Final Christmas Thought

Here is the final Christmas video. "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.



Tomorrow is the last day of school before the Christmas weekend. Last night, I baked up a small storm, making my semi-famous "killer cookies" for Ron (who has taught most of my classes) and Tiffany (my career counselor at New Horizons) because giving gifts is a good thing, and sucking up to people who don't need sucking up to is also a way to impress. But mostly, I just really like them both. It won't hurt to have them in my corner once my studies are completed and I start looking for work. (The school helps place people; they have lots of contacts in the entertainment industry, and I'd like to stick in that general area, if possible).

So the shopping is done. Here's a shot of presents under the tree: not too many this year, but they're really pretty. I'm so glad that last year I dropped about $50 on really nice, quality wrapping paper. There was lots left over for use this year, and it looks like it will meet our needs next year, as well. We also have a stash of bows and ribbons from years past that is still serving us well. I find something really pretty I forgot we had every time I open the box. And you know I like wrapping presents, especially nice square boxes with clean corners! But, for the life of me, I don't think we have a single name tag in the house.

The cat has taken to molesting the little red present in front; he gnaws and pulls at the decoration, and when you chide him for it, he starts eating the tree; this from a cat who never showed interest in anything Christmassy before. Now he sits under the tree with the presents, looking like it's all there for his personal pleasure.

I had my phone interview with the Employment Development Department today to check me out for continued training benefits. I haven't received any unemployment benefits for almost seven weeks now (I know, I keep bitching about it), but the guy on the phone seemed to think my approval was a slam dunk, and that I would be back to getting checks (including retroactive payments) within a week. God, I hope so.

One of the things I've realized since I started my Dreamweaver classes (the main program for the Web) is that I really have to have the most recent version of the Adobe Suite to make the classes effective. They are running CS4 at school on PCs and I have CS3 at home on a Mac. I can deal with working on both platforms at the same time, but the program versions are throwing me. The upgrade, unfortunately, is about $600. Once the cash flow begins to improve, I can make the jump to CS4. When I do, I'm positive that Adobe will announce the impending release of CS5, so another upgrade will be on the horizon. But, hopefully, I will be gainfully employed by the time I need to upgrade once again.

That all was certainly not filled with yuletide joy. It's kind of hard to maintain the feeling this year. So much lousy stuff has happened, everything that was familiar is now disrupted, and resolution for everything seems months and months away. Even the weather is bucking holiday cheer. So here's one more picture, the final ornament close-up, to set the mood (you can see it on the tree in the photo of the presents).

After several days of 75- and 80-degree weather this weekend, it's dipping back into the low 60s-uppers 50s, and there's a real nip in the air. It's been extremely blustery, and we even have frost advisories in the valleys overnight. It helps reinforce the feeling of impending holiday cheer. But Christmas Day it's supposed to be back in the 70s. And no rain, the closest to snow we get in these parts.

So, what the hell: Merry Christmas, everybody! I wish I had the time and wherewithal to bake cookies for each and every one of you (and perhaps I shall once I arrive in Arroyo Grande). But know that you're in our thoughts and hearts this holiday season.

Someone told me that Jesus was really born sometime in March (or was it October?), and we celebrate Christmas in December because it matched up with the pagan holidays of the winter solstice; celebrating then, Christians would avoid persecution and/or arrest.

Maybe so, but I think we celebrate it during the dead of winter because that's the time when we'd like to have a savior come along and assuage the darkness and uncertainty through the longest nights of the year, even if he shows up as a baby out in the barn.

Vintage Santa

Not a lot to report today, but I wanted to put in an entry so I could continue with the holiday video treats. This one is from Disney, circa 1932. Color was still a big thing back then.

It's interesting to note that Santa's house looks an awful lot like Sleeping Beauty's Castle at Disneyland. And those elves aren't unlike the happy human fodder who work for the Disney magic factory even today. See if you can spot the four places where Walt indulges in that campy '30s racism he's so famous for (a hint: two blacks, two asians and a Jew).



I have two classes next week and then things kind of shut down for the holiday week, not starting up until Jan. 5. Also, next Tuesday I will have my phone interview with EDD concerning my eligibility for CTB (California Training Benefits), which will continue my unemployment payments while I'm studying (which will be through April). It's been six weeks since they halted my unemployment benefits, so I really could use a continuation of the money flow. We're scraping through the holidays just fine, though and, monetarily, things should be back to normal in the middle of January.

I finally got my Christmas shopping done on Thursday. There was one item I had been searching for for the last two weeks and I finally located it. Now all I have left is shopping for the stocking stuffers for Steve. I am horrible at finding decent stocking stuffers. I think it's because they have to be small, and my eye goes to big, shiny things this time of year.

Hope everyone is doing well. I am looking forward to seeing everyone at Mom's memorial at 2 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 2. Should be a pretty good party. So, until then, Happy Holidays everybody!

Merry Frickin' Christmas

The season is upon us, and the joyous magic of the holidays can be felt most acutely here in Southern California in the parking lots of the various malls in and around the Southland. The innocence of the yuletide masquerades as idiocy as drivers vie for the closest parking space -- or any parking space -- in order to stow their vehicles and join in the excitement of holiday shopping.

And so the spirit of giving becomes much like a jolly, roiling cesspool under immense pressure. When one dunderhead too many joins into the sludge of the Christmas car parking, the true spirit spews forth from the drivers with such heralds as, "Hey, MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR, ASSHOLE!" and "EAT MY ASS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" And this with kids in the car. Thus, we are all covered with the great, steaming, holiday experience of sharing with our fellow man and woman ("Get that brat in the car, BITCH!") as we seek out the special gifts for those we love so well. And, hey; it's only gonna get worse.

And with this introduction, I provide the second installment of holiday video for your viewing pleasure.



To be honest, the magic has seemed to escape the holiday season this year, at least for me. I think the first inkling of its absence manifested in a real irritation at how many ads on TV are taking traditional carols and substituting the lyrics with their own poorly rhymed chants to hawk their wares. The one that really gets to me is when T.J. Maxx (a discount store here in L.A.; I don't know if they have them back east) rhymed "Christmas" with "nauseous," referring to how you will feel when you find out how you're paying too much if you shop at the mall instead of their store.

Then there's the ad where everyone on the suburban street has decked out their upper-middle-class homes with profusions of sparkling holiday lights, and the yuppies next door simply pull out their Audis from the garage and turn on the headlights and have "the best lights on the block." It makes me want to slap them. Really hard.

I've been out several times looking for specific holiday gifts and have found them difficult to locate. Luckily, the Burbank Town Center Mall is just a block away from my school, so I have been able to browse through the establishments there on my lunch hour while sampling the menial repast of the food court. The Japanese place is not too bad, but I eschew the sushi. There is a McDonald's, believe it or not, and today I tasted the dubious "food" at Panda Express, where you get chow mein drenched in white vinegar and orange chicken that is actually brown and has never known any sort of citrus.

I also trekked out this last Sunday and spent three-quarters of my time in parking lots, going up and down the rows of cars with dozens of other motorists, hoping for a spot to open up. At two locations I never even got out of the car, simply giving up and heading back home.

