Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Adam-12 Review
I wanted my review of Adam-12: The Final Season to be a front-to-back tribute to Jack Webb's narration style on Dragnet. I got the beginning down, but realized as I went on that the opening monologue is really the most narration on the show. Other bits of narration are much smaller and interspersed throughout the episodes. So it went from a tribute to that to just me. I still like how it turned out.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Boldly Going...Where So Many Have Gone Before
In the summer of 2010, severely overweight, buzzing on caffeine (not knowing that caffeine was causing most of my problems), staying so deep inside my body, worried about what was going on and not doing anything about it until mid-September, I watched a lot of TV. I lived for afternoons of That '70s Show, I watched episodes of iCarly (created by Dan Schneider, who also created All That, which I grew up on, so I had an excuse besides worry pushing me toward these places), I even sat through episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, against my better judgment, which I didn't have then, which explains why I watched it. I also remember episodes of The Galloping Gourmet, which would have been fun if I hadn't been feeling so badly about myself.
Then there were afternoons in which I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Star Trek: The Next Generation?! Me?! This was when I worried that something had turned inside out in my brain because I never watched this in elementary school or middle school or high school. I knew some things about it through pop culture osmosis, but not as much as talented Trekkers (Trekkies? What's the latest on that?) do. Nothing of it really interested me.
And yet, why the hell didn't it interest me? My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, which I proudly own on DVD. I also read various sci-fi novels then.
When we went to the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in the years after we moved to South Florida, I spent the entire day in Tomorrowland, riding Space Mountain as many times as I could, depending on the line, admiring the star map at the entrance and the photos of galaxies that you pass in line. I looked up at the ceiling projection, watching shooting stars, staring at all that futuristic design in wonder. Obviously the seeds of full-blown sci-fi exploration had been planted a long time before I got to the point of watching TNG. There was also a day during this mind-and-body worry that I didn't want to go out and face the world because Star Trek: Generations was on BBC America. It helped me ignore my immediate world.
Since that summer, I watched either one or two episodes of TNG, but that was about it until late last year, when I got more into it. I watched a few more episodes; oh, and there was also the movie in 2009 that I saw on the strength of the trailer that I watched over and over, awe-inspired by it. So that had to push it along faster.
There's the old Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument, and I side with Star Trek. More planets, more galaxies, more starships, more impressive technology. I don't want a lightsaber as much as I want a holodeck. I'd rather have the USS Enterprise than the Millennium Falcon.
I admit, however, that TNG is the only Star Trek series I've seen thus far. Eventually, I'd like to see the entire run of The Original Series, The Animated Series, all the episodes of TNG (I know for sure I haven't seen all of them yet), Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise, and all the movies, save for Generations, which I not only saw on BBC America, but I also bought it for $5 at Big Lots along with Insurrection, which I still have to see.
This past weekend, I pulled out of one of my book stacks Star Trek by Alan Dean Foster, the novelization of the movie. I enjoyed Foster's skill at descriptions, but I wanted better. I know that no book can possibly top the movie, but I wanted that same sense of wonder I felt when I saw the movie, what made me buy it on DVD. So I've decided that I want to read all the Star Trek novels. A filmmaker friend on Facebook referred me to his nephew who recommended the Destiny, Titan, Typhon Pact, and Deep Space Nine books. I will read them all.
Another filmmaker friend on Facebook, upon reading my intent, said, "Good lord, you know they've been publishing Trek books longer than you've been alive, right?" I do. I am not intimidated by the sheer number of novels that have been published. In fact, two days ago, I ordered from a seller on abebooks.com Mission to Horatius, the first Star Trek novel. I want to read all these series chronologically, despite the sheer number of some of them, and if it takes years, that's fine. I'm an easy traveler. I'm just looking for continuous adventure in my sci-fi reading. I'm not here to argue about which captain is better, which series is better, which whatever is better. My only favorite character thus far is Riker. I'm sure I'll have more soon enough. I know there's widespread hatred toward Wesley Crusher on TNG, but having read Wil Wheaton's books, and reading his blog regularly, I just watch him with fascination.
So here I stand, boldly going...where so many have gone before. And if there are any Star Trek fans who read my blog, who have read the books, what are your recommendations? What should I look forward to? (If one of my followers is indeed who I spoke to on Facebook, I've got your recommendations down in a Word file. But any additional insight from you is always welcome.)
Then there were afternoons in which I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Star Trek: The Next Generation?! Me?! This was when I worried that something had turned inside out in my brain because I never watched this in elementary school or middle school or high school. I knew some things about it through pop culture osmosis, but not as much as talented Trekkers (Trekkies? What's the latest on that?) do. Nothing of it really interested me.
