I just got online and checked the family e-mail account. The Practice: Vol. 1, disc 1 was received by Netflix, and my association with them is now over. Of course, a lot has changed between the time I watched the second episode of that disc and now. For one, though I like the writing of David E. Kelley, I find it sometimes too wacky. The breaking of the fourth wall on Boston Legal is entertaining (such as a judge incredulously asking, "The same firm for both sides?" upon seeing Denny Crane announce that he'll be counsel for the defendant in a case about Vermont (was it Vermont?) wanting to secede from the United States, and Crane replying, "Saves on guest cast."), but beyond the eminently entertaining James Spader (who I intend to watch on The Office even though I've only seen a scant few episodes of the show), it's not my type of legal drama. I like underlying tension, not all of it brought to the fore right away.
In short, I became addicted to The Good Wife last Sunday night. It may have been in the works for some time. Maybe reading that many West Wing fans had gravitated to the show stuck in my mind, but I don't recall it affecting my decision. I'd heard that Parker Posey will be playing Eli Gold's (Alan Cumming, thereby reuniting them) ex-wife in the new season, but even though Posey is one of my favorite actresses, that didn't do it either. They had a half-hour catch-up special first, defining the characters, showing clips of the major storylines of the past two seasons, with interviews with the cast and creators Robert and Michelle King. I'd seen a bit of the pilot episode, but it didn't do anything for me then.
And yet, even though I'm fiercely devoted to The Big Bang Theory, which I consider my replacement for my passion for The West Wing (I still have it, as well as season 1-4 and 7 on DVD, but I mean passion for an ongoing TV show), I was looking for an hour-long show of which I could have the same passion as I did for the seven years that The West Wing aired, even through the horrifyingly bad 5th season (until "The Supremes"), and the slowgoing 6th season, before the 7th season which almost brought it back to Sorkinese glory. I wanted to feel that again for a TV show.
Since I've rediscovered that my life's passion is reading, I don't devote as much time to watching TV, but I wanted something that I know I could tune in to each week, just like I did with The West Wing. After the half-hour Good Wife special, I was intrigued, and decided to watch the episode that followed, which involved, partly, Fred Dalton Thompson, playing himself, defending the oil interests of Venezuela. It was an episode that included a body double for Hugo Chavez on a satellite linkup on a video screen, walking back and forth, in front of a table of his advisors, his head never seen, and with Thompson clearly having some fun in the episode, it veered very nearly into David E. Kelley territory without the soapbox Kelley usually stands so tall on. I thought that part of the episode to be very unusual for the series, even though I was entirely new to it, but I sensed the mature drama inherent in it, the humor that comes organically from the characters, and not lines forced on them. Therefore, this is my new show. Well into last night, I watched on the CBS website that episode that came before the one I saw, and I'll be watching the new season. One day I'll catch up with the DVDs, but I'm ready for this. I'm excited. I feel like this could be my new West Wing. And the cast is just as prestigious and masterful as The West Wing cast was.
Getting back to Netflix, over the past week, I've been thinking about what movie has affected me most out of the hundreds I saw in five years from the discs I received and the occasional movie I streamed on the site. I first thought of Unstrung Heroes, about a young boy (Nathan Watt) confused about the changing world around him (His mother (Andie MacDowell) has cancer, and his inventor father (John Turturro) is deeply distracted by this), who goes to live with his two eccentric, hoarder uncles, one who is paranoid that he's being followed (Michael Richards) and the other (Maury Chaykin) who collects balls that have been washed down the sewers. When the boy asks the uncle about it, he replies, "You know how seashells hold the sounds of the ocean? I think balls hold the sounds of the children who bounce them." I hadn't even seen the movie yet and I fell for it right away from that line just from seeing the trailer on the Netflix website. Not long after, I bought it from Amazon and I'm proud to have it in my collection.