This last weekend was WET! There was loads of rain from Thursday through Sunday morning, and the temperatures were chilly (for us). It's also nice to have a number of days in a row when the skies are full of dark clouds, because it lets you really appreciate blue skies when they do return.

We attended the Christmas party of friends in Claremont, Steve and Roberto, last Saturday, and ended up leaving after just a few hours when I noticed the storm causing transformers in the nearby neighborhood to short and flash. It was a wise decision, since the rain started pouring down in sheets when we were just a few miles from home. Again, folks in cold climes will laugh at driving 20 miles in the rain. But then, you're not driving 20 miles on L.A. freeways. (I loathe freeways; thank God Steve doesn't and drives with with aplomb.)

Having spent a year or two in Alaska, I know it sounds really whiney to complain that the temperatures aren't getting out of the 50s during the day, but this is stuff we're just not used to. No need to worry, though; this week we should be back up into the mid-70s by Wednesday or so, and the rest of the year promises to play out with clear skies and warm temperatures.

School is going really well, and at the end of this week I will have completed my lecture classes in Illustrator, Photoshop and the XHTML language for the Web. The two really tough courses, though (Dreamweaver and Flash), are still to come in January. Once I've gotten into them, though, I think my Web site will begin to take shape quickly.

We have one woman in our classes who is either profoundly stupid or extremely inattentive; in either case, she is most certainly irritating. She has difficulty creating a new folder on the desktop of the computer, and any task beyond that is an absolute mystery. When the teachers no longer allow her to stop the class for her pointed questions ("Where's the pen tool?" "In the toolbar." "Where in the toolbar?" "In the box with the pen in it."), she will begin to ask her the person sitting nearest to her, still unable to comprehend no matter how much assistance she is given. Then she will openly criticize the teacher for not "walking us through it," which is exactly what has been occurring since the class began. I had the misfortune of being that person next to her several times, and it gets to a point where you have to snap at her just so she'll leave you alone.

All the frustrations of the holidays and schooling melt away, though, once I get home. This has been a shitty, shitty, shitty year for the whole family, by any accounting, and my unemployment has made it even more unpleasant for me (though I'm glad I was out of work when mom died; I didn't have to finagle favor from superiors to take weeks at a time off to be in Arroyo Grande). All I can say is, I look forward to next year, a return of jobs to those without them, and an improvement in finances and an expanding real estate market. I just really want to feel some of the stability in life that I had gotten so used to in years past. I know we can't go back to what was, but something as good or better that approximates the previous experience is what I yearn for.

Peace on Earth would be nice, too, but I'm not holding my breath.

Cold Enough Fer Ya?

I know folks in the north and east will find it tiresome, but it's been cold here in Southern California this week: dipping to the mid-30s at night and not getting out of the 50s during the day. Yeah, I know: Boo-hoo. But the mountains are covered in snow and it does make it feel a bit more like the holiday season. And so I have decided to include some seasonal video on the blog for your amusement. The first one is below. I waded through YouTube and found this and the upcoming entries:



You've seen a shot of our Christmas tree in the last entry. The next few will include close-ups of some of my favorite ornaments on the tree, like this one. I bought it in Monterey on a trip with Cousin Pat and her husband Billy on her last visit to the coast. She knew her cancer was terminal, and I wanted to share this last special time with her. We drove up the coast highway, overnighted in Big Sur and spent a few days in Monterey on Cannery Row; it was very special for us all.

I like having ornaments that bring back memories of years past and people no longer with us. I suppose that's part of getting older: Holding on to memories becomes almost as important as making new ones.

I'm finally getting into the swing of school this month, especially since I'm starting to take classes in the programs that I'm not so familiar with, like Dreamweaver. I'm also concentrating on learning XHTML coding, which is the basis for all Web pages and the language of Internet browsers.

Being a designer and inherently right-brained, it's maddening to have to switch over to the left side to work out all this rather abstract code. Add to that the fact that HTML, which I used back in 1998 to write my Web site, is now sliding out of date, and much of the coding I learned for that site (and have since forgotten) is now what they charmingly call "deprecated," meaning your browser will read it, but don't expect that to last forever.

Come next month, I'll be starting classes in Flash (Web interactive animation) and its program language, ActionScript 3.0, and the left side of my brain will be pumping even more mental iron as I attempt to master this far more complex language. Luckily, both Dreamweaver and Flash do a lot of scripting for you as you work, so I won't have to be an absolute coding wiz, I'll just have to know how to read it and fix it if it screws up.

On the home front, I've been cooking and baking more since brother-in-law David installed the flue for the stove fan. Here's a shot of my first attempt at cheese danish. They were actually pretty good, and with a little practice and jiggering of the recipe, they might turn out even better next time.

Steve is still on his three-day-a-week schedule at work (Monday, Wednesday and Friday), still being supplemented by unemployment benefits. As for me, I have been without unemployment benefits since I started school back in November. When you start school or training, you check a little box on your EDD benefits form, and once you do, the payments stop until they can verify that you qualify for CTB (California Training Benefits) which will continue throughout your training period.

I just received the letter today informing me of my phone interview with EDD on Dec. 22. Hopefully, it will only take a week or so to get the benefits flowing again. I will be receiving retroactive payments, and a tidy sum will come my way sometime in the near future, but it does look like I'll be dipping into the savings (something we have avoided doing all year) to pay some bills in the upcoming weeks. Still, I feel very fortunate that we haven't had to resort to credit cards to make purchases or payments. Unemployment (and underemployment) is really rough, but I have to remind myself that, still, we are among the lucky ones going through this.

So this year is going to be tiny Christmas with small meaningful gifts. And the further I get into my studies, the more I realize that getting a new computer and upgrading my software are both going to be high priorities in the early months next year: we're talking a total of around three grand all tolled. Now if that will only get me to the point where a new job is in my future, I'll be glad. And, of course, it would be nice if companies would start hiring folks back again, since the economy is doing so well, I'm told.

Tomorrow is a day off for me, so I plan on going out and doing some Christmas shopping. I can't share my gift ideas here, since Steve reads this blog and the only presents I'm buying this year will be for him. (A few well-chosen and thoughtfully selected items, with the emphasis on few. He's doing the same for me, as well). The real gift this year will be getting together with the family again in the New Year, sharing Mom's memorial on Jan. 2, and regrouping and moving on.

I'm planning three more blog entries between now and Christmas (since I have three great videos I want to share), so look for them. They may not be much more than an the video and a little blathering, but sometimes that can be enough. And, after all, it's tiny Christmas.

'Tis the Season to Be Dealt With

We open this year's first December entry with the mandatory Christmas-tree shot. More on that later. But isn't it pretty? It's the same artificial tree, same lights and mostly the same ornaments, though we've added a few more, as we do every year.

An avid reader of this blog has written an e-mail, chastising me for not writing an entry for a month. To be sure, things have been hopping for me. And, too, a lot of the goings-on have been fairly mundane.

