Here it is: the last blog entry of the year. But I'm not ready to tote up the days and the happenings of 2010 and declare them to be of a certain quality. I think I'll have my taxes done long before I get a real handle on what 2010 was for me.
To celebrate its departure, Steve and I went up to Pismo Beach for a couple of days earlier this week. We got to visit with my sister Kittie and her husband David. We had a lovely Italian dinner with them Monday evening. Steve had shrimp and scallops and got extremely ill later that night. After about 11 hours of sleep, and he was feeling much better, so we headed out.
On Tuesday, we drove up to Cambria, since Steve had never been, and stopped in at Seekers Art Glass Gallery to see if we could get a couple more tumblers by Esteban Prieto.
No such luck. They were out of stock, so we drove slow down Main Street and drove past Dr. Tinkerpaw's house on Nitwit Ridge. We didn't stop for any food, since Steve was still feeling a little queasy.
By the time we reached Morro Bay, he had enough of an appetite to stop at one of the Foster's Freezes of my youth. We got milkshakes, which has always been my chicken-soup for food poisoning and/or hangovers.
After, we went down to the Embarcadero to window shop and kill some time before our dinner date. (I only seem to take pictures when I'm standing on a dock in Morro Bay. Here's a chunk of video):
Late afternoon-early evening, we got together with Lisa Woske at Pepe Delgado's in San Luis Obispo for a round of drinks and some dinner. Steve braved the Albonigos soup (which was most agreeable) and I had a taco salad. Lisa had a large burrito with the word "Whale" in its name. It was very large, and a hefty remainder went home with her to feed her son, Chris. Steve and I went back to the hotel and kicked back for the evening, listening to the rain as it arrived.
Wednesday morning, the rain had moved on. We packed up and checked out, then stopped by Kittie's office. She introduced us around (getting a real kick out of calling Steve her brother-in-law). After lunch at a deli in the Village, we dropped Kittie back at work and hit the road home.
The rain moved ahead of us as we drove south, following far enough behind never to get wet. The gray clouds were moving out of Pasadena just at the time we got home.
The cats were glad to see us.
For New Year's Eve, we're celebrating at home, as usual. Moving around in Pasadena on New Year's Eve can be tricky. We've got half a cheese log, a wedge of brie and bread and crackers enough for celebration.
Goodbye, 2010. Goodbye.
Can't wait for the Rose Parade and the floats. Much saner and better viewing watching it on HDTV. But maybe next year we'll get some tickets and brave the weather to be there in person.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas Everybody
Here it is, Christmas Eve, and now my favorite Christmas cartoon. Coming across this last year was what started the whole Yuletide cartoon fling. My copy from last year:
We went out last night to pick up cat food and cat litter, both supplies almost exhausted and overlooked while getting ready for the holiday weekend. It was crazy out there. The parking at PetSmart was all right, but everywhere else it was impossible to find a parking place.
I hope I did a Christmas good deed. Sister-in-law Carla sent out an e-mail asking for dad's Christmas Eve Clam Chowder recipe. Luckily, I have it on file with my other favorites on the computer, so it was easy to copy and paste it. Hope she got the e-mail, as I sent it just minutes before she was scheduled to leave for the store.
So, Merry Christmas everybody, and a Happy New Year.
1936 "Christmas Comes But Once a Year" is a Fleischer cartoon (the creators of Betty Boop) from 1936 and stars Professor Grampy, who was added to the Fleischer character stable in an attempt to tone down the risque innuendos of Betty Boop's early cartoons which brought the wrath of the censors. I can remember watching this on our black-and-white television set in the late '50s. Running across it in color is a real treat.
We went out last night to pick up cat food and cat litter, both supplies almost exhausted and overlooked while getting ready for the holiday weekend. It was crazy out there. The parking at PetSmart was all right, but everywhere else it was impossible to find a parking place.
I hope I did a Christmas good deed. Sister-in-law Carla sent out an e-mail asking for dad's Christmas Eve Clam Chowder recipe. Luckily, I have it on file with my other favorites on the computer, so it was easy to copy and paste it. Hope she got the e-mail, as I sent it just minutes before she was scheduled to leave for the store.
