Gum Graft

There I was, sitting in the dentist's chair, successfully swallowing (by the grace of God) a horse pill of ibuprofen.

The procedure was a gum graft, where a bit of healthy tissue from behind one of my molars was transplanted to a thinning area above one of my incisors.

It wasn't that bad, really. Thirty-two percent of my ability to endure certain levels of pain and discomfort comes from having my hair combed as a child.

The rest of my ability came from the local anesthetic. Truly an amazing discovery, anesthesia. The backbone of modern medicine, I dare say.

At one point during the procedure, strings as light as corn hair brushed across my lips. What in the world? Oh, those must be stitches. I'm getting stitches?! Yay?

There was also a rhythmic thumping, like a small, plastic, hand held bellows was being pumped. I'd write a song to that beat if I were a lyricist.

And then it was over. I was given a prescription for more horse pill ibuprofen, and a bottle of medicinal mouthwash. "Don't eat 30 minutes after rinsing with it," said the receptionist. "It'll make whatever you're eating taste horrible." The bottle itself says,

NOTE: To minimize medicinal taste, do not rinse with water immediately after use.

That's right. Water only makes it worse. Robitussen tastes like fruit punch in comparison.

Chatted Up

I have a Nordstrom gift card burning a hole in my wallet. So I went to Westfield Topanga – the giant mall in Woodland Hills with a Tesla showroom and a carousel – to try to find a pair of heels.

(Unfortunately, the heels I'm most drawn to – a pair of classic black pointy toe beauties – are Manolo's. Outside of my budget doesn't begin to describe  )

As I trekked through the 2^nd floor maze of the mall, a man who looked old enough to be my grandfather crossed my path.

Happy New Year! he greeted with a smile.

Happy New Year! I returned, then paused. He looked like he wanted to say something else. And, as I had already dubbed him The Octogenarian, it would've been rude to brush past him without letting him speak.

Do you work? I thought he meant, was I working today?, so I replied no. He looked sad and distressed by the news. Did he think I was unemployed? I attempted to clarify.

Well, I work Monday through Friday, 9 to 5. A bit of relief,

That's a long time to work, 8 hours. But concern for my welfare.

Well, I have a lunch break.

An hour? What time?

Yes, an hour. Well, I usually leave around noon, take a walk, then eat.

Where do you walk? which I heard as Where do you work?, for he had a bit of an accent.

Brentwood.

Where do you walk?

Oh – by my office.

Hmm, yes. It's safer that way.

I sort of shrugged. I don't think about safety when I walk – I think about going out and getting back in roughly 30 minutes so I have some time to eat. I believe I said something to that effect.

Will you be here tomorrow?

No. This was a surprising line of questioning.

He was sad again. Where do you work?

Brentwood *

Ah, that's far away. I wish you could be here tomorrow. Do you like sushi?

Yes, I do like sushi. Wait, what? Is he chatting me up?

It's too bad you won't be here tomorrow

Well, we'll see how I feel after I go to church, knowing full well I would not be in the mood to drive to Woodland Hills to have lunch with an Octogenarian apparently interested in a woman who looked more than half his age.

I wish I could see you tomorrow.

<Smile> Well, it was nice talking to you. Happy New Year! At least, I think that's how I got out of the dangerously spiraling loop.

Happy New Year!

Yeah. It was kinda of weird.

* I just now realized he thought I worked in the mall. There's a reason I identify with turtles and tortoises.

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.