Rolling the garbage and recycling bins back to the garage yesterday, after the recycling truck lumbered through the neighborhood, there was a slight wind, and I looked around, wondering if Southern California had been better before all this had been built, these houses, these streets, these street lights. Was there more of a sense of adventure on blank hillsides? It felt like the wind was a lament, missing that past, if there was such a past (and some history I've seen of the area suggests that), and mourning a future that can never be. A year after we moved to Southern California, when we were moving from Valencia to Saugus, Dad and I made multiple trips from our old apartment to our new house and back, hauling in boxes that didn't need to be packed in the moving truck. At the intersection before turning right to go up that hill and then back down to Copper Hill (or whatever the name is, since I've only paid attention to such things when I need to take the bus somewhere), I looked to the left and those mountainsides were completely empty. No lights. Then gradually, one housing development popped up, and then three, and then what looked like 40. It's prevalent throughout the region. Build and build some more and build again until you're absolutely sure you can't put another apartment complex in the parking lot of a 7-11. You'll find the past in books, but not in front of you. The museums are tucked away, hidden from view, where they belong.
I didn't begin to think about Las Vegas or Henderson after mulling over all that. In my mind, I went to Baker, to the true beginning of the desert in Southern California, to the Grewal Travel Center, with the gas station out front, the convenience store on one side on the inside, and the small food court on the other side. I thought about that night on the way to Henderson when we found that the food court was closed. Fortunately, we had eaten at Wienerschnitzel in Santa Clarita, and it's lucky we didn't wait until we got to Baker. I'd never seen the place like this, with the counter areas dark, the lighted signs and menu boards turned off. I stared longer than anyone probably should stare at A&W, TCBY, Pizza Hut and Subway signs. Actor/playwright/short story writer Sam Shepard, one of my heroes, has lived in the desert and has it so deeply ingrained in his soul that I thought about him as I looked around, and also thought about the distance outside this food court/convenience store. Who could live in Baker? Who could find enough in the businesses and the landscape to want to live here? This could be where one settles if there's nowhere else to go, but then it has to be a pretty desperate situation.
This is all that Baker is. The 2010 census pegged the population at 735. Those people may have their reasons, and I'd sure like to know what they are. But I never will because I don't think I could stay for that long. I need a library, I need things that I love surrounding me. I love desert landscapes, but give me something more to them. I'm not talking about the overgrowth that Southern California has experienced over the years. A desert town is fine with me if there's a connection there, reasons that a population has to keep its town vibrant. That may not be fair to Baker, because maybe it does have those things that I don't see since I don't hang around long enough. But middle of the evening at 9 p.m., getting out of the car and feeling that fierce chill, like opening a freezer door in the frozen food section at a supermarket and stepping inside, how could anything want to thrive there?
But I still feel something. I don't have the desert experience that Shepard has, that compelled him to also write three masterful short story collections that I go back and forth on buying for my permanent collection, but I want to try it. I want to write a play, and I want to set it in the Grewal Travel Center. I have one character sketched out, and three or four more I don't know well enough yet. You would think that it would be useful to take photos inside the Center, but I haven't for three reasons: One, when I looked around, I wasn't thinking in terms of a play, until I was back in our rented Kia Soul, writing furiously in my composition book. We had to get to Henderson, so I couldn't go back inside to take photos.
Second, Dad's reconsidering his strategies in looking for a job in Las Vegas and Henderson, which may include going back there for a few days while he and Meridith are off for spring break, so he can actually meet people, have them see him face-to-face, instead of seeing about jobs from a distance, which is the way it has to be for now since he's working here. I may get my chance to take photos.
And third, I have the full layout of the Grewal Travel Center in my head. I know where both claw machines are, I know where chips and candy are on the convenience store side, I know that there are two regular restroom stalls in the men's restroom and one handicap stall, and I know that on the food court side, A&W comes first on the far left, TCBY in the middle, Pizza Hut near the far right, and the restrooms are near Pizza Hut and to the left of Subway. I also know that there are those coin-operated machines with stickers and temporary tattoos and other cheap doodads, one next to the food court entrance in the back, facing A&W, and another directly across from A&W. I've not found any stickers I want from either of those, but I like seeing what there is every time.
When I began thinking about writing plays in 2008, I had so many fanciful ideas, and I filled up a folder on this computer with every idea I could think of in 37 Microsoft Word files, believing that one of them had to lead me to fame. They would be filled with such dramatic ideas, and monologues that had the power to keep audiences in rapt attention. I would be lauded for my artistic choices and wordplay that goes down so easy, yet gives audiences a lot to think about.
I was full of shit.
One thing I completely ignored back then was timing. No skilled actor could have memorized the monologues I wrote without fainting from exhaustion. An actor has to breathe and so does the audience, yet the audience still has to be engaged enough to want to know what happens next. There are fellow human beings performing in front of them, completely inhabiting their characters, and the audience needs to relate to them by some glance, some line that rings true, some action that might make them look inward, see themselves in any of the characters on stage. And if a character is pure evil or has bad intentions, there still has to be a glint of humanity there. They can't just be faceless like so many bad guys in an action movie. It works for an action movie. It doesn't work for a play.
