Into the Woods - A Review

**Maybe there are spoilers? I certainly don't mean for there to be, but beware just in case**

This is a fractured fairytale as only Sondheim & Lapine can bring us. It's a grown up story - there is death and betrayal, heartache and grief . Yet it's as appropriate for kids as a Marvel movie.

However, I wish (no pun intended), the Ugly Witch was uglier. You've seen the commercials, you know it's Meryl Streep. But if she looked less like Meryl Streep, her transformation would be as spectacular as it is on stage.

(I've never seen the stage version in full. But I do recall seeing a snippet on TV - PBS, I think. Or perhaps a Tony awards broadcast. The Witch transformed; my mouth was agape.)

You've seen the bus stop placards with Chris Pine. You may have thought, 'oh, he must have a non-singing role of some sort'.

Oh contraire, mes amis. He sings. And he doesn't Brosnan (or Crowe) it, either.

He Shatners it. To good effect and in the best of ways. It sounds incredible, but truly, it worked for me.

As the closing credits rolled, I felt I had watched a play on screen. Not something based on the play, but the play itself, given a little room to breathe, though constrained by the time frame and lack of intermission.

It was good. Certainly worth the price of a movie ticket if you love musicals and can't wait. But it's perfectly acceptable to hold out for the $3 movie theater or RedBox. If this is your cup of tea, you'll enjoy it.

Peter Pan Live! - My 3 cents

Of course I watch these Walmart underwritten Musical Theatre Live! (unless you're on the West Coast) shows. It's a play! And I can see for free!

Staging-wise, Peter Pan was bigger and bolder than last year's Sound of Music, and not just because of the flying. There's Nana, the dog, (wonderfully trained and excellent) and the Crocodile (a person in costume who didn’t look like Godzilla. I liked it). And Tinkerbell was CGI. Outside of the camera being out of focus for half a minute in the first act, the tech was good.

There was nothing cringe-worthy about Alison Williams' performance. And Christopher Walken? Well. . . He was Christopher Walken in a Captain Hook costume. Works for some, not for others. Unfortunately, I couldn't always hear the juicy alliteration and wonderful rhymes. But once I understood it was okay to laugh at his Warble, I giggled every time I heard/saw it.

Kelli O'Hara, who played Mrs. Darling, was a delight to listen to and watch. Showing us how it's done.

Did I like it? <shrug> Meh. I was reminded that I never really connected with the story. We've just witnessed an experience Wendy was eager to share with her daughter. But what did she gain – or lose – as a result? Why was it so easy to miss her character arc?

Apparently, in addition to the published play, there's a book (Peter and Wendy). I'll let you know if it answers my character arc question.

Do I recommend it watching it? <shrug> Sure. It's enjoyable if you take it for what it is – a musical meant to entertain. Ask for more, and you'll get into trouble. (Example: Adults can't go to Neverland…but how did Captain Hook and his men get there?)

One of these days I'm actually going to live tweet these things. In the meantime, here are a few other notes and observations:

Betty Condon? Adolph Green? Jerome Robbins? I had no idea the play had such a pedigree.

Oh, so you're the cleverest boy now that a girl has sewn your shadow back on? Son, you betta recognize.

Two songs so quickly in a row. That's stamina. Or Broadway. Or both.

Wait – you never grow old there, but Pan ran away to Neverland when he was a baby?

So…we're supposed to see the wires? And the harness?

I'm used to Smee being portly.

Wait – is Smee also Mr. Darling who was also Herr Detweiler? (According to IMDB, yes.)

I see ya' posing, bald pirate in purple.

Hook's got a La-Z-Boy throne.

Should they really be doing jazz steps on a pirate ship? (Yes, yes they should. Because they are the Chorus Line.)

Huh. The Lost Boys are dressy fairly preppy. Or is it steam punk? Nonetheless, a strange contrast to Peter's woodland garb.

They're crying, "Yo Ho!" as they come around the bend. I was expecting dwarfs.

Umm…the Lost Boys' lair is empty. How is it untidy?

A: I need to learn how to make a pocket. B: How many kids picture a Hot Pocket whenever Peter mentions making pockets?

"And the end of Hamlet?" Proof the Shakespeare is for everyone, even kids.

Peter's broken the 4^th wall and is asking us to save Tinkerbell. So the play is a panto*?

*Ima let you Google pantomime theatre for yourselves. Whatever you find will explain far better than I can.

