Ribs at Famous Dave's

My daughter loves ribs.

Two and a half months ago, Famous Dave's set up a ribs stand in South Center, and Harper hungrily devoured three complimentary ribs standing on the sidewalk in front of Old Navy. She has asked me frequently since that time to take her to Famous Dave's for ribs.

This week they finally opened. No sooner had I gotten back from six days in Dallas than we were at their crowded door with our bibs on.

I was pleased that they offered sweetened iced tea and a variety of barbecue items, salads and sandwiches; my daughter wanted ribs. She wanted lots of them and she wanted them now.

When the waitress came around, Harper ordered: a full rack of ribs, corn on the cob, drunken apples, corn muffins and a basket of Famous Dave's fries. (The potato salad came with the ribs but I ate that).

Harper also consumed two root beers. Our waitress was so impressed with her ability to inhale the twenty-four dollar rib platter that Harper was brought at root beer float on the house, which she finished in its entirety.

Tonight is Book Club. All the ladies are coming over and we've got to be scarce.

"You want to go to the movies?" I asked my daughter.

"I want to go to Famous Dave's," she replied, conspiratorially.

Looks like ribs again. Heads up, Dave, she's coming back for more.

Final USC at LSU Game and 2008 Presidential Campaign Update

Final:

LSU 28
USC 16

Presidential Candidate FRED THOMPSON, in Die Hard 2:

"We just bought ourselves, maybe, two hours. After that, those planes that are low on fuel aren't gonna be circling. They're gonna be dropping on the White House lawn."

Fourth Quarter USC at LSU Game and 2008 Presidential Campaign Update

My predition was LSU by 18. With half a quarter to go in the game:

LSU 28
USC 10

Democratic Activist AL SHARPTON, on Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney:

"As for the one Mormon running for office, those who really believe in God will defeat him anyway."

Third Quarter USC at LSU Game and 2008 Presidential Campaign Update

I appears that once feathers are ruffled they are easier to pluck. At the end of the third quarter:

LSU 28
USC 7


Presidential Candidate BARACK OBAMA, to poor farmers in Adel, Iowa:

"Anybody gone into Whole Foods lately and see what they charge for arugula?"

Second Quarter USC at LSU Game and 2008 Presidential Campaign Update

LSU leading with under two minutes remaining in the half.

LSU 21
USC 7

Presidential Candidate RUDY GIULIANI, on what can't happen:

"You know, in the horror movie you kill the monster, and the hand re-emerges. And if you're not looking, the hand grows back and then the monster's there again. That cannot be allowed to happen."

First Quarter USC at LSU Game and 2008 Presidential Campaign Update

South Carolina at Baton Rouge, with 1:16 left in the first quarter:


LSU 7
USC 7

Presidential Candidate HILARY CLINTON:

"I have to confess that it's crossed my mind that you could not be a Republican and a Christian."

Ten Questions

Found this on Rick’s blog and, though I have not been officially “tagged,” thought I’d take a crack at these questions, since I am a couple of tags behind:

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
Living on the other coast, selling Ethernet stuff, launching experimental flying machines with my friend Tim

2. What were you doing one year ago?
Just about the same things I am doing now, but going to many more baseball games

3. What are five snacks you enjoy?
popcorn & goobers (movies only), butter pecan ice cream, cracked wheat crackers and Havarti, chips, the odd leftover slice of pizza late at night

4. What are five songs that you know the lyrics to?
Solsbury Hill/Peter Gabriel, Zak and Sara/Ben Folds, Daniel/Elton John, She’s Gone/Hall & Oates, Lead Me On/Amy Grant

5. Name five things you would do if you were a millionaire.
take a trip, start a business, move, upgrade to HD-DVD AND Blue-Ray, start a charity

6. Name five bad habits.
eating poorly, not getting enough sleep, avoiding my dentist, avoiding the unpleasant items on my to-do list, accumulating junk

7. What are five things you like to do?
hanging out with my daughter, going to film festivals, traveling, listening to live music, attending Steve Johnson Fan Club conventions

8. What are your five favourite toys?
desk dartboard, my chicken jet, my computer, my Treo (Atari game card only), Steve Johnson action figure

9. What are five things you would never wear?
overalls, leather pants, feather boa, spats, a gold medallion ala Al Sharpton circa 1986

10. Name five things you hate to do.
have blood drawn, plunge the toilet, fly standby, fire someone, vomit

Listening to Ben Folds

I watched Ben Folds backed up by a full orchestra tonight, and though much of his material readily lends itself to full orchestral accompaniment ("Smoke" and "Goodnight," a lullaby, were superb), a few songs, "Zak and Sara" in particular, did not quite jell. Still, an enjoyable hour while I popped around the web booking airline tickets.

I have a slew of travel coming up between now and the end of the year. Also, I booked some travel for the wife. On a whim I requested wheelchair and a kosher meal for her (while she is flying without me). Funny.

Dallas, Chicago, Tampa, Orlando, Denver and Columbia are on my itinerary for the remainder of the year.

An Odd Message

With apologies to Dan at work:

I uncovered this old telephone message for Dan taken by the security supervisor written on a pink message pad, which was apparently never given to Dan. The message, while inexplicable, made me curious and also made me laugh.

It also made me wonder if Dan was Scottish.

This is what the message said:

Gilbert Goodsmith called 206-555-1571 on 05-02-2007 Message: Concerning the delivery of your short Klip Beaver for Kilt.
Have a great day.

Nothing Much

I had a few things to say yesterday about 9/11, but watching one of the programs about it on MSNBC I ended up deleting my post. Too depressing. There's nothing I could say that others hadn't said better.

I ended up staying up late watching Zodiac on DVD. Robert Downey, Jr. Wow, what an actor. He might just be, with Kevin Spacey, my favorite actor of my generation. How did I miss that one at the theaters? Just might be one of my 2007 top 5.

There's nothing much on network TV for me anymore. I was looking over a list of new shows and could only groan. The Geico caveman? Please! I miss Frasier, Seinfeld, Cheers. I miss The Rockford Files.

I did see this really cool program called Iconoclasts from 2005 on Sundance about Redford and Newman. The two starred in my number one favorite movie of all time, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. They were hanging out at the Westport Country Playhouse, taking a drive, talking about movies, racing, salad dressing and old times. A really enjoyable hour of television.

Now I think I am going to put Superman Returns in the DVD player until I doze off.

Kid Grows Up Wanting to Be Fireman Against His Will

It's Labor Day, and I have always enjoyed watching the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon.

But until this morning I had no idea that Jerry and Ed and those hundreds of celebrities like Dave Matthews and B.B. King and the millions of people across the country who watch the telethon and donate money to fund research to find a cure for muscular dystrophy have been wasting their time.

I read Ben Mattlin’s embittered piece on the Washington Post web site this morning, about how he was a poster child for MDA and never got to meet Jerry. Yes, Mattlin claims that the nasty rumor we’ve all heard over the years is true – Jerry never took a moment to say hello to this cute poster child. Not once. Not a single "Hiya, kid."