After What If They Lived? was published, I took a break from my aspirations of playwriting fame to figure out what book I wanted to write next. With that figured out now, I calmly went back into that "Plays" folder and looked at what I had hurriedly written many times over. I couldn't be doing this because I wanted fame in some artform. It's nice, and so is money, of which I still hope to make a decent amount one day (decent, not obscene), but I have to want to write a play because it defines me, it helps me grow as a writer, and it makes the world seem new to me every day, with something different to explore.
Another idea I've had has been done once or twice before, but not how I've thought of it. I researched it and even bought one of the plays that takes place in the same setting as mine (Three one-act plays, actually, making up an evening of theater) to see how it was done. I wanted my play to be two one-acts, with two different sets of characters: A teenaged boy and girl, and a man and a woman. I wrestled with the timeline and originally decided that they'd be an hour and a half to two hours apart, which wouldn't seem to matter in a play, but where these characters are, it does, since one pair meets at 11 p.m., and another at 1:30 a.m., and the event they're at only happens once a year, and just once for the teenagers.
The major problem I had was my initial insistence that these characters be connected somehow, that the audience finds out through one pair that both pairs are related. I wanted to keep the conversation between one pair mysterious enough that when the other pair talks, the audience puts it together. I don't think there would be gasps throughout the theater. Just murmurs of understanding.
But at what expense to the characters? Would I be spending so much time trying to set up the slight puzzle that I ignore the traits to be established in each character to make the audience want to know more? Would the characters just be puppets to my intentions? That can't happen. If the audience doesn't connect with the characters, that's it. You close after one performance, if you're lucky.
Last week, I figured out what to do. I don't want to spend time creating this puzzle for the audience to gradually figure out. I want to spend time with my characters, getting to know who they are, what they believe, what they want, what they still hope for even as regrets pile up. So now there's only one pair. I won't say which pair because I'm still working this out. But I do know that the first act is set at one of my most favorite places in the world, and the second act is at a place that I don't have quite the huge love for that I do for that first place, but which I admire just the same because without it, that place I hugely love would not exist. Obviously, there won't be faithful sets of either one because that would be insanely expensive, but it will be described enough in the dialogue, and have a few props to represent it, that the audience will get a sense of where they are.
Even without characters fully created, I already have the title of this play. I worry about whether the first part of it sounds sarcastic, but I can only answer that once I start writing this play. I know that it works, though. It covers both acts, the crux of the plot, and even suggests hope where there wouldn't seem to be any in light of years that have passed and disappointments that have been experienced.
In my mind, as I watch the trees rustle from the wind, I'm at both settings for this play, and I'm also thinking about what I can look forward to: Months spent reading two-character plays. I love the thought of it, particularly because I bought a few when I had thought up this play in its previous form. I hadn't opened them then, just stored them away, but I had a good excuse since I was co-writing What If They Lived? at the time. Even while working on my second book, I want to start on this, and try simultaneous writing projects. I'd like to be surrounded by words all the time, and not just by reading.
So maybe Southern California preferring to ignore its past and make a future full of endless housing developments isn't so bad. Until I'm gone from here, it lets me dream widely just by spending a bit of time outside.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
I Feel Like I Can Have the Entire Universe
The day began late, a little before 1 p.m. (I work further into the early morning hours than I should, so I end up going to bed by 3:30. I have to bring myself back to a more reasonable time soon), with an important e-mail in my inbox: "How about 4 pm today?"
I've been thinking about this conversation, ever since it was suggested. It was a conversation that could either be very beneficial for my book, or could make me move on to my next book because without what this person has, I don't have a great deal to go on for my book.
Chores for those three hours beforehand: Gathering the garbages from around the house, bathrooms too, taking that and the kitchen garbage out to the bin in the garage, putting the latest recyclables into that bin; sweeping the patio and collecting the dead pine needles and putting that bag into the garbage bin, rolling the bins to the curb for pickup tomorrow, and washing the dogs' tray, water dish, and food dishes.
During all this, I'm thinking about what's to come. I need to establish that if this is to go forth, I want to be sure that I'll get my share. But do I express that a few minutes into the conversation or see where this goes before I chime in about that? I'm protective of this idea. It took me months after What If They Lived? to figure out what I wanted to write next. And the one idea I came up with before this one didn't pan out because I let the books I purchased for it sit around for weeks. Clearly I wasn't as interested in that idea as I thought I was. This is the one that makes me get out of bed every morning and get to work. Would I still have that feeling after this conversation?
4 p.m. comes and I dial the number. Time to see what can be worked out. I hope for the best, but I still need to be cautious. I've been working on this for a few months and I'd like to see it through.
You know the Star Gate sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey? Imagine that for two-and-a-half hours. That's what this conversation felt like to me. I held on to what I want for my book and heard ideas that I hadn't even considered, ideas that could strengthen what I had already thought was pretty strong by the Airport series alone. What I learned lets me go deeper into memories that didn't mean as much before I talked to this person. I merely watched some of the TV movies that were named. It was part of being an aviation enthusiast in my teens. But to give them more attention? To show how Airport didn't just give birth to the disaster movie as we know it, but also what else it caused in the same style? That could really work!
I have to be this vague right now. I'm so excited about these new possibilities that I had to write something, but there's a lot of work ahead, a lot to arrange, a lot to plan, and an outline to hammer out. If any writer tells you that writing is easy, they're lying. But it is exhilarating when you're writing what makes you glow with pure happiness, and it makes the work a little less difficult. It's still a challenge, but it can be done!