Since Halloween, I've been busy starting up at school. The lecture classes are all-day affairs, supplemented with what is called "mentored learning," which is basically self-paced labs with an instructor available in case you get stuck. The lectures fall one or two a week (sometimes three), and then I fill in with half-day labs. There's no real rhyme or reason to the scheduling of the lectures, except that two-day lectures occur a week apart.

So far, things have been fine, since I'm taking classes in programs I pretty much already know. But, as with any computer program, you tend to know the functions you use, and others you might be totally unaware of, so they've been good refresher courses for me. This Friday starts my Web-specific lectures (Dreamweaver and Flash), and I am sure I will find those much more of a challenge.

The big news in recent days is a visit from my sister Kittie and her husband Dave, who came down for the Thanksgiving weekend. They arrived on Wednesday around noon. I took the Gold Line down to Union Station to meet them, as they were taking Amtrak down from Grover Beach. The train was about a half hour late (which is typical) and we ended up on opposite sides of the terminal, me in the waiting room and them at Patsouris Plaza where the local buses make their connections. Kittie had forgotten her phone at home, so all of the detailed messages I was leaving on her voice mail were for naught. Luckily, Dave had his cell phone, so I got a call from him: We located one another and were soon on the Gold Line back to Pasadena.

Once back home, I took them to a local Japanese restaurant for lunch, then stopped by Trader Joe's to pick up a few things I had forgotten (like chips to top the tuna casserole for dinner). Steve got home from work a few minutes before we returned, and we spent the evening watching "Coraline" (a very weird movie) and catching up. On Thursday we headed out to McCormick and Shmick's for our Thanksgiving dinner and returned home to watch "Pumpkin Chunkin'" for two hours (which is basically bubbas who have built bizzare contraptions to hurl pumpkins unrealistic distances: we're talking 2-, 3- and 4,000 feet. If you've ever seen Dave's Volkswagen bug, you'll understand his fascination for this sport).

On Friday we had brunch at Green Street here in Pasadena and then decided to do our patriotic duty, going out to the Beverly Center Mall to do a little shopping and catch Hunky Santa and the Candy Cane Girls aerial show. The traffic was horrendous, and there is no easy way to get from Pasadena to West L.A. (we took Santa Monica out to Fairfax), but I had decided that if we were going to brave a mall on Black Friday, we should go to one of the glitziest. Actually, I was kind of disappointed in the decorations. The place was crowded, but not nearly as bad as I had expected. One good thing, though: the parking was free for the day, so we saved $10 or $15 right there.

Yes, only in L.A. would you have a buffed out twenty-something Santa with his six-pack abs highlighted with airbrushing (it looks better in the pictures). Here, the season isn't about kids and presents or even celebrating the birth of Christ. Only in L.A. can we take a most important holy day and turn it into self-indulgent hedonism. We do know how to market on the West Coast. And we know how to consume.

I am glad we went, though: It was good timing. Two days later, one of the Candy Cane Girls fell about 20 feet while performing, breaking a hip, a leg and a rib, from what I understand (see the video below). The show has been canceled for at least a week until a replacement can be trained, although I'm sure Hunky Santa is still making his regular appearances.



Dave checked out some boots at Gucci's that cost $3,000 (or some such vulgar amount). We window-shopped in Bloomingdale's and Macy's and all the smaller shops. Everyone bought candles at the Moonlight Candle Shop, and Steve purchased my first and most expensive Christmas present, a copy of Microsoft Office for the Mac (since most of my study materials are either in Word or Excel). Late in the afternoon we left, wending our way back to the provincial pace of Pasadena. Friday evening was pizza and a viewing of "National Treasure."

Saturday was a stay-at-home kind of day. We pulled out all the Christmas decorations and made up a list of stuff we needed (spending quite a bit of time at OSH and Home Depot getting this and that). While we were decorating, Dave installed a flue for our stove vent (the previous owners had removed it and we had never bothered to have it reinstalled), replaced the pump in the patio fountain (which had died a few weeks before) and put in a door stop in the downstairs bathroom (he was the first person to realize we needed one). The rest of the day was putting up the tree (assembly required), decorating it and the general living area downstairs and indulging in cheese, crackers and egg nog. We even had Christmas carols, as I had loaded up a seasonal mix on my iPhone, which plugs into the sound system. That evening we screened "Team America: World Police." Kittie's only comment was, "You actually purchased that movie?" I guess she doesn't like pornographic puppets.

Sunday I scrambled up some eggs for breakfast and we took off for Union Station around 1:30, returning our guests to the good graces of Amtrak and their ride home. All in all it was a really great visit and a nice way to face the fact that Thanksgiving is no longer about gathering at the Moms' house.

So here it is, December 1st, and the Christmas cheer is bearing down on us fast. Yes, sir; 'Tis the Season to Be Dealt With. But thanks in part to Dave and Kittie, we have a really nice leg-up on the process. And with the stove vent operational again, I may just get some holiday baking done. You know, I've always threatened to make a gingerbread house. Maybe this is the year.

Here Come the Holidays

Happy Halloween, y'all. And then Thanksgiving. And then Hannukah. And then Christmas and Kwaanza and New Year's. I know Ramadan falls in there somewhere, but being one of those move-around holidays (like Hannukah) I never know when it falls.

The video below is from a favorite film of mine, "The Nightmare Before Christmas." It's such a nice marriage of opera, film and Tim Burton's weird and slightly dark visual stylings. It's fun and exposes kids to a formal style of music they would probably never hear anywhere else, just like my generation heard most of its classical music in Bugs Bunny cartoons ("Kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit!").



It's odd that Mom died just before the holidays, and that her memorial is scheduled for just after the holidays. No reason, just strange.

As for me, I do have news. I received the WIA grant this week and on Monday I will be going in to sign up for classes and get my schedule for school. It will take about six months and then I'll be suitably employable in this Web-weighted design world we now live in. I even found out that the grant will reimburse my mileage to and from school. Like I told Warren, my caseworker, I might even make some money on this deal.

It's going to be good to have some structure back in my life after these months of unemployment, with the only routine being the frustration of looking for work and finding practically nothing. And with the openings I did find, sending out dozens of resumes with 20-plus years of really good experience on them, only to never receive a reply from a single submission. Hopefully, all that will be changing soon.

I'll be going up to Arroyo Grande next weekend just to visit and spend some time with friends and family because it may be a while before I can do that again.

So, not much of an entry. I just wanted to do something visually festive and let everyone know my training is a sure thing now. More on all this later.

And those in Washington and Maine: Vote "NO." You know the referendum/question I'm talking about!

And They Say They Don't Hate Us

Just a quickie entry about the attempt to repeal the recent same-sex marriage law in Maine.

The same folks who were behind Proposition 8 in California are mounting the campaign in Maine now. And their message is exactly the same: "Won't someone think about the children," which is total bullshit. Neither campaign had anything to do with children.

When Mom died this month, she died knowing that all her children were married; everyone had someone who would be with them "for better or for worse, through sickness and in health, forsaking all others until death do us part." She didn't have to settle for a limited domestic partnership contract agreement for one of her children. My husband Steve and I got married with the same vows, the same commitment and the same depth of heart and feeling as any of her other kids. And we probably appreciate the institution a hell of a lot more than most heterosexuals because it's something we thought we'd have to do without because we were second-class citizens.