MDA also misled millions of Americans into believing Mattlin wanted to be a fireman, when in fact he wanted to be a scientist or detective.

To make matters worse, according to Mattlin, the MDA implied that children with MDA might not grow up. Apparently, children diagnosed with muscular dystrophy must live into advanced old age, succeeding in careers as scientists and detectives, while those of us blessed with health and non-scientific pursuits take our chances.

Mattlin’s article has led me to a new way of thinking about muscular diseases:

• These MDA people do not need my money.
• Jerry Lewis already has plenty of money.
• Jerry does not say hello to the children.
• Video of Jerry chatting with children on this years' telethon was generated by computers at Industrial Light & Magic, a division of LucasFilm Ltd.
• “Jerry’s Kids” is an arcane and insulting label.
• The MDA has been meddling in the career aspirations of youngsters.
• Mattlin seems to suggest that MD is just some minor spine problem.
• Reading this sob story of Mattlin's has made me realize that those with disabilities are to be pitied and felt sorry for by the rest of us.

All this time I thought perhaps if those with muscular dystrophy had some kind of celebrity spokesperson who brought public attention to the diseases of MD, that millions of dollars might be raised. I thought that being a highly publicized organization would foster a desire in both private and public sectors toward advances scientific research, and I had assumed that decades of focus and support for MDA might some day result in advanced treatment and a cure.

Mattlin has obviously been damaged by these shysters at MDA, yet Jerry and MDA and millions of people still hope and believe for the day that these diseases will be cured.

Perhaps the $63.8 million in donations this year was worthwhile, despite the indictments of naysayers like Mattlin. One can only hope that his career as a detective was not marred by the scandalous misrepresentation of this poster child by Jerry and the MDA.

By Reqest: More on Breakfast, the Most Important Meal of the Day

I had grits for breakfast this morning. We often do on weekends. There are not too many places that serve grits around Seattle. Some Denny's will serve them by request, but I'm not a big Denny's guy.

There were two restaurants that served grits that I enjoyed, but it's been years since both of them closed. One was called Larry's, I believe, and it was in Pioneer Square. It was a blues club, but they opened mornings and served grits, biscuits and sausage gravy. The other was a small place in our old neighborhood. The lady that owned it was from Charleston, South Carolina, and her place specialized in "low country" cooking. And the grits were terrific. She had them shipped in weekly from a mill in Tennessee at considerable expense. She told me once that she actually lost money on grits, but that they were integral to her menu and she would only serve the best.

Then one Saturday her place was closed and that was it. I don't remember the name of the restaurant, but I remember the food.

And the especially the grits.

Personal Message: George, next time we breakfast together, the grits are on me!

Breakfast: The Most Impoartant Meal of the Day

Why is it that photographs of food in magazines, TV and on menus look so appetizing, but when you take a photograph of food, it always looks nasty? Chinese restaurants seem to be the exception to this "menu" rule - the photographs they post of their entrees seems to be done with a Polaroid camera and a low-end color printer. But I digress.

The picture at left is not meant to make you salivate. It is actually a nasty breakfast.

We worked nights this week, training the team on emergency back-up systems, and at 7am every day I treated the crew to breakfast.

Thursday morning Dan ordered eggs, bacon, sausage and hash browns, and used a quarter bottle of ketchup on the unsuspecting spuds. By the time he got all that ketchup out his omelet was cold. We were so stunned at this culinary faux pas that the others egged me on to take a picture of his plate for posterity. I did so.

Now I like ketchup as much as the next guy, but I think Dan merely ordered the hash browns as a medium for eating ketchup, since ketchup by itself as a side dish is frowned upon in polite society. And Dan himself managed to confirm my suspicions a short time later: when he had eaten the top layer of hash browns, he proceeded to add another quarter bottle of Heinz to the gooey remains on his plate.

Dan and I have worked closely together for nearly to ten years. We've shared many a meal in that time, and you think you know a guy. This brash act upon a plate of defenseless hash browns with four pounds of a popular condiment has left me feeling stunned and betrayed. Sure, I may submerge a maple sausage patty beneath six ounces of yellow mustard, but I've never made a secret about it. He has known about my mustard habit for years. But this --

The most important meal of the day, they say. If Dan is counting ketchup as a serving of fruits and vegetables, then he's good to go for another week.

Or two.

Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day ... or was that Happy Hour?

My six year old daughter prepares her own breakfast. The toast had been eaten from the plate by the time this photograph was taken, but what amused me (and prompted the photograph) was her beverage presentation and garnishment.

Note to Wife:

In future, to spare yourself the pain of sitting in traffic for two hours, try to avoid planning your outings wherein your route will intersect with the President's motorcade. Such a scenario is never pretty.

47 Items in the Express Line

A week's worth of food, beverages, sundries, piled high in our metal and plastic shopping cart. It was 9 PM, and as I scanned the check registers the only one open was the express lane, 15 items or less. The other lanes were dark.

I began unloading behind a young man purchasing a six pack of beer. I am often annoyed at people who disregard the express lanes at a supermarket, and I count their items as they are checked by the cashier. My inner cop wants frequently to take down express lane violators: "Hey -- you have eighteen items, there, pal! And yes, I counted the lemons as two items!"

But there I was, violating my own rule, and my inner cop was silent. "The place is practically empty," I told myself, "and no other check stands are open." I managed to justify my position, and truth and the facts were on my side.

Cabbage. Potato chips. Peaches. Ground beef. 15. 16. 17. 18 items and going strong.

No problem, I thought to myself. No other lanes open.

I was aware of the fact that there were now several shoppers behind me, each with one or two items. Five or six people, all uniformed flight attendants. One or two made a point of staring at my food items piled on the conveyor, then glancing up at the "Express Lane Only" sign above me with visible scowls.

But I was clean. I was in the right. No where else to check out.

That was when the cashier told me, "It's probably too late to mention this..." -- 31 items, two milks, that's 33 -- "but this is the express lane."

I nodded a knowing nod, and looked down at the vast empty, cashierless lanes beyond.

Except -- four other non-express checkstand lanes were open just beyond me, and other shoppers with loads of groceries were checking out.

My cashier was still looking at me, as if awaiting a reply. "When I was..." I started, "I mean, there were no other...I mean, you were the only one."

The cashier smiled. "Some days I feel like I'm the only one," she said in a patronizing tone, then turned away to scan my bathroom cleaner.

I stammered. "No, no, really... I mean...." The place was buzzing, people were checking out, and the flight attendants waited impatiently behind me as my item count rounded 40. I had become a supermarket checkstand lane bottleneck.

This was the express lane, and there was no bagger. I took me a few minutes to pay, then I had to clear all by own bags out of the area. The flight attendants were engaged in some chit-chat with the cashier about express lane violators.

I hung my head as I left the supermarket, no wiser, but chastened. I had broken my cardinal rule of grocery shopping, I had violated the law of the lane, I had become that which I had for so long despised. I had checked 47 items through the 15 items or less express lane, and I had gotten away with it.

