love Santa. Wow, I thought, I am being selfish and small, what a horrible irony that during this season, a time of year for peace, love, joy, and family should cause me such angst.

Change can be inspired by many circumstances and this was one of them. It is time to work on my attitude, to be more accepting of myself, and enjoy the holidays with my friends and family instead of sitting in judgement on the trappings of those same holidays, be they trees, lights, or snowmen. These elements only have the power that we imbue them with and I am not going to let myself be manipulated by these negative emotions anymore. Happy Holidays to all whatever you may celebrate!

Fight Night

Tonight I had a fantastic time releiving the stress and pressure of everyday life by beating the crap out of a guy dressed in head to toe protective gear. I attended an Impact Personal Safety Fight Night. Three hours of whatever kinds of fights the participants want to practice to feel more confident about their verbal and physical abilities to defend themselves.

Looking back it's incredible to me that I actually completed 3 self defense classes. I mean I am astonished that I was able to accomplish something that I set my mind to. When I first learned about Impact the class that truly appealed to me was the Weapons class. It teaches the students to defend themselves against an assailant who is armed with a knife, club, or gun. It took a full year to go through Basic and complete Advanced and finally move on and do weapons.

Some of the amazing aspects of these classes are the people who teach them. Our instructor tonight teaches self defense at two all girl high schools. This is a valuable resource that I feel should be available to all teenage girls. A friend of mine used to be a kids class instructor. What a tremendous honor it must be to instill confidence and protection in children.

Halloween

10/23/05 I always thought that the girl’s bathroom in the bottom of the music building in our high school was haunted. For some odd reason I believed that one day I would go in there and there would be a person hanging from the rafters. Perhaps it was the dank, cloying odor of must and mildrew that had accumulated over the many years the building had stood through hard rains and the pathetic ventilation that the bottom level received. It just always gave me the creeps going down there to change into our choral outfits for a nighttime performance or to quickly use the bathroom (since choir was right after lunch). That's really all of the scary thoughts I have, no wonder I gooble up books by Dean Koontz and Stephen King so much. No, my first book would NOT be part of the horror genre.

I'm thinking that for next years Halloween costume I am going to be either an Iron Chef (preferrably Chef Masaharu Morimoto since he's the only chef that has been in both the Japanese and the American versions of the show). It would be fun to just run around wearing silver and carrying around a fake butcher knife and rubber chicken. It's either that or I'm dressing up as Diana (played by Jane Badler) from the 80s show "V". I could put a little scrape in my "skin" and put on some fake snakeskin to make it look like I'm a lizard underneath. Plus who wouldn't look fabulous in a bright red jumpsuit with a gigantic black vinyl "V" in a standup collar around their neck extending to their crotch rather suggestively.


I was uber-lazy this year and didn't even bother with a costume...of course, since I wasn't going anywhere for the holiday, it didn't really matter.

Yep, that's right, I opted out of celebrating the one holiday that you can pretty much get away with anything that you want...weather it be looking or acting unlike yourself. Sadly, ever since those rosy days of old when my mother spent hours on Saturday sewing my costume and my siblings costumes have I felt that magically transformed.

Music Review

10/27 Danger Doom: The Mask and the Mouse

For those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise; I am a rampant fan of Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim block of cartoons. My favorite shows feature old Hanna Barbara cartoons that have been revamped with new shots, characters, and voices to create animated entertainment that is absurd in nature and inappropriate for children. There are many different shows on during this time period, usually only asking 9 -15 minutes attention from their audience of adolescents that have fulltime jobs, mortgaqges, car payments, and kids fast asleep. The best three series in my opinion feature old Hanna Barbera cartoon characters revamped and thrust into new and exciting adventures. The fact that these adventures usually consist of very unsavory situations that frequently make no sense at all is beside the point. Even their titles suggest absurdism; Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law, Aqua Team Hunger Force, and Sealab 2027. Not exactly your Penelope Pitstop or Snaglepuss kinda show.

But enough about my adoration of FCC challenging cartoons, this new release uniting MF Doom and Dangermouse is a not to be missed collaboration. It is equally nutty and non-senseical as the shows that it integrates into the dozen plus tracks. I cannot chose which is my favorite, since each song is so different , but I admit that the one that sticks in my head the most (maybe more due to the lyrics then the actualy music)is Sofa King.