But no, not Unstrung Heroes, not to the extent of really getting into my head, pressing it up against my life and seeing what relates to me as a person and as a writer. The movie that I know has been on my mind for a long time now, even though I hadn't thought about it up until last week, is A Dog Year, starring Jeff Bridges, originally airing on HBO. Jeff Bridges is one of my favorite actors and one of my heroes, so that was a natural attraction to this one. What impressed me most was how quiet this movie is. It never gets melodramatic in the story of writer Jon Katz (Bridges) in the midst of a mid-life crisis, who adopts a problematic border collie, which eventually leads to training by a dog whisperer (Lois Smith), who also provides Katz with greater understanding of his life and the kind of person he needs to be. Writer/director George LaVoo never pushes anything, never tries to ramp things up. This is Katz's life and he has to work through it, even while he's trying to get the dog to come to him at an airport, surrounded by people, explaning the current state of his existence to all of them. I am a dog lover, so that's part of it, but what's amazing is how LaVoo finds drama in the quietest moments, in Katz simply making another bologna sandwich. Where is his life going? Who is he? Can he still be the same man that he was? Change can happen gradually. That's what this movie shows, and it's most effective as well because of its 80-minute running time. That's all. That's all it needs. Utter simplicity in storytelling. It's a rare quality, and A Dog Year has it, which is also why I bought it from Amazon, and received it today. I want to use it as a model for my own storytelling, be it in a novel I may write one day or some kind of literary journalism. I'm happy to own it now.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Peace of a Mall
Rare is the day that Mom, Meridith and I go anywhere significant during the week, since Dad works all week, from 7:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. ("Significant" in this valley meaning anywhere for more than two to three hours). Rarer still are the days that we spend that much time at the Valencia Town Center Mall. Yesterday was that day.
There was an open house last night at La Mesa Junior High, and Dad naturally had to be there to explain to the parents his curriculum, take any questions, etc. So for Mom, Meridith and I, the question for us was where we'd want to go for over three hours. Could we really stand to go to the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive again for that length of time? What about the Target in Golden Valley that's close enough to Dad's school? But we've been around and around and around that Target so many times that I not only know where the book section is, but I can tell you a few of the titles that they probably still have on those shelves.
Ever since we had gone to the Valencia Town Center Mall about a month and a half ago, in which we got a few things from Hot Dog on a Stick in the food court, Mom wanted to try the veggie dog that I had last time. Plus, despite there not being a bookstore in this mall complex anymore (Borders closed about two months ago, I think, and when we moved to Santa Clarita, there was B. Dalton Booksellers in the mall, but that fizzled out, oh, I can't even remember what year that was. Five years ago, maybe?), there was still mall space to walk around, stores to peek in and then walk right by.
Dad dropped us off in front of the food court at the mall, and we spotted Hot Dog on a Stick, but first a table to sit at, to decide what we wanted to eat. The food court seemed reasonable. I could find a quesadilla at (I actually had to look this up just now on Google because I forgot. That's how memorable this mall is) Cabo Cabana Fresh Baja Grill, Meridith would most assuredly load up on the fried cheese things they have at Hot Dog on a Stick, and Mom could try that veggie dog, along with whatever else she might want.
But then we thought further. There was Five Guys Burgers and Fries in the outdoor Patios section of the mall. There was also Red Robin. And then there was Souplantation, the buffet of salads, soups, pastas, and breads. We discussed our possibilities, with Mom saying that she wouldn't mind not having that veggie dog if we found something else, and then we hit upon it: We hadn't been to Souplantation in years. Let's try it!
You may also know Souplantation as Sweet Tomatoes. Same company; it just depends on which area decides which name would be appropriate. Sweet Tomatoes wouldn't fit as well into this mall complex because despite some of the high-end stores, it's fairly low key. The Souplantation name blends right into that.
If I could live only on the blueberry muffins offered at Souplantation, I would. That's my definition of heaven in food, and it surprised me when I was going to get veggie pasta marinara from the pasta station that there was a guy at the counter in the back, scooping cornbread batter and plopping it into each square on a burned-all-to-hell baking tray. I didn't exactly expect custom-made bread by any means, and to keep up with what this business demands, no doubt the batter has to be made ahead of time, but with how those blueberry muffins tasted, like you'd never come down from that high? I figured either someone had to be making the batter in the back, or there is some caring soul who makes that batter elsewhere, who makes sure that there is as much love that can be put into it, as much that the blueberries can hold. I hope that's what it was, because there's no way these blueberry muffins could have tasted otherwise.
If at all possible, I don't like to go to a mall when crowds of people usually do, such as the weekend. Give me a late Thursday afternoon like that one, sitting in that sparsely populated Souplantation, eating my gargantuan salad (crumbled hard-boiled eggs, huge chunks of blue cheese, plain corkscrew pasta, and spinach leaves being some of the many highlights), completely at peace with the world, and impressed by the tomato-themed carpeting, all those tomatoes on all those vines. They stretched as vastly as the salad bar entrance did.
Soup is an interesting conceit at Souplantation, and maybe it depends on the location, but for the clam chowder they had, probably not. I know it's based on cost, that you can't find a clam chowder here that's full of clams, but there were more potato sticks than anything else in that chowder. Nevertheless, the pleasure was indeed in finding those pieces of clams, and then it was time to move on to yet another blueberry muffin. Only later did I try the brownie they have, and I liked that part of the inside was dark with chocolate. Not dark chocolate, but dark enough to almost be syrupy while still retaining the cake texture of it.