So, Merry Christmas everybody, and a Happy New Year.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Here Comes Stepford Santa
From 1963, this short must have been a tax write-off. It's kind of a poem but not. It's obviously shot in somebody's living room and a department store somewhere, and there is no talent or even enthusiasm involved, but lots of stock footage of Santas in various promotional situations.
There's also lots of female brainwashing involved when it comes to the scenes in the "toy warehouse." My favorite line: "...she'll cook and scrub the whole day long, then serve a TV dinner."
Wednesday was rain. And rain. And more rain. There was lightning and thunder and some pretty nasty mudslides in the area, some four and five feet deep. And then, just before sundown, a crack in the clouds in the west and, for a moment, a rainbow. By the time the sun had gone down, seven days of constant rain were over. The storm has moved off to the east, to wreck havoc as it moves across the continent.
Wednesday evening was cookie-baking time. Not the vast amounts I had hoped to do, but enough to make a gift and keep a dozen or so for our holidays.
Today I have one more shopping errand and then we're ready for the holiday weekend and the week off to come. It will be nice to walk in a chilly but sunny day. But it's my understanding we're not done with the rain, and some forecasts predict at least drizzle on the Rose Parade. We'll have to see.
One last cartoon scheduled for tomorrow, Christmas Eve. We will go back to the Great Depression and one of my favorite holiday animations.
If you don't get around to reading this on Christmas Eve, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
There's also lots of female brainwashing involved when it comes to the scenes in the "toy warehouse." My favorite line: "...she'll cook and scrub the whole day long, then serve a TV dinner."
Wednesday was rain. And rain. And more rain. There was lightning and thunder and some pretty nasty mudslides in the area, some four and five feet deep. And then, just before sundown, a crack in the clouds in the west and, for a moment, a rainbow. By the time the sun had gone down, seven days of constant rain were over. The storm has moved off to the east, to wreck havoc as it moves across the continent.
Wednesday evening was cookie-baking time. Not the vast amounts I had hoped to do, but enough to make a gift and keep a dozen or so for our holidays.
Today I have one more shopping errand and then we're ready for the holiday weekend and the week off to come. It will be nice to walk in a chilly but sunny day. But it's my understanding we're not done with the rain, and some forecasts predict at least drizzle on the Rose Parade. We'll have to see.
One last cartoon scheduled for tomorrow, Christmas Eve. We will go back to the Great Depression and one of my favorite holiday animations.
If you don't get around to reading this on Christmas Eve, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Holiday Bump-a-Cars
Made in Russia in 1959, "The Christmas Visit" provided for the holiday (which officially did not exist) while showcasing Soviet scientific superiority. Kind of kooky, but no less insane than American Christmas.
Of course, there's no telling what liberties were taken by the people who dubbed this into English. It's fun to compare this to the very first Christmas cartoon in this series, which was also done in Russia but in 1913 (Here Come the Cartoons, 12/03/10).
Tuesday was weird. There was a good lull in the rain, so I took the opportunity to go out and do grocery shopping for the holiday weekend. This year I actually put together a daily menu so I'd have the right stuff on hand and not have to run out to grab missing ingredients.
I was driving down Mentor, a one-way street clearly marked "no stopping at any time," and there was a car stopped in the righthand lane, just in front of the entrance to the store parking lot. I pulled left around them, signaled for my righthand turn and felt them ram into the back of my car as I made my turn.
I backed up and parked on the street, and an old woman emerged from the passenger's side. She had a heavy slavic accent. "Dis vas yur vault!" she was saying. The driver, a younger woman, sat in the car. I went around and checked my fender and there was a foot-long scratch but, hey, there are lots of scratches on my car, as it's 12 years old.
"You were stopped in a no-stopping zone," I said. "And you hit me from behind, so you obviously didn't look for traffic before pulling forward."
"No, no," she protested, "You come from wrong lane."