Below is a list of the song title, for your enjoyment of their tongue-in-cheek humor.

01 El Chupa libre
02 Sofa King
03 The Mask (feat. Ghostface)
04 Perfect Hair
05 Bizzy Box (feat. Cee-Lo)
06 Old School (feat. Talib Kweli)
07 A.T.H.F.
08 Basket Case
09 No Names (Black Debbi)
10 Crosshairs
11 Mince Meat
12 Vats of Urine
13 Space Ho's
14 Bada Bing

A Tale of Charles Dickens – A Radio Play by The Antaeus Company (L.A.s Classical Theater Ensemble)

The Los Angeles theater scene never fails to amaze and excite me. Especially in a genere that has sadly faltered since the advent of television, the radio play. My friend, the Brown One, invited me to accompany her to the Skirball Cultural Center to see A Tale of Charles Dickens presented by the award winning Antaeus Company. Let me steal from the program to tell you what this evening’s performance entailed, “16 actors portraying more than 50 characters. London in the 1830’s—the most colorful and chaotic city in the world—and young journalist Charles Dickens is uncovering a dark conspiracy of arson and murder. A fanciful look at the man before he became the iconic author we know today.”

What a treat this was! Murder most foul, burgeoning romance, a courtroom drama, bawdy drinking songs, and a cast of talented actors capable of populating all of England. So, basically, I am saying that I enjoyed the show immensely. It was a creative take on the early life of Charles Dickens with foreshadowing of how he would become the acclaimed writer that everyone knows today. Apparently this show is based on a script that runs 6 hours. I would be most intrigued to find out the other components of his writings that are alluded to in that missing 4 hours.

While out in the lobby at intermission I purchased several of the company’s previously performed plays that were available on CD and cassette. I bought Neil Simon’s great story, The Prisoner of Second Avenue which won a Grammy for Best Spoken Word Comedy Album in 2000. Agnes of G-d was another casette I picked up, since I did scenes from it back in college (that very short time when I was a theater major), but never actually read the entire piece. I’m looking forward to listening to all of them in my car since I do a lot of driving and the stories keep me from getting irritated at traffic. In fact, last nights performance was recorded and can be heard this weekend on public radio and satellite.

May I take this opportunity to again speak to you, my dear readers about being a good audience? One of my friends, we’ll call him Mr. Know-it-all (I chose this name with affection of course, for those of you who are horrified that I would call a friend this-afterall, it is a fact, he simply knows everything) actually left because the person behind him was laughing uproariously whenever the players said anything remotely amusing. Now I don’t blame Mr. Know-it-all since I was also sitting in front of said rude person. I’m certainly not suggesting that it is not okay to enjoy the show with laugther and tears where appropriate, but this was out of proportions to what was actually going on onstage. It was distracting and what-more you could not hear the actor’s lines over these gigantic guffaws. In the future, if we were all just a little more aware of those around us…you get the point.

Great Party and Musings on Parenthood

This weekend I attended a tea and dress-up birthday party for 2 sets of 3-year-old twins. Both sets of twins are little girls, one fraternal, and one identical (well mostly). What a blast this party was, cute kids, great food, cool clothing to dress in, and an incredible homemade cake that tasted good and looked fantastic. The children were the biggest joy to me. Their delight in wearing play jewelry, oversized hats, feather boas, and fancy high heels was magical to experience.

Plus, they were all so helpful to eachother, it was like a happy mini-utopian soceity. No sex or violence to complicate things. I’m certain that I am simplifying here, since I am wont to do that, especially when writing. I’m certain I over-romanticize parenthood since I want children very much. The older I get the more I appreciate the many sacrfices my parents made to give me a good childhood and the choices the continue to make so I have a good life.

When you are young I think you have this idea that everyones family is just like yours. At some point you realize that other kids have more or less then you do. Whether it is money, family, or standard of living, it is a difficult realization to assimilate. Some of my friends lived in apartments, some kids I knew lived in the “projects” of our town. We all wore hand-me-downs at some point. Me, I just loved “borrowing” my brother’s clothes because I wanted to look like a “skater” chick. Other kids had tvs, videogames, and phones in their room. I never did, I guess I felt that with the cordless phone I could get as much privacy as I needed in my own bedroom.