Thoughts and Such

Do you know why traffic in Los Angeles is so bad? Cellphones. People texting, leaving a full 2 car lengths in front of them while waiting at a light or "driving" with the flow of traffic. <Yosemite Sam voice> I hates texters.

Robin Williams and Depression

As horrific as his death was, the cause of death brought extra weight. One of the folks I follow on Twitter noted that people who never knew Robin Williams would now pontificate about him for the week. I made a mental note there would also be people who don’t understand depression saying and posting well-meaning but misguided things.

Which happened. But there were also many who spoke their story, who illuminated and enlightened and educated. People were being encouraged to get help, reminded of they are not alone in their depression. In death, Robin Williams continued to bring smiles, making his passing bitingly bittersweet.

Ferguson: Good Reads from Karen Walrond and Matt Zoller Seitz. Thank you to The Bloggess (Jenny Lawson) and Jay Smooth, respectively.

My Round 1 thoughts on Ferguson here.

Seeing commercials for the TV show RUSH, and thinking, they found a guy who looks just like Larenz Tate. Except he's not a look-alike. Apparently Larenz Tate doesn't age.

Yes, I do live under a rock. Fortunately, someone in my twitter feed linked to this, so I'm up-to-date on what's hip and happening as of last month.

When you watch Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on TV and Indy talks to Mack, do you think That's not the right guy – it should be homeboy from MacGyver - but then you're glad it's not homeboy from MacGyver because in the movie Mack is greedy? And then when you look up homeboy on IMDB and learn the character he played was Jack not Mack, do you think you should probably feel bad about the mistake, but you don't because it's like song lyrics, and everyone gets some song lyrics wrong so it's okay to get a character's name wrong? No? Just me then?

I'm jones'n for a newspaper.

Ferguson

When Ferguson first broke, I listened from a distance, most of my news coming from folks on my twitter feed. It was two weeks before I tried to get the basic facts, the known and undisputed. Questions and Comments festered and popped.

Re: Rioters and looters who were said to be from outside of the area: Oakland feels your pain, Ferguson.

Re: Pundits who say it's not about race: Fine. Regardless of race, we have a clearly unarmed man fatally shot by police in broad daylight. Why isn't that a source of outrage?

Perhaps I missed it, but I didn't hear any official statement akin to 'We thought the deceased was drawing a weapon' (See: Amadou Diallo) or 'I thought I pulled my taser' (See: Oscar Grant). So it was clear he was unarmed when shots were first fired, correct?

Does Ferguson PD have tasers? Would that have been the optimal choice of deterrent in the situation the officer described?

Jaywalking? Really? I know it's against the law, but in what situation is it worth any law enforcement officer's energy to attempt to cite an adult for jaywalking? (No, seriously. I want to understand why this is not ridiculous. I would be much obliged if you could cure me of this bafflement.)

Initial commercials for Denzel's new movie The Equalizer included a scene where the bad guy says "What do you see when you look at me?" and Denzel responds, "What do you see when you look at me?" and every time I heard it I heard the question black men in Ferguson were asking. I heard a question I have asked too many times.

The summer before my senior year in college, I worked reception for a cheerleading camp. Teams were staying in the dorms on campus, and I was there to assist with check in, etc. One man lost his room key, and came to the desk for help, where I assisted him the best I could. He was profuse in his Thank Yous. 'You speak so well!' he added.

In that split second of shock, I decided to be bemused instead of offended. He repeated his refrain after every interaction we had, including when he finally found his room key (in a pants pocket, if memory serves). To be fair, since I was 20, I probably looked 13*. Still, how else was I supposed to speak? Why wouldn't I "speak well?"

What do you see when you see me?

*That is, if you don't know how old I am, and you think I'm mature for my age, you've probably guessed my age wrong. Actually, even if you don't think I'm mature for my age, you've probably guessed wrong.

Six Months In – A Review

January

The first of the month, I drove to North Hollywood to look at an apartment. I had no job, nor did I know where I would spend the night.

Many thanks to my mom for the bit of extra cash that kept me out of the Cash or Cashiers' Check Only Residential Hotel on Vanowen. As fascinating as it would have been to live like Elwood Blues (you got my cheese wiz, boy?), I would've gotten asthma from the heavy mist of latent cigarette smoke.

Instead, I domiciled at Extended Stay America, a two-star hotel (according to Priceline) where each room has a full kitchen, and pets are allowed. Unfortunately, it did not have the proper PBS station; I've yet to see Season 3 of Sherlock.