And I had enjoyed every moment of it.

Young Frankenstein

Following on the heels of his successful Broadway hit "The Producers," Mel Brooks has brought his 1974 comedy "Young Frankenstein" to the stage.

"Young Frankenstein" opens on Broadway in November, but we had the opportunity to see the show previewed in Seattle this week.

Brooks, who picked up three Tony awards for his stage version of "The Producers," was in town for the world premiere of this latest musical extravaganza. (He is a small man, I was pleased to discover).

Brooks, who wrote the songs and co-wrote the book for this show, stays close to the screenplay he and Gene Wilder crafted for the '74 film. The sets and staging are spectacular, and the show brings enough cinematic flair to the stage to make it visually arresting while at the same time "Young Frankenstein" is still very much a stage musical.

"Together Again for the First Time," "He Vas My Boyfriend," "Transylvania Mania," and the crowd-pleasing "Puttin' On the Ritz" are favorites among the cleverly conceived and effectively choreographed songs which Brooks has added to the familiar Frankenstein tale.

It's tough to fill roles already identified by other actors, but Roger Bart, Meagan Mullally and Andrea Martin head a solid and very funny cast as Frederick Frankenstein, his finance Elizabeth and Frau Blucher.

"Young Frankenstein" is entertaining, it's bright, it's funny. If you are in Seattle or New York, Mel Brooks needs you to see it.

Abby Normal

"Now, that brain that you gave me. Was it Hans Delbruck's?"

"No."

"Ah! Good. Would you mind telling me whose brain I did put in?

"And you will not be angry?"

"I will not be angry."

"Abby Someone."

"Abby Someone. Abby who?"

"Abby Normal."

"Abby Normal?"

"I'm almost sure that was the name."

"Are you saying that I put an abnormal brain into a seven-and-a-half foot long, fifty-four inch wide....gorilla? Is that what you're telling me?"

Sea Fair

Sea Fair is here. The fleet's in town. And I've been hearing and seeing the U.S. Navy's Blue Angels buzzing overhead all week.

Those F-A18 Hornets never cease to amaze me, and I look forward to their screaming overhead each August.

My family spent the day out and about enjoying ourselves and my daughter enjoyed catching the occasional glimpse of them, though she complained that they are too loud. They are loud. Very loud.

Unlike many airshows, in which the Blue Angels must perform their show over a runway, in Seattle their stage is Lake Washington, and they roar over the city to the delight of many (and to the consternation of some).

I had the privilege of being on the waters of Lake Washington a few years ago while the Blue Angels performed their show directly overhead. Talk about loud. And let me tell you from experience -- when those guys scream directly over your head you can feel the heat of their afterburners.

Truly an amazing experience, seeing the Blue Angels for a week every year is one of the things I truly like about living in Seattle.

Summer Day at the Shore

My daughter and her one-year-old cousin enjoy sun and surf at Folly Beach in South Carolina.

The kids did not mind the scorching 98 degree heat near as much as I did.

I sat under the umbrella with a copy of Deliverance while Lindsay attempted -- without success -- to get up onto Harper's boogie board.

No matter. Everyone had fun. That's what it's all about.

And yet, even as we passed our time blissfully at the beach, already events had transpired a continent away to rob us of the love and affection we had grown to cherish -- our fish, Flippers, had shuffled off this mortal coil and into the belly of a hungry cat, while we laughed and swam and ran and played, unaware.

In Memorium

We’ve been away for two weeks.

While on vacation we boarded the dog at her favorite kennel and Flippers, my daughter’s goldfish, was left in the care of her 6-year-old friend, Anthony. A week or so into our trip, a letter arrived addressed to my daughter in crude handwriting. It was from Anthony.

This is the letter:

Dear Harper

fliprs got kild but the kage is stil ther. Roca [Anthony’s cat] nakt the kage down and he ate fliprs but we are gowing to bie you a nuthr fish.

Flippers, we hardly knew ya.

The Big Red Old Eye

When my daughter was younger I told her that she was born with a third, menacing eye. She called it her Big Red Old Eye. I told her the eye never slept, and stared at people, and because it made us so nervous we took her to the hospital and had it removed before her first birthday.

"You used to lie in your crib and poke at it," we'd say.

She does not believe in the Big Red Old Eye any longer.

"That's really bad for you," she said, confusing it with pink eye.

"No, the Big Red Old eye in the middle of your forehead."

"I never had a Big Red Old Eye. You and mom made that up."

She probably thinks I made up my friend Jonesie, who has a third arm and wears a bird in his top hat, as well.

Getting Ready for the 4th

The cherries are in, and it's a good year. I spent an hour picking yesterday; Lord knows I'll miss thousands of them which hang in large bunches from branches which are too high for my ladder to reach. I have no cherry picker.

The birds have been kind this year. Not as many crows as years past. What few we've had flapping about can enjoy the cherries high up, where my ladder won't reach.

Tomorrow my wife will present her first cherry cobbler of the season. She will also be putting up cherry preserves later this week. My mouth is already watering.

My daughter, six, taught me how to pit them today, and it's a messy business. But I managed to produced a quarter bushel of clean, pitted cherries. More to be picked tomorrow.

Picking is messy business as well. But the Bings are fragrant and succulent. I manage, when I am picking, to taste the ripest, juiciest ones right from the tree.

My daughter, as she does each year, made place mats for the three of us to use on the 4th of July. She does a good job with the American Flag. She's a little artist.

I started the ribs tonight. Thrice cooked. Braised. Baked. And tomorrow, the charcoal grill will finish them off. I can hardly wait.

Sci-Fi Channel is running Twilight Zone around the clock. That always means a holiday has arrived. Happy 4th!

What's for Lunch?

Having complained to my wife that I did not eat lunch yesterday because nobody at home made a lunch for me to take to work, my daughter responded with all the goodness in her heart and prepared for me a most excellent meal, put it on a plate, wrapped it in plastic and sealed it with masking tape.

I am presently seated at my desk enjoying my daughter's culinary efforts.

On the menu:

• one blueberry jam sandwich, extra jam


• red potatoes


• a stick of white cheese


• Capri-Sun grape drink

I recall the last time she made lunch for me. It was another sandwich. Peanut butter and ham.

Mmmmmm.

Oscar the Grouch as a Father Figure?

When my daughter is grouchy we call her the grumpus. When I am grouchy my family calls me, well, grouchy.

But in my defense, I have been taught from childhood that husbands and fathers -- or father figures -- are to be grouchy. It's part of the persona, goes with the territory, it's what's expected. Those men who served as examples for me in my formative years helped to cultivate my inner grouch, and today I would like to honor them.

Fred Flintstone -- the model husband and father, always grouching and mumbling, losing his cool and blowing his top, he demanded his dinner with crossed eyebrows and passed the time by yelling at Barney.

The Skipper -- a father figure to Gilligan and world-class grouch, the Skipper kept control of his charges by yelling and striking out with his captain's hat.

George Jetson -- "Jane! Stop this crazy thing!"