There always seemed to be more then enough in our house. Food and beds were in ample supply to any kids from the neighborhood who needed to crash at our house. My father cooked enough food for an army and with my brother’s quickly growing teenage friends, it was necessary. My parents never minded the extra kids hanging around. I guess they must have figured it was better we were all close by then getting in trouble roaming the town. It was a cool house to grow up in, one where you never felt alone.

Underratted

Free or cheap things that are severely underrated:

The Public Library: I adore the library. It’s a surefire good time for me whenever I go there because I know that not only do they trust me with books, audio books (both CD and cassette), DVDs, and VHS tapes of a wide variety, but they are filled with some of the nicest people you will ever meet. Since I work in customer service, it is a pet peeve of mine to encounter people who are surly, crass, or unhelpful in their interactions with people who use their services. The library branch that I frequent is staffed by kind, patient, generous people who look like they really enjoy what they are doing. My mom used to work for the public library in our home town and her co-workers were intelligent, articulate people who really loved their jobs and the beneficial effects that their place of work had on their community was heartening.

So many people come together at the library. Young, old, rich, poor, there is no criteria that you have to meet to be a member. That’s my kinda club. Plus they let you take home all sorts of movies and books that would cost you precious money at Blockbuster or Barnes and Noble. That’s right, there is still is a place that people can go to get something for nothing (as long as you return it on time, of course). In my opinion that sort of thing is a mini-miracle that I appreciate every time I walk through the doors of that magical place called the library.


Thrift Shops:
Wow, are these terrific stores to browse in and find all sorts of hidden treasures. Thrift Stores combine the random kitsch of garage sales with the excitement of products from eras past all at discount prices. About a month ago I purchased 2 books (almost brand new condition, popular titles) and a cool T-shirt at my local Good Will for less the $4. It’s not just the shopping that is so neat about these stores, but the premise behind them. The idea that when you are finished using something, it can still be useful to others.

They provide a central location to donate household goods, furniture, clothing, books, and various other articles of daily life that are in good condition. Tzedakah or the concept of Jewish giving is a large part of my affection for Thrift Stores since they are convenient locations for me to take items that are in good condition for donation. Many times I have found myself no longer fitting in skirts or tops that are still in fine condition, but I do not have a sister or friend to hand them down to, so giving them to an organization that provides them to people in need or sells them to raise money is a solution that satisfies the commandement to give perfectly.

Crash, A film by Paul Haggis

If you have not seen the groundbreaking film, I urge you to add it to your Netflicks account or pick it up some night at Blockbuster. Better yet, go out and buy it since after seeing it once you will want to see it again to glean some new aspect of its multi-layered, complex story. Many reviews have already been written, most, by author’s much more adept at film analysis then I am, especially with such a difficult topic as a film that covers racial stereotypes and interconnecting character arcs.

Many aspects of the film both horrified and fascinated me since seeing human nature in varying shades of grey is not all that common for US Cinema. It was shockingly ordinary how the verbal slurs and stereotypical assumptions were used so offhandedly. I have to say, it made me question my own use of language and my behaviors around people in every circumstance, be it in a brief interaction at the gas station to the times I am with friends who are different colors, religions, and gender preferences then mine. I remain convinced that morality and ethics are far more important then any of the differences that can be seen or acted on. Being a compassionate person has so little to do with others, yet can have a far reaching impact on them.

Take the recent disasters that have happened the world over, from tsunamis, to hurricaines, to earthquakes, people and nations have put aside diversity to lend a helping hand. I know that this has not always happened in a timely manner and I am not going to defend or dispute it, but so much good has been seen from those near the devastated areas and those who live half a world away. My company has matched donations with their employees, they are having clothes, food, and various hygeine product drives, they are sending children books and movies to help them cope with losing so much. It is an honor to be a part of so much good.

The Plot Against America by Phillip Roth – Audio Book

Since I did not enjoy my first time reading Phillip Roth's The Human Stain, I can honestly say that I had no expectations whatsoever for my second outing with this author. That is why The Plot Against America proved to be such a delightful surprise. In this novel, Roth imagines an alternate history for America during World War II. In this frightening imagining, Republican, Isolationist candidate Charles A. Lindbergh defeats Franklin Roosevelt in the bid for the presidency. Under Lindbergh's administration, America is kept out of WWII and anti-semitism flourishes from coast to coast with Roth's family caught in the middle. Phillip Roth the author write about Phillip Roth the young boy which makes me wonder how many of the occurrences and characters are based on Roth's real life. This is an effective plot device that really involves the reader in the very dire circumstances that the main character is put in.

