Guts and all

Some people are content with seeing a highly anticipated movie the weekend of its opening. I, on the other hand, am not. There’s something about the energy of a crowd that has waited hours in line until the clock strikes midnight to build adrenaline and enthusiasm. “Lord of the Rings” definitely had me on a strange routine. I would go home and nap for several hours before we would set out to jump into the fray, flanked by Galadriel-clad fairies and Legolas-legged elves. My sidekick Olga and I met a guy in line for “The Two Towers” who had visited J.R.R. Tolkien’s grave in the motherland and was all geeked out. We waited outside of this beautiful old art-deco movie house in the chilly evening air and scampered to our seats, once they tore our tickets. Gilded reliefs of 1920’s style angels and scrollwork donned the walls above the red velvet curtain separating us from the screen. Collectively, we whooped and hollered as the ents took down traitorous Saruman and left the theater close to 3 a.m. groggy and yet thoroughly energized.

This same art deco theater has been purchased by an old folks agency and cordoned off for several months. I kept having visions of how they would use the space- for meetings or perhaps private showings of Cocoon. My last trip took me away from the city for three weeks. I was suprised to see, driving to the convention center the other day, a gaping hole replacing the once sturdy wall, separating the parking lot from the movie house. Somehow I had hoped and thought they would restore it to its former beauty. Wishful thinking, I see now. From the hole, the building’s vulnerability showed, like a woman with her skirt accidentally tucked into her pantyhose. The guts of the building stirred a sadness of our need to destroy and replace. Today, it was gone, now a socket of space and air. And it occurred to me that perhaps what has happened to this building can happen to us. It takes months of planning and organizing to build a structure and only a little while to destroy. We have to be careful with each other. Our time together is short enough already.

When two worlds collide

Oh, if only Jane Austen and J.K. Rowling could have met! The stories they could have told…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sge5pUSJIRY

Lessons from an Unlikely Teacher

Driving to work every morning, I tune in to NPR. In the past, I would listen to the stupid antics of local deejays to try to rouse myself from the half-conscious state of my non-morning person. NPR keeps me looped in to what’s going on in the world and the news early in the day. If I had time, I would read the Wall Street Journal daily because I firmly believe if you want to figure out what’s going to happen in current and future history, follow the money.

Radio turned up, this morning’s top story was on the debacle that is our governmental system in the form of one Alberto Gonzales. He has been facing intense cross-examinations regarding his role as White House counsel, particularly in memos that, critics believe, sanctioned the torture of terrorism suspects in Iraq and encouraged the detention of others at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, outside the jurisdiction of U.S. courts. In addition, though he is not taking responsibility, all evidence points to his being very involved in the firing of the eight U.S. attorneys.

Throughout the day, he stayed in my mind, the ever present reminder of poor choices and not taking responsibility for actions. I can’t understand how he can sit there and be posed questions by the Senate to which it seems every response is, “I don’t know” or “I will have to check on that.” He’s either a loyal yes man or a very poor manager of his people. I do know he is a good liar and seems to be a desperate man. And this takes me into my latest lesson.

The business world and perhaps the world that belongs to adults provides ample examples of people setting out to cover their own asses and sacrifice those of their colleagues. Today, muttering under my breath, “Alberto Gonzales” helped keep me connected into who I can be today, that there is a choice involved even when I screw up. I can play the role of “I don’t know” or instead can take the riskier path of honesty. And so, I chose to not be Alberto Gonzales today, but instead to take what comes to me and accept responsibility along the way.
It is the harder path especially when you have made a wrong call, but it is the right thing.

Senator Arlen Specter was quoted as saying to Gonzalez, “Your credibility has been breached to the point of being actionable” which is legalese for on the path to perjury. And yet, no smoothing of the road lies ahead since the president has taken the plight upon himself and intejected executive office protection (surely not helping his disapproval rating as it lies 1 point away from Nixon’s right before he resigned). As children, we are taught not to lie and then somehow over the years, what used to seem so difficult when young can become pardonable in our heads because of the “greater good” perhaps. White lies that can build one upon the other make for a poor advisory council. What I would like to see is for him to be honest in spite of what the cost will be. When you look at Alberto Gonzales’s humble roots, it is inspiring to see how far he has come. And unfortunately now, how far he will fall.