Ricky Ricardo -- always yelling in Spanish.

Darren Stevens -- was there ever a man so constantly grumpy who had such a lovely wife? Everything annoyed this man, from his mother-in-law and her clan to his boss, Larry Tate, and he expressed his irritation and dissatisfaction by complaining without ceasing.

George Jefferson -- demonstrated his authority by shouting at Weezie, yelling at Lionel, harping at the neighbors and constantly griping about the maid.

Archie Bunker -- what didn't he gripe about?

Fred Sanford -- everyone's favorite TV father, Fred G. (the "G" is for "Grouch") Sanford was ever inconvenienced and in a foul mood. Remember how he talked to his son, the "big dummy," and Aunt Ester?

These men were my examples. And all were grouchy to a fault. I don't think I'm doing too badly.

The Week at a Glance

Travel has been brutal as of late, and I am happy to report that, aside from a planned vacation to South Carolina, I don't have any trips planned in the near future.

I got back to Seattle last weekend and my daughter, whom I have not seen much of, wanted a Daddy-Daughter outing. She wanted to go to the Space Needle, a favorite spot of ours. Lunch at the space needle was her specific request. So we dined on clam chowder and Mountain Dew and had a fine time.

Sunday was Father's Day. My parents sent me a Father's Day gift: The Reagan Diaries. ("Getting shot hurts," he writes.) I look forward to the book.

My daughter planned her response to my frequent film-going at the Seattle International Film Festival with her own Father's Day Film Festival. She made passes for the whole family (ones you wear around your neck, like they issue for SIFF), and provided sodas and popcorn for the event. The features we screened were Muppet Treasure Island and Hoodwinked.

It was the best Father's Day I have ever had!

What's On?

At work there was this discussion among 7 of us about our favorite TV shows. As the discussion progressed, I had to admit that I had never seen an entire episode of the shows that came up: CSI, Married with Children, ER, Survivor, Everybody Loves Raymond, Lost, Alias, The King of Queens, Law and Order, Will and Grace.

There is so little on network TV that I watch anymore. In fact, there are only five network TV shows presently running that I have seen start to finish: The Simpsons, Family Guy, Boston Legal, American Idol, and the new Julia Louis-Dreyfus show which I have watched three times but only on an airplane. Oh. Is King of the Hill still running? I've seen that one, too.

I like two shows on the Food Network: $40 a Day and Alton Brown's Good Eats, which I absolutely love.

As for pay TV, I am most pleased with a new channel that's showed up on DirecTV called "Chiller." I am not so interested in the modern horror movies they air, but they do air reruns of both Alfred Hitchcock's television show and Rod Serling's Night Gallery, which I have found was an exceptionally well-written program featuring some of the finest actors of its day. (Spielberg got his start on that show, you know.)

This channel also airs many of the great old (read: black and white) horror flicks and thrillers.

For the record, my favorite TV shows of all time are: The Rockford Files, Twin Peaks, Seinfeld, Star Trek, and The Twilight Zone. The wacky classic Green Acres might have made its way onto my list but Mr. Haney annoys me so much that he has been the cause of several burst blood vessels in the brain.

For now I will stick with the Chiller channel and movies on DVD. Oh, and Boston Legal if I am in a hotel room with nothing to do.

The Life of Reilly

My six-year-old daughter is for some reason enamored with Richard Dawson (and has repeatedly expressed dismay that he is no longer on "Family Feud") and is a fan of "Match Game." Why, I don't know, but she is too young to pick up on some of the innuendo present in many of the questions and answers. I think the fact that the celebrity panel seems to be have such a good time appeals to her.

(And usually the panel was having a better time than the viewers realized. They taped a week's worth of shows in a single day, and if you watch reruns of the show you'll notice as the week progresses the celebrities become more and more "loose.")

While my daughter is infatuated with Dawson, it is Charles Nelson Reilly who amuses her the most. She refers affectionately to him as "Charles."

In Life of Reilly, which we screened at the Seattle Film Festival with director Barry Poltermann, came days after Reilly's death of pneumonia. Charles Nelson Reilly, known best for his stellar run on game shows during the 1970’s, rebuffs the notion that he has been long-dead in this funny and powerful one-man show filmed in 2005. Winner of two Tony awards for his stage work, Reilly easily dispels the notion that he is merely a quick-witted game show contestant.

My family found amusing the tee shirts we received at the screening.

Read more about my adventures at the 33rd Seattle International Film Festival here.

An Update fom the Seattle Film Festival

Today begins my second weekend at the Seattle International Film Festival. Because I had to travel to Chicago, I managed only four films during the past week, all of which were excellent choices.

The Battle of Wits, depicting a siege of a walled Chinese city in the 4th century, B.C., and Never on a Sunday, a dark comedy from Mexico, were worthy fare. But two films stood out as exceptional - Death at a Funeral, from director Frank Oz, and Paris Je t'aime.

Read my thoughts and reviews from the film festival here.

The Road Warrior Returns

It's was early April sometime when I last sat in my office in Seattle. I have been traveling every week, mainly to Chicago, but I had the pleasure of spending the past five days in Palo Alto, California.

One of the positive results of my trip to Palo Alto was having my area of responsibility redefined, and soon I will relinquish my Chicago responsibilities to someone else. I tell people I meet in Chicago that I only work there, but I live in Seattle.

I look forward to spending more time with my family, and more time taking care of business closer to home.

The Seattle International Film Festival began while I was away, so I have some catching up to do. Many movies to see. I also have set aside some time to spend with my family. It is going to be a good Memorial Day weekend.

Tale of the Toenail

There was a sharp piece of exposed metal extending from the bed frame in my hotel room, an instrument by which one of my toenails was cruelly severed off. And this was one of the toes of my broken foot, the shy neighbor of the piggie which had been abruptly twisted and mangled six weeks ago. My sock was becoming a recovery ward for piggies.

This toenail business caused me a delay of perhaps a half hour in getting out to dinner, and I still had a stop to make along Michigan Avenue. I found that my pronounced limp (which in the past week had all but disappeared) had returned with a vengeance, primarily because the severed toenail, which I had carefully reattached using two Band-Aids, was shifting as I walked and scraping against the raw underside of my toenail.

(When I related the accident to my daughter over the phone, her first question was, "Behind the toenail, is it gooey?")

I phoned down to the front desk and asked for the name of the manager on duty, stating that there had been an accident in room 2103. I made an appointment and rode the elevator down to see him.

I was taken to the manager's office and was surprised to find there a young man extending his hand and saying, in a fake English accent,"What's all this then, laddie? Accident in the room, you said?"

I told him what happened.

"Not minding your piggies, eh? Terribly sorry, old sod. What can I do to make it better?" He pronounced it beh-tah. Fake.

"You could have someone remove the bloody towels from the floor," I said, hoping my statement might levy some kind of visible emotional impact, sympathy, or offers of cash and freebies.

It did not.

"Will bring round fresh towels right away. How about a wheel chair, what?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right-o, then. Ring down if you need anything."