Ron Silver reads this audio book and although his differentiation between character voices is fair, he excels at the many soliloquies and political speeches Roth writes with such panache. This is one of the many reasons why I am such a rampant fan of audio books. They remind me of my parents reading to me at bedtime or my 6th grade teacher reading out loud to us such masterpieces as The Phantom Tollbooth and The Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson. There is a connection made during the reading that conveys what the author’s meaning is for the book. I urge you to read out loud and see for yourself how it changes your reading experience. In my life I have had the pleasure of co-reading books with several friends where we take turns reading to each other. It broadens the experience of the book. I believe this is also the reason that book clubs are so popular.

The Music Man

Yesterday I saw the closing performance of the Stepping Stone Player’s The Music Man. Now, this show is so nostalgic for me since it was the first musical I watched that inspired me to audition for plays at my High School. Sadly, I was not cast until my junior year, but it did begin a 10 year love affair with all audio, be it sound reinforcement in live theater or dialog editing for television. Both of which I enjoyed for a time, but left behind to pursue a more traditional (as well as dependable) desk job.



This production of The Music Man started out a bit slow, but gained moment with each amazing song and dance number. The joy and vibrancy of the elementy school aged and high school aged performers were incredibley humbling to watch. Their execution of complicated dance moves and layered singing was a delight to watch. A friend of mine has been participating in community theater for 6 years and he was the reason that I attended the show that day. This friend, we’ll call him Blondie, because he is blonde, has been in productions ranging from joyously fun to monstrously unwatchable (sorry my friend). However, Blondie has always shined with his commitment to each roll he has been cast in.



Especially memorable to me during Sunday afternoon’s show was seeing Blondie go from being onstage as a concerned towns person in the song “Trouble” to being the Well’s Fargo Coachman complete with full length duster and burned down cigar, flipping his blond locks for the little girls to mimic. Also, his stint as a fez wearing Mason in a previous mucial (I think it was Bye, Bye Birdie) was hysterical. Blondie is a good looking, guy and here he was nerding it up as with a fez and thick glasses, very funny. I am simpley thankful that he continues performing so that all his friends can enjoy the many fantastic musicals out there.



In my distant past I worked for a professional musical theater company in the Bay Area. Musicals have always spoken to me in a way that I cannot define with mere words. The huge dance numbers amaze me and the singing is stupendous with songs that range from nonsense to broad comedy, to touching ballads. My parents spoiled me by taking me to musicals, concerts, and ballets from a young age (although they did wait until I was able to sit still and appreciate what I was seeing). Jedi also enjoys musicals and concerts, I’m not sure about ballet, but he seemed to enjoy Moving Out (that was my big gift last year from my best friend and it was AWESOME). I’m planning to try and get tickets to see City of Angels (I saw it years ago and remember the staging being extremely creative). When I took tap during the summer while in High School we danced to two songs from this show, they had witty lyrics.

Remembering Part 2

I know my Grandma lived a full and amazing life and is now with my Grandpa, but I still find it difficult to believe she is gone. Until last year, she was my last surviving grandparent, my Father's Mother. She was the woman that I looked up to and admired so much. It really reminds me to appreciate people around me and each day that I have. Never know how long that may be. Growing up my mother and father told me how very much I resembled my Grandma when she was in her youth, I hope that is true, because if I am anything like her, it means I will be strong, beautiful, and stubborn for the rest of my life.

My Grandmother outlived my Grandfather, but he was the one that she spoke of most. They had spent over 5 decades together as husband and wife. Their devotion to eachother is something that has always warmed me and filled me with a sense of pride and nostalgia. Their lives were not easy, but they choose the best path they could despite suffering through WWII.

Grandma was a beautiful woman who immigrated to the United States from Germanyto settle in New Jersey. Her mother, brother, and sister also came here. In Germany she had worked as an au pair, in New Jersey she continued that work. Her love of children was evident to me along with her strong sense of devotion to family. Grandpa called her mousel, meaning little mouse, it was a term of endearment and she had a small collection of mice made of crystals, ceramic, and even plastic in their china cabinet. I always wanted to know the origin of that nickname, at one time I may have, but now I do not.