This conversation made me feel that I can have the entire universe, and that I will write the other books I want to write. It'll still be quite a while before I can begin to write one of the chapters for this book, but as long as the research is there, it'll work. This is why I exist, and it's time to show it!
I've been thinking about this conversation, ever since it was suggested. It was a conversation that could either be very beneficial for my book, or could make me move on to my next book because without what this person has, I don't have a great deal to go on for my book.
Chores for those three hours beforehand: Gathering the garbages from around the house, bathrooms too, taking that and the kitchen garbage out to the bin in the garage, putting the latest recyclables into that bin; sweeping the patio and collecting the dead pine needles and putting that bag into the garbage bin, rolling the bins to the curb for pickup tomorrow, and washing the dogs' tray, water dish, and food dishes.
During all this, I'm thinking about what's to come. I need to establish that if this is to go forth, I want to be sure that I'll get my share. But do I express that a few minutes into the conversation or see where this goes before I chime in about that? I'm protective of this idea. It took me months after What If They Lived? to figure out what I wanted to write next. And the one idea I came up with before this one didn't pan out because I let the books I purchased for it sit around for weeks. Clearly I wasn't as interested in that idea as I thought I was. This is the one that makes me get out of bed every morning and get to work. Would I still have that feeling after this conversation?
4 p.m. comes and I dial the number. Time to see what can be worked out. I hope for the best, but I still need to be cautious. I've been working on this for a few months and I'd like to see it through.
You know the Star Gate sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey? Imagine that for two-and-a-half hours. That's what this conversation felt like to me. I held on to what I want for my book and heard ideas that I hadn't even considered, ideas that could strengthen what I had already thought was pretty strong by the Airport series alone. What I learned lets me go deeper into memories that didn't mean as much before I talked to this person. I merely watched some of the TV movies that were named. It was part of being an aviation enthusiast in my teens. But to give them more attention? To show how Airport didn't just give birth to the disaster movie as we know it, but also what else it caused in the same style? That could really work!
I have to be this vague right now. I'm so excited about these new possibilities that I had to write something, but there's a lot of work ahead, a lot to arrange, a lot to plan, and an outline to hammer out. If any writer tells you that writing is easy, they're lying. But it is exhilarating when you're writing what makes you glow with pure happiness, and it makes the work a little less difficult. It's still a challenge, but it can be done!
This conversation made me feel that I can have the entire universe, and that I will write the other books I want to write. It'll still be quite a while before I can begin to write one of the chapters for this book, but as long as the research is there, it'll work. This is why I exist, and it's time to show it!
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Death's a Bitch, But We've Got to Keep Living
George Furth, the playwright most well known for Company, who co-starred as art critic Gerald Lucas in Airport '77, died in August 2008 at 75 years old. No family.
Producer Ross Hunter, who found Airport to be the most satisfying experience of his career, had a life partner in set decorator/producer Jacques Mapes, a relationship that lasted 40 years. Mapes was an associate producer on Airport. Hunter died in 1996, Mapes in 2002. No family from either of them, and there couldn't have been anyway, not at that time. The DeGolyer Library at Southern Methodist University in Dallas has the Ronald Davis Oral History Collection, hundreds of interviews Professor Davis conducted with actors, directors, screenwriters, playwrights and others, of which Hunter was one and talks about Airport. The head of public services at that library is looking into it for me, and it's the only way I'll know directly about Hunter's involvement. Anything else I can find out about Hunter and Airport has to come from those still alive who were involved in the production, or biographies of those long gone, or their families, if they have any.
I've no complaints because this is the biggest puzzle I've ever had to put together, and I love it. I love figuring out the chronology of the making of each movie, and which insights will fit where.
But it's sobering. I called the phone number of Michael D. Moore, the second unit director on Airport '77. I spoke to a very old man who I couldn't understand very well. Age is catching up rapidly. Here's a man who was the second unit director on Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and Ghostbusters II, among such a long, long list of credits, and who knows how much longer he'll be here? I could only gather that he can't do an interview with me. He didn't sound well, and I wasn't going to press for another time. He's entitled to whatever dignity remains.
I know it happens to all of us. One day, we simply won't be here anymore. When I found out that George Furth left behind no family, it felt like I was looking into a gaping black hole that absolutely could not be illuminated. Nothing could be made clear. This was it. What Furth was is what he left behind in his plays and in his acting career. There's nothing else but that to glean from him.
But when I got off the phone after talking to Moore and trying to understand what he was saying, I was shaken. How much longer will he be here? It doesn't sound very long. What haunts me more is that the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress chooses 25 films each year to be preserved forever, yet there's nothing like that for people like Moore. The films will remain, and Raiders of the Lost Ark is in that registry, but what about Moore? Couldn't someone or some ambitious group, for the sake of history, have interviewed him about his career, learn about his part in the films he contributed to? Raiders was Spielberg and George Lucas, and also screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, and the cast, and director of photography Douglas Slocombe, and the editors and the casting people and the special effects artists and the set designers and the carpenters and so many others.
This is where it gets into murky territory, because different films are important to different people. But I mean Hollywood entirely. There should be more of an effort made not only to preserve the movies themselves, but also the history behind those movies and other movies too. There are many great historians making exactly that kind of effort, but thinking about people like Moore, it feels like it's not enough.