"Because you were illegally stopped in the right one."
About this time the young woman got out.
"Well, what's the damage to your car?" I asked. We walked over and checked the driver's side headlight. There was a inch-long scratch in the paint and a small piece of the rubber gasket around the light housing was half peeled back.
"Here," the old woman said in an injured voice, "You see vat you do!"
"I was turning into the parking lot," the young woman said.
"And you cut us off!" the older one exclaimed.
"Well," I said, "I can give you my insurance information and you can give me yours and we can call the police and wait for someone to come out and document this." The old woman glared at me. The young one looked worried.
"You were breaking the law," I repeated. "There's a sign right there and one right back there, and they both say 'No Stopping at Any Time.'" All was silent.
"You're going Christmas shopping, aren't you?" I asked. They both nodded. "If we file a report, you'll get a ticket and I might get one, too. Why don't we say we were both at fault and live with the scratches? The important thing is everyone's all right."
"I'm a sick old woman!" was the reply.
And then. "I think you're right," from the driver.
"Let's get our shopping done," I said, moving back to my car, and added without really thinking, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas!" the old woman called. The two words had worked magic on her, and she seemed almost chipper.
This store has a strange holiday energy. Five years ago, Steve and I were pulling into the parking lot Christmas Eve to pick up last-minute stuff. He hit the curb and blew out a tire.
As Steve was gnashing his teeth and we set about to change the wheel, a man pulled up next to us in the parking lot and said, "Looks like you need some help." While we watched, he pulled a pneumatic jack from his truck, popped the wheel and had the new one on in no time, chattering happily all the while. "Merry Christmas!" he called on the way into the store. We returned his hail.
This is all very heartwarming, in an automotive way, but I am avoiding this Ralphs store within 10 days of any major holiday from now on.
Of course, there's no telling what liberties were taken by the people who dubbed this into English. It's fun to compare this to the very first Christmas cartoon in this series, which was also done in Russia but in 1913 (Here Come the Cartoons, 12/03/10).
Tuesday was weird. There was a good lull in the rain, so I took the opportunity to go out and do grocery shopping for the holiday weekend. This year I actually put together a daily menu so I'd have the right stuff on hand and not have to run out to grab missing ingredients.
I was driving down Mentor, a one-way street clearly marked "no stopping at any time," and there was a car stopped in the righthand lane, just in front of the entrance to the store parking lot. I pulled left around them, signaled for my righthand turn and felt them ram into the back of my car as I made my turn.
I backed up and parked on the street, and an old woman emerged from the passenger's side. She had a heavy slavic accent. "Dis vas yur vault!" she was saying. The driver, a younger woman, sat in the car. I went around and checked my fender and there was a foot-long scratch but, hey, there are lots of scratches on my car, as it's 12 years old.
"You were stopped in a no-stopping zone," I said. "And you hit me from behind, so you obviously didn't look for traffic before pulling forward."
"No, no," she protested, "You come from wrong lane."
"Because you were illegally stopped in the right one."
About this time the young woman got out.
"Well, what's the damage to your car?" I asked. We walked over and checked the driver's side headlight. There was a inch-long scratch in the paint and a small piece of the rubber gasket around the light housing was half peeled back.
"Here," the old woman said in an injured voice, "You see vat you do!"
"I was turning into the parking lot," the young woman said.
"And you cut us off!" the older one exclaimed.
"Well," I said, "I can give you my insurance information and you can give me yours and we can call the police and wait for someone to come out and document this." The old woman glared at me. The young one looked worried.
"You were breaking the law," I repeated. "There's a sign right there and one right back there, and they both say 'No Stopping at Any Time.'" All was silent.
"You're going Christmas shopping, aren't you?" I asked. They both nodded. "If we file a report, you'll get a ticket and I might get one, too. Why don't we say we were both at fault and live with the scratches? The important thing is everyone's all right."
"I'm a sick old woman!" was the reply.
And then. "I think you're right," from the driver.