Grandma’s cooking was amazing. While I was never a fan of the rare roast beef that was bloody in the middle, my Papa (my mother’s father) enjoyed with horseradish, I adored the many pickled items that appeared as a staple on lazy susan at the center of the table of my Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Pickled cucumbers, vinegar coleslaw (a recipe handed down to my father that is delicious with a yellow hue from the turmeric…I still have never mimicked it well enough to do it justice), homemade dill pickles, and my favorite pickled beets. A holdover from that time that delights me still is to buy seedless rye from Solley’s, real mayonaise, and small tins of anchovies wrapped around capers. This simple sandwich can take me back to my childhood.

My sister-in-law’s family is from Russia (just like my Mother’s) and they are also extremely fond of pickled items, including fish. My brother and sister-in-laws wedding was catered by a traditional Russian chef and began with a tremendous array of smoked fish and an incredible assortment of pickled items, I was in hog heaven! LOL, I digress, as usual!

There were many summers that my family visited Grandma and Grandpa in their small, neat home in Northern New Jersey. What was so wonderful about their place was the enormous plot of land it was situated on. There was room for a large garden to plant a variety of vegetables and herbs. Fruit trees and even grape vines grew there alongside lush berry bushes and vibrant flowers.

During the spring and summer months there would be several bird feeders strategically placed throughout the property. They would attract a myriad of aviary life to watch with delight. There were vibrant hummingbirds and impossibley loud, belligerant blue jays. One year there was an especially inventive squirrel that would not leave the bird seed alone no matter how ingeniusly my Grandpa tried to squirrel-proof it. I remember watching the squirrel take a flying leap off the roof once just to land in the middle of the feeder spraying seed and squaking bird everywhere. The feeder weighted down with squirrel perched precariously inside weighted down the thin tree limb from hung swaying back and forth hypnotically as it sunk lower and lower towards the ground. By this time Grandma was shouting at it from the window to "get down" and "scram", but that foolhardy squirrel would do no such thing, he was finally exactly where he wanted to be and was making the most of it.

"FWAP", birdfeeder and squirrel where swatted from the tree. My Grandpa had come up behind them and knocked that rampaging squirrel from it's roost. I was flabbergasted, having never seen my Grandparents carry out such violence. Working as a team they refilled and rehung the birdfeeder with an alacrity that belied their ages. They would be ready when the squirrel returned.

Katrina Benefit hosted by Tenacious D 9/22/05

Last night my boyfriend and I attended the Tenacious D Benefit to help victims of Katrina. This was a fantastic show and I felt humbled by the outpouring of love, money, and energy that was swirling around inside that venue. Jack and Kyle who makeup the band Tenacious D were wonderfully informal with their guest performers and audience. The event didn’t feel too polished or rehearsed which made for a vivacious spontaneity that translated to the audience. Jack Black was a total maniac, handling most of the hosting duties since Kyle was sick that night. He tumbled, rolled, flew, pirouetted across and around the stage in a manic frenzy that put me in the mind of a whirling dervish. Honestly, I wanted to go onstage with him, what a fantastic opportunity he has to unleash this great capacity to captivate an audience with music, comedy, and spirit.

If you ever have the opportunity to see the D live, take it! You'll be in for a treat.

The death of a hero: Simon Wiesenthal

For those of you who are young or not of Jewish decent, the name Simon Wiesenthal may not mean much. To people like me, a second generation American on my father’s side and a third on my mother’s side, both of European Jewish descent, he was a hero. He was a survivor of the Holocaust and spent the years after it hunting Nazi war Criminals with great success. What I find so fascinating about Wiesenthal was his reinvention of himself after the war. He had been subjected to the atrocities of 12 concentration camps (5 were actual death camps), he had attempted suicide twice without success while imprisoned by the Nazis, he and his wife lost 89 relatives through the actions of the Third Reich, yet after being liberated by American Forces Wiesenthal reinvented himself.

After the war, he reunited with his wife (who had been hidden in Poland, using her blonde hair to pose as an Aryan), had a family (which was such a significant act of hope after the pain and horror of the Holocaust), and began seeking justice for the many people who lost their lives at the hands of the Nazi regime. There is great controversy over his involvement in the capture of Adolf Eichman, but I feel that regardless of the truth (which can never be known), the fact that Eichman was found is a feat worthy of accolades to whoever negotiated his capture.

