Stealing

I'm stealing this from a., but given my collegiate history with Monty and the gang, I simply had to let everyone know about the record-breaking number of people clip-clopping with coconuts to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."

No word on whether African or European swallows were used for the coconut transport.

"But they could grip it by the husk..."

By the way, if anyone can find this as a sound clip, I'd love you forever. :)

May I be struck with lightning if ...

Thursday night, while getting Abigail ready for bed, a tremendous BOOM shook our house. I could feel the concussion of the sound waves in my ears. I've never heard such loud thunder. Brad saw the flash of the lightning and said it was timed exactly with the boom, so we knew it had been close. Yeah, try the tree 50 yards from our townhouse.

The energy blew bits of bark and branches all the way back to the blue slide.

And up onto the porch in the background of the second picture.

The new leaves were burnt to a crisp still on the branch.

And the hole in the last picture was a root.

It's a small world after all

Abigail has returned from her week at Disney World with my in-laws, bubbling over with excitement at what she saw and proudly proclaiming herself a princess. I wish I could have seen some of the stories we heard, especially meeting Cinderella. I believe she had dinner with Cinderella, as well as the mice, the fairy godmother and the prince. What I loved: She asked Prince Charming to dance! Not following her mother's wall-flower ways!

The night after she came home, the Disney effect was still evident. She announced to us at dinner that: "Romantically big loud flushing toilets are scaaaaaarrrrryyyy!"

No Carolina sweetness

This weekend, it was colder in Charlotte than Fairbanks, Alaska.

The strawberries are gone. The peaches are gone. The mountain apples are gone. Not just the normal panic every spring from some small frost. Apparently, the crops are totally destroyed.

This is very, very sad. There is nothing better than a sweet South Carolina peach in the summertime.

Georgians, please let me know if there's any peachy hope left from your state!

ADJUSTED PROGNOSIS: Apparently, the strawberries weren't hit too badly. Small consolation.

The agony of 13

I just finished yet another excellent book by David Mitchell. "Black Swan Green" was a very convincing coming-of-age novel about a 13-year-old boy in Worcestershire. Mitchell never lost the adolescent voice but still managed to make some beautiful/poignant/amusing observations about nature and sexuality and finding yourself. Really very good. I still prefer "Cloud Atlas" -- and strenuously, highly recommend it -- but this was a very interesting read.

I find this funny

I have before mentioned some of the joys of living in a somewhat small town. There are even greater joys to be had living in a county that is still half rural. And one of them is County Councilman Curwood Chappell, our very own Boss Hogg.

Damn, that's a drawl! Or a drunken-sounding mumble! And the swearing at the end! That's priceless. Almost enough to make you want to be a county reporter. Almost.

UPDATE: And at the next meeting, Curwood apologized. Kinda.

The knights who say "Neh!"

Abigail has decided that she no longer says no. Or nope. When she wants to express herself in the negative, she says, "Neh." Part of me is quite delighted that she does this. The other part finds it a bit odd and wonders where she picked it up.

On another note, she is watching "Cars" for the first time. The pace is a bit slow for her, and she's totally not into the racing scenes, but her little friend Jacob talks about it all the time and she wants to see it. I personally think it's pretty funny, though a bit slow, and the animation is absolutely AMAZING. Wow, the things they can do with a 'puter.

Checking for a pulse

Yes, I am still here.

Last week, all my computer time was eaten up working on freelance articles. This week, well, this week we bade farewell to the Taurus after a rush-hour wreck. Not that we're really sad. It was a 10-year-old Ford that was starting to act up in many ways, and we'd already been seriously planning buying a new one. The time frame has been shortened and the trade-in value reduced, but that's okay. Thankfully, Brad wasn't hurt.

So anyway, yeah, still here. Still working on freelance stories, too, so I'll probably be silent a bit more. But I will say one more thing: POLLEN SUCKS! I don't normally have allergies, but this year is so out of control that even my nose is twitching constantly. It's so thick out there I feel like I can constantly taste it. There's rain in the forecast for tomorrow though, so they'd better be right!