To all those folks who are busy trying to repeal Maine's law, and who say that they don't hate anybody, I can only say, "What if someone wanted to take your marriage vows and rights away? You and your spouse would be roommates, longtime companions, and your children would still be yours, though they would be borne out of wedlock. And there would be many rights of marriage (150 in California, about 400 in Maine) that would vanish for you in an instant. But, hey, it's just the same as marriage, just without that very special word." Would anyone be satisfied with that? You say you don't hate gay couples, but you want to strip them of all those things, all that honor and dignity?

Just like with Proposition 8, people are actively working to take away rights that have been conferred on all citizens. They are putting words into the documents of government that limit and reduce the rights already granted to their fellow citizens, formally creating a second-class group of people, all in an effort to "do good" and keep things "normal" (see previous entry). The damage they are attempting to inflict is more massive than they could ever see in their myopic frame of reference, and the lives they are ruining are, over time, beyond number. And yet they see themselves doing good, and I truly believe they are sincere in that sentiment. But how tragically wrong they are.

There is a federal case moving forward in the 9th District Court. The last I heard, the judges had asked the pro-Prop 8 folks to provide the court with solid evidence that granting marriage rights to same-sex couples would damage and denigrate the institution. Unfortunately, there is no real evidence beyond the opinions of the religious right that pass for fact in their own minds.

Thank God Steve and I are married, and our marriage is protected by the Supreme Court of California and the laws of this state. Sadly, no other same-sex couple can get married in our state now. But, on a positive note, a law was passed and signed by the governor that says any marriages performed outside of the state will be honored by the State of California, so people can go to Canada or Britain or the Netherlands or Spain or Vermont or (still) Maine or Massachusetts or Connecticutt and get married and bring that union legally back to California.

For a gay couple, the decision is so simple: we just want to have our marriage honored like any other. We just want to be a valuable part of our community and make the same commitments that everyone else makes. Is that so hard to understand?

Life is Creepy

I found these two photos online. They're not cute. They're not adorable. They are genuinely disturbing, and these two "entertainers" should be sued for all the therapy these children will have to endure to undo their encounters with these jolly folk who truly believe they are bringing joy into these young, tender hearts. I've often wondered what the true motivation is for people to become "children's entertainers." When I see photos like this and I can't help but think of John Wayne Gacey in his clown outfit, face all painted up with a big wad of balloons in the fat, meaty hands. Ewwww.

It's kind of an allegory for the horrors we face in our daily existence. Those "helpful" folks who come into our lives and complicate them to the point of distraction -- or insanity. Some people do it in the name of religion. Some do it in the spirit of social consciousness. Most of them never really take into account what the people they're "helping" really need. They do it out of their own need to be "good," and interpret their actions as selfless. This is probably the biggest scam of all: self-righteous self-deception.

On the home front: Steve and I are doing well. Steve's still on three days a week at work, but he also has his unexpired unemployment insurance account, so his "days off" are being supplemented, which is helping a lot in making ends meet. Hopefully, within a month or two, the owners of the business will see that things are getting back to normal and they'll hire him back full time.

As for me, I have completed all the paperwork and research necessary to apply for my WIA grant. I've found a great school in Burbank with a dynamite program that's just what I'm looking for. Now I have to apply for the money and hope it comes through. If all goes well, in six or seven months I will be totally trained as an Adobe Certified Expert in Web design (a very bankable thing), with a portfolio of Web work to augment the substantial print portfolio I already have.

I wrote an obituary for Mom last week. Sister Kittie asked me to, and I was more than happy to oblige. It was a very strange experience, and it left me realizing how much I didn't know about Mom's life. There were dates missing and I'm sure there were some important episodes missing, as well. I sent a rough draft out to all the siblings, hoping they would be able to fill in whatever holes I had left. We shall see this week what comes in from them.

Back at the Times-Press-Recorder in Arroyo Grande I was informally in charge of the obituaries, so I sort of know how they should read. I did, however, try to avoid "passed away," "went to her reward" and "went to be with Jesus" in lieu of just saying "died." I think honesty is best, even if it's blunt. When the final draft is ready, perhaps I'll include it in a future blog entry.

Cousin Robin has headed back to New York to work on a new play. We got together for lunch last week at the Bowery in Hollywood and had a really good time. It's been tough for us both losing our respective mom and aunt in the last few months. I'm glad I got to see her before she took off for the Big Apple, and I'm so jealous of her for having work back there. But my place is here right now and I have things to get done to move life forward.

The one thing I can say has come out of all this death is that I've gotten back in touch with the Ballard side of the family. Beth was out for Aunt Kit's memorial and stayed at Mom's with Steve and I (and later my brother Steve and his family). She left the day before Mom died, not because she chickened out, but her ticket was for Wednesday and mom happened to hang on until Thursday. Also, Tom Ballard, who lives in Washington, is on Facebook and I've had some communication back and forth with him. He has an amazing collection of antique radios. When I was a tween, I had a crush on him, and I don't think I've ever told him that. He was like a theater superhero to me and is one of the reasons I went into professional theater back in the 1980s.

So positive things are emerging from all the death. I know that sounds course, but I'm getting far enough along in my mourning that I have a perspective about it. I know neither Mom nor Kit would want us to dwell too long on the sadness. And, let's face it, you have to get used to missing people who die. Mom's birthday was Saturday (Oct. 17), and I thought about her all day long; not in a teary way, but just missing her immensely. I think I was in my 50s before I actually knew her birth date. I always thought it was Nov. 16, for some reason. I'd call and wish her a happy birthday a month late, and she never seemed to mind. Even when I wrote the obituary, I had to double-check her birth announcement just to make sure I was right.

Goldie, the Moms' dog, is being adopted by Pete and Deb Star, family friends who will take very good care of her and love her a lot. Their son, Owen, used to come over to the Moms' and they paid him to walk her several times a week. Come to think of it, I paid him for the last week he walked her because everyone else was out of the house at the time. And, you know what? I don't even want the money back from the estate.

Right now I'm waiting for life to fall into its new pattern, one which will be emerging soon. I'm hopeful about the training grant, and I think that going back to school and focusing on new horizons will be a really good thing for me. I look at the calendar and see the holidays coming up. What a strange and different thing they will be this year. Everything's evolving forward, moving into the future. Where else can it go?

Movements Feel Good

What a shitty summer this has been: June brought unemployment; August, Aunt Kittie's death; October, Mom's death. I don't know about anybody else, but I'm reeling.

It seems to me that I get unemployed just when everything else hits the fan. Back in '98 I lost my job, the house, broke up with then-boyfriend Matt and moved into the attic at Johnson Avenue, sharing the house with the moms. It took me nine months to find a job back then, but it led me to the Hollywood Reporter and the best career move I've ever made. Then the Nielsen Company bought up the conglomerate that owned the Reporter and things started going downhill fast. I survived four rounds of layoffs in two years, but got caught up in the fifth. And when I took a look at the job market, design jobs in publishing had vanished (I've seen three in L.A. in the last four months).