The only disappointing part of the experience, even though I didn't try it fully, was the macaroni and cheese. Put more life into it! The noodles looked so forlorn, the cheese liquidy. The only thing that saved it, when I got some for Meridith (She loves macaroni and cheese) was putting a large amount of sprinkle Parmesan cheese over it. But the macaroni and cheese should have been able to do that on its own, if the sauce had been thicker, if there had been as many cheeses as there was in the fettucine alfredo that I loved there. That was peace in pasta.
Done with dinner, we walked back to the mall, taking the escalator to the second floor to go out to the Patios section. Before that, a few minutes in Gamespot for Mom to find out how much the store would pay for Nintendo DS and Game Boy Advance games we don't use anymore. There are so many DS games for so many interests! No wonder they'd only pay a dollar or two per game or a little more. The market is so saturated with them!
Then we stopped in the nearby Disney Store, as we always do, Disney fanatics that we are. I saw the advertisement they had for The Lion King in 3D coming to DVD, and was reminded that I desperately want to see it when it comes to theaters for a week, starting September 16. I also like that the villains of Disney movies are being acknowledged more and more, such as the Scar plush I saw, and one of my favorite pieces of movie trivia came to mind: After nearly shouting the line, "You won't get a sniff without me!" in the song "Be Prepared", Jeremy Irons blew out his voice, and voiceover master Jim Cummings sang the rest of the song. The change is most apparent in the line, "Be prepared, for the murkiest scam." I recognize that as Cummings because of his spoken-voice roles in The Road to El Dorado (as Cortez) and Shrek (as the head guard). Cummings also provided the singing voice of Rasputin in Anastasia, and it sounds exactly like Christopher Lloyd if he was singing, though he only provided the spoken-voice role.
Then to the Patios, to Williams-Sonoma for Meridith, for her to look at all the cooking supplies, and for the quick thought that someone had to have pissed somewhere in the store, because it smelled like that when we walked in, though it dissipated as we walked through the store. I was searching for any kind of mustard that wasn't yellow or brown or any of the standards that are usually found on supermarket shelves. I wanted to find something different, and I did, on a center display across from the door: A tarragon dijon mustard imported from France. Now I want to know more about France's take on mustard, that they seem to have a greater respect for it than we do here in the United States.
After Williams-Sonoma, there was nowhere else to go. Not Macy's. Not Sears. Not anywhere else because we know every part of that mall so well. There is no novelty. But right then, we found padded chairs next to a floor-to-ceiling window at The Coffee Bean, along with a long wooden table in between those chairs, and that's where we sat, I on the blue padded one, and Meridith directly across from me, and Mom next to her. There, I read almost to the end of Donuts: An American Passion by John T. Edge (The final book in his four-book series, and unfortunately the only one that suffered from clear writer's fatigue, as the enthusiasm and fascination that had been present in the three previous books felt muted), and enjoyed a pleasantly warm evening. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed any evening like this and though I don't like anything about this valley, and look forward to moving on, there are those little moments like that one that this valley provides that at least shows it wants some understanding. But it's buried underneath all the plastic bull that thoroughly dominates every street and shopping center. For one night, though, I found it. And for the first time, I found a sense of peace in this valley. Hopefully that's a sign that we'll be moving on soon.
There was an open house last night at La Mesa Junior High, and Dad naturally had to be there to explain to the parents his curriculum, take any questions, etc. So for Mom, Meridith and I, the question for us was where we'd want to go for over three hours. Could we really stand to go to the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive again for that length of time? What about the Target in Golden Valley that's close enough to Dad's school? But we've been around and around and around that Target so many times that I not only know where the book section is, but I can tell you a few of the titles that they probably still have on those shelves.
Ever since we had gone to the Valencia Town Center Mall about a month and a half ago, in which we got a few things from Hot Dog on a Stick in the food court, Mom wanted to try the veggie dog that I had last time. Plus, despite there not being a bookstore in this mall complex anymore (Borders closed about two months ago, I think, and when we moved to Santa Clarita, there was B. Dalton Booksellers in the mall, but that fizzled out, oh, I can't even remember what year that was. Five years ago, maybe?), there was still mall space to walk around, stores to peek in and then walk right by.
Dad dropped us off in front of the food court at the mall, and we spotted Hot Dog on a Stick, but first a table to sit at, to decide what we wanted to eat. The food court seemed reasonable. I could find a quesadilla at (I actually had to look this up just now on Google because I forgot. That's how memorable this mall is) Cabo Cabana Fresh Baja Grill, Meridith would most assuredly load up on the fried cheese things they have at Hot Dog on a Stick, and Mom could try that veggie dog, along with whatever else she might want.