Cheers to you, too, buddy

I'm writing some stories advancing our local, happy little spring festival. I just called a man in charge of one group of events, just to get a fluffy little quote, you know, promote his events. So I call the only number given to me by the festival office. He answers, I introduce myself and say why I'm calling and ask if this would be a good time to speak with him. Some kind of unintelligible, evil-sounding grumbling, then "What is this about? Who are you with?" I'm writing some stories about the festival for the local paper and was hoping to find out a little more about your events. "How did you get this number?!?!" Uh, I called the office. I'm sorry, is this not a good time? "No, it's not a good time. I have two people in my office! This is not a good time! Call me tomorrow if you have to, then I can talk to you allllll you want." Okay, sir, thank you very much! (she says cheerfully, mentally giving him the bird)

Come on, dude, not my fault. Tell your office not to give out your cell number. Or, gasp!, if you're that freakin' busy, just don't answer your phone. Get a life.

And get this, he's in charge of community events, as in, we all love each other so much, isn't our town wonderful! A bit miscast in that role, I think.

City of Angels

Before last week, the furthest west I'd ever been was San Antonio, and that was when I was 9. I've obviously seen lots of pictures, but it's very different seeing a totally different region of the country for myself.

We flew from Charlotte to Atlanta and then to Los Angeles, and when the clouds broke somewhere over southern Arizona or Utah, I was amazed. It was so brown. And there was no civilization. Not a glimmer from a house or car, not a single track through the dust. Of course, from 30,000 feet, dimensions are skewed, but it all looked so flat and dry, broken only by the carved edges of mesas. But even from above, I could see the striations of the rocks. A bit further on, rocky mountains jutted up from the desert floor -- no snow line, so scrub line, just rock and dust. I could even see the swirls of huge dust clouds kicking up over the valleys. I really need to go to the desert in person.

I really didn't see much in the way of people until we got near Palm Springs, Calif. Suddenly, there were perfectly straight lines of roads carved through the dust, complete with little glints of passing cars or isolated houses. Slowly the vegetation started to come back, but it was so different from the lush green of the Southeast. So scrubby, such a dry green. We approached what I'm guessing were the Santa Ana mountains (there was insipid TV on the inflight screens, not much more interesting directions), I saw snow dusting the tops of the mountains, as well as a blanket of clouds curling slowly over the peaks, as if it really were a solid fabric.

Then we crested the mountains, and there was L.A. I have never seen so much development. It was a quilt of gridded streets, houses packed together, and it went on for miles and miles and miles and miles until it ran out of room at the mountains. We flew over it for something like 45 minutes. I was overwhelmed. Sure, I lived in Chicago, but this was nuts. I have enough trouble finding my place in a little town like mine, I can't imagine how lost I'd be in that many millions.

The next day was our planned event. I don't want to risk talking about it, so if you want to know more, e-mail me. I will say it was fun overall, lots of nice people and an interesting thing to watch in production.

That evening, we went out to Santa Monica for the sunset, some wandering and some food. It was, obviously, gorgeous. And wild watching the sun set into the ocean in less than two minutes. (See that itty bitty tip of light in this picture? The last edge of the sun.) Even after the sun disappeared, the color was beautiful on the clouds and San Gabriel Mountains, especially seen through silhouetted palm trees.

I was fascinated by the flora: gnarled trees with little bark; droopy, fuzzy plants arcing a good three feet in the air; 10-foot tall shoots jutting up from some kind of succulent. And of course, there were the dinosaur topiary fountains in Third Street Promenade, but they weren't quite as impressive. Nor was the upscale shopping that I could have found at malls here in Charlotte. Nor was the grill we wound up eating appetizers at, but that wasn't too bad since we were so screwed up with time that we weren't hungry.

Thursday was wide open, and we decided to go to The Getty Center. Wow. Not the biggest or most impressive collection of art I've ever seen, but the building itself and its view of L.A. were amazing. As one of my many architects first pointed out, the entire complex is designed on a grid, and you can follow any gap in the limestone squares throughout the complex -- floors, windows, walls, stairs. Incredible attention to detail. And beautiful gardens and a wonderful walkway cutting across a man-made creek that was designed to have a different sound at each crossing.