Much love to Jason Best Staffing, who, when I applied for an advertised position, sat with me for an hour to get to know who I am.

Which led to a temp assignment in Beverly Hills.

February

Almost daily strolls down Rodeo Drive, and far too many walks for scrumptious sweet macarons. Back at the office, I observed formerly unimaginable levels workplace dysfunction. Yowza.

Much love to MT, with whom I stayed (paying rent, of course) for two and a half months. And to the lovely J, a truly extraordinary woman. And of course, the Queen of the Castle, S, one of the smartest little dogs I've ever met.

Jason Best called about a permanent position. In Commercial Real Estate (?), as an admin <sigh>, with room for growth <I'm listening>.

March

New job. I learned CorelDraw, I get to play with PhotoShop, and I'm learning InDesign. All of which is unusual for an admin at a commercial real estate brokerage. Things aren't bad.

Apartment hunting. The first one bedroom in North Hollywood was spacious enough. But there were blinds that didn't close, and the only window in the bedroom faced a busy street. Plus, when I arrived, the neighbors were blaring music.

The second one bedroom, also in NoHo, seemed perfect but for a faulty bathroom faucet. The person who showed the place really liked me; the property owner, not so much. He knew he wasn't going to rent to me, perhaps the moment he saw me. 'You have to have really good credit' he warned. Please. my credit is goood.

A studio in Sherman Oaks. Ground floor, street parking. Surprisingly spacious. It's not a one bedroom, but

April

Wednesday: Signed the lease for the Sherman Oaks studio

Thursday: Bought a 40" flat screen TV, a vacuum, a microwave, and a few other things at Target, on my lunch break.

Saturday AM: Bought TV stand from Ikea, assembled it

Saturday PM: Internet/TV guy arrived to work his magic

Priorities, people. Priorities.

I returned the microwave ~a week later – it didn't work. How does that even happen? Well, since I planned to eat off of fine china, anyway, I didn't replace it. It's not nearly as inconvenient as one would imagine.

May

I flew to my mom's house to get the rest of my things. All of the encyclopedias fit! (Unfortunately I don't know where #23 is.) And the rest of my books! Except for Kevin Aucoin's The Art of Makeup – a true coffee table tome worthy of a swankier pad than mine. It sits atop one of my bookshelves.

June

A box of things to give away. A box of things to shred. A few more bins to go through - desk stuff I've avoided. Amazing how much can happen in six months.

Driving in LA

The Left Turn Arrow seems sparse here. Many are the busy thoroughfares where one needs to wait for the oncoming traffic to abate. It is not unusual to turn left on a red light.

Here, yellow means Speed Up. Unless the intersection is blocked. Or one is in danger of blocking the intersection. And sometimes even then. . .

Is the street wide enough to make two lanes while waiting for the light? Done and done. No need to wait behind the person turning left if there is room to wait to turn right.

Merging seems particularly difficult for many. You know when you get to a merge point, and the cars alternate, going every other one? Like the teeth of a zipper interlocking as it's being closed?

That concept's not clear here. Let someone go ahead of me? Are you crazy? Ima get mines.

You gonna get worse gridlock is what you gonna get.

This is not to say there is a lack of charity on the roads. I've been warned of a fresh accident by the car ahead of me. There's a spot on Beverly Glen where the unwritten rule is every other car, allowing those at a stop sign to enter the flow of traffic. I've seen folks leave enough space for residents to get in and out of their driveways during rush hour on Coldwater Canyon.

Still, the general sense I get of the Los Angeles driving attitude of Me First Me First Me First!

I'm settling in just fine. Except for that merging bit.

Hello, Brentwood

It's March. A new job, a new city, a new commute.

West of Beverly Hills is Brentwood. Some of you remember it as the home of Brian "Kato" Kaelin (that's all I'm going to say about that).

My first day of work, I left at 7am with the hopes of arriving before 9, without getting lost.

I succeeded on one count.

The route was Beverly Glen to Sunset to Beverly Glen to Wilshire to San Vincente, U-turn at Montana, San Vicente to the parking garage.

But, as Bugs Bunny might say, I should've taken a left at Albuquerque. Or rather, that second Beverly Glen. Unable to handle the funky intersection, I stayed on Sunset.

I'm driving past Bel Air on my left!

Oh, snap, I'm crossing the 405! I am so lost.