The dedication that Wiesenthal showed spending 50 years of his life pursuing the men and women who perpetrated the madness of genocide is startling to me. I don’t ask myself why he did it; I ask myself why more people didn’t. Retribution is not what was sought, but justice for crimes against humanity. The Nuremberg trials were incomplete with the escape of many top ranking Nazis. If given the same circumstance would I handle my life with such focus and purpose? This is a question I never want to be forced answer.

I leave you with this quote from the Council of Europe chairman Terry Davis,"Without Simon Wiesenthal's relentless effort to find Nazi criminals and bring them to justice, and to fight anti-Semitism and prejudice, Europe would never have succeeded in healing its wounds and reconciling itself... He was a soldier of justice, which is indispensable to our freedom, stability and peace."

Wiesenthal passed away on Tuesday, September 20th, 2005. He was 96.

A Sidenote:

I am looking into getting the HBO film in which Ben Kingsley plays Wiesenthal, called Murderers Among Us: the Simon Wiesenthal Story. If I can’t find it, I’m certain I can get my hands on the book from which it is based. Imagine being Ben Kingsley who has not only played Gandhi with such grace, complexity, and character, but to also have such a rich roll as Wiesenthal to flesh out. Kingsley is indeed talent, if you doubt my love of his acting abilities, please see Sexy Beast or House of Sand and Fog.

Lunch with a Friend

I have a standing lunch date on Fridays with a friend of mine who is a college speech professor (we’ll call him GBD). We often go to a restaurant conveniently located close by my work; since I am now required to punch in and out with a time clock mechanism. GBD is a cousin of The Brown One who lives with my boyfriend. We began hanging out due to our mutual love of books. In fact during one of our first lunches together he leant me a copy of Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach while I loaned to him a copy of Robert Ketchum’s book, Red.

GDB and I share a sense of the morbid along with an appreciation of good wine. He does not find it horrible if I discuss my fascination with dead bodies or true crime while shoveling food in my mouth (I mentioned previously about the whole time clock thing). Nor does he dismiss my assertions that women are crazy and therefore I would never become a lesbian. There is no irony when he asks my advice about dating., which I find rare since many of my friends know that I will hijack their social lives in the blink of an eye and spend my time regaling them with my list of single friends of the opposite sex with varying attributes to recommend them by.

In the class that GBD teaches he gives this one fascinating assignment called Scar or Star. Since the students are required to talk about themselves, they are given a choice of whether they want to share with the class a scar they have on their body and how they got it or a celebrity they met and how this meeting changed their opinion about said celebrity., I love this idea. In fact, I am thinking of asking my friends to do something similar for my birthday coming up in a week and half.

In the past I have requested more personal items from people, a recipe they loved from childhood, a mix tape that contained songs that reminded them of me, or a book that was that held a special memory. This year I thought about requesting my friends to join me in a volunteer activity, but the timing of events wasn’t working out for me so I am scraping those plans. Now I am thinking of requesting people to share a story about me from their personal experiences on my blog. Hmmm…perhaps with my friends that would not be such a good idea I might end up finding out things about myself I’d rather not know…LOL!

Lobsterfest San Pedro 9/18/05

The boyfriend and I just came home after spending the better part of the day at the Lobster Fest in San Pedro. Having never been to this event before I can most definitely surmise that it will be a yearly occurrence now on my calendar because it is so delicious and conveniently located, not to mention the outta this world price! Admission was $6 each since we used tickets that we printed out from the Lobster Fest Website. If you were interested in getting lobster, there was a deal for one lobster with melted imitation butter, coleslaw and bread for $17 or two with the same fixin’s for $29. These were fairly good sized lobsters too with meaty tails and huge well developed claws full of sweet meat.

I got only one, but a friend, who I’ll call Blinky gave me the upper half of his second crustacean because he was already full. HA, as if I would let any of that amazing meat go to waste. Now the lobsters served were a bit more watery then I would like, but they lacked that saltiness that often mars the more delicate flavor. I could not believe Blinky was passing up the most amazing parts of a lobster that he paid his hard earned cash for, but as a good friend I made short work of lobster #2. Suffice it to say, we made short work of the giant cockroaches smothering them in butter and sucking out the meat from their swimmerets.