I hobbled up Michigan Avenue to a bookshop and bought a Richard Scarry book for my daughter. I joked to the young clerk that I was going to teach myself to read tonight, and she asked why I was limping."I severed off a toenail about forty-five minutes ago," I said, and she responded with a grimace. Our transaction continued, but the clerk had terminated our conversation. Which was fine. She had been speaking in a fake Long Island accent and I was annoyed with her anyway.

Fake English

Every so often I cross paths with someone in the service industry whom I think is faking an English accent. Walk into a nearly empty restaurant and the too-thin twenty-something host with platinum highlights gestures dramatically and says, “Cheerio, gov’nuh...table for one?”

I am not sure why someone in the service industry would fake an English accent, but I suspect that there are a few extroverted and theatrical hourly-earners out there that do so on a regular basis.

And these people annoy me.

Often a suspected linguistic fraud is a waiter or porter. Yesterday it was an effeminate hotel clerk who spoke in what sounded like an English stage accent. It was good, but not perfect. His skill level at performing an English accent was more or less on par with my own, and having once or twice faked an English accent myself (but never on the job), my fake accent radar went into red alert.

He was answering a question about the history of the hotel I was staying at while I glared dubiously at him. He seemed taken aback, most likely because he suspected I doubted the information. But what I doubted was the accent.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“From? Ah. Merry old England, ‘course. Manchester. Cheerio. God save the queen and all that, mate.”

Uh-huh. Sure. Manchester. All the fakes are from Manchester, ever notice that? I took consolation that morning in the fact that at least my cab driver's accent is genuine. No deception there. I couldn't understand a word he was saying.

With Apologies to My Mother-in-law

My wife and daughter were visiting my mother-in-law in Denver. I spoke with my daughter over the phone. She told me that her uncle and his girlfriend were coming over for dinner.

ME: Are you having anything special for dinner?

HARPER: Meatloaf. Nothing exciting. A hamburger loaf, that's what it is. Tastes like bread. I'm not too excited.

Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007

My friend Michael Homer once asked me at a lecture given by Kurt Vonnegut at the University of South Carolina, "This guy is a communist and an atheist, and you're a conservative and a Christian, so why do you admire him so much?"

I admired his mind, and his astonishing ability as a storyteller, as a writer of science fiction.

A grad student, who identified herself as a literature major with aspirations to teach high school Lit, asked him, "What books should I include on my students' mandatory reading list?" He responded dryly, "If you don't know the answer to that question at this point in your education, you're in the wrong field."

In an article about literary style, Vonnegut railed against the use of the semi-colon (never use one) and preached writing simple, clear sentences in order to communicate.

He believed that society's ills were the result of the collapse of the extended family, and theorized that if the government were to reassign everyone in the country to an extended family, we would all be much better off. He was a believer in the love and support net an extended family provides for the individual.



He is among my three favorite novelists, along with Thomas Hardy and John Irving.

He wrote many books and stories. Many were very funny. He was a humanist, most of all, and though our philosophies and beliefs are quite different, he made me laugh, made me think, and inspired me to find worth in my fellow human beings.

Dateline: New York

I am in New York a couple of days this week for an event at the NASDAQ. The company I work for was invited to sound the opening buzzer.

The event was exciting and memorable, and I am glad I was given the opportunity to attend the event.

At this moment I am in Queens, just off the Van Wyck. My cab driver had to stop for fuel on the way to JFK and seems to have disappeared. He is one of those maniacal ones who uses the horn with great liberality, then apologizes to his fare for his inability to run some out-of-state rube off the expressway.

I am sitting alone in the cab at the pump of a BP station. It is quiet in here. I cannot hear the noise from the Van Wyck. I find myself in the most curious of circumstances. The keys are in the ignition. If the Cabbie does not return perhaps I could take the cab onto the airport. I could abandon it there and catch my flight.

But for now I wait.

B.C. R.I.P.

Johnny Hart, the outspoken and sometimes controversial author of the B.C. comic strip, is dead at age 76.

Happy Easter!

Peppermint Patty: Well, Marcie, I'm really sorry. Here it is Easter Morning, and we don't have any colored eggs.

Marcie: I'm the one who's sorry, sir. I guess I'm not much of a cook.

The Easter weekend is thus far much as I remember it as a child. Dying Easter eggs on Saturday, before watching "It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown" on television. Only two of the twelve eggs were broken, but we got them right from the get-go: no eggs roasted, toasted or waffled. No egg soup. (Poor Marcie just couldn't get it right!) Our eggs are hard boiled like they're supposed to be, in the shell, and colored to perfection with Paas tablets dissolved in water and vinegar.

It's after nine, and The Ten Commandments serves as background as we prepare for Easter Sunday. We'll enjoy a 10 pound ham after Easter services. Then we'll spend the afternoon participating in an egg hunt organized by my six-year-old. This is usually a pretty big production as my daughter has grandiose ideas when it comes to egg hunts.

I've got to get back to the TV. Charlton Heston has returned to the Israelites as a slave. Happy Easter!

Dinner with Nan

My business travels brought me to Raleigh recently and though I was in a lot of pain and wearing an inconvenient apparatus on my right foot (which I had recently broken in an embarrassing home accident) I managed to drive to Columbia in order to have dinner at the home of my sister and her husband. My grandmother attended.

It was great to see Nan. She had recently moved from her lifelong home in Greenville to Lexington, where my sister lives, and I was able to spend two days with her before flying back to Seattle.

Pictured with me are my parents, my sister and Nan.

Lots of Books!

“You are supposed mark the books you have read, want to or again and again if it’s one you keep reading.”

I saw this on my friend Rick's blog. I wish I knew how these books were qualified for this list, but I don't. I marked the ones that I’ve read in blue. 34 -- that's a third. Of these, I will most likely read the Tolkien and Hictchhiker's books again some day. The ones I want to read or are planning to read are in green.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee) Sadly, this is my wife's favorite book
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. 6. 7. The Lord of the Rings (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter 1 (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter 2 (Rowling) Two chapters only; left the book on a plane
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter 3 (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter 4 (Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) Rick introduced me to this one in 1983
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett) Really liked this book
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. The Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) My pastor is big on Russian literature
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter 5 (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolsoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez) Love the title - know nothing about it
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75.The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. Tigana (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier) Started this one once...
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams) This paperback has been in my stack for 10 years
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum) My Uncle Ron turned me on to Ludlum many years ago
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield) Did not like this one
100. Ulysses (James Joyce) ...or this one, either

Wardrobe Malfunctions

My wardrobe is a mess.

All of my recent clothing purchases have come as a result of packing errors and missed flights.

And I've been buying my clothes now at Eddie Bauer, a place I'd not shopped before last year. It's not because I like their merchandise (I guess I do, but that's not why I shop there). I shop at Eddie Bauer because it's on Michigan Avenue around the corner from my Chicago hotel.

I am adding to my wardrobe items not chosen to compliment what I already own. Thursday night I bought a blue shirt comfortable for wearing on a flight the following morning, a clean undershirt and new socks. I had missed my flight hours earlier and it was rescheduled for the following morning; I had nothing clean to wear.