The Academy of TV Arts and Sciences seems to be doing this for their industry through the Archive of American Television. And maybe there is a concerted effort brewing to do the same for the movie industry that I don't know about.
I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has the Margaret Herrick Library after all, without which I would not have been able to make great progress from the start on research for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies. But on the Archive of American Television website, I'm looking at a list of professions that include designers, directors, sound professionals, stylists, on-set/location professionals, film and video post-production professionals, and many others. Movie history should be as accessible as this, especially as technology becomes more advanced. But then, those resources are reserved strictly for researchers such as myself. Not the public at large. There's also audio commentaries, but those are selective, depending on how a studio feels about a certain movie, how likely a hit it will be, and other factors.
Ironically, I can't do what I'm calling for. None of the books I want to write after this one are about movies. I was toying with the idea of a biography about a charismatic actor who's not one of my favorites, but who I admire, but I don't think I want to pursue that right after this book.
I know that most people aren't as interested as I am in this history. They go to the movies, they have favorite movies, but they don't dig into them like I do. They don't have an obsession with a movie series they've watched since they were 11 that's led them to write a book about the making of those movies.
I'll do my part, though. I'll dig through the history I can find of the Airport movies through books I've read and still have to read, interviews I've conducted and still have to do (I got a few e-mails today from people who worked on Airport and people who worked on Airport '77 who agreed to interviews), files I've looked through and still have to look through, and newspaper articles I've read and still have to read, and work my hardest to make sure these stories are known. Those who worked on these movies, who are long gone, should live on. This is my attempt at that, besides all the other reasons I've previously mentioned for writing this book.
Producer Ross Hunter, who found Airport to be the most satisfying experience of his career, had a life partner in set decorator/producer Jacques Mapes, a relationship that lasted 40 years. Mapes was an associate producer on Airport. Hunter died in 1996, Mapes in 2002. No family from either of them, and there couldn't have been anyway, not at that time. The DeGolyer Library at Southern Methodist University in Dallas has the Ronald Davis Oral History Collection, hundreds of interviews Professor Davis conducted with actors, directors, screenwriters, playwrights and others, of which Hunter was one and talks about Airport. The head of public services at that library is looking into it for me, and it's the only way I'll know directly about Hunter's involvement. Anything else I can find out about Hunter and Airport has to come from those still alive who were involved in the production, or biographies of those long gone, or their families, if they have any.
I've no complaints because this is the biggest puzzle I've ever had to put together, and I love it. I love figuring out the chronology of the making of each movie, and which insights will fit where.
But it's sobering. I called the phone number of Michael D. Moore, the second unit director on Airport '77. I spoke to a very old man who I couldn't understand very well. Age is catching up rapidly. Here's a man who was the second unit director on Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and Ghostbusters II, among such a long, long list of credits, and who knows how much longer he'll be here? I could only gather that he can't do an interview with me. He didn't sound well, and I wasn't going to press for another time. He's entitled to whatever dignity remains.
I know it happens to all of us. One day, we simply won't be here anymore. When I found out that George Furth left behind no family, it felt like I was looking into a gaping black hole that absolutely could not be illuminated. Nothing could be made clear. This was it. What Furth was is what he left behind in his plays and in his acting career. There's nothing else but that to glean from him.
But when I got off the phone after talking to Moore and trying to understand what he was saying, I was shaken. How much longer will he be here? It doesn't sound very long. What haunts me more is that the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress chooses 25 films each year to be preserved forever, yet there's nothing like that for people like Moore. The films will remain, and Raiders of the Lost Ark is in that registry, but what about Moore? Couldn't someone or some ambitious group, for the sake of history, have interviewed him about his career, learn about his part in the films he contributed to? Raiders was Spielberg and George Lucas, and also screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, and the cast, and director of photography Douglas Slocombe, and the editors and the casting people and the special effects artists and the set designers and the carpenters and so many others.
This is where it gets into murky territory, because different films are important to different people. But I mean Hollywood entirely. There should be more of an effort made not only to preserve the movies themselves, but also the history behind those movies and other movies too. There are many great historians making exactly that kind of effort, but thinking about people like Moore, it feels like it's not enough.
The Academy of TV Arts and Sciences seems to be doing this for their industry through the Archive of American Television. And maybe there is a concerted effort brewing to do the same for the movie industry that I don't know about.
I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has the Margaret Herrick Library after all, without which I would not have been able to make great progress from the start on research for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies. But on the Archive of American Television website, I'm looking at a list of professions that include designers, directors, sound professionals, stylists, on-set/location professionals, film and video post-production professionals, and many others. Movie history should be as accessible as this, especially as technology becomes more advanced. But then, those resources are reserved strictly for researchers such as myself. Not the public at large. There's also audio commentaries, but those are selective, depending on how a studio feels about a certain movie, how likely a hit it will be, and other factors.
Ironically, I can't do what I'm calling for. None of the books I want to write after this one are about movies. I was toying with the idea of a biography about a charismatic actor who's not one of my favorites, but who I admire, but I don't think I want to pursue that right after this book.
I know that most people aren't as interested as I am in this history. They go to the movies, they have favorite movies, but they don't dig into them like I do. They don't have an obsession with a movie series they've watched since they were 11 that's led them to write a book about the making of those movies.