Being the gourmands that we are this was not nearly enough food to celebrate this unique event. Next on the menu was Holy Guacamole voted best by Food Network and the California Avocado Association and who am I to argue with two such lauded organizations? Assisted by another pint of beer I indulged in a chewy, salty, buttery delight of roasted corn that had just the perfect amount of butter and salt to really enhance the sweet and crisp corn flavor. While I was washing my hands to dive back into the flurry of food, Jedi was getting a sausage with a friend of his who is to be married in October.

Still not satisfied with this culinary picnic we next ordered fried catfish, cod, shrimp, oysters, hush puppies, and fries complete with ketchup, tartar sauce, and hot sauce (for Jedi since I cannot partake). The crust on these fried items was incredible; not too thickly coated, crunchy and a tad bit sweet like cornmeal can be. Not a bit greasy, but still moist. For dessert I had an amazing ooey goey sweet potato pie that had a jelly-like consistency that resembled the inside of a pecan pie. You know that one, that caramel flan like layer that’s achingly sugary and reminds you of Thanksgiving with the folks.

Scarecrow by Matthew Reilly

I have read an incredible amount of action novels in the years that I was growing up. Considering that I was raised with an army of male friends and relatives around, it’s a miracle that I still want to read the likes of Mack Bolan, James Bond, or Dirk Pitt, and yet I find myself returning to these novels again and again as touchstones of my pulp filled literary past. That’s is why I was delighted to discover and new and exciting action hero created by a 26 year old author from Australian named Matthew Reilly.

It was in 2000 that Reilly published his book Ice Station which introduced readers to marine hero, Shane Scofield. In Scarecrow we are reunited for the third time with Scofield to accompany him as he is targeted for assassination by a man who wants to begin World War III. Scarecrow, the codename given to Scofield due to the vertical scars running over each eye is a terrific name for this book since it gives more insight into the hero then any of the previous installments of this unbelievable action series.

If I were to compare Reilly’s writing style, I would be forced to say that he is the John Woo of writers. He is guilty of forcing his character up against unbelievable odds to do inhumane feats of strength, skill, cunning, and courage. This is a non-stop heart thumping ride of a book that has jets racing across the world, tanker ships sinking, man-eating sharks, and even a guillotine.

With the returning characters of Book II, Mother, and Libby Gant joined by the mysterious bounty hunter, The Black Knight and his sidekick Rufus this headlong plunge into saving the world is more rapid fire then Ice Station or Area 7. What I appreciated the most about Scarecrow was the obvious growth of the author as a writer. Reilly is no longer reticent to let his emotions show in more complex ways including the very risky soft side of his main character. Scofield is allowed to draw the reader out with his growing familiarity with his Delta Force Squad, it is a charming plot twist.

If you never like putting a book down unless it is finished then Scarecrow is the book for you my friend. Non-stop action oriented sequences featuring a parade of guns, rockets, jets, and missiles that no army buff should miss out on. Yet even with all the technical information the humanity and storyline remain strong and focused even if they are so over-the-top as to be almost silly. This book is worth a look in my humble opinion.

The Human Stain by Phillip Roth

Now I began this book already knowing the “big secret” that is revealed about halfway through. I should note that although aware of the existence of a movie version, I had not seen it, nor did I know anyone who had. The reason I picked this book up was because it was 99 cents at my local Good Will Store (thrift stores, the underutilized place for funky clothes, cheap books, and weird knickknacks, I suggest you check out yours other then just around Halloween), for that price, it has to be a book worth reading. Apparently, I was wrong.

Roth is a writer of dense, detailed prose that contain multi-layered information for the reader. Being that this was my first experience with this world reknown author I felt it was only fair that I give credit where credit is due. The story is about a Dean of Faculty, Coleman Silk, who is dismissed under a shadow of disgrace for making a comment that is purposely seen to be racist in nature. That the protagonist should been misunderstood to make such a remark when it is precisely against his own nature is the irony of this story. It is also very much the tragedy of it. To see that a man would rather live with dishonor then expose himself as a liar due to the shame in his lie is a tricky situation to write with all of the transitory emotions that are involved. Roth is masterful with his creation of men and women who are very much not what they seem on the outside.