Barrington! I know that street! I think I know where I

Nope. I have no clue where I am. Pull over.

The streets in this part of down bisect each other in ways only a Geometry teacher would appreciate.

Within a block of each other are a Peet's, a Starbucks, and a Coffee Bean.

I'm not saying I'm homesick, but it warms the cockles of my heart when I see a Peet's. Bay Area!

The office is within walking distance of the three coffee pubs, across the street from a Whole Foods, and less than a block away from the Public Library. There's a Burger Lounge, where apparently so little meat is offered, a certain Wendy's commercial should be revived.

I returned to Sunset for my journey home,

I am driving past UCLA, aren't I?

Almost turned into Bel Air (a gated community like no other), in my effort to turn onto Beverly Glen,

Got tired of waiting to turn onto Beverly Glen, and continued on Sunset

Is that a little museum tucked away among these houses, what with the statues and lawn? Private Property. Wait, is that someone's house?

Into Beverly Hills, and up the familiar Coldwater Canyon.

I'll be making this commute from now on, until I move into a more permanent place. This is not a temp position; I filled out a W-2. I'm going to be here for a while. 

Saturday in a Southern California Deluge

When SoCal weather forecasters speak of a rain storm, they are referring to precipitation so mild, you need only a hoodie if you get caught in it. The ground becomes slightly wetter than a dewy morning.

The storm predicted for Friday was different. In certain areas, people were getting sandbags to protect their homes and businesses. Thursday night, I could hear the rain as it came down. Now, this is a proper rainstorm.

Indeed. These were the streets Friday morning,

 

Had to drive through the puddle to get to work - and home

Hard to see, but my tire's in a little puddle of water

and Saturday would bring no respite.

Still, laundry must be done, mail retrieved, food bought.

I arrived at the Laundromat as a light sprinkle began. An hour later, buckets.

In the ten minute drive to buy sundries, the rain alternated between blindingly heavy and non-existent. I broke down and bought a $15 umbrella to replace the too eager to collapse insurance swag I had in my car.

As I approached my car with my purchases, a woman passed by, annoyed. The man behind her looked bedraggled and tired.

He approached me as I opened my car door, mumbling a request I didn't understand, coming close enough to touch me.

I'm sorry I can't. Into the car, lock the door, deep breath. No, it's probably uncommon for a woman to be assaulted in front of Target. But I'm not accustomed to strangers getting so close to me in the parking lot.

I unwrapped my Luna bar, and watched him walk past my side mirror to another part of the lot. While eating, I watched him walk back, loiter, then approach another woman. Who was alone. Like me. Like the annoyed woman who had passed me.

Saturday is mail day. And paycheck day, since the temp agency I worked for did not have direct deposit. Post office, bank, lunch, groceries.

I went to a Vons so small, there wasn't a chips aisle. Nor did I see pita chips, despite the abundant availability of humus. Heavy sprinkle when I entered, downpour when I left. No change to the parking lot, though.

The Rodeo Residency: Cruising Down the Avenue

Initially, I would get to Beverly Hills too early to go in to work. So I walked to Rodeo Drive, a street of high end shops famous for celebrity clientele.

It was around 7:15 AM when I glimpsed a gray haired man getting his hair cut. Surreal.

On Rodeo Drive itself, the store displays are not particularly unusual or spectacular. While the clothes on the storefront mannequins are changed roughly every two weeks, the accompanying props are in for the long haul. At the Coach Store, there's a street sign of the intersection of 5^th and Madison Avenues. You can take the store out of New York, but you can't take the New York out of the store.

Mont Blanc, the purveyor of fine writing instruments, caught my attention. Despite being in Beverly Hills, their window displays are empty when the store is closed.

I saw this bit of quaintness one crisp cool morning

Upon further exploration, I discovered Tiffany's house

I believe Versace's a neighbor, across the way. At its end (or entrance) are marble steps, a fountain (not pictured), and a sign to tell you where you are.

  

Via Rodeo

On my lunch breaks, I visited the three major department stores of the area: Barney's New York, Saks 5^th Avenue, and Neiman Marcus.

I'd never been to Barney's, which may be why it felt the posh-est to me. Or it may have been the pair of sandals with the unusual ankle strap. The holes and buckle of the strap were hidden behind another layer of leather. Incroyable!

Saks actually is actually split into two – the main store, and The 5^th Man men's store. It's the most like a typical department store - <whisper> they had sales racks in the shoe section.