I arrived in Chicago on one trip back in the fall, and when I got to my hotel I found a notice in my suitcase that informed me TSA had inspected by bag. And wouldn’t you know it – all of my pants were now missing! And I was in Chicago for four days. Talk about being inconvenienced by our country’s present security measures!

So I pressed on, as I usually do, only to find three pairs of slacks hanging on the doorknob of my study, where I’d failed to pack them beforehand.

Wildlife

I have seen wildlife since living in the Pacific Northwest that I never had the opportunity when I lived in the Southeast. Growing up next to a wooded area, I saw plenty of snakes, many poisonous, rattlesnake skins, many raccoons and black widow spiders.

Since moving to the Northwest, I have seen Orcas in the wild, harbor seals and bald eagles. But today was a first. My daughter and I saw a coyote.

We were walking across a large suburban parking lot, from the Blockbuster to the supermarket, when I spotted a coyote running full bore toward us. We were far from both the Blockbuster and the strip mall, with no cars around us. I froze and said, “Honey, look! A coyote!”

The coyote ran past us at a distance of about four feet. He was lean and beautiful. He passed us and ran through a busy intersection. I feared he would be struck by a car but he made it to a wooded area on the other side of the street.

Thinking my daughter may have been startled or frightened, I looked at her and said, “If he would have tried to attack us, I would have pushed you behind me and fought it to the death.”

She replied nonchalantly, “I would have kicked its butt.”

Oscar Predictions

See my Oscar predictions here: Fourth Row Center

A Conversation About Penguins Overheard

Overheard on a plane, an exchange between a rather dashing twenty-something young man and an older, pudgy traveling salesman-type, as the passengers were shown a program about penguins on the Discovery channel:

ON THE TV MONITORS: a line of penguins crosses a road in front of a stopped school bus.

20-SOMETHING: Those are penguins?

SALESMAN: Uh-huh. Yeah.

20-SOMETHING: Huh. How big are they?

SALESMAN: Oh, I'd say a coupla feet tall.

2o-SOMETHING: Hm. I thought they were our size.

SALESMAN: Huh?

20-SOMETHING: Human-size. I thought penguins were as tall as us.

SALESMAN: Huh? No. Foot tall. Coupla feet. That's all.

20-SOMETHING: Huh. Strange.

The Power of Advertising

It’s sobering to realize the power Madison Avenue holds over our children. My young daughter spends most of her television viewing time at PBS and The Disney Channel. It’s no surprise that she is in tune with every Disney Princess toy or product that saturates the airwaves and the marketplace.

But what I have found most alarming is how well she has been programmed by advertisers who are targeting consumers well beyond her six years.

A couple of weeks ago I had mentioned that I needed to get up on the roof and check some shingles and she said, “You’ll need the Little Giant.” It took me a couple of days to realize she was referring to the multi-purpose ladder system featured on endless Infomercials.

Then as I was cleaning the bathroom she came in and watched me scrubbing the toilet for a few moments, then said with an incredulous air, “That would be easier if you used Kaboom! Never-Scrub.”

Cleaning products are regularly advertised on television, and she seems to know them all. On a recent trip to the supermarket I as I was retrieving a container of Dow Scrubbing Bubbles she looked at the can, shook her head and suggested, “You should try Purple Power.”

The final blow was when she patted me on the stomach recently and suggested, “Dad, don’t you think you should get the Ab-Lounge XL for Ultimate Results?”

Out of the mouths of babes. Or ad executives.

Or both.

Final Words About Football

While watching the AFC and NFC playoff games recently I found myself thinking about television coverage of NFL games, and I have come to the conclusion that CBS has the weakest game coverage of all the NFL broadcast affiliates. And the most annoying on-screen stats graphics. This is strictly my opinion, of course, arrived at by wholly non-scientific means, but it appears to me that CBS needs to try harder, and think about improving its pressbox talent.

Watching last week's Super Bowl only served to strengthen my opinion. Phil Simms? In the booth at the biggest game of the year? Come on!

ESPN's coverage has been strong this year, but I have to give my personal 'thumbs up' to FOX, who provided the best and most energetic NFL coverage this season. Also, they have the best graphics.

Oh yeah. And Madden.

As for true favorites in NFL game coverage, I will admit to being a little nostalgic for the glory days of Monday Night Football on ABC. Like him or not, Howard Cosell was a knowledgeable commentator with a broadcast style uniquely his own. Cosell was ABC, and defined the Monday night broadcast for many years. And the network continued the tradition of broadcast excellence even after Cosell's departure. (We'll try to forget ABC's brief lapse in judgement during what I have come to call 'the Dennis Miller Year.')

Ultimately I was disappointed with CBS's coverage Super Bowl XLI this year, and not even the ads will made up for what the network lacked.

There is always next year.

Rain Returns

Besides the hassle of the commute to work, we have enjoyed the week of snow here in Seattle.

On Tuesday, as more snow fell, I actually worked a half day at home and took the rest of the day off. My daughter and I made a large snowman in the front yard (actually it was a "Snow Mommy," according to my daughter, the mother of the snow child pictured here). And I saw a bald eagle soaring above my back yard, the first I have seen in several years.

Polly, the black Lab, fruitlessly chased snowballs again.

But tonight the rain is back, melting and washing away the snow. Things in Seattle are getting back to normal. My daughter slugged the snow child yesterday, and alas it is no more. And I fear that by tomorrow the snow mommy will be little more than a large ball of slush.

Feeling My Age

Last night my wife reminded me of my age, and it struck me that in my mind I am not much older than 24, though that was 15 years ago.

Then the following exchange on an episode of "Bernie Mac." I have never seen the show, and always turn the channel when it comes on, but I caught these lines before my hand could reach the remote:

WIFE: You’re 45, you should be getting a physical each year.
BERNIE: I’ll meet you half way – I’ll get a massage.

That about sums it up. I will be making my appointment soon.

Fun in the Snow

Tonight it began to sleet as I left work, which turned to snow shortly thereafter, and kept snowing until there was about 5 inches of snow on the ground at our home in Seattle. I had a wonderful time frolicking in the falling snow with my daughter and our dog. The dog had a particularly tough time retrieving snowballs (she brought back nary a one), but enjoyed the fun nonetheless.

Tomorrow I will most likely work from home, but plan to take a little time to build a snow man in the yard.

Seahawks 21, Cowboys 20

I must admit that this season's team is not what they were a year ago, but I could not have hoped for a more exciting game (or a more bizarre finish to a game) than the one played in Seattle last night. My only regret was not to have been at Qwest Field with the other cheering Hawks fans.

,,,and a Happy New Year

We began our Christmas Holidays by engaging in one of my daughter's favorite activities in Seattle -- visiting the Space Needle. She seems to enjoy the idea of going up to the top of the Needle moreso than taking in the panoramic views of Seattle. Regardless, we have a great time when we go. Even with high winds, rain and low visibility we managed to have a swell time.