But then we thought further. There was Five Guys Burgers and Fries in the outdoor Patios section of the mall. There was also Red Robin. And then there was Souplantation, the buffet of salads, soups, pastas, and breads. We discussed our possibilities, with Mom saying that she wouldn't mind not having that veggie dog if we found something else, and then we hit upon it: We hadn't been to Souplantation in years. Let's try it!
You may also know Souplantation as Sweet Tomatoes. Same company; it just depends on which area decides which name would be appropriate. Sweet Tomatoes wouldn't fit as well into this mall complex because despite some of the high-end stores, it's fairly low key. The Souplantation name blends right into that.
If I could live only on the blueberry muffins offered at Souplantation, I would. That's my definition of heaven in food, and it surprised me when I was going to get veggie pasta marinara from the pasta station that there was a guy at the counter in the back, scooping cornbread batter and plopping it into each square on a burned-all-to-hell baking tray. I didn't exactly expect custom-made bread by any means, and to keep up with what this business demands, no doubt the batter has to be made ahead of time, but with how those blueberry muffins tasted, like you'd never come down from that high? I figured either someone had to be making the batter in the back, or there is some caring soul who makes that batter elsewhere, who makes sure that there is as much love that can be put into it, as much that the blueberries can hold. I hope that's what it was, because there's no way these blueberry muffins could have tasted otherwise.
If at all possible, I don't like to go to a mall when crowds of people usually do, such as the weekend. Give me a late Thursday afternoon like that one, sitting in that sparsely populated Souplantation, eating my gargantuan salad (crumbled hard-boiled eggs, huge chunks of blue cheese, plain corkscrew pasta, and spinach leaves being some of the many highlights), completely at peace with the world, and impressed by the tomato-themed carpeting, all those tomatoes on all those vines. They stretched as vastly as the salad bar entrance did.
Soup is an interesting conceit at Souplantation, and maybe it depends on the location, but for the clam chowder they had, probably not. I know it's based on cost, that you can't find a clam chowder here that's full of clams, but there were more potato sticks than anything else in that chowder. Nevertheless, the pleasure was indeed in finding those pieces of clams, and then it was time to move on to yet another blueberry muffin. Only later did I try the brownie they have, and I liked that part of the inside was dark with chocolate. Not dark chocolate, but dark enough to almost be syrupy while still retaining the cake texture of it.
The only disappointing part of the experience, even though I didn't try it fully, was the macaroni and cheese. Put more life into it! The noodles looked so forlorn, the cheese liquidy. The only thing that saved it, when I got some for Meridith (She loves macaroni and cheese) was putting a large amount of sprinkle Parmesan cheese over it. But the macaroni and cheese should have been able to do that on its own, if the sauce had been thicker, if there had been as many cheeses as there was in the fettucine alfredo that I loved there. That was peace in pasta.
Done with dinner, we walked back to the mall, taking the escalator to the second floor to go out to the Patios section. Before that, a few minutes in Gamespot for Mom to find out how much the store would pay for Nintendo DS and Game Boy Advance games we don't use anymore. There are so many DS games for so many interests! No wonder they'd only pay a dollar or two per game or a little more. The market is so saturated with them!
Then we stopped in the nearby Disney Store, as we always do, Disney fanatics that we are. I saw the advertisement they had for The Lion King in 3D coming to DVD, and was reminded that I desperately want to see it when it comes to theaters for a week, starting September 16. I also like that the villains of Disney movies are being acknowledged more and more, such as the Scar plush I saw, and one of my favorite pieces of movie trivia came to mind: After nearly shouting the line, "You won't get a sniff without me!" in the song "Be Prepared", Jeremy Irons blew out his voice, and voiceover master Jim Cummings sang the rest of the song. The change is most apparent in the line, "Be prepared, for the murkiest scam." I recognize that as Cummings because of his spoken-voice roles in The Road to El Dorado (as Cortez) and Shrek (as the head guard). Cummings also provided the singing voice of Rasputin in Anastasia, and it sounds exactly like Christopher Lloyd if he was singing, though he only provided the spoken-voice role.
Then to the Patios, to Williams-Sonoma for Meridith, for her to look at all the cooking supplies, and for the quick thought that someone had to have pissed somewhere in the store, because it smelled like that when we walked in, though it dissipated as we walked through the store. I was searching for any kind of mustard that wasn't yellow or brown or any of the standards that are usually found on supermarket shelves. I wanted to find something different, and I did, on a center display across from the door: A tarragon dijon mustard imported from France. Now I want to know more about France's take on mustard, that they seem to have a greater respect for it than we do here in the United States.