But now movement. And it comes just as the first rains of the fall/winter season have arrived. I've been working with EDD to land a WIA grant for retraining in Web design, since those are the only "publication" design jobs out there. And this week I began the research to make formal application for the money.

As an applicant, you're required to research and visit three schools that are approved by the program to provide instruction. Today I went to New Horizon in Burbank, which has a really great program that's only about six months long. Tomorrow (Wednesday) I'm going out to L.A. Valley College to check out their program, which runs a year and a half (though I think I could probably test out of a good nine months of that). Thursday, I'm off to an all-day seminar on resumes and interviewing techniques provided by Foothill Training Center, the one-stop shop in the San Gabriel Valley (where Pasadena is) for EDD. Then Friday I'm visiting ICDC College in Hollywood (can anyone say "Hollywood Upstairs Medical College"?) to check out their program.

From what I know, I'm leaning toward the New Horizon program; not only is it the shortest one, but it also provides testing to become an Adobe Certified Expert, which is kind of like an MD in the Web world (Adobe writes all the programs used in most kinds of graphic design).

So, hopefully by the end of next week I will have the application process completed and then it's just waiting to see if I land the grant. I think it should be a no-brainer, since the WIA program is designed for people who are displaced from their previous employment by technological advances: I fall into that category very nicely. It pays the tuition and costs for retraining and provides continuation of unemployment benefits during the training period. This should help me make it to the other side of this scummy mess we shall come to know as the Summer of '09.

The mourning continues for the two swell ladies who filled my life for so many years, but there's also progress on the personal front. I don't think Mom or Kittie would want me to dawdle, no matter how sad I'm feeling over their departures. More likely, they'd kick me in the ass if I tried to waste time right now.

And one big thing is different this time around: I'm a married person and I have a husband who is really supportive of me and loves me deeply. Things have been rocky financially (though not desperate), but our relationship is going strong.

Steve's doing well. He's pressing his boss to take him back full time (he was cut back to three days a week while business was slow, but the last two months have posted nice profits), but the old gent is hemming and hawwing. I'm feeling really hopeful, though, because the old guy realizes they can't do without Steve. What's more important, his wife knows it, too, and she seems to be the only one that can push him to make a decision. And she really likes Steve.

Is being married and going through all this any different from being domestic partners and going through all this? You bet your ass, it is: Because my mother died knowing that I have someone who exchanged vows of commitment with me before witnesses; that we took one another's hand in matrimony, not simply filled out a contractual form that was notarized and validated by the state; and because my friends and family know what marriage is. And so do we. It makes the intolerable tolerable until things get better.

So why don't you straight people stop knocking it?

Such Devoted Sisters

On August 11, I wrote of the loss of my Aunt Kittie and my memories of her. Tonight I'm writing about the death of my mother, Paula, on Thursday, Oct. 1.

If you didn't know them well, you might not know that Mom and Aunt Kittie were as close as sisters can get without being twins. And while they spent their middle decades raising families and creating careers, their childhood and their retirement were spent together.

When my father died in 1990, Aunt Kittie had recently retired, and she moved up to San Luis Obispo to help with his caregiving. After he had passed, Mom invited her to stay on and the two sisters lived together, naming their shared home "Hag Harbor."

On Labor Day weekend, just weeks after Kittie died, Steve and I went up to Arroyo Grande to visit. It was ostensibly to get out of the fire zone for a time, but I also wanted to see how Mom was doing. I had worried that, like an old married couple, when the first one died the other would not be far behind.

On that visit, Mom seemed OK with Kittie's death, but I think she was denying or cloaking the loss she felt. Mom often said she hoped she would survive Kittie, because she was worried what might happen if she weren't there for her sister. So I wasn't too surprised when my sister Kittie (named for her aunt) called me on Thursday, Sept. 24, and explained that Mom had been in the hospital and that things didn't look good. "They think her lungs are shutting down," she said.

Aunt Kittie's memorial was being held on Sunday, Sept. 27, so we had planned on going up the coast in any case. When we got there Saturday, Mom was sitting in her chair in the living room looking worn out and barely speaking above a whisper. On Sunday, we had a wonderful memorial for Kittie, but everyone was asking where Paula was; surely she wouldn't miss her sister's memorial. During the memorial, my brother-in-law David slipped away and helped the home health nurse move Mom back to a hospital bed in her room. He returned after the formalities were over, and we let close friends know the situation.

The family that came to town for the memorial stayed on, and my brother Steve's family arrived from Wisconsin on Tuesday. His daughter Amanda is a healthcare professional and was a godsend, both for Mom and everyone there. Mom was medicated and as comfortable as possible, and we all felt much better knowing someone was there who was not only family but skilled in hospice care.

On Wednesday, Mom's breathing became very shallow and she was nonresponsive. Thursday afternoon, about 1:30, Amanda came out to the patio where the family was sitting and announced that Mom's breathing was going. Ten minutes later she could no longer find a pulse, and Mom was gone.

I told myself I was not going to write about this right away; I was going to give myself some time to collect photos and organize my thoughts, but I'm just not willing to do that. I may visit this experience again in other posts, but I have to put it down here now, because seeing the blog published will help me make this a little bit more real. Certainly, there will be things about her I will recall now and then for the rest of my life. I just hope the memories don't come with questions, because she's not around to answer them anymore.

My sister Kittie and her husband Dave have been absolutely the most fabulous, greatest people to Mom and Aunt Kittie over the past several years, especially when health problems limited the sisters' ability to get around. Kittie and Dave live just a few miles from the Moms (as Paula and Kittie were known in our extended families), and their presence as helpers was a reassurance to us all. It's not only that they were there to help, but also because the sisters had a habit of going into the hospital for something and never bothering to tell anyone.

Kittie and David were our touchstone to Hag Harbor. And, ever the accountant and stage manager, my sister is a master of planning, organization and confluence. Her husband Dave is a genius in the mechanical realm, so the sisters were in good hands whenever the couple were there.

it's early in the morning and the therapeutic value of this writing has been depleted. Now I'm just looking forward to sleeping in my own bed after this weeklong vigil. Obviously, there will be more later. But the saddest part of all is that, when I write my blog, I write knowing Mom will be reading it, so I write to her. But I see no reason to change that.

Sizzle in September

The first weekend in September brought the Labor Day weekend, and while I'm not one for traveling on holidays by any form of transport, a week of breathing in the smoke from the Station fire had become really irritating, both emotionally and physiologically, so Steve and I decided to take off and go up to Arroyo Grande to visit mom and get away from the smoke and hot weather.

Steve took off Thursday and Friday (without pay, much to the delight of his employer) and we spent four days with Mom, sister Kittie and her husband Dave. By leaving on Thursday during the day and returning on Sunday afternoon (a day before the end of the holiday weekend), we managed to avoid the brunt of the traffic going both ways.