And yet, why the hell didn't it interest me? My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, which I proudly own on DVD. I also read various sci-fi novels then.
When we went to the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in the years after we moved to South Florida, I spent the entire day in Tomorrowland, riding Space Mountain as many times as I could, depending on the line, admiring the star map at the entrance and the photos of galaxies that you pass in line. I looked up at the ceiling projection, watching shooting stars, staring at all that futuristic design in wonder. Obviously the seeds of full-blown sci-fi exploration had been planted a long time before I got to the point of watching TNG. There was also a day during this mind-and-body worry that I didn't want to go out and face the world because Star Trek: Generations was on BBC America. It helped me ignore my immediate world.
Since that summer, I watched either one or two episodes of TNG, but that was about it until late last year, when I got more into it. I watched a few more episodes; oh, and there was also the movie in 2009 that I saw on the strength of the trailer that I watched over and over, awe-inspired by it. So that had to push it along faster.
There's the old Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument, and I side with Star Trek. More planets, more galaxies, more starships, more impressive technology. I don't want a lightsaber as much as I want a holodeck. I'd rather have the USS Enterprise than the Millennium Falcon.
I admit, however, that TNG is the only Star Trek series I've seen thus far. Eventually, I'd like to see the entire run of The Original Series, The Animated Series, all the episodes of TNG (I know for sure I haven't seen all of them yet), Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise, and all the movies, save for Generations, which I not only saw on BBC America, but I also bought it for $5 at Big Lots along with Insurrection, which I still have to see.
This past weekend, I pulled out of one of my book stacks Star Trek by Alan Dean Foster, the novelization of the movie. I enjoyed Foster's skill at descriptions, but I wanted better. I know that no book can possibly top the movie, but I wanted that same sense of wonder I felt when I saw the movie, what made me buy it on DVD. So I've decided that I want to read all the Star Trek novels. A filmmaker friend on Facebook referred me to his nephew who recommended the Destiny, Titan, Typhon Pact, and Deep Space Nine books. I will read them all.
Another filmmaker friend on Facebook, upon reading my intent, said, "Good lord, you know they've been publishing Trek books longer than you've been alive, right?" I do. I am not intimidated by the sheer number of novels that have been published. In fact, two days ago, I ordered from a seller on abebooks.com Mission to Horatius, the first Star Trek novel. I want to read all these series chronologically, despite the sheer number of some of them, and if it takes years, that's fine. I'm an easy traveler. I'm just looking for continuous adventure in my sci-fi reading. I'm not here to argue about which captain is better, which series is better, which whatever is better. My only favorite character thus far is Riker. I'm sure I'll have more soon enough. I know there's widespread hatred toward Wesley Crusher on TNG, but having read Wil Wheaton's books, and reading his blog regularly, I just watch him with fascination.
So here I stand, boldly going...where so many have gone before. And if there are any Star Trek fans who read my blog, who have read the books, what are your recommendations? What should I look forward to? (If one of my followers is indeed who I spoke to on Facebook, I've got your recommendations down in a Word file. But any additional insight from you is always welcome.)
Monday, March 26, 2012
"Home" is a Big Word
I got up at 12:51 this afternoon, after going to bed a little after 3 this morning. I felt down because I didn't want that to happen. If I got up at 11, that's fine because I'd have most of the day ahead of me, including one hour left of the morning. But 12:51 already puts me squarely into the afternoon and what can I possibly do with just the afternoon and the evening? Come to think of it, do I really need the morning that much if I'm in a state of flux right now what with waiting for the day to come when we finally escape from the Santa Clarita Valley for good? Yes, I do, because I need to transition myself back to the morning so I can wake up early during that one time or two more times that we're in Henderson and Las Vegas and not feel like I did after we got home. (More to come in a future entry.) That of course entails going to bed earlier, which I will do because I need to be up earlier in those instances, and after we move, when I've got a job again that requires me to be up at 6:30 or perhaps even earlier.
To have a fulfilling day in this valley, you have to ignore your surroundings. There is nothing interesting here during the day to inspire you, to make you feel secure. After I got up and thought I would probably accomplish absolutely nothing today, I immediately thought about that, how there's nothing here, how's there everything in Henderson and Las Vegas. I'm tired of just thinking about the Galleria at Sunset mall, about finally getting a library card again after what will be a little over a year, about driving roads I know I can drive and street names worth memorizing. I want to be there. I want to do all those things.
Still we have to wait. But not too much longer. Late this afternoon, Mom and Dad signed a paper, an approval of the appraisal, or something else related to the house. Well, I know it was something related to the house, but I only paid attention to its significance of bringing us to the point of handing this place over to a realtor when we're ready, when Dad's assured of a job over there, which we think will come soon, because we are not spending another year here. We're done.