I'll do my part, though. I'll dig through the history I can find of the Airport movies through books I've read and still have to read, interviews I've conducted and still have to do (I got a few e-mails today from people who worked on Airport and people who worked on Airport '77 who agreed to interviews), files I've looked through and still have to look through, and newspaper articles I've read and still have to read, and work my hardest to make sure these stories are known. Those who worked on these movies, who are long gone, should live on. This is my attempt at that, besides all the other reasons I've previously mentioned for writing this book.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Another Instance of Being a Consumer Magnet?
Dad and Meridith had the day off from work today, a furlough day, meaning neither of them get paid. It's California's futile way of trying to save money in the budget that may have been there in the years that California was in good financial standing, but I always got the sense that this state has the habit of spending too much too fast. This is the result.
I'll never understand furlough days because if you're hired to do a job, and you do it well, you expect to be paid. That's what a job is. I always get this feeling that if I tried to dig further for the reasoning behind this, I'll end up with Rod Serling sitting next to me, telling me to take it easy and that it'll all work out.
Anyway, we went on a few errands in the early evening, sans Mom since she wanted to rest today. After the 99.99.999.9999 Cents Only store, we stopped in Sprouts for bananas, bagged spinach, and my favorite fat-free lemon chiffon yogurt from Cascade Fresh.
I've been hooked on this yogurt for a few months now. It doesn't have a this-is-so-obviously-a-manufactured-taste to it. Lemon puree is mixed into this yogurt, along with a few very tiny lemon pieces. When I started buying this yogurt regularly, the row for it in the yogurt section was always stocked, alongside Cascade Fresh's blueberry, strawberry, cherry, and vanilla yogurts, and others of the same brand that I barely glance at when I'm getting my yogurt.
Today, just like last Friday, the row of lemon chiffon yogurts was nearly empty. I don't think I can chalk this up to it not being replenished fast enough because all the other Cascade Fresh yogurts are sitting there, fully stocked. I had to reach way in the back to get two of them. And my arm had plenty of room to reach for them.
It's been gradual. The first few times I got this yogurt, there was always enough for me to grab, and then every time after, a little less and then a little less, and still a little less. I hope it's not an instance of Sprouts phasing this one out because it doesn't sell well. I'd say an empty row like that shows that it's selling very well. And I think I may be doing my part as a consumer magnet again. Never mind that it's fat-free, as there are a few other Cascade Fresh flavors sold there that are also fat-free. I have a feeling other shoppers have picked up on what I love about it.
It doesn't look like the company is giving up on the flavor either. It's still listed on its website, and I found out that it's also available in a 32oz. container. Sprouts has Cascade Fresh's 32oz. containers of blueberry and strawberry fat-free yogurts, and I wish they'd stock the 32oz. containers of lemon chiffon. An empty row like that should indicate that they should sell it. I'm hoping a supermarket or two or more in Henderson has thought of this. I need this over there too.
This is the only time I ever think about those who might have bought my favorite yogurt. Dieters, I'm sure, and people who like the tart flavor of lemon. It doesn't say anything about those who do because there is a sweetness along with the tart. It's a double-sided yogurt. The calorie count has to attract a few others as well, with 110 of them per serving. That's another reason it attracts me, since I have it as part of my lunch.
It'll be interesting to see what next Friday brings, now that I'm really paying attention to this.
[Note, again: I wasn't paid by Cascade Fresh for this post. I get enough out of their yogurt as it is. But looking at this, and my entry from Thursday, I clearly need to move on to another topic before I begin extolling the subtle complexities of Kleenex. Luckily, I have no idea what those might be. But there may be something in the yearly frustration of peeling the foil from refrigerated Cadbury Creme Eggs and then having to fingernail-scrape the pieces that remain stuck on the shell. It's that time of year again. I've just gone through it.]
I'll never understand furlough days because if you're hired to do a job, and you do it well, you expect to be paid. That's what a job is. I always get this feeling that if I tried to dig further for the reasoning behind this, I'll end up with Rod Serling sitting next to me, telling me to take it easy and that it'll all work out.
Anyway, we went on a few errands in the early evening, sans Mom since she wanted to rest today. After the 99.99.999.9999 Cents Only store, we stopped in Sprouts for bananas, bagged spinach, and my favorite fat-free lemon chiffon yogurt from Cascade Fresh.
I've been hooked on this yogurt for a few months now. It doesn't have a this-is-so-obviously-a-manufactured-taste to it. Lemon puree is mixed into this yogurt, along with a few very tiny lemon pieces. When I started buying this yogurt regularly, the row for it in the yogurt section was always stocked, alongside Cascade Fresh's blueberry, strawberry, cherry, and vanilla yogurts, and others of the same brand that I barely glance at when I'm getting my yogurt.
Today, just like last Friday, the row of lemon chiffon yogurts was nearly empty. I don't think I can chalk this up to it not being replenished fast enough because all the other Cascade Fresh yogurts are sitting there, fully stocked. I had to reach way in the back to get two of them. And my arm had plenty of room to reach for them.
It's been gradual. The first few times I got this yogurt, there was always enough for me to grab, and then every time after, a little less and then a little less, and still a little less. I hope it's not an instance of Sprouts phasing this one out because it doesn't sell well. I'd say an empty row like that shows that it's selling very well. And I think I may be doing my part as a consumer magnet again. Never mind that it's fat-free, as there are a few other Cascade Fresh flavors sold there that are also fat-free. I have a feeling other shoppers have picked up on what I love about it.