The 5^th Man also has the Bridal department and corporate offices. I read Bridal and thought dishes and silverware (I'm in a fine china phase). Au contraire, mon frère. Bridal means Wedding Dresses.

Question for the gallery: Why are all modern wedding dresses sleeveless?

Neiman's fine china section is in the basement, where there is also a collection of fine art in the hallway on the way to the bathrooms. For me, Neiman's posh-er than Saks, but not near Barney's.

There are other stores in the area, of course. Boutiques I have never heard of. Stores I'd only seen at Westfield San Francisco (i.e., the mall at the Powell Street BART station). My macron store, 'lette. And to my shock, a Cheesecake Factory.

One day, I noticed an interesting tower in the distance. It looked to be only a block past Beverly; surely I could examine it during my lunch hour.

As I rounded the corner, I glimpsed an art deco style building. C'est tres belle! This first building turned out to be

Beverly Hills Civic Center

But it was not the building I came to see. No, I was interested in the building next door, the one with the tower

  

Wow. What is this place?

What?!

<sigh> 

That's right. I'm in Beverly Hills.

The Rodeo Residency: A Temp Assignment

The good news: I did not have to get onto the 405. Even leaving Woodland Hills at 6:30 AM, taking 405 S would have been a nightmare.

Instead, I took Coldwater Canyon, twisting and turning my way through the hills. When I moved to my current (temporary) location in Sherman Oaks, I didn't even need to get onto the freeway.

There was still traffic, of course. Because,

1. I'm in Los Angeles County,

2. There is major construction on Coldwater from Moorpark to Ventura, right before the climb into the hills,

3. There is a high school at the base of the ascent, and

4. There are two stoplights for the folks going to Mulholland Drive. It wasn't unusual to be stopped on the incline, in the midst of a curve.

When I came out of Coldwater onto Beverly Drive, I passed a park which includes, to my left,

Alphabet Man

Actually Endless V by Juame Pensa, 2012 

Alien Tulips

Actually Hymn of Life: Tulips by Yayoi Kusama, 2007

or Why Isn't This a Cool Playground?

Possibly because only the sidewalk separates it from uber-busy Santa Monica Blvd

Or it reminds one too many people of Men in Black 2

To my right,

Artsy Bugs Bunny

Actually The Drummer by Barry Flanagan, 1989-90

And,

That's right. My temp assignment is in Beverly Hills.

For the first two weeks, I used the Valet-Only Visitor parking (with company validation, fortunately). It wasn't long before I was comfortable with the concept. Every morning I left my door open, keys in the ignition, engine idling as I greeted the valet and took my ticket.

There were actually two parts to the assignment. The first was updating the global address book, a data entry project well suited to my abilities and personality. I sat with the IT guys (some of my favorite folks in a company), plugging away.

I then moved to uploading documents to a database. I relocated to a desk near the Office Manager, got into a groove, and did my thang. Because organization + databases is one of my thangs.

Hallucination?

On Monday, while trying to get to work, I turned onto the Avenue of the Stars and saw smooth gray statues of animals. Jaguars, casually pacing. Deer, likely frolicking in the brush.

Since I've now managed to get to work 45 minutes early, I decided to cruise the Avenue with a calmer heartbeat. And I get another look at those statues.

Anticipation was high when I turned down the street. I was greeted by a beautiful fountain. Not a statue in sight.

Maybe they start at the next island

Nothing but another large, lovely fountain.

But the deer…I saw the deer right before I made that U-turn. Right

There. No deer.

Either the statues are easily removed for cloudy days,

Or I was hallucinating.

To Downtown Beverly Hills

My current temp assignment has me working at a real estate firm in Downtown(?) Beverly Hills. To get there, I could

Take the 101 to the 405, or

Take Coldwater Canyon, or

Take Beverly Glen.

I opted for Coldwater Canyon. Partly because at the 101/405 split, most of the cars were going on the 405.

Thus

Coldwater Canyon to Mulholland to Coldwater Canyon to Beverly Drive, turn right to stay on Beverly Drive, then right on Santa Monica, left on Linden, left on Wilshire, left on Roxbury to get into the parking garage, and

TA-DA! <Jazz Hands>

Have you ever been on Telegraph/Hwy 13, near the Claremont Hotel in Berkeley? All twisty and windy with posh houses tucked in the hill's crevices? Coldwater to Mulholland to Coldwater is like that. Only there are a few stoplights in the middle. And the houses are bigger and gated.