One of the first things I did was to call Sycamore Springs and see about reserving a hot tub for an hour one evening over the weekend. Turns out, though, that the only time I could get was 6:30 on Friday evening. I like to go later in the evening, so that was right out. It's a really nice experience, as the tub are nestled on the hillside underneath old oak trees. They built the first tubs back in the '70s, and I used to go out there with college friends to soak and party. It's kind of a nostalgic thing for me. And, of course, bathing suits are optional since the tubs are private.

Thursday evening, mom took us all out to Jocko's in Nipomo, probably the best steakhouse at which I've eaten. The meat is absolutely marvelous. And while the meal is pretty basic and the ambiance downright bucollic and pedestrian, where else can you get the best 12 oz. Spencer Steak ever and pay only $20 for the whole meal? Quite a place for the thrifty meat lovers among us.

On Friday, Steve and I went driving up to Morro Bay and took in the Embarcadero. As a first, I did not buy any shells at the shell shop. Steve, however, did get a new T-shirt. We had fish and chips while sitting in a restaurant suspended over the edge of the bay and watched the pelicans swoop up and down the shoreline. A fishing boat below our window was being swabbed down, and seagulls took turns trying to steal bait fish out of the chum bucket at the back of the boat.

We walked the length of the Embarcadero, stepping out onto one of the piers to get a shot of Steve in front of Morro Rock (isn't he looking skinny?) and check out the seals and sea lions who sun themselves by the boats. It was so pleasant to be in a cool, sunny place without a hint of smoke in the air.

On the way back to mom's house, I found out that Steve had never been to the Madonna Inn, so I had to take him by and show him the men's room with its waterfall urinal. Installed in the late 1950s, it was quite a feat of technology for its time: When you walk up to do your business, you break an electric eye which starts the water flowing down the rocks from the ceiling.

Another great part of the Madonna Inn is their bakery, and I just had to pick up one of their famed whipped cream cakes. We chose the champagne cake for its signature Madonna-pink color and took it with us as we headed back to Arroyo Grande. Kittie cooked a stir fry for dinner and we had the cake for dessert (well, only half of it).

That evening I mentioned my inability to reserve a hot tub and Dave said he and Kit had just cleaned out the Jacuzzi in mom's back yard (she never uses it). So he took it upon himself to fill and fire up the Jacuzzi so we could partake of hot bubbles the next evening.

On Saturday we all went out to the airport in San Luis Obispo for a memorial gathering of the Friday coffee klatch group which Aunt Kit had founded so many years back. There is a restaurant at the airport called "Spirit of San Luis" which has rather decent food. It was a good time and we all toasted to our absent friend and relative.

On the way back from lunch, Steve and Kit and Dave and I stopped off at the outlet mall in Pismo Beach. Steve needed a new pair of pants and everyone, I think, found something to purchase at the "As Seen On TV" shop. It's really amazing to see all those gadgets they try to get you to buy on TV and see just how junky or far-fetched they really are.

We returned to mom's for the final dinner, where Kittie did her magic by taking all the leftovers from Jocko's and reinventing them as a new meal. We also polished off the champagne cake. The evening was topped of by soaking in the Jacuzzi (suits not optional, as the neighbors can see into the yard).

Mom's doing very well and was much more chipper than I thought she would be. I like the fact that our visit was a good reason for her to get out of the house twice in four days. Taking her age and medical condition into account, she got around very well.

So on Sunday, Steve and I returned to Pasadena and much clearer skies. The major concern by that time was the fire's approach to Mount Wilson (which it had been threatening for many days). The firefighters did their miraculous work, and neither the observatory nor the transmission towers were damaged by the flames.

In the week and a half since then, Steve has been dealing with his employer, who keeps talking about cutting back hours, which makes both Steve and I nervous. I have been scouring the Internet for jobs and, of course, there's nothing out there for publication design, since newspapers and magazines are in crisis-mode-times-two right now. I find lots and lots of jobs for Flash designers and Web developers, but nothing for print (and the few I do find for print have a strong web component).

On Friday, though, I'm going to an orientation at the EDD which will familiarize me with the WIA program, which is a federally subsidized retraining program for workers who have been displaced because of technological changes in the workplace. I think I am prime for that kind of program, since I really only have to train in Web design and then I can take my 20 years' experience and apply it to the new medium. Nice part is, while you are training, your unemployment benefits continue, for up to a year. This, hopefully, would get me to the other side of the recession when folks are starting to hire once more.

So that brings us up to date for September, except for the fact that it's been quite pleasant the last several days here in Pasadena, with temperatures in the 70s and 80s. But today is going to hit 93 degrees, and it should be over 100 come the weekend and well into the next week, even though it's technically fall. I just hope we don't have a hot October, as well. It's supposed to be an El Nino year, which means cooler temperatures and lots of rain during the winter. That would be great, because we really need it. And I really miss the rain.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

The Station Fire burns on. This satellite photo gives you an idea of the size of it and the amount of smoke it's producing. There are no clouds in this photograph: everything you see is smoke. It has now scorched 164 square miles and the smoke is affecting Las Vegas and Denver. Estimated date of full containment: September 15. I don't think my eyeballs will stay in my head that long.

Not much to report in the way of personal activity, since going outside has become difficult. My eyes begin to burn and within five minutes it feels like my eyelids have turned to sandpaper on the inside. Then comes the sneezing and coughing, so I retreat into the house with the air conditioning. I don't even want to think of what the air filter looks like on the AC unit.

Some interesting stuff: Rick Jackoway, an editor I worked with at the Five Cities Times-Press-Recorder back in the early '90s, is a friend on Facebook. He sent me a link to this picture of "the gang," something we did every Christmas to print in the paper over the holidays as a sort of Christmas card to the community (I'm the devilishly handsome one standing to the left on the landing).

We also filled the paper with children's letters to Santa and readers' most memorable holiday moments and favorite holiday recipes and holiday pictures that preschoolers drew and anything else we could think of to take up space between the ads because the staff was on vacation and there was no one in the news room. We'd put the papers together before we left for the Christmas/New Year's week and hoped nothing major occurred in town until Jan. 2.

Well, the upshot of this is I've reconnected with a whole bunch of people in this photo whom I haven't seen or talked to in well over a decade. Seems all these folks were on Facebook all along and it only took something like someone posting a photo and wanting to know the names of everyone in it. The picture went from one person to another, and pretty soon we were all reconnected. It certainly is strange and wonderful here in the 21st century. Now if they would only get me that robot maid and flying car I was expecting...

My cousin Rick and his wife Candy are going to Paris in September and Candy wrote asking if we knew of any special bistros, etc., they should visit while they were there. I ended up sending her detailed information along with Web links to sites where they could purchase museum passes, boat cruises on the Seine, etc. It was lots of fun remembering the great time Steve and I had there on our trip a few years back. I told him we should go now (even though we had to put part of the trip on a credit card) because who knows when we'll be able to go again. And that was the last vacation we've taken (back in 2006). I think it was a wise choice.