After Williams-Sonoma, there was nowhere else to go. Not Macy's. Not Sears. Not anywhere else because we know every part of that mall so well. There is no novelty. But right then, we found padded chairs next to a floor-to-ceiling window at The Coffee Bean, along with a long wooden table in between those chairs, and that's where we sat, I on the blue padded one, and Meridith directly across from me, and Mom next to her. There, I read almost to the end of Donuts: An American Passion by John T. Edge (The final book in his four-book series, and unfortunately the only one that suffered from clear writer's fatigue, as the enthusiasm and fascination that had been present in the three previous books felt muted), and enjoyed a pleasantly warm evening. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed any evening like this and though I don't like anything about this valley, and look forward to moving on, there are those little moments like that one that this valley provides that at least shows it wants some understanding. But it's buried underneath all the plastic bull that thoroughly dominates every street and shopping center. For one night, though, I found it. And for the first time, I found a sense of peace in this valley. Hopefully that's a sign that we'll be moving on soon.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The End of My Netflix Account
It began on March 21, 2005. It ended at 10:44 p.m. tonight, Wednesday, August 31, 2011. The first disc of the first season of The Practice has to be received by next Wednesday, September 7, and it will be. I'm done. Because of my now-permanent love of reading, I don't need Netflix as badly as I used to. Movies are always available somewhere, such as on Turner Classic Movies, and I may use Redbox for The Beaver, and Friends with Benefits when that comes to DVD. I'm content with those options.
My Fry Realization
Since the breakup, I've been discovering who I am, what I love, what I want. This won't be the only entry about that.
After watching the second episode of the first season of The Practice after lunch (I need to send the disc back by Friday, even though Netflix gives 7 days to return outstanding discs after you cancel your account, but I'll be done with it by then and I want to get it off my hands), I spent the rest of the afternoon reading Hamburgers & Fries: An American Story by John T. Edge. There was much more about hamburgers than there was about fries, and that's probably as it should be, being that a burger is always the main focus. The fries are an afterthought. "Done with the burger. Oh look, fries!"
While reading about Edge's quest for good fries in Philadelphia, I thought about what kind of fries I like. Shoestring? Crinkle-cut? Thick? Thin? I'm good with any kind of fry, as long as it's crisp enough and doesn't give in easily to the potato interior. Even together, there has to be a separation of sorts between the outside and the inside. Each has to be distinctive.
Then I read this, on page 161, and I immediately knew what I like:
"But the highlight comes at a friend's birthday party, when I meet youngster Ben Robling. He's a staffer at Di Bruno's, the city's premier vendor of fine Italian cheeses. When I broach the subject of fries, I expect him to grab a wedge of Gorgonzola dolce and beat a hasty retreat. But he beguiles me with the story of a night he spent at his neighborhood diner, tucked into a corner booth, drinking a bootlegged bottle of Alsatian white, and digging into an aluminum pail of fries smothered in mozzarella and checkered with bacon. "Everything I've learned about how food and wine are supposed to work together was on that table," he says. "At that moment, you could have offered me a slab of foie gras and a glass of Sauternes and I would've turned you down flat."
I can't eat like I used to. I have memories of my knees hurting often, my feet hurting after very few errands, no real center of gravity. I was top-heavy and gut-heavy. But I also have memories of chili-cheese fries. I'm not sure where, but I remember baskets of them, and I regret to say that I only shoveled them in. I vaguely remember the mild spices of the chili, my joy at the melted cheese, and the weak and soggy nature of the fries under the chili and the cheese. I didn't mind. They were chili-cheese fries!
When fries merely accompany a dish, such as wings at Wing Stop, I use mustard, whenever I can find it, though Wing Stop doesn't have it. But no need for that there, since they have blue cheese dip. But when there's the opportunity to have fries covered in something, I go for it now only if I've been so good with my diet that I can afford one day of transgression.
Nevertheless, when I'm a resident of Henderson and have full access to the Las Vegas area, I want to find a diner or some place that has chili-cheese fries or fries covered with some other tasty combination. But I'm also looking for fries that can withstand a barrage of chili-cheese. I know that if enough chili is dumped on an order of fries, the fries get soggy because of the heat of the chili and the weight of it on the fries. I'm hoping there's a place in Vegas that has a balanceable ratio, and crispier fries that can handle that balance.
I also hope that I'll find some interesting combinations on top of fries. Maybe mozzarella and bacon pieces. I like the exploration that comes with chili-cheese fries, those cheesy crevices, that perfect combination of chili and cheese on top of one fry. This is how I prefer fries, and I will search. I won't search often, for the sake of my weight, but it's going to be fun.