My date with the little Prince

My good friends Pam and Darren will soon move to London. He has lived in the city for 10 years, she for around 8. The three of us have been involved in outreach and friendship building to street kids for around seven years, although right now I am on hiatus with school requirements vying fiendishly for my time. Since I just returned from a three week voyage and Pam is one of my closest friends, I am squeezing as much time as I can get with them. Recent examples include:roasting marshmallows over a gas burning stove, glasses of the fruitiest Spatlese Riesling close at hand or last night’s Settlers of Catan tournament with other Inner Changers and potluck of vegetarian yumminess (read: bulger with raisins and peanuts as well as my attempt to make the Burma Superstar “Tea Leaf Salad” that Mariah remarked was like “fireworks for the mouth”). Good times.

So when Darren sent out an email encouraging friends that want to spend time with their kids to step forward now, it didn’t take me very long to respond. I had this vision in my head of taking their little ones to see the movie “Ratatouille” and Darren responded that Jesse would probably really enjoy an excursion of this variety.

After church, we all settled on the playground, eating a picnic lunch, listening to the kids run and squeal, enjoying the aberration of summer weather in the summer. Jesse came over a few times and asked if it was time to go yet. A few bites later I had finished my salad and Darren snapped the car seat into my backseat. Jesse climbed in, saying he had never been in my car before, that he liked it very much. As we drove away from the church, he said that they would miss me when they were in London. He is a precocious youngster. You never know what will come out of his mouth. After the movie finished, I mentioned that Remy, the rat had jumped onto a “bateaux mouche” and Jesse asked if I could take him on one. I responded that if we are ever in Paris, sure. He was very much on his best behavior, holding onto my hand as we walked into the elevator and not letting go of it until we were seated in the dimly lit theater. I had a feeling the munchies might ensue, so I packed four chocolate chip meringue cookies for each of us. Sure enough, he said in his cute Jesse way, “I’m so hungry” mischevous grin breaking out at the last words.

We crunched on meringues and watched the beginning of the movie. He only asked twice why I had packed just four cookies… Toward the end of the movie, he stretched, saying how tired he was. We ventured out into the Yerba Buena Gardens to look at the hordes of people enjoying free public theatre. Walking back to the car, we talked about our favorite characters and if God cares for the rats. On the way home, he was quiet, staring into space and so I chose to give in to his fatigue, by letting him chill in the back, turning on music and singing along. Before long, I saw his head slant down and two blocks away from his house, those eyes shut.

What a perfectly lovely afternoon: sunshine and slight breeze, holding the hand of a little boy who trusted me, feeling such a weight of responsibility for this child who’s part Pam/part Darren, but mostly Jesse. Perhaps next weekend I will attempt to make a Ratatouille from scratch in celebration of love and lifelong friendships of friends scattered like salt around the world.

Pandemonium… for books

Tonight I attended a fabulous birthday party and even made the birthday cake with some set parameters that it needed to be an orange cake. So I made an orange cake with a Green Tea Tropical glaze, caramel frosting and a lavender fleur de sel sprinkled on each slice. Yum. And while I was at said party, my extrovert slumbered while the introvert sought persistently to finish book six of Harry Potter- only 40 pages remained and come midnight I would be picking up book seven.

So fast forward to brief stints of me sitting in the back bathroom, holed away from the crowd, hearing voices and laughter through the door. At 11:24 p.m. I politely extricated myself from several conversations and a fun group of people and set off for Green Apple Books. Driving by he store, a throng of people stood out on the sidewalk and bled out into the street. Excitedly, I began looking for a parking spot and found one just around the block! Weaving through the gaggle assembled on the sidewalk, I walked inside and found lines of people spanning each aisle in the neighborhood bookstore and even took a photo. How inspiring to see so many people awake and enthused for books! Squeals emitted into the evening as people turned in their receipts for fresh first editions. And I stood among fellow readers pleased to be in their company and hold the unsullied final book in my hands.

extinguishing the ring of fire

the evening sky glowers,
seeing your shivering hand
gripping mine. it covers us,
blanket of fleece flocking down
above, you in your white sheets,
white bed, silver clasps your night-
time story, nightmare turned real.
white walls thin as paper, rowdy
voices fighting to be your bedtime
lullaby, no white noise here but
the evening sky simmers into pale
lilacs, burning off the heat of day,
cool droplets of mist slowly falling,
extinguishing this ring of fire.