Speaking of vacations, we're taking a tiny one up to visit mom over the Labor Day weekend. I wanted to spend some time with her since Kit died last month but, to be a bit more honest, I also just have to get away from all the smoke and heat and go somewhere for a day or two where the weather is pleasant, the air is clear and it doesn't feel so much like Armageddon.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Well, not really. In the above picture, you may think you're looking at thunderheads, but it is actually a wildfire burning out of control in the Angeles National Forest, and coming rather close to some very expensive houses up in those hills. This is taken on Lake Avenue, about two blocks from our house. We were on our way to the supermarket for weekly shopping on Saturday when I took this. I couldn't get the entire plume into the frame, and you can't see the flames at the base of the clouds, though one new plume is visible at the center of the frame: that cloud is in front of the mountains, not behind them.

The air is smokey. It makes your mouth feel gritty, your eyes sore and produces the most prodigious boogers you can imagine. Everything outside smells like a barbecue. Luckily, there's a lot of town to burn between us and the hills, so I think we are safe from harm. But still, we were in Petsmart today and some friends of ours who live up in the hills were buying a carrier for their cat as she was "freaking out" because of the proximity of the fires. I think, too, it was part of getting ready to evacuate, but they were too nervous to say it out loud. Here's a time lapse I found online. It gives you an idea of the explosive quality of this fire (called the Station Fire):

Time Lapse Test: Station Fire from Eric Spiegelman on Vimeo.

And it's HOT! Hot hot hot. Today was around 104, tomorrow will be 101. Thank God there are no winds to speak of, or this situation could be much worse. Still, there's a lot of brush up there to burn (last fire was back in the early '50s). It's so strange, because August has been very mild all month, and now the heat wave hits and everything's burning.

The job search goes on for me. There are lots of design jobs out there, but they are all for the Web. I'm ploughing my way through learning Flash and Dreamweaver. I have actually put together an animation where the images fade in as they slide onto the screen and then a pop-up frame with a description appears when you roll over each image. Only took me about an hour and a half! Recently, I've been converting PDF files of my work at the Hollywood Reporter for use on an upcoming Web site. It's quite a job to wade through the files, find the ones I like the best and get them prepped for use as buttons, images, etc.

Steve's job is going very strangely. He's the accountant/office manager at a plastic manufacturing place here in Pasadena. This next week they are laying off everyone in production because of lack of work. Steve and the two other office staff will be going to work, but it certainly does make us nervous. The gentleman who owns and runs the place is almost 90 years old, and sometimes his memory and judgment don't seem as clear as they might need to be. So we just take it day by day and hope for the best.

Last night we had the police pull a guy over outside the house. They got him out of the car and handcuffed him, then started searching the car: It was like having an episode of "Cops" unfold in our living room window. It was a very strange occurrence, sort of unsettling and entertaining at the same time.

I'm sure you've all heard about the woman who was kidnapped as a child in in the early '90s and turned up in the back yard of her abductors' house in Antioch, Calif., along with the two girls she bore with her abductor. Here's a really creepy Internet coincidence for you all to experience:

Go to Google Maps. In the address, put 1554 Walnut, Antioch, CA, and click on the street view when the map appears. This is the Garrido house where the girl was held. You'll notice a beat-up old Ford Econoline van sitting in the driveway. In the street view, you can pan around. There are also arrows on the street so you can move up and down the street.

Click on the left arrow to go down Walnut. As you progress down the street, turn your view to the rear and you will see the van pull out of the driveway and follow you. Once you get to Bown Street, take a right turn. The van will continue to follow you to the end of the street. On the final frame you can zoom in on the van and actually see Phillip Garrido sitting in the van. Very creepy. Also, if you click back to the map and go to the satellite view, you can see the compound of blue tarpaulin-covered structures out behind the house. This whole thing feels like the Charles Manson episode, except without the murder. And there's a chance that that will become part of the story before it's all over.

It's been a very strange month, indeed. Aunt Kit's passing, Ted Kennedy as well, this hellish weather, the bizarre culmination of an 18-year-old kidnapping case and now driving down the street to the sight of clouds of smoke rising to the north, seeing the flames lick over the edges of the canyons, one by one, seemingly unstoppable. And with no real routine in my life, it all seems to be terribly, terribly random. I keep hoping for some kind of epiphany where I will see the fabric and the texture of life as it's unfolding these days, but it just doesn't happen.

Perhaps I'm not looking hard enough, or perhaps I'm looking too hard. Or maybe the quality of the chaos of the universe just isn't terribly attractive at this time, from this vantage point. All I can say is, it's been one hell of a year so far.

Days of Note

When you think over your life, you can remember days of note; special days both happy and sad, joyful and angry, important and insignificant. And rarely do you realize on each of those days just what you will recall from it, what it will come to mean in the overall fabric of your life. The older you get, the more perspective you achieve, the more understanding you compile and, like anything fine in life, these days of note ripen and your appreciation of them increases. I've had two of those days in the last week, one very happy and one very sad, and both of them milestones in their own ways.

The most recent is the passing of my Aunt Kit. She had been ill for quite some time and knew her disease was terminal, but she kept going until the very end, no matter how weak or tired she was. She will be missed by more people than she probably realized. And while I am glad that she is through her suffering, I am angry at the sickness that took her from me and I reach back in my mind to try to find another day of note; that perfect time when I enjoyed and appreciated her most.

As a kid, I knew her only by reference. She and my mother had been close as kids. When they grew up and each married, they went their separate ways. My father had no qualms about expressing his dislike of Kit and her "irresponsible" ways, dragging her kids around the country from one regional theater to another, never settling down. To me, though, she sounded like an adventurer, my very own Auntie Mame.

I finally met her in my early 20s. She and her husband David were living in Brewerton, outside Syracuse, N.Y., and I had found my way to Ithaca, about 60 miles south. I was quite literally out in the cold, since I was rooming in a Cornell fraternity which was shutting down for the Christmas break and there was snow everywhere.

When I called Kit, I was immediately invited for the holiday festivities. She took me in and gave me more booze than I have ever consumed before or since. She cooked a lovely goose for Christmas dinner, amazed at the amount of fat she was syphoning off the thing. She took me to a Boxing Day party where I hooked up with some shady theater folk. When I ended up stranded after spending the night in a bizarre Victorian house (another story altogether), she drove into town to retrieve me. She took me to the world premiere production of William Gibson's "The Butterfingers Angel..." at Syracuse Stage, and I wrote "Another Little Christmas Story" for her, which I have inflicted upon the entire family each Christmas since. This photo of Kit, me, my mom Paula, and their stepmother Lilian is from around that time. Although very human, Aunt Kit was magical in my eyes.

When she retired and moved out to California, I shared an apartment with her for a short time after I broke up with Dave Mann (also another story altogether). We lived on Hyperion Avenue in the Silver Lake District of Los Angeles. While she tried breaking into commercial acting, she tended bar at the neighborhood gay bar, the Toy Tiger: I was an instant celebrity there simply by being Kit's nephew.

When my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she moved up to the Central Coast and became his caretaker. It was really touching to see these two develop such a tender bond after all the long-distance animosity between them. Once my father passed away, the household was referred to as "the moms'," and together they dubbed their home "Hag Harbor." The two sisters lived together for twenty years, until today. I can't think of anything beyond, and I appreciate all the rich years that she spent with all of us on the Central Coast.