"Let's get our shopping done," I said, moving back to my car, and added without really thinking, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas!" the old woman called. The two words had worked magic on her, and she seemed almost chipper.
This store has a strange holiday energy. Five years ago, Steve and I were pulling into the parking lot Christmas Eve to pick up last-minute stuff. He hit the curb and blew out a tire.
As Steve was gnashing his teeth and we set about to change the wheel, a man pulled up next to us in the parking lot and said, "Looks like you need some help." While we watched, he pulled a pneumatic jack from his truck, popped the wheel and had the new one on in no time, chattering happily all the while. "Merry Christmas!" he called on the way into the store. We returned his hail.
This is all very heartwarming, in an automotive way, but I am avoiding this Ralphs store within 10 days of any major holiday from now on.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wet, Wetter, Wettest, Wettester
"The Christmas Visitor" from 1959. It's an English cartoon, done in the simplified animation style that would become so popular in TV commercials of the 1960s.
It's a take on "T'was the Night Before Christmas," with a whole Snidley-Whiplash-Nell-on-the-train-tracks twist that doesn't make sense. Santa smokes a cigar and drinks booze while it all unfolds. Also, he's got a Mary Poppins thing going on in the chimney.
It rained even more Monday than it did the day before. Whole gobs of rain. I kept waiting for it to let up so I could go out and do some shopping, but by 2 p.m. it was obvious this was as good as it was going to get, so I got in the car and headed out.
Conditions were terrible: intersections flooded, my windows fogging up, idiots in SUVs tearing around like the roads were dry. Got done most of what I wanted to get done and then headed straight back home. Wrapped a couple more presents and stayed warm inside while the storm pounded on Pasadena.
Today I plan on doing some holiday baking and some boring old laundry. And Wednesday I've got to get the shopping done for the holiday weekend. Haven't even planned the menu yet, but I'm sure it will all come together.
Only a couple days left until Christmas, only a couple of cartoons left to put up here. Hope everyone's holiday season is going well so far. Hope people can get to where they're going by the time they need to get there.
It's a take on "T'was the Night Before Christmas," with a whole Snidley-Whiplash-Nell-on-the-train-tracks twist that doesn't make sense. Santa smokes a cigar and drinks booze while it all unfolds. Also, he's got a Mary Poppins thing going on in the chimney.
It rained even more Monday than it did the day before. Whole gobs of rain. I kept waiting for it to let up so I could go out and do some shopping, but by 2 p.m. it was obvious this was as good as it was going to get, so I got in the car and headed out.
Conditions were terrible: intersections flooded, my windows fogging up, idiots in SUVs tearing around like the roads were dry. Got done most of what I wanted to get done and then headed straight back home. Wrapped a couple more presents and stayed warm inside while the storm pounded on Pasadena.
Today I plan on doing some holiday baking and some boring old laundry. And Wednesday I've got to get the shopping done for the holiday weekend. Haven't even planned the menu yet, but I'm sure it will all come together.
Only a couple days left until Christmas, only a couple of cartoons left to put up here. Hope everyone's holiday season is going well so far. Hope people can get to where they're going by the time they need to get there.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Gray Skies Aren't Gonna Clear Up
Harveytoons strikes again with "Jumping With Toy" from 1957. This one stars Baby Huey, a mentally challenged monster duckling. The starving fox always tries to consume Baby Huey, but Huey's positive attitude and giant size saves him every time. What's the point of the cartoon? There is none, as with much of 1950s American culture.
Sunday was spent pretty much indoors, as it rained and rained and rained. It looks like it's going to be doing just that until well into Wednesday, so my last days of shopping will be done in drizzle to downpour, depending on the timing of it all.
My heart goes out to those who live beneath the burn areas, which take three to five years to fully recover. Minor mudslides were reported today, but if the rain keep coming down as forecast, I fear some families will be spending Christmas knee-deep in mud.
Steve and I have decided, since he's off between Christmas and New Year's days, to take a couple days and head up the coast just to get out of town. We're scheduling it so that we miss most of what will be the intra-holiday traffic.