It doesn't look like the company is giving up on the flavor either. It's still listed on its website, and I found out that it's also available in a 32oz. container. Sprouts has Cascade Fresh's 32oz. containers of blueberry and strawberry fat-free yogurts, and I wish they'd stock the 32oz. containers of lemon chiffon. An empty row like that should indicate that they should sell it. I'm hoping a supermarket or two or more in Henderson has thought of this. I need this over there too.
This is the only time I ever think about those who might have bought my favorite yogurt. Dieters, I'm sure, and people who like the tart flavor of lemon. It doesn't say anything about those who do because there is a sweetness along with the tart. It's a double-sided yogurt. The calorie count has to attract a few others as well, with 110 of them per serving. That's another reason it attracts me, since I have it as part of my lunch.
It'll be interesting to see what next Friday brings, now that I'm really paying attention to this.
[Note, again: I wasn't paid by Cascade Fresh for this post. I get enough out of their yogurt as it is. But looking at this, and my entry from Thursday, I clearly need to move on to another topic before I begin extolling the subtle complexities of Kleenex. Luckily, I have no idea what those might be. But there may be something in the yearly frustration of peeling the foil from refrigerated Cadbury Creme Eggs and then having to fingernail-scrape the pieces that remain stuck on the shell. It's that time of year again. I've just gone through it.]
My First Public Guest Post
G, over at Bloggerati, showcased my first public guest post yesterday! Read it and see what you think.
And if you're thinking about being a guest blogger, see what G has going on. Not only will your post be prominently featured, G is a master at formatting. I look ok on my blog, but man, I'm very sexy over there, dressed in black, with indentations I never considered before. In my daily life, I can't pull off an all-black outfit (My personality and collection of brightly-colored message t-shirts prevent me from doing so), so it's wonderful to live vicariously through my words.
Thanks for this, G! I'm here for you for any future guest posts.
And if you're thinking about being a guest blogger, see what G has going on. Not only will your post be prominently featured, G is a master at formatting. I look ok on my blog, but man, I'm very sexy over there, dressed in black, with indentations I never considered before. In my daily life, I can't pull off an all-black outfit (My personality and collection of brightly-colored message t-shirts prevent me from doing so), so it's wonderful to live vicariously through my words.
Thanks for this, G! I'm here for you for any future guest posts.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Anatomy of a Starkist Lunch Kit
Walk with me into a mostly empty Walmart Supercenter a little while before it begins to get crowded on a Saturday afternoon. There's one or two people looking at produce. Two or three people are in the clothing section. You can't see how many people are in the health and beauty aisles because we entered closest to the food aisles, but there's probably four or five people there, spread out amongst those aisles.
We'll go into the cereal aisle because it's one of the widest in this part of the store. In a second, you're going to see one of three things happen: A few people are going to pass by one end of the aisle, or a few people are going to pass by the other end of the aisle, or a few people are going to come into this aisle that you didn't think this store had right now what with how empty it looked when we walked in.
It's not you. It's me. It's always been me, or, rather, me and my family. We always attract people. The line's been empty at Chronic Taco and we walk in to order, and as we do, six people walk in behind us. We take an empty checkout lane at Ralphs or Pavilions or Sprouts or Trader Joe's (which doesn't seem possible because it is Trader Joe's after all), and three or four people line up behind us with their carts. I don't know why this happens. I don't mind it, but do we have something in our personalities that people sense as something good to be near? It's never that other checkout lanes are crowded. There's a few open at a time. But they always line up behind us. It's not coincidental. It happened when we were in Henderson too. I bought a toy food truck at Smith's (hot dogs, burgers, and sodas, with four little hot dogs lined up on one counter, three drinks lined up on the other counter, and two burgers and fries lined up on the back counter), and three people lined up behind us to check out. In fact, I said to Mom and Dad that we could go to the Strip at that very moment, and help Las Vegas's economy recover quickly. I would have suggested testing it, but we had a lot to do in Henderson. But I do think the Henderson economy benefited from us visiting.
I don't seek this. It just comes. And I don't mind it, except when it impinges on what I like to eat.
Last Saturday, we went to the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive to do some food shopping, and I remembered that I needed the Starkist chunk light tuna salad pouches that I like for lunch during the week. In the tuna aisle, I found a crowd (though not caused by me or Mom or Dad or Meridith), and none of the pouches. They'd all been taken, along with what seemed like all the Starkist chunk light cans.
It's a sign of the economy, I know. People are looking to get protein more cheaply. I also know that this Walmart doesn't restock quickly, but on a Saturday afternoon, this was inexcusable.
I kept looking through the shelves, hoping that the regular chunk light Starkist pouches I found might also have a few tuna salad pouches. Nothing. Meridith dug through the bottom shelf and found a few of the chunk light cans, so that was a relief since I needed more and I was not going to go without tuna in any form.
Mom then saw the lunch kits Starkist has. The tuna salad pouches are in there, sealed with a smaller foil pouch of crackers, a napkin, a spoon, and a mint. Nearly $2 for this, so I took one since I wanted at least one pouch.
I had the kit today, putting the tuna salad pouch in the fridge after breakfast because I wanted it to be cold, and I really want to know what the thought process was in putting this together. Because whoever did, whether it was one person with a marker and a dry erase board, or a group of people that should be paid more because they deserve it, really knows lunch.