As Coldwater turns to Beverly, the houses expand in girth, and the street becomes clearly lined by towering palms.

Well onto Beverly, the street widens. Two cars interspersed with a pair of Smart for Twos can fit comfortably side by side.

A right turn onto Santa Monica. It's an expressway. There's Linden, but it only goes right. Perhaps it has a left turn further up?

Wait, that's Wilshire. But it's on a sort of diagonal, and I can't turn onto it. < small whimpering panic>.

Century Park? Avenue of the Stars? Multiple animal statues in the medians? No stopping anytime? <growl-y panic nipping fiercely at tinges of childish wonder>.

Oop – U-turn possible <flickering embers of confidence and hope>.

Wait, what? There are two Santa Monica Blvds? I don't remember Google saying anything about that. I'll take the Local – it seems to traverse amongst the buildings.

Ahhh

a place to park,

a place to breathe,

a place to map.

A Five Hour Job

Inventory.

By counting the number of items in a store, a company can assess their current worth and confirm the size of their theft problem. It's hard to tell how much is stolen if you don't know how much you have – and how much you should have.

We were told to pack light, and to try not to bring any bags. I brought my purse, into which I packed water and a sandwich. Five hours with a 10 minute break? A girl's gotta eat.

As roughly 50 temps amassed outside the doors, shoppers were curious and anxious. Are you waiting to shop? Is there some sort of special sale going on?

Once inside, we were taught how to use a scanner.

Ooo, it's like phaser! someone said. Or did they say taser?

Once trained, we were sent to different departments of the store. I was sent to women's shoes.

Ahhhh Yeahhh.

The store was silent, but for the beeps of scanners, and whispered God Bless Yous in response to sneezes.

Scan the shelf barcode. Take the shoe box off of the rack; ensure it contains a proper pair. Scan the code on the right shoe. Repeat until you've taken all of the boxes off of that shelf. Press a button on the scanner. Count the boxes you've taken off of the shelf. Enter the number into the scanner. Hoorah! It Balances! Write that number, and your initials, on the sticker that has the shelf barcode. Next!

There were six shelves on a rack, with a mode* of six boxes to a shelf. Up, down, up, down, crouch, twist, count, write, up, down

My organized self was aghast. Only 10% of the shoes were in the correct box. Do I want to know why a pair of 4-inch heels were in a box meant for knee-high boots?

Naturally, I had to put the shoes neatly back into the boxes. I'm not great with the spacial, so it took me a little longer, especially when it came to boots. If I put the right boot in this way, the left boot goes upside down and – no wait, that's not working. Maybe if I try   uh, no. Oh! There it is!

After an hour, I was trembling, my muscles unused to repetitive physical exertion. Still, I wasn't sore when I went to bed that night.

No, soreness would come by the middle of the next day. I was unable to squat to the floor to pick up a piece of paper without wincing in pain.

It's taken another 48 hours to get to an almost pain free 95% mobility.

That's why exercise is important, kids. You never know when you'll be asked to do inventory.

*as in mean, median, mode. 'member?

'lette - a review

 I recently sampled the fare of 'lette, a shop which sells only macarons.

When I think of macarons, I think of those yummy, sometimes slightly oily, coconut cookies. Those are called macaroons, and these are nothing like them.

Imagine a vanilla wafer sandwich with filling. Now, instead of vanilla wafer, think of a sort of almond paste meringue. Firm enough to hold in the hand, soft and slightly chewy at the bite.

(clockwise from left): caramel, violet cassis, lemon, rose

And the filling

Caramel tasted just like a quality piece of caramel from a candy bin. Gooey and yummy.

Violet cassis reminded me of candy egg at Easter. The filling includes a bit of jam – currant, perhaps?

Lemon had just the right strength. It was like a little lemon bar

Rose tasted like roses, which may sound both logical and strange. It's a delicate flavor, perfect for a tea party.

In fact, all of them would do well for a tea party. Or dessert. Or mid-morning snack. Or

You get the picture. These things are yummy. I will be eating more of them.

More information about 'lette can be found online at lettemacarons.com.

Back on LinkedIn

Because when the person interviewing you says you should be on LinkedIn, you get on LinkedIn.

I filled in all of the fields I saw, and clicked Create Profile.

Ruh-Roh. I need to select and industry.