Despite the masterful storytelling, I still found this book to be too difficult for the audience to find someone to identify with. The accessibility factor was low with so many different moralities at play and yet Roth tried to use his alter ego, Nathan Zuckerman, from I Married a Communist and American Pastoral. Having not read those books, I cannot comment on whether this would’ve been an easier read if I was already familiar with one of the main characters. Regardless of my feelings about this book, I am currently halfway through The Plot Against America, also by Roth, and admit that I am incredibly thrilled by the poetic and heartfelt writing. Once I finish look for my review of that novel here.

Labor Day Crab Boil

For Labor Day this year a friend of ours wanted to fly in blue crabs from Maryland. Since my boyfriend, Jedi (a fake name to protect the innocent, although why I am using it for him, I haven’t a clue), is from Maryland he was more then happy to join in and make this idea a reality. For this adventure, more equipment then then usual was necessary which called for a visit to the local Smart and Final for a large pot and outdoor propane burner. Next was a trip to William Sonoma for crab mallets (surprising difficult to find here in Los Angeles) and finally Surfas for the perfect clarified butter to accompany the sweet little crustaceans and make our purchases complete. A bushel of medium blue crabs arrived on the doorstep of Jedi’s house on Saturday morning and he was aglow with the excitement to come. Out of 6 dozen crabs, there were surprising few that gave up the ghost during their 6 hour flight from the East Coast. Although not lively when we first opened the box due to the cold (they were packed in dry ice), as we cooked more and the remaining in the box got warmer they began to wake up and show their feisty side. The crabs were ordered live from Harbour House in Maryland , they also specialize in soft-shell blue crabs and sending already steamed hard shell ones. Jedi was in his element with 3 lbs of Old Bay and gloves to protect his fingers from the crab’s pinchers he got down to the serious business of steaming.

First he made an intoxicating brew of heated beer on the outside propane burner which was gently brought up to boil. When the steam started filling the pot, a dozen blue critters were added alternating with heaping portions of Old Bay. Once the crabs were steamed to perfection, they were lifted from the pot and spread out on the brown paper covered tables for their last orange coat of Old Bay. Jedi even provided me with my very own portion of steamed crabs sans Old Bay due to my lichen planus (a condition on my lips and mouth that makes it painful to eat spicy or hot food…sad, I know!). Let the cracking, slurping, digging, and dipping BEGIN!!!

Throughout the daylong crab boil, there was so much food to be had that we felt slightly ashamed of our overindulgence. Jedi’s friends and neighbors and mine too stopped by from 2pm until 10 to pull up a seat at the paper covered feast table in the duplex’s backyard to talk, pick crabs, and eat a variety of delectable dishes. One friend, who’s originally from Georgia, to everyone’s delight made hush puppies. Later in the evening he created even more incredible fried food by spoiling us with beignets from a Café du Monde mix. They were scandalously good even though he though some were half cooked. I opted on the un-fried side and made traditional cornbread and honey butter to accompany the crabs. I used the recipe on the side of the cornmeal box which resulted in moist delectable bread. Jedi’s roommate (or as we call her, The Brown One-it’s not what you think) created a scrumptious caprese salad using the tomatoes and basil from their garden.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Maryland Blue Crab (and I was pretty much a Blue Crab virgin until dating my wonderful, gourmet beau, Jedi) this kind of crab is more delicate tasting and sweeter then it’s cousins the Dungeness and Alaskan King Crabs. It’s also a challenge to shell the smaller ones. Luckily we received mediums that were on the higher side of that size category (51/2-6 inches). You see blue crabs come in 5 different sizes for the males, which are the preferred type to eat, they are in descending order; Heavyweights, Jumbos, Large, Medium, and Small and then there are the females (usually not eaten due to the fact that they can produce up to eight million eggs in one mating season, so their capture and consumption is limited). It’s my inner desire to someday go out with crabbers in Maryland to catch my very own blue crabs. Imagine the freshness!

I find it very amusing that my boyfriend should love crabs so much given the fact that his star sign is Cancer, The Crab. People of this star sign are considered to be gentle and nurturing despite the irony that Crab is used to describe someone who is a grouch. I am very skeptical about astrology, but in this instance I find it amusingly fitting.