I did have some favorite paintings: Jeanne Kefer by Fernand Khnopff and Houses near Orleans by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot. We didn't make it to the vast photography collection, but hey, a reason to go back, right?

We finished off the day by yet again going to Santa Monica. We had talked about going to see the freak show at Venice Beach, but we were tired and just wanted to relax. We grabbed a beer at a pub, window shopped, caught another sunset, and shivered through the gale-force winds. We wound up the night at Lula Cocina Mexicana, which had great margaritas, awesome salsa verde, and decent food. Interestingly, they served cooked carrots marinated in vinegar with the chips and salsa, and this is apparently typically Mexican. Wonder why I've never seen it on the East Coast.

To get back to the hotel, we took yet another cab. We spent more money on cabs than food, though it was probably worth not having to drive on the freeways. Our cabbies were from Guatemala, New Jersey, somewhere Arab, Ethiopia, Eastern Europe and Morocco. You literally saw all kinds of people in L.A.

And voila, the next day we flew home. We were stuck on the plane for an hour at the gate in L.A., stuck another 45 minutes waiting for passengers in Atlanta, and didn't get home until 1 a.m. But it could have been worse: our flight from LAX was going on to Tel Aviv, another 11 hours after Atlanta!

So there you go, more than you ever wanted to know about my trip, except perhaps for the part I can't talk about. I definitely recommend a trip out there, even if, like us, you don't care about celebrities. And we definitely want to go back, though perhaps more like the central coast and wine country. Ahhhh, vacation.

Postcard

Santa Monica at sunset. More to come.

EST to PST to EST again

A lovely long blog will be coming soon, loaded with lots of beautiful pictures of The Getty Center and Santa Monica. I may even have time for it tomorrow. But for now, may I state -- categorically -- that Wednesday was not my day.

Countdown

Well, in about a day and a half, we'll be off to the West. We've got a loose itinerary for our free day, including the Getty Museum, crazies in Venice Beach and sunset and dinner in Santa Monica. Of course, depending on how our scheduled event goes Wednesday, we can probably do the sunset and dinner that night so we're not as pressed Thursday. We're both getting excited about the trip, though not the numerous hours in planes. There aren't more of these ice storms in the forecast, are there?

And I'm not nervous about Wednesday's planned event -- yet. Just pray for fast reflexes, fast recall and favorable topics!

Did I like that?

I finally watched "The Last Kiss" last night after it had languished on top of my entertainment center for a week and a half. I think I really liked it. I could obviously relate to a story about 29-year-olds trying to figure out if their lives were heading in the right direction. And I liked it visually, all the use of neutral colors. I even thought the acting was good; Jacinda Barrett has come a long way from "The Real World."

But I'm conflicted about Zach Braff's character. Now, I like him as an actor, really liked "Garden State" and dig his taste in music (he loves Jump, what else is there to say?). But I wanted to claw his character's heart out last night. Eviscerate him. Castrate him. I won't necessarily say why in case anyone is planning to see the movie, but GRRRRRRRRRR, you don't DO that to a pregnant woman!!!!! I could forgive and even empathize with the character up to that one act, but now I'm not even sure I'm okay with the ending!

Can I thoroughly despise a character and not be 100 percent about the ending of a movie and still highly recommend it?

Answer: 480 out of 25,000

Question: What is the number of people chosen as Jeopardy! contestants each year out of the thousands that audition?

That's your factoid of the day. I haven't posted in a while, have little to say and am valiantly resisting Jenny's meme, so this is what I came up with. Yes, I did get sucked into a few minutes of a Jeopardy! behind-the-scenes show on TV Guide channel last week, and the number above was an interesting tidbit, so I thought I'd share.

By the way, in a totally unrelated comment, 12 days till we go to L.A.