This is my biggest LinkedIn dread. If I pick an industry I want, my work history doesn't reflect it. In the past, I picked the industry I worked in, an industry I was trying to escape. I kept getting job offers for that industry. What to choose?

Entertainment? I'm still quite fascinated with the industry

Events Services? Working with an Event Coordinator, running around day of, seems right up my alley

Design? I do like pretty things

Media Production? Oooo, I'd like to help with that!

Performing Arts? Someday I'll get back to community theatre

And the winner is. . .

Writing and Editing. Because even without a job, I still write. It's a constant, regardless of the industry I work in.

This new LinkedIn profile is not a perfect picture. But it is the modern resume. This late adopter has to get with the times.

Tropicana Farmstand Peach Mango – A Review

Tropicana Farmstand Peach Mango is "100% Fruit & Vegetable Juice". I imagine it's meant to compete with V8's Splash and Fusion lines.

There's not a strong peach flavor, with peach being fourth on the ingredient list after reconstituted clarified sweet potato juice, grape juice, and apple juice.

There's no mango flavor to speak of at all, and with good reason. Not only is mango puree the last main ingredient, it's comprised of the ingredients that came before it:

Reconstituted clarified sweet potato juice, grape juice, apple juice and peach puree, carrot juice and mango puree (filtered water, clarified sweet potato juice, grape juice, peach puree, apple juice, mango puree and carrot juice concentrates), natural flavors, citric acid, ascorbic acid (Vitamin C), and beta-carotene

In other words, a drop of mango sludge for every 46 oz bottle.

If the goal was to mask any taste of vegetable, Tropicana failed. Granted, the vegetables in question are sweet potato and carrot – not bad tasting veggies. But one is aware.

I bought the juice because I am recovering from a cold and tired of orange juice, and orange mango juice, and peach orange mango juice. I wanted something juice-y and citrus-y, but not orange.

It did not satisfy on that front.

However, it doesn't taste bad. Unique, but not unpalatable. I could see it in a blended drink, like a smoothie (I'm going to try it with ice cream). I sense something similar in the V8 lines would better mask the presence of vegetable, a theory I need to test.

So

Tropicana Farmstand Peach Mango: not really peach, no mango to speak of, strong whiff of a generally yummy orange vegetable (probably sweet potato). Quenches the thirst, but not as soothing as orange juice if your sinuses are inflamed from a cold.

New Year, New Location

On January 1, 2014, I drove to Southern California with the intent to re-locate.

I don't have a job yet, and my housing situation is week to week. Sounds crazy, I know. But consider:

You're only as good as the last thing you were in, right? I spent the past 10 years doing data entry. And folks don't seem interested in hiring a data entry person who is 300 miles away. Believe me, if I could've gotten a job prior to moving, I would have.

For the moment, I'm living off of savings. Upon arrival, I was going to stay at a hotel which charges ~$899 + tax per month. Sweet price, right? Well. . .the lobby smells like smoke and there are security bars everywhere. They accept cash, money order, and cashier's check –no credit cards. It's Elwood Blues' Building. I'll probably be living there next month.

In the meantime, I'm taking cheap deals from Priceline for Extended Stay America. Stove top, refrigerator, and free WiFi in the room. It's a relief not to have to camp out at Starbucks or McDonald's all day.

I've been to two temp agencies – a local branch of my most recent employer, and another located in Glendale. Across from the mall.

The mall.

I've been to a lot of malls:

Burbank (posh, yet ghettolicious),

Westfield Topanga (with Tesla showroom & two tier carousel),

Sherman Oaks Galleria (underwhelming for something seen while driving on the freeway),

Northridge (very much like Stoneridge in Pleasanton – except for the little train),

Glendale Galleria (must go back and buy from the macaroon store).

Yep. When I need to get away from the laptop, free parking and exercise through window shopping.

Amidst the hardscape and lack of left turn signals, there are sprigs of familiarity. I go to Vons because it's Safeway. I heard Lisa St. Regis and Tony Sandoval on the radio.

But I'm not really homesick. Just

ready for a new adventure.

The Bamboozler Returns

Wherein in this account, the cussing exists, but is light.

It's 2014. The last thing I expected was an email from The Bamboozler, informing me of a check in the mail for $4500. He even provided a tracking number.

(I checked. It was legit.)

An amount more than twice what is owed me. Is this remorse?