Then my family took off to South Carolina for Christmas, and I was more than delighted to be with friends and family at this special time of year. Seeing my grandmother brought me great joy on Christmas Day, as did the delicious treats provided us by my Aunt Joice, a true patron of the culinary arts, to whom I gave a hand-made apron I bought at Seattle's famous Pike Place Market. (Auntie, I start my diet tomorrow!)

Aunt Cindy was there, as were uncles Roger and Ron, cousins Melissa, Heather and Daniel, and I was able to see my Aunt JoAnn and Uncle Gene as well.

After Christmas I had the opportunity to catch up with Tim, Todd, Crump and their wives, as well as with my good friends the Wilks. (Jane, between your baking and my aunt's, I will definitely be starting that diet!) Thanks to my friend Lori for gathering my friends together for a nice dinner, and for providing me the opportunity to reunite with my childhood friend Ralph.

Most of all, I am thankful for my wife and daughter, my parents, my sister and her husband, and their delightful daughter, Lindsay, with whom I had a terrific time!

Merry Christmas from the National Weather Service

It has been a difficult couple of weeks in the Pacific Northwest, what with wind storms, fallen trees and more than a million people without power. The photograph was taken in downtown Seattle across from my office building. You should have seen it before they cut the rest of the tree away!

And now people are stuck at the airport in Denver, possibly for another couple of days, after a blizzard there.

Who do we blame for this year's wicked weather? Some say the Bush administration. But I blame the National Weather Service. After all, they seem to know about these things before they happen. Coincidence?

Seattle Storm

The forecast was so dismal last Thursday that I called my travel agent from my office in Chicago and asked her to re-book me for a return flight to Seattle on Friday, instead of Thursday night. The National Weather Service was calling for severe winds with gusts of hurricane strength.

I returned on a bumpy flight to the Emerald City and landed after the storm system had moved on to find my home without power. My wife and daughter fared well, and with a gas fireplace and hot water heater, along with plenty of camping gear, we managed to survive quite well and had some fun along the way. My family was thrilled to find me cooking up coffee, eggs and hot dogs on the propane camp stove at sun-up on Saturday morning.

Thankfully, our electrical power has been restored, but there are still hundreds of thousands of people without any power or heat. Many have branches or whole trees -- uprooted majestic douglas firs and cedars -- through their windows and rooftops. Hundreds of people are living in shelters, and people are suffering. Our prayers go out to those who here who are still suffering hardships, and I am reminded that as difficult as things have been this past week in the Pacific Northwest, there are still many on the gulf coast who have yet to reclaim the lives they left behind after Katrina.

Blue Skies on Black Friday

The following is a diary of my Day After Thanksgiving, which I pecked out on my Treo throughout my adventures downtown with my family.

8.40 am - Starbucks. Up and on the road by 8 am for downtown and the Macy's Holiday Parade. 20 minutes now in Starbucks order line – place is packed...guessing 15 more minutes until my latte. I count 18 people in the pick-up line ahead of me.

9.01 am - Starbucks. I counted the waiting orders - empty cups lined up for the Barista - to fill. 42. It’s nuts in here.

9.24 am - We are enjoying the parade, and my wife pointed out to me that enthusiasm for marching bands must be regional. Indeed, it has occurred to me that many of the bands here lack the snap and discipline of many of the marching bands in the Southeast. Then again, it’s been a long time since I was in a high school band.

10.58 am - Returned some overpriced merchandise to fye music and fought the crowds. Now off to Macy's.

Noon - Macy's is nuts.

1 pm - Appointment with Santa. Polly Pocket house, butterfly catch and Amazing Alison. What’s a butterfly catch?

2 pm – Enjoying a Ballycastle roll at Kell's Irish pub.

3.40 pm – More Christmas shopping.

5 pm - The tree lighting at Westlake Plaza was heavily attended, as the rain forecast for today never materialized.

7.10 pm – last stop – supper at a Thai restaurant near home. Exhausted. Will sleep well tonight.

Dinner for Three

This year, considering that our Thanksgiving feast was prepared by my lovely wife for just the three of us, we held back on dishing up the usual Southern Thanksgiving feast. We decided to scale down this year. We even decided not to cook a turkey, and opt for my baked chicken recipe instead. But my daughter, at the supermarket on Sunday, decried such heresy, going so far as to engage a supermarket employee to ask, "Not having a turkey on Thanksgiving is just not right, is it?"

I yielded, and we reached a compromise with my daughter to allow a turkey breast (a cut breast with the skin on, not the pressed turkey breast loaf) instead of a chicken.

My wife prepared all but the pie, and the meal was excellent. Here is what we had:

turkey breast prepared with herbs in a crock pot
pumpkin-zucchini stuffing (a Rachel Ray recipe)
gravy
fresh green beans
creamed corn with tumeric and rosemary
Yorkshire pudding
two-layer pumpkin and cream cheese pie

My daughter asked to give thanks, and delivered an eloquent prayer from a five-year-old's heart that thanked Jesus most of all for her family.

Happy Thanksgiving

This is where I am nestled this Thanksgiving Day, at my coffee table in front of the fire.

I was watching the National Dog Show earlier, and J. Peterman, the host of the show, said, "The National Dog Show Presented by Purina is brought to you by..... Purina!"

I found that funny, but it does not read well.

Does anyone think that NBC's coverage of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has become more NBC self-promotion and less parade?

I have to say, that Al Roker still cracks me up.

14 Hours, 5 Films and Panang Curry

For the second year in a row, my friend Mike and I spent the Saturday between our birthdays at the movies. Like last year, we were able to screen five films, among them a few surprises and a disappointment.

We started off the day at Seattle's Cinerama, and enjoyed the new James Bond film, Casino Royale on their mammoth screen with state-of-the-art sound. A fan of both the books and the films, I went into this movie with high hopes and somewhat low expectations. But seeing Paul Haggis listed in the writing credits (he wrote Million Dollar Baby and the phenomenal Crash) my expectations rose considerably and I was not disappointed. This Bond is raw, tight and breath-takingly exciting. So much so that it ranks now as my number two favorite in the franchise.

Transition now to the Uptown Theater and Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus, which is not at all what we expected. At times I felt I was watching a David Lynch picture. Nicole Kidman's performance is fantastic in this impressionistic and sometimes surreal "invented" biopic of the famous photographer, and Robert Downey's turn as Arbus's muse (whose face is seen only at the end of the film) is rich and compelling. Mike and I spent the day trying to decide whether or not we actually liked the film, and I cannot recommend this one to everyone.

We followed fur with the latest Christopher Guest outing, For Your Consideration. He has taken on the theater, dog shows, and folk music in his unscripted films thus far, but turning his attention to Hollywood is uninspired and ultimately disappointing. Granted, his cast is good, and there are a number of genuine laughs, but the film remained the day's big disappointment.

Break for Panang Curry and rice at Phuket Thai on Queen Anne.