Pilotless drone

I know I've got at least a couple of copy editors checking in here, as well as several word buffs, so here's a good laugh for you. First, go to this clip from the San Francisco Chronicle to get appropriately ticked off. The Chronicle has begun podcasting audio letters to the editor, and this guy is out of control. As a former copy editor, I just want to smack him and scream, "You have no idea what we do every night!!!"

Now, go here and laugh your ass off! That's my kind of dance music!

Thoughts from last night

I couldn't get to the computer last night, so I "blogged" old-school in a notebook. Le voila:

I just finished watching "Elizabethtown," which was a really good movie. Not great because it dragged a bit, but really good. In watching it, three things occurred to me:

1.) In 2000, I had scheduled an interview with the paper in Elizabethtown, which I cancelled after I took the job here. Who on earth would I have become if I'd wound up in Kentucky?

2.) I have always wanted to be a marvellously quirky girl like the character Claire. I wanted to wear odd vintage clothing and hats, know all kinds of indie music, and say incredible things to men at the drop of a hat. Yet I'm me.

3.) I really, really have to take a cross-country road trip. Maybe it stems from growing up near Route 66, but I have always wanted to have that quintessentially American experience. I want to see the bizarre roadside attractions out west, get stuck at stoplights in small towns, eat at diners, and lose myself in the loneliness of the plains. I'm just not sure when I'll do it or with whom.

Woo-hoo, winter!!!

In the words of Bing, Danny, Rosemary and the other girl: "Snow ... Snow ... Snow ... Snow ... Snow!!!"


Yes, we got 4 inches yesterday! Lovely fluffy stuff, great for packing. I took Abigail out for two half-hour snow sessions, the first at 7:45 a.m. -- I wasn't too sure how long it would last! The first time, the snow was coming down in huge, beautiful flakes, the kind that muffle all other sound and land with a plop on your shoulder. Abigail was delighted. The only other snow she's experience was the dumping back in 2004 of more than a foot, but she was only 18 months old. So this was her first real snowfall, her first snow angel, her first snowman, her first snowball fight (which was more like just smushing snow onto mommy's coat). The second time we went out, the snow was starting to get quite wet and what was falling was more like slushballs, but it was still good fun. Even I plopped down for a snow angel -- which are really darn big when you're grown up!

But alas, this is South Carolina, and to my husband's delight and my daughter's dismay, the snow is almost gone this morning. Snow melts, one of those harsh lessons Abigail must learn. I just don't want to deal with her reaction to the current state of Frosty:

What to see out West

So I'll be going to Los Angeles at the end of February. I'm very excited, though I'm not supposed to blog about why I'm going, but I've never particularly wanted to go to Southern California. Central Coast, sure. Wine Country, oh hell yeah. San Fransisco, of course. But L.A., nope. And I'm not in any particular awe of famous entertainers. So what should I do out there? I'll have a couple of evenings and probably one day. I've heard that L.A. is infamous for bad public transit, so I also don't want to pay a ton in cab fares toodling around the city. Right now, I'm thinking the tar pits. Where else can you see tar pits? And maybe a museum and the Chinese Theater since it looks so cool. But really, I'm clueless and would love suggestions!

And if you know of any good trivia books or Web sites, that would be appreciated, too :)

Rock on

We are slowly exposing Abigail to the wonderful world of the computer. This is of course good, since she'll be using it starting next year in school, though it now complicates my e-mail checking time since she thinks it must be game time. She and Brad were on the PBS Kids site last night playing Curious George games. Now, my kid is brilliant and can do all kinds of math games that we thought were way above her, and she was amazing at Count Your Chickens. When the child gets the right answer, George makes some monkey noises of approval and the Man in the Yellow Hat says something encouraging. Like, "You rock." Call me crazy, but that's not something I ever envisioned him saying -- and it's nothing like his character on the show, either, he's a pretty uptight unspecified academic. (We watch George A LOT, probably two episodes a day, which is four stories) Anyway, Abigail was told repeatedly that she rocks, and she finally looked up at her daddy, beaming at getting the game right, and said, "I rock!"

Now we just need her to learn how to make devil horns and head bang at the same time.