After watching the second episode of the first season of The Practice after lunch (I need to send the disc back by Friday, even though Netflix gives 7 days to return outstanding discs after you cancel your account, but I'll be done with it by then and I want to get it off my hands), I spent the rest of the afternoon reading Hamburgers & Fries: An American Story by John T. Edge. There was much more about hamburgers than there was about fries, and that's probably as it should be, being that a burger is always the main focus. The fries are an afterthought. "Done with the burger. Oh look, fries!"
While reading about Edge's quest for good fries in Philadelphia, I thought about what kind of fries I like. Shoestring? Crinkle-cut? Thick? Thin? I'm good with any kind of fry, as long as it's crisp enough and doesn't give in easily to the potato interior. Even together, there has to be a separation of sorts between the outside and the inside. Each has to be distinctive.
Then I read this, on page 161, and I immediately knew what I like:
"But the highlight comes at a friend's birthday party, when I meet youngster Ben Robling. He's a staffer at Di Bruno's, the city's premier vendor of fine Italian cheeses. When I broach the subject of fries, I expect him to grab a wedge of Gorgonzola dolce and beat a hasty retreat. But he beguiles me with the story of a night he spent at his neighborhood diner, tucked into a corner booth, drinking a bootlegged bottle of Alsatian white, and digging into an aluminum pail of fries smothered in mozzarella and checkered with bacon. "Everything I've learned about how food and wine are supposed to work together was on that table," he says. "At that moment, you could have offered me a slab of foie gras and a glass of Sauternes and I would've turned you down flat."
I can't eat like I used to. I have memories of my knees hurting often, my feet hurting after very few errands, no real center of gravity. I was top-heavy and gut-heavy. But I also have memories of chili-cheese fries. I'm not sure where, but I remember baskets of them, and I regret to say that I only shoveled them in. I vaguely remember the mild spices of the chili, my joy at the melted cheese, and the weak and soggy nature of the fries under the chili and the cheese. I didn't mind. They were chili-cheese fries!
When fries merely accompany a dish, such as wings at Wing Stop, I use mustard, whenever I can find it, though Wing Stop doesn't have it. But no need for that there, since they have blue cheese dip. But when there's the opportunity to have fries covered in something, I go for it now only if I've been so good with my diet that I can afford one day of transgression.
Nevertheless, when I'm a resident of Henderson and have full access to the Las Vegas area, I want to find a diner or some place that has chili-cheese fries or fries covered with some other tasty combination. But I'm also looking for fries that can withstand a barrage of chili-cheese. I know that if enough chili is dumped on an order of fries, the fries get soggy because of the heat of the chili and the weight of it on the fries. I'm hoping there's a place in Vegas that has a balanceable ratio, and crispier fries that can handle that balance.
I also hope that I'll find some interesting combinations on top of fries. Maybe mozzarella and bacon pieces. I like the exploration that comes with chili-cheese fries, those cheesy crevices, that perfect combination of chili and cheese on top of one fry. This is how I prefer fries, and I will search. I won't search often, for the sake of my weight, but it's going to be fun.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Goodbye Netflix
It started out as a birthday present, and as a desire, in 2005. I had heard about Netflix, and was frustrated by my local library not readily having DVDs of The Bourne Supremacy and Before Sunset, both of which I wanted to see badly. And suddenly, March 21, there was my opportunity. Three DVDs at a time. And I could watch those right away.
Now it's the final week I'll have Netflix, and I can't count how many DVDs I've gone through with the service, how many Mom, Dad and Meridith have watched as well, but I do remember that in the last year, we switched from three DVDs to one. Cheaper, and streaming was still included. And I'm cancelling my subscription just like others have. DVDs and streaming in the same plan aren't permitted anymore. They charge separately. And I liked having the convenience of a DVD being sent, because most of what I watched wasn't available through streaming, and I also liked reminiscing about my childhood with such shows as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Beakman's World, both available through Netflix Streaming.
My final DVD came down to a decision as well. Two weeks ago, I deleted my entire queue, all 433 titles, as well as the 100 or so that were in my streaming queue. After, the site always implored me to have at least 6 titles in my DVD queue. I didn't need six. I wasn't going to watch that many by the end anyway. I've been Tivoing Boston Legal off of TV Land, and, having regained interest in the writing style of David E. Kelley, I became curious about The Practice, of which Boston Legal was its spinoff. I wanted to see it from the start, so I added the first disc of the first season to my queue. But when I went into my nearly empty queue, I saw that The Beaver, starring Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster, and directed by Foster, was at the top of my queue, and I was curious about that one. So what was it? Satisfy curiosity or delve more into the worldview of David E. Kelley? I still want to see The Beaver, and I will some day, most likely through whatever library in Las Vegas has a copy, but I like to go with what currently interests me, keeping up the momentum. So the first disc of the first season of The Practice will be my final DVD. And I probably won't watch all of it anyway. Tomorrow's the 30th, the DVD comes in the mail tomorrow, though I'll begin watching on the morning of the 31st (I don't spend any time in my room during the day, and that's where my DVD player, VCR, and 46-inch widescreen TV are), and have to get it back out by Friday, since the next billing date is on Sunday. Netflix isn't taking any more money from here.