<Light chuckles bubble into belly aching laughter. Tears stream from the corner of the eyes as air is gulped, then sipped. Composure regained.>

I was to keep my $1800; $2600 was to be sent to his brother-in-law in the army, $100 was for the transfer fee.

Are   You   Nuts? I'm not sending any money to anyone on your behalf. I'll keep what's mine and send back what's yours. Seriously. What makes you think I trust you? And who asks a stranger to send money to relatives?

It took me a couple days to deal with the check that came. (Yes, an actual check came.) In the meantime,

Have you handled it yet?

No, not yet.

Can you lend me $1800, and take the rest from the check?

Can I WHAT?! Oh, Hell No.

No.

Please, it's a life or death situation.

Sorry. If it was that serious, then you shouldn't have sent it to me in the first place. Dumbass. My schedule will not allow me to move any faster.

Oh, alright. I understand. Perhaps by Friday?

Now, I had already called my bank to see what would happen if I deposited a bad check. The representative advised me to go to the issuing bank and try to cash it. If it could be cashed, all was good. And that was what I intended to do, except

The issuing bank was in New York. And not named Chase. No branches in California.

So, I called them. As suspected, the check is bad news. If I had deposited it in my account, not only would it bounce, it would probably mess up my credit. The lady on the phone said I should contact the police. While I added the info to my existing internet complaint, I'm thinking I need to report it to another agency. With a physical check, it might not be considered an internet crime.

What to tell The Bamboozler?

According to the bank from which the check was issued, the check is bad. Unfortunately, I cannot cash what was sent.

Here's hoping the ensuing silence remains.

Bamboozled

Hey. I cuss a bit in this piece. A warning.

After years of thinking about it, I decided to do it. Move to Southern California. But when I looked for job, there seemed a preference for those with a SoCal address.

I had a little bit in savings, so I started looking for places to call home. I would live off my savings while finding work. The complexes on rent.com and the like were too expensive; I turned to Craigslist.

In medium print, Craigslist encourages you to avoid scams and resist sending money via MoneyGram or Western Union. See the place in person, they say.

Which makes sense if you're moving within a region, but is quite difficult if you're attempting to re-locate across a wide expanse. Pictures should be enough, right? How do people move across country?

 $600 / 1br - 1 bedroom, 1 bath Condo (Washer, Dryer, Central AC & More) (north hollywood)

The 700 square feet condo comes with 1 tandem parking spaces in the gated garage. Additionally, the duplex comes with FIREPLACE, central A/C, central heater, stove/oven, refrigerator, dishwaher, garbage disposal, washer, dryer, PRIVATE PATIO, tile floors and carpets in the bedrooms. The kitchen was just completely remodeled

What got me was the washer & dryer. For $600 a month? In North Hollywood? Lemme ask about this.

First, last & deposit, a link to pictures of the interior, and an address I could Google Map. Husband, wife and young child had re-located to Texas for work, and were looking for someone who wouldn't trash the place. The photos looked good, the location, do-able.

I now know the application was bogus. But I completed it.

Application approved! MoneyGram $1200 to the wife, and you'll be sent a FedEx with the keys, etc.

Done. What's the FedEx tracking number?

Actually, an additional $600 is needed – first, last, and deposit, you see.

I see. I flinched. But it was mentioned beforehand. . .MoneyGram completed.

What's the FedEx tracking number?

Oh, so sorry, it was sent via US Postal Service and there's no tracking number. . .Hey, if you pay for 3 more months, I'll give you a month free!

No thanks. I'll stick to the original agreement.

We have someone willing to pay 8 months in advance. But if it looks like this isn't going to work out, I'll refund your money.

Good for them. I'll take the refund, please.

Okay, okay, how about just one more month and you get a month free? I'm really trying to prove to my lawyer and my wife that you would be a good responsible tenant.

Are you fucking out of your mind? I'm so fucking gullible I just MoneyGram'd you $1800 and you want me to "prove my trustworthiness" by sending you more money? Please.

Give me my money. Asshole.

Since the property was located in North Hollywood, I contact the LAPD to find out how to file a complaint. Being an internet crime, it's technically under FBI jurisdiction. My complaint needed to be filed at ic3.gov. Done and done.

Let me know when you receive the package I sent, and I'll send the refund.

You know and I know you never sent me a package. I'll let you know when it arrives.

I'm never going to get my money back. My growing suspicions bloomed too late for me to cancel the transfers. In my eagerness to get a place in Southern California, I was bamboozled.