Hopefully, one of our stops will be at John and Sandy Beck's to see their Christmas decorations. I'll get footage, if possible, to share with those unfamiliar with this phenomenon. It will astound the uninitiated.
Sunday was spent pretty much indoors, as it rained and rained and rained. It looks like it's going to be doing just that until well into Wednesday, so my last days of shopping will be done in drizzle to downpour, depending on the timing of it all.
My heart goes out to those who live beneath the burn areas, which take three to five years to fully recover. Minor mudslides were reported today, but if the rain keep coming down as forecast, I fear some families will be spending Christmas knee-deep in mud.
Steve and I have decided, since he's off between Christmas and New Year's days, to take a couple days and head up the coast just to get out of town. We're scheduling it so that we miss most of what will be the intra-holiday traffic.
Hopefully, one of our stops will be at John and Sandy Beck's to see their Christmas decorations. I'll get footage, if possible, to share with those unfamiliar with this phenomenon. It will astound the uninitiated.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Merry Christmas 200 Times
It must be close to Christmas, because we've reach the 1950s and television has begun to brainwash us all. Today's feature short is "Howdy Doody's Christmas." You have to be rather long in the tooth to remember this show. Only four of the regular characters show up here (and Santa too, of course), but already nefarious forces are at work to stop Santa's special visit.
But first, in the spirit of 1950s TV Christmas and while the kids are all watching, a word from our sponsor:
And now, back to our special program for today from 1957:
Today was rainy-drizzling, with constant but not overwhelming precipitation. We went grocery shopping, then Steve went out for a haircut while I wrapped presents. When he got home, I went up and napped while he wrapped presents. Now it's not looking too shabby under the tree, but nothing like some of the trees from my family's past (one coarse snapshot shown here, with presents reaching wall to wall).
When we were very little kids, opening presents happened on Christmas mornings, and it was a free-for-all: paper and ribbon flew and it was over in about 15 minutes. As we got older, we started opening presents on Christmas Eve, 7:30 p.m. to be precise.
Someone was designated and he or she picked a present from under the tree (when picking, the rule was it could not be to you or from you) and handed it to the recipient. He or she opened the present, oohs and aahs ensued and everyone got to see it. The recipient then got up and picked a present and presented it to the next person and so on.
This procedure could last for hours with a family of seven (and even longer when those siblings spawned offspring). The extended period, however, gave us all more time to enjoy the holiday.
Traditions are funny things, sort of like taking a shower: everyone does it a little differently and without ever thinking about it. Yet they have a very precise and time-honored course they follow. And, over the years, it changes ever so subtly that almost no one notices.
Merry Christmas: pass the shampoo when you're done with it.
But first, in the spirit of 1950s TV Christmas and while the kids are all watching, a word from our sponsor:
And now, back to our special program for today from 1957:
Today was rainy-drizzling, with constant but not overwhelming precipitation. We went grocery shopping, then Steve went out for a haircut while I wrapped presents. When he got home, I went up and napped while he wrapped presents. Now it's not looking too shabby under the tree, but nothing like some of the trees from my family's past (one coarse snapshot shown here, with presents reaching wall to wall).
When we were very little kids, opening presents happened on Christmas mornings, and it was a free-for-all: paper and ribbon flew and it was over in about 15 minutes. As we got older, we started opening presents on Christmas Eve, 7:30 p.m. to be precise. Someone was designated and he or she picked a present from under the tree (when picking, the rule was it could not be to you or from you) and handed it to the recipient. He or she opened the present, oohs and aahs ensued and everyone got to see it. The recipient then got up and picked a present and presented it to the next person and so on.
This procedure could last for hours with a family of seven (and even longer when those siblings spawned offspring). The extended period, however, gave us all more time to enjoy the holiday.
Traditions are funny things, sort of like taking a shower: everyone does it a little differently and without ever thinking about it. Yet they have a very precise and time-honored course they follow. And, over the years, it changes ever so subtly that almost no one notices.
Merry Christmas: pass the shampoo when you're done with it.
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