During the week, breakfast gets the body going. Cereal, juice, toast, fruit, a quick egg concoction, whatever it is, it makes you more awake than you already are and pushes you to the entrance of the day ahead.
I've always seen dinner as the heaviest meal of the day, with more time to experiment, order takeout, try a new recipe, or just heat something up in the microwave. There's usually nothing pressing that comes after dinner, so there is that ease of going for what you want, even if it's a few hundred extra calories.
Lunch is that bridge between both. You have to eat, and if you're at work, you have either 30 minutes, 45 minutes, or an hour for it. It can't be too heavy because you have to go through the rest of your workday, nor can it be too light because your stomach's going to distract you from your work.
The Starkist lunch kit knows that balance. There's the protein in the tuna, some grain in the crackers, and I guess a little sweetness in the mint, though I wish they'd change that. A mint is not an entirely neutral candy. I don't like mint, but if they changed it to a butterscotch candy, which I like, not everyone likes butterscotch. Easy to see that you can't rely on a decent dessert with this kit, but that's probably not the point. The point is the convenience of lunch in such a lightweight kit.
The tuna salad is as I've always known it to be, with bits of water chestnuts to give it crunch. Open the cracker pouch and you'll find that they've got a plastic compartment of their own, six crackers sitting in two stacks of three next to each other. The little plastic tray is as flimsy as it gets, in keeping with the correct belief that lunch isn't about deep concentration. You have to eat and move on.
The plastic spoon, which has an opaque smoky look when you peek through it, and the napkin are why I wonder about who decided what to put in this package, namely because I want to know who made the napkin and the spoon. The napkin is exactly what you'd expect a lunchtime napkin to be. It'll pick up a little mess, but not everything, because that's all anyone really expects to make at lunch. The spoon is not the kind of clear plastic that'll snap if you bend it back far enough. When you bend the spoon back far enough, the handle bends with it.
I really want to know how much thought was put into this, if lunch habits were studied, and how many meetings went into creating this kit for production. I don't think Starkist would ever tell me, but they accurately pinpointed the feeling of lunch with this kit. My sole beef remains with the mint, but not only because I don't like mints. Open the blue foil and you'll find a blue mint trying so hard to become a teal color. It looks like a sample toilet freshener, too small to use for an actual toilet, but the same kind of shape. Meridith said that this kit used to have a striped mint, which seems more appropriate for this, but it looks like they wanted to keep with the blue the packaging has.
Having only bought the kit for the tuna salad pouch, I wouldn't buy it often. I never have crackers with tuna. I only eat the tuna, either out of the pouch or the can, and then I usually have a rice cake with peanut butter after. But Starkist is doing something right. I never thought any company thought hard about lunch beyond providing the necessary products for it, but here is proof.
[Note: Starkist didn't pay me in any way for this entry, nor provide a coupon to get the kit for free. This was all me, another example of how my mind will go anywhere for a topic.]
We'll go into the cereal aisle because it's one of the widest in this part of the store. In a second, you're going to see one of three things happen: A few people are going to pass by one end of the aisle, or a few people are going to pass by the other end of the aisle, or a few people are going to come into this aisle that you didn't think this store had right now what with how empty it looked when we walked in.
It's not you. It's me. It's always been me, or, rather, me and my family. We always attract people. The line's been empty at Chronic Taco and we walk in to order, and as we do, six people walk in behind us. We take an empty checkout lane at Ralphs or Pavilions or Sprouts or Trader Joe's (which doesn't seem possible because it is Trader Joe's after all), and three or four people line up behind us with their carts. I don't know why this happens. I don't mind it, but do we have something in our personalities that people sense as something good to be near? It's never that other checkout lanes are crowded. There's a few open at a time. But they always line up behind us. It's not coincidental. It happened when we were in Henderson too. I bought a toy food truck at Smith's (hot dogs, burgers, and sodas, with four little hot dogs lined up on one counter, three drinks lined up on the other counter, and two burgers and fries lined up on the back counter), and three people lined up behind us to check out. In fact, I said to Mom and Dad that we could go to the Strip at that very moment, and help Las Vegas's economy recover quickly. I would have suggested testing it, but we had a lot to do in Henderson. But I do think the Henderson economy benefited from us visiting.
I don't seek this. It just comes. And I don't mind it, except when it impinges on what I like to eat.
Last Saturday, we went to the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive to do some food shopping, and I remembered that I needed the Starkist chunk light tuna salad pouches that I like for lunch during the week. In the tuna aisle, I found a crowd (though not caused by me or Mom or Dad or Meridith), and none of the pouches. They'd all been taken, along with what seemed like all the Starkist chunk light cans.
It's a sign of the economy, I know. People are looking to get protein more cheaply. I also know that this Walmart doesn't restock quickly, but on a Saturday afternoon, this was inexcusable.
I kept looking through the shelves, hoping that the regular chunk light Starkist pouches I found might also have a few tuna salad pouches. Nothing. Meridith dug through the bottom shelf and found a few of the chunk light cans, so that was a relief since I needed more and I was not going to go without tuna in any form.
Mom then saw the lunch kits Starkist has. The tuna salad pouches are in there, sealed with a smaller foil pouch of crackers, a napkin, a spoon, and a mint. Nearly $2 for this, so I took one since I wanted at least one pouch.