Technology and the opportunities to watch what you like have changed in 6 years, with Amazon offering new services, Hulu existing, iTunes, and so many other opportunities. Plus, having rediscovered my passion for reading and realizing that that is what I love the most in life, I don't need Netflix as much as I used to. The Beaver is available for rental on Amazon. Maybe I'll do that.
Now it's the final week I'll have Netflix, and I can't count how many DVDs I've gone through with the service, how many Mom, Dad and Meridith have watched as well, but I do remember that in the last year, we switched from three DVDs to one. Cheaper, and streaming was still included. And I'm cancelling my subscription just like others have. DVDs and streaming in the same plan aren't permitted anymore. They charge separately. And I liked having the convenience of a DVD being sent, because most of what I watched wasn't available through streaming, and I also liked reminiscing about my childhood with such shows as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Beakman's World, both available through Netflix Streaming.
My final DVD came down to a decision as well. Two weeks ago, I deleted my entire queue, all 433 titles, as well as the 100 or so that were in my streaming queue. After, the site always implored me to have at least 6 titles in my DVD queue. I didn't need six. I wasn't going to watch that many by the end anyway. I've been Tivoing Boston Legal off of TV Land, and, having regained interest in the writing style of David E. Kelley, I became curious about The Practice, of which Boston Legal was its spinoff. I wanted to see it from the start, so I added the first disc of the first season to my queue. But when I went into my nearly empty queue, I saw that The Beaver, starring Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster, and directed by Foster, was at the top of my queue, and I was curious about that one. So what was it? Satisfy curiosity or delve more into the worldview of David E. Kelley? I still want to see The Beaver, and I will some day, most likely through whatever library in Las Vegas has a copy, but I like to go with what currently interests me, keeping up the momentum. So the first disc of the first season of The Practice will be my final DVD. And I probably won't watch all of it anyway. Tomorrow's the 30th, the DVD comes in the mail tomorrow, though I'll begin watching on the morning of the 31st (I don't spend any time in my room during the day, and that's where my DVD player, VCR, and 46-inch widescreen TV are), and have to get it back out by Friday, since the next billing date is on Sunday. Netflix isn't taking any more money from here.
Technology and the opportunities to watch what you like have changed in 6 years, with Amazon offering new services, Hulu existing, iTunes, and so many other opportunities. Plus, having rediscovered my passion for reading and realizing that that is what I love the most in life, I don't need Netflix as much as I used to. The Beaver is available for rental on Amazon. Maybe I'll do that.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Home is So Accessible
There's a company called Just Planes, which specializes in cockpit videos. They show pilots doing walk-arounds of the aircraft before flight, explaining what they're doing, the cameras are there during the preflight preparations, and during takeoff, and during the flight, and landing. Today they're doing a "Hurricane Irene Special Sale!" on certain DVDs: "For a limited time today as the storm is over our area!"
I had to take advantage of this, so I went to the website (First worldairroutes.com, which, when you click on the "Shopping Mall" link, leads to justplanes.net, and the discounts to be seen), scrolled through the "World Air Routes" offerings, and found "Carnival B727", a Boeing 727 flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Newark, which I wanted because in 1994, when my father's grandmother was in the hospital, we flew from Fort Lauderdale International to Newark International on a Delta Airlines Lockheed L-1011, and I wanted to see the route from the vantage point of a Boeing 727. It turns out that this particular program was the first one filmed by Just Planes 20 years ago in 1991 (3 years before my flight). I kept worldairroutes.com open in a separate browser to check the running time of the program to be sure I was getting a decent value, and though this one is a short 55 minutes, I didn't mind paying $10 because I want it for sentimental value.
Continuing my scrolling, I came upon Corsairfly B747 (Caribbean), a program with my favorite aircraft, the Boeing 747, in this case the -400 model. 2 hours for $15? Sold.
It turns out that not only is the company selling some of their cockpit DVDs at a discount, but also their airport DVDs, filming takeoffs and landings at various airports. Looking at that part of the justplanes.net site, the obvious DVDs are sold out, such as New York JFK, Los Angeles, and London Heathrow. But oh lord, what do I see here?! Las Vegas! Regular price is $19.95, sale price is $10. I clicked on the link, and I felt my heart race. A 3-hour program! A total of 340 takeoffs and landings! I don't care when it was filmed because McCarran International is a crucial part of Las Vegas history.