If there is anything wrong with the period piece Copying Beethoven it's the uneven script. But the performance by Ed Harris as the maestro during the final days leading up to the premiere of his ninth symphony is remarkable. The filmmakers took a chance with an extended sequence highlighting the performance of the symphony, but the composition itself is exquisite and Harris is mesmerizing as the deaf conductor, able to lead the orchestra only by receiving cues from his copyist, played by the lovely Diane Kruger. We left the auditorium raving not so much about the film as we were about Harris's performance and about the magnificent ninth symphony.

We finished off our day with The Prestige, in which Hugh Jackman joins Batman Begins alumni Michael Caine, Christian Bale and Director Christopher Nolan. Though we felt the film cheated us at the end. Nothing is as it seems in this film (which I guess, in a film about illusions, that is the point, right?), but we were thrilled and surprised and wildly entertained.

All in all, I would say it was a good day.

A Blistering Loss

Yesterday was the perfect autumn day for a game against the Vikings, and I had the privilege of attending the game with my friend Peter, who wore three Seahawks shirts despite the fact that he hails from Minnesota. We met my friend Erik and took our seats for a contest that sidelined Hasselbeck and caused the 12th Man a rare, embarrassing loss at home.

Fine day. Excellent company. Great seats. Good food. Blistering loss. Four out of five ain't bad.

The President, or the First Officer?

George Bush was today’s guest on This Week with George Stephanopoulos. Feeling that my daughter should know who our president is, I asked her:

“Do you know who that is?
“No.”
“You should know who that is.”
“Is that Spock?”
“No! That’s the president of the Unites States.”
“George Bush? On TV? NOW?”

I have refrained from drawing any conclusions and dropped the subject then and there without fully understanding her response.

A Funny Jerry

I think perhaps one of the funniest episodes of Seinfeld is the episode entitled "The Gum." In it, the gang jumps through hoops, at Kramer's urging, in order to avoid sending Lloyd Braun back to the mental institution by mentioning words like "crazy" or "nuts."

Incidentally, the Braun character appears in or is referenced in eleven episodes of Seinfeld. In this one, Jerry pretends to be a glasses-wearer in Braun's presence, and his inability to read the amounts on US currency results in Braun buying Jerry $100 worth of gum.

In "The Gum," Larry David appears in a cameo delivering what may be my favorite line from the show:

"I beg your pardon your majesty, but we don't accept bills with lipstick on the president."

A Reply from Ronald

A few weeks ago, I posted a copy of a letter I wrote to the McDonald's Corporation complaining about receiving TANG in a Happy Meal Cup when I had ordered orange juice off the McDonald's breakfast menu.

The good folks at the Golden Arches were quick to reply, attempting to buy off my frustration with a coupon good for one complimentary breakfast sandwich.

In their letter, they said they were "sorry to hear that you're disappointed with our Orange Juice" and that I should "be assured that at McDonald's, we continually review our menu to ensure that we serve the products our customers will enjoy the most."

There was nothing in their letter about my being served TANG in a Ronald McDonald Happy Meal cup, nor was there any explanation as to why such a beverage was being marketed as "orange juice."

What they did do was report that they served 50 million people each day, and in doing so I was reminded that perhaps my little complaint about the orange juice is small beans when one considers the big picture. 50 million customers - that's not chump change. And at least the good folks at McDonald's had the decency to return my letter, and for that I am grateful.

Which is more than I can say about the folks at Burger King, who have yet to respond to my complaint about allowing panhandlers to shake down customers (including children!) in one of their Seattle stores.

The battle rages on...

Maybe Next Year

The season for my Seattle Mariners is coming to a close on Sunday, and last night was my last game before Spring.

(Although it does occur to me at the moment that perhaps I should bring my daughter out on Sunday, which is the season closer as well as Kid Appreciation Day at the park.)

My friend Dan and I enjoyed seats behind home plate where we watched Oakland clench the AL West title following a 12-3 win over the Mariners.

Mariners Shut Out White Sox

I spent the week in Chicago and had the privilege of experiencing my first game at US Cellular Field, a state-of-the-art ball park on Chicago's South side and home of the Chicago White Sox.

It was the first time I have taken in a Seattle Mariners game on the road. I attended the game with my colleague Bill, who is a life-long Sox fan. We had a fine time at the game, and Bill enjoyed himself despite the Mariners 9 to 0 victory over the Sox.

The Seahawks visit Soldier Field in a few weeks, but that's one game I don't think I can swing.

Today's Random Thoughts

• I like espresso drinks. I like chai tea. Who knew a chai tea latte could be so scrumptious?

• I thought I saw Tobey Macguire waiting for a bus at the corner of Denny and Dexter this morning.

• Every time I see an episode of Star Trek that features Harry Mudd I become very, very angry.

• I was at Macy's on Tuesday. They are setting up their Christmas section. Is it just me, or does Labor Day week seem a tad early for this sort of thing?

• I found a recipe for a ham bone and bean soup the other day. I happen to have a ham bone handy, so I figured...

• I don't know why the animal rights activists are not up in arms about the expression "easy as shooting monkeys in a barrel." The image is disturbing and I can think of few things more cruel.

• My daughter told me there were two things worse than the kiss of death, a phrase she picked up from the these song to the James Bond film Goldfinder. I asked her what was worse than the kiss of death. She responded:

The two things worse than the kiss of death:

1. The Poke of Death

2. The Slap in the Face of Death

Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti in The Illusionist

See my short review of The Illusionist at Fourth Row Center.

Learning to Draw

A few years ago I had little to complain about as far as my commute to work was concerned. It was a pleasant walk downtown from where we lived in Seattle's Capital Hill neighborhood.

Since moving to the suburbs south of the city, however, I have had to endure the commute into the city with the masses -- fighting traffic, navigating accidents, coping with slick highways during the rainy season and avoiding bad drivers.

And let us not forget those pesky draw bridges.

But as much as I may complain about them, I like living in a place with not just bridges, but draw bridges.

Thinking About Death

Our pastor spoke from Genesis on the death of Sarah today, and in a personal moment told us what he would like carved onto his tombstone. He asked the congregation, "What do you imagine will be carved on your own tombstone? Imagine looking back on your life - how do you want to have lived? How do you want to be remembered?"

Food Critic Corner

A review of my banana-strawberry smoothie.

"It tastes like nothing. It's lumpy."
- Harper, Age 5

Book Talk

I got tagged by my old chum Rick, an avid reader (moreso than me these days), but it has taken me a while to compile this list about books. I could not think of a single book that I wish had not been written. That aside, here are his questions and my responses:

1. One book that changed your life - Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson (the first "big" book I ever read)

2. One book that you’ve read more than once - God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, by Kurt Vonnegut

3. One book you’d want on a desert island - The Norton Anthology of English Literature

4. One book that made you laugh - A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

5. One book that made you cry - The Littlest Duckling

6. One book that you wish had been written - A sixth book in the ever increasingly misnamed Hitchhiker's trilogy

7. One book you wish had never been written - ?

8. One book you’re currently reading - The Devil and Miss Prym by Paul Coelho

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read - The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William Shirer