I got to direct her in "Steel Magnolias," (although I didn't give her the part she wanted) and it was a delight. She got to direct me in "The Fantasticks," (although I took the part because it was abandoned two weeks before opening night, not because I was cast). Just this May we had a reading of "Arsenic and Old Lace" with the moms playing the roles of the sisters. Most of us involved agree it was awful, but we all loved doing it and had a great time: It was one last connection before Kit left us, and I'm so glad we took the time.

I drove up to visit just two weeks ago, so I don't feel so bad about being absent now. While I was there, she would constantly forget her walker when she went from the living room to her bedroom or vice versa. Was it on purpose? You never knew with Kit. All her life, she kept everyone guessing. She was a bold spirit who carved out an amazing life. She had her share of days of note, as well. I'm glad I got to share some of them with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

And after that recollection, the second day of note seems almost trivial, but for me it was a very important one: On Saturday, August 8, Steve and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Not only did we make it through the wedding last year, but the California Supreme Court was nice enough to validate our marriage while upholding Proposition 8 and keeping all other gay folks from having one, as well. (You can check out the wedding pictures here in the blog archives or go to Facebook and check them out there.)

We went down to Long Beach for dinner at Parker's Lighthouse, the place where we had our second date (which was the first romantic one). The Long Beach Jazz Festival was happening the same weekend, so parking was absolutely insane. The weather was lovely and, after some confusion, we got our patio table overlooking the inlet and the Queen Mary, ordering our food just as the sun was setting. We had our traditional appetizer (lobster taquitos). It was quite a special evening.

Being married to the person you really love (being able to be married to the person you really love) is such an incredibly important and special thing. I don't think most people understand that; they take it for granted, like it's just part of life.

Fritz Perls, father of gestalt therapy, once described most marriages as relationships of "intimate hostility"; hates and resentments built up over time and intensely shared between only two people. I think that happens because people take marriage for granted and one another, as well.

We are all of us precious, and our loves and marriages even more so. When we lose track of that, we lose track of why we value life so dearly. When status and position and possessions eclipse being alive and loving, things fall apart and life gets cheap and loses meaning.

Here in a time of shitty news and things falling apart, it's easy to despair. But no matter how bad things are (like being unemployed or scraping through the months financially), compared to all the humans on the planet, our lives are truly blessed. If you've lost your perspective of that, it's time to make a fresh assessment and see your life for what it is and focus once again on what you'd truly like it to be. Because, most likely, you're doing a fabulous job.

Time Off in Purgatory

That's what you get for jury duty. I'm sitting in the jury assembly room on the 11th floor of the criminal courts building at Temple and Broadway in downtown L.A.

The room has some of the same aesthetics of an airport waiting room, and you have to go through the same security procedures (except at court they don't make you take off your shoes) and the environment is just as stultifyingly boring.

I took the online orientation program last week, so I was able to arrive around 9:30 instead of 8 o'clock; that was nice. But if you've already seen the boring how-to videos about justice online, you show up, they log you in and then you sit. And wait. And wait.

Around 10:30 they called one jury panel and sent them up to department 117. Then nothing until just before noon, when we were released for lunch. I went directly down to the cafeteria, since I don't feel like going down to the L.A. center across from the federal courts building and fighting the hords at the various fast-food places there. And, too, it's amazing that a cafeteria can cook turkey and make it come out looking like pulled pork and tasting like nothing much other than edible. The corn was even less tasty ... or more tasteless, I'm not sure which.

So I'm secretly hoping that I'll just spend the rest of the afternoon here, not get called out, and have my jury duty done with. Part of me would like to be empaneled and sit on a jury, now that I have the time to, but I also feel like I should get back to my studies and job search.

Speaking of studies, Steve and I went down to Vroman's Books (our local nonfranchise book store) and I picked up a book on ActionScript 3.0, since I wasn't having too much success with the online tutorials alone. It is obviously one of those subjects that has an "aha" factor to it: You kind of go along, not really understanding the meat of the subject, and then -- AHA -- things gel and you understand what's going on.

That's about it. Lunch break is almost over and they might be asking me to go do something semiproductive, so I should sign off. I think I have just enough time to upload the picture I took this morning with my iPhone, showing the enthusiastic citizen-jurors waiting for their chance to take a role in this system we call judicial.

No Clever Title

Nope. No clever title: Just not up to it this week. No pictures, either. I went up to visit for a couple of days in Arroyo Grande and took absolutely no pictures. Nada. Spent my time with the moms, mostly, but did get a chance to hit the Sycamore Springs hot tubs.

Paula (my mom) seems to be doing okay for being eighty-whatever. She putters around the house and has organized her environment to take care of the daily things (like having a very reasonable shopping service, a daily dogwalker and a catalog of eateries from which you can order meals.

Kit (my aunt) is getting along, but it's obvious she's weak. She can make it from the living room to her room or the bathroom well enough that she forgets her walker which everyone reminds her to use.

I originally went up to visit the moms because they must be so lonely, but the few days I was there, folks were coming and going all day and into the evening. It made me feel a lot better that there were so many caretakers checking in on them. And, of course, my sister Kittie and her husband David were by whenever feasible.

Another unique aspect to this trip up the coast was that I drove my car. Normally I take the train up and commandeer one of the moms' cars. I drove during the day, so things weren't too bad, although you can't drive very far in California anymore that you don't run into a traffic jam on some freeway.

I got back to Pasadena on Friday afternoon and have been spending the weekend with Steve since then. He's presently attending a homeowners association meeting, since he's one of the officers this year, I think. He took a clipboard with him, so I think he's some kind of official.

It's nice here in the 21st century, though: I was away for three days and kept up on my job search on my iPhone. If I had thought of it, I would have downloaded my resume files to mom's computer, then I could have applied from there.

But I wasn't up there for that, and I would rather spend the time with the moms. And Aunt Kit doesn't speak computer, so it might have been considered downright rude.

And apologies to those of you who missed my presence. I promise to connect up on the next ride up.

Eggs on the Sidewalk

Damn, it's hot! Damn-damn. Damn hot.

It's 104 on the patio. I held off until 1 o'clock before starting up the air conditioning. I can just hear the money slipping away into the pockets of the Pasadena Department of Water and Power, but I'm feeling comfortable again.

But I shall be escaping this heat for the cooler climes of Arroyo Grande. Yes, I shall be going up to visit the moms and lul sis Kittie and her other half David. (I'd say better half, but when you do that you tend to piss off somebody or start a "no, you're the better half" cutesie argument that can become absolutely revolting in short order.

Steve's doing fine. I know he'll miss me when I'm gone, and I'll miss him, too, but I just have to get out of the house and do something different. The forecasts of mid-70s highs on the Central Coast were really the determining factor. And it's been a while since I was up visiting.

So if you don't hear anything on this page for a while, you know why. I'll try to remember and take lots of pictures so I can provide an in-depth and interesting entry when I return.

For the record, I'll be getting up to Arroyo Grande around 3 p.m. on Tuesday and returning here to Pasadena about the same time on Friday.

Until then, stay cool!