I had the kit today, putting the tuna salad pouch in the fridge after breakfast because I wanted it to be cold, and I really want to know what the thought process was in putting this together. Because whoever did, whether it was one person with a marker and a dry erase board, or a group of people that should be paid more because they deserve it, really knows lunch.
During the week, breakfast gets the body going. Cereal, juice, toast, fruit, a quick egg concoction, whatever it is, it makes you more awake than you already are and pushes you to the entrance of the day ahead.
I've always seen dinner as the heaviest meal of the day, with more time to experiment, order takeout, try a new recipe, or just heat something up in the microwave. There's usually nothing pressing that comes after dinner, so there is that ease of going for what you want, even if it's a few hundred extra calories.
Lunch is that bridge between both. You have to eat, and if you're at work, you have either 30 minutes, 45 minutes, or an hour for it. It can't be too heavy because you have to go through the rest of your workday, nor can it be too light because your stomach's going to distract you from your work.
The Starkist lunch kit knows that balance. There's the protein in the tuna, some grain in the crackers, and I guess a little sweetness in the mint, though I wish they'd change that. A mint is not an entirely neutral candy. I don't like mint, but if they changed it to a butterscotch candy, which I like, not everyone likes butterscotch. Easy to see that you can't rely on a decent dessert with this kit, but that's probably not the point. The point is the convenience of lunch in such a lightweight kit.
The tuna salad is as I've always known it to be, with bits of water chestnuts to give it crunch. Open the cracker pouch and you'll find that they've got a plastic compartment of their own, six crackers sitting in two stacks of three next to each other. The little plastic tray is as flimsy as it gets, in keeping with the correct belief that lunch isn't about deep concentration. You have to eat and move on.
The plastic spoon, which has an opaque smoky look when you peek through it, and the napkin are why I wonder about who decided what to put in this package, namely because I want to know who made the napkin and the spoon. The napkin is exactly what you'd expect a lunchtime napkin to be. It'll pick up a little mess, but not everything, because that's all anyone really expects to make at lunch. The spoon is not the kind of clear plastic that'll snap if you bend it back far enough. When you bend the spoon back far enough, the handle bends with it.
I really want to know how much thought was put into this, if lunch habits were studied, and how many meetings went into creating this kit for production. I don't think Starkist would ever tell me, but they accurately pinpointed the feeling of lunch with this kit. My sole beef remains with the mint, but not only because I don't like mints. Open the blue foil and you'll find a blue mint trying so hard to become a teal color. It looks like a sample toilet freshener, too small to use for an actual toilet, but the same kind of shape. Meridith said that this kit used to have a striped mint, which seems more appropriate for this, but it looks like they wanted to keep with the blue the packaging has.
Having only bought the kit for the tuna salad pouch, I wouldn't buy it often. I never have crackers with tuna. I only eat the tuna, either out of the pouch or the can, and then I usually have a rice cake with peanut butter after. But Starkist is doing something right. I never thought any company thought hard about lunch beyond providing the necessary products for it, but here is proof.
[Note: Starkist didn't pay me in any way for this entry, nor provide a coupon to get the kit for free. This was all me, another example of how my mind will go anywhere for a topic.]
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Stuck. Here's a Link.
It's 11 minutes past 11 right now, and I've got the perfect tonic to the Teachers Tournament on Jeopardy! (I saw the first game and the only use I got out of it was finding out that there'll be an American Experience documentary on Bill Clinton on PBS next week. Finally. Took them long enough to get to the decade I grew up in): Episodes of Jeopardy! from 2005, Tivo'd off of Game Show Network. They run them every night during the week at 11, and 6 a.m. every Saturday and Sunday. I've got seven episodes stacked up and I can probably roll through five of them before I head to my room for the night.
Yet, I finished Buffalo West Wing by Julie Hyzy this afternoon and immediately started Affairs of Steak, the latest in Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series. The bad news is that it looks like the next one will come out next year (Unless she wrote a Christmas-themed one, which would be nice so I don't have to wait as long). The good news is that I'm only on page 42 and have 235 more pages to savor.
I really really want to continue reading it, but then I also have those Jeopardy! episodes I really want to watch. I did enough research tonight, searching for a few other people who were part of the Airport movies, so I can take the rest of this time to do what I want. So now it's a competition.
While I wait for that indecision to sort itself out, over at Bloggerati, G posted the interview questions that I answered and sent back. My guest post, which I sent with my interview answers, will be up tomorrow.
And the winner is Jeopardy!. I can blaze through 60-70 pages before I go to bed, so both work out for me tonight.
Yet, I finished Buffalo West Wing by Julie Hyzy this afternoon and immediately started Affairs of Steak, the latest in Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series. The bad news is that it looks like the next one will come out next year (Unless she wrote a Christmas-themed one, which would be nice so I don't have to wait as long). The good news is that I'm only on page 42 and have 235 more pages to savor.
I really really want to continue reading it, but then I also have those Jeopardy! episodes I really want to watch. I did enough research tonight, searching for a few other people who were part of the Airport movies, so I can take the rest of this time to do what I want. So now it's a competition.
While I wait for that indecision to sort itself out, over at Bloggerati, G posted the interview questions that I answered and sent back. My guest post, which I sent with my interview answers, will be up tomorrow.
And the winner is Jeopardy!. I can blaze through 60-70 pages before I go to bed, so both work out for me tonight.
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