And this makes me love Las Vegas even more. Among aviation enthusiasts who have bought DVDs from this company, the obvious airport DVDs are sold out. But there is my home, so accessible to me. It's always welcoming, no matter in what capacity.
I had to take advantage of this, so I went to the website (First worldairroutes.com, which, when you click on the "Shopping Mall" link, leads to justplanes.net, and the discounts to be seen), scrolled through the "World Air Routes" offerings, and found "Carnival B727", a Boeing 727 flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Newark, which I wanted because in 1994, when my father's grandmother was in the hospital, we flew from Fort Lauderdale International to Newark International on a Delta Airlines Lockheed L-1011, and I wanted to see the route from the vantage point of a Boeing 727. It turns out that this particular program was the first one filmed by Just Planes 20 years ago in 1991 (3 years before my flight). I kept worldairroutes.com open in a separate browser to check the running time of the program to be sure I was getting a decent value, and though this one is a short 55 minutes, I didn't mind paying $10 because I want it for sentimental value.
Continuing my scrolling, I came upon Corsairfly B747 (Caribbean), a program with my favorite aircraft, the Boeing 747, in this case the -400 model. 2 hours for $15? Sold.
It turns out that not only is the company selling some of their cockpit DVDs at a discount, but also their airport DVDs, filming takeoffs and landings at various airports. Looking at that part of the justplanes.net site, the obvious DVDs are sold out, such as New York JFK, Los Angeles, and London Heathrow. But oh lord, what do I see here?! Las Vegas! Regular price is $19.95, sale price is $10. I clicked on the link, and I felt my heart race. A 3-hour program! A total of 340 takeoffs and landings! I don't care when it was filmed because McCarran International is a crucial part of Las Vegas history.
And this makes me love Las Vegas even more. Among aviation enthusiasts who have bought DVDs from this company, the obvious airport DVDs are sold out. But there is my home, so accessible to me. It's always welcoming, no matter in what capacity.
Friday, August 26, 2011
A Perfect Day
I hear about how love can be found when you least expect it, and it's time for me to believe that. I want someone, but at the same time, I'm waiting until my family and I move to Henderson to begin again. But at the same time, I'm also realizing what I truly want, and enjoying how I've found it.
I want someone who feels such happiness when they read a book that they want to jump up, stay there, and fly through wherever they are. For me, yesterday, it was at the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, part of a long, but utterly satisfying day that included a proper haircut by a tiny, fascinating woman named Kim at her 36-year-long store next to Caruso's II, the second Italian restaurant of the same name in this valley (Mom and Meridith got their hair cut too, and it happened yet again like it did all the other times, that the good things only come along when we're preparing to move. That has to stop, and thank god for Henderson for that, because the good things are always all around).
At one point there, walking with Mom and Meridith through the air freshener aisle on the food side of that massive elephant of a store, I was so deep into reading How to Bake a Perfect Life by Barbara O'Neal, and I got to the part where Ramona and Jonah are spending an evening at his house, rediscovering each other, and it felt like tears were going to come to my eyes. My heart was swelling so fast, I thought I was going to be pulled up into the air, high above those air fresheners and looking across at the soy milk, wondering briefly if we needed any more of the Silk Very Vanilla milk or the dark chocolate almond milk we get from the same brand.
I loved that feeling. I have it again today as I finish this wonderful, lovely gem of a novel, and look ahead to starting Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson. I want this for all time. I want someone who knows that feeling in books, who lets it overtake them completely.
I want someone who feels such happiness when they read a book that they want to jump up, stay there, and fly through wherever they are. For me, yesterday, it was at the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, part of a long, but utterly satisfying day that included a proper haircut by a tiny, fascinating woman named Kim at her 36-year-long store next to Caruso's II, the second Italian restaurant of the same name in this valley (Mom and Meridith got their hair cut too, and it happened yet again like it did all the other times, that the good things only come along when we're preparing to move. That has to stop, and thank god for Henderson for that, because the good things are always all around).
At one point there, walking with Mom and Meridith through the air freshener aisle on the food side of that massive elephant of a store, I was so deep into reading How to Bake a Perfect Life by Barbara O'Neal, and I got to the part where Ramona and Jonah are spending an evening at his house, rediscovering each other, and it felt like tears were going to come to my eyes. My heart was swelling so fast, I thought I was going to be pulled up into the air, high above those air fresheners and looking across at the soy milk, wondering briefly if we needed any more of the Silk Very Vanilla milk or the dark chocolate almond milk we get from the same brand.
I loved that feeling. I have it again today as I finish this wonderful, lovely gem of a novel, and look ahead to starting Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson. I want this for all time. I want someone who knows that feeling in books, who lets it overtake them completely.
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