Seattle- in Brief

After a highly successful day at the college and university show (I think I could classify for energizer bunny status), we dismantled our booth and Rob decided to go have a cocktail and change for dinner, while I headed over to a late matinee of Harry Potter. I left the theater enthused and infused with new energy that good narratives always seem to bestow. As my buddy Regie says, “We are hard wired for narrative,” and I know this to be personally true. At the suggestion of a friend, we made our way over to Cascadia and enjoyed their signature mini burgers with rosemary belgian-style frjtz. I took a bite of my burger and discovered a hunk of beef in my mouth… Part of me wanted to bite right down into it and the other part of me was horrified. So out came the beef and straight away came the correction of mini veggie burger. I have eaten the same salad now in two different cities and it is inspiring a recipe because it is almost there, but not quite. I am going to play around this weekend with concocting a mojito salad. Yum. My cocktail was a fabulous blackberry margarita served up, called “Little Black Book”. The food and service were top notch and the prices on the lounge menu, totally do-able. If you go, you must try the Douglas Fir Sorbet. So intriguing. We walked back to the hotel in what was such a lovely evening stroll, window-shopping for the perfect dress Rob should buy for his girlfriend. I may have been wrong about Seattle last night. And now a brief foray into “Reality Bites” before surrendering to sleep and a 4:30 wake-up call. Buona Notte.

Seattle- Today

– I could never live here. I feel like I’ve walked the entire downtown in one fell swoop. Having just come from the giantess that is New York and being tethered to the small town / big city dynamic of San Fran., Seattle in all its beauty feels far too small.

– I am looking for glimpses of Todd, as I walk the streets, imagining what his life was like here, feeling a great sense of him in this place that has been blissfully sunny and warm the past few days.

– Watching the “Iron Chef” culinary challenge of chefs feverishly concocting dishes with tofu.

– This morning we worked it at the college and university show. The hawks circled the booth trying to be subtle checking out our newest wares while we chatted with prospects. I see you. I am not fooled.

– Cocktails at Rosebud after the show.

– Eating flatbread pizza and housemade tiramisu with Rob, Joane, Bruce and their hot sons this evening at Tutta Bella. Yum!

– There are a lot of pig statues ici.

– Writing a paper about Richard Pryor and “The Anti-Affirmative” from a lecture Ross Gay led at school.

– Dreaming about an IPhone and wishing Sprint somehow could get in on the action…

NYC- The celebrity of food

I don’t know what it is about celebrities that can get us all in a twitter. To be honest, we could bestow the status on any of our friends because how great is it to see your friends (especially if it’s been weeks or months or years). But instead we pick common blokes and gals who have a calling or gifting that sets them apart. Giftings that start in kindergarten recess of make believe or helping out in the kitchen and being open to new flavors.

I met poet Sharon Olds at a recent reading and swore I wouldn’t make an ass out of myself, using words like “stupendous” or “amazing” to reveal my inner butt-muncher like I did when I met Anne Lamott… Fast forward to the food show in New York. I am on celebrity prowl. Eyes wide open. Sara Moulton walks by and all I can think of as the camera’s rolling, following her gait down my aisle is “Good Morning America!” Later, my friend Sara, pastry chef extraordinaire and I are foraging and walking around. I see a badge that says “Aquavit” and begin scouring the small entourage for the oh-so familiar face of Marcus Samuelsson. I reach out and squeeze Sara’s arm, giggling and squeaking to her, “Marcus Samuelsson!!” feeling gauche and trying to conceive of how to introduce him to a delicious steaming cup of Marrakesh Mint tea…

To no avail. Chefs are my people. Poets are my people. People are my people. Now if only I could force my cheeks to whiten when they want to blush and curb my enthusiasm when it reaches coloratura octaves. Alas and alack- hold on, is that DANIEL BOULUD????

NYC: Siblings

Tonight after a networking event, I hooked up with my best friend Kathi’s sister Kim. The highlight of the evening consisted of sitting in Dylan’s Candy Bar sipping frozen hot chocolates and talking about being single and spiritual in the urban jungle. We laughed and found ourselves in a similar season of our lives. It’s great to find camaraderie with friends’ siblings and deepen relationships like that with Kim or with Katy’s brother William. Sometimes friendships feel more like family. Kim has known me since junior high when Kathi and I were gawky (and I went through my mean streak). That kind of longevity is refreshing. Check out her blog link, over in the right column.