It's overwhelming to me, though, and not in an emotional way or feeling like there's so much to do and I'll never get it done. Suddenly, I have all these options coming to me, all these things I can do in my two new hometowns, all these sights to see, all these roads to explore, all these Nevada history books to read (and once I have my library card, I'm going to ransack the Nevada history sections). If we had stayed in Valencia instead of moving to Saugus, the transition from Santa Clarita to Henderson would have been easier because at least we would have remained in a hub of things to do, things going on, and it never took long to walk to the library from our apartment. But having been starved of genuine parks, of shopping centers that feel like they're centered on a sense of community, of living somewhere that has just one high and low temperature for miles and miles (not eight or nine different climate zones as it is here in Southern California), that's why I'm overwhelmed. I can have my favorite mall whenever I want, and also set out to explore new malls. It takes a mere 20 minutes to reach the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue in Las Vegas. And I was serious when I told my mom I want to explore every single inch of Henderson and Las Vegas, and then Summerlin. I want to know everything about my two hometowns.
When we lived in Florida, I had Walt Disney World every weekend and sometimes during the week for a few years, and then we moved to South Florida, where I occasionally had the Sawgrass Mills Mall (take a helicopter above it and it's in the shape of an alligator) in Sawgrass, the Coral Square Mall in Coral Springs, and the Pembroke Lakes Mall in Pembroke Pines. It wasn't only malls, though. I had Publix and Winn-Dixie and parks and other points of interest as well, but I never had them in any one place because we moved so many times throughout Florida. I never had a home base from which I could go to other places and then come back to it. This time I will. I know I can make a great life in Henderson. And I know that when I travel throughout New Mexico in the years to come and go to all those presidential libraries, I can always go back to my home base in Henderson.
I know I'm only 28, and that things can change in life, but I don't think so with this. Maybe I'll visit Walt Disney World again one day, but at this point in my life, I can't only have Walt Disney World nearby. I need a lot more now, and Las Vegas fits it with a hedonistic lifestyle I passionately believe in. Whatever pleasure you want, you can probably find it there. And that's another huge load of history I want to study. Plus, the Midwest and East Coast would be far too cold for me in winter. So Henderson and Las Vegas are it. It's where I truly belong, and I feel it all the time. When we walked through the Galleria at Sunset mall, I thought to myself, "I think I've had dreams about this mall." Considering the dreams I do have often about malls and amusement parks and Walt Disney World, I belong there. All of it, including the rollercoaster at New York-New York and the Pinball Hall of Fame and various other arcades I've not seen yet, should be part of my waking life too. I wake up from those dreams, look around, and think, "I'm still here?" Here in Santa Clarita. But waking from those dreams there, I'd think, "I'm still here!" Huge difference to a soul seeking daily vibrancy.
The word "home" has only four letters, but it's big. In those four letters is everything I've ever hoped for, everything I never considered when I lived in Florida because I felt secure even with being relatively rootless from so much moving. I never knew how much I was missing in Florida until I came here. I want roots, finally. I need roots. I want to know that where I am is where I can always be. It's there. I can feel that vibrancy every minute I'm there, looking to that Las Vegas skyline, going to Chinatown there, passing by the airport and watching planes take off and land. I loved it when we drove past Fort Lauderdale International and planes would take off and land above us, and when we'd go to Miami International to park and watch the planes, and experience the same thing. I can have the same thing all the time now at McCarran International. It's there for me whenever I want it, even when I'm not thinking about it, seeing planes seemingly hovering in the air as they're on approach to land at McCarran.
As much as I think right here about what home will mean to me, I will fall right into its rhythms once I become a resident. I will begin to know it right at the start, making up quickly for these eight years, and it'll be like I've never lived anywhere else, which is what I want. I'll always appreciate Florida for making me what I am, but this is where I want to be, where I know I'll thrive, where waking up from a dream leads to living a dream. What better hope for life?
To have a fulfilling day in this valley, you have to ignore your surroundings. There is nothing interesting here during the day to inspire you, to make you feel secure. After I got up and thought I would probably accomplish absolutely nothing today, I immediately thought about that, how there's nothing here, how's there everything in Henderson and Las Vegas. I'm tired of just thinking about the Galleria at Sunset mall, about finally getting a library card again after what will be a little over a year, about driving roads I know I can drive and street names worth memorizing. I want to be there. I want to do all those things.
Still we have to wait. But not too much longer. Late this afternoon, Mom and Dad signed a paper, an approval of the appraisal, or something else related to the house. Well, I know it was something related to the house, but I only paid attention to its significance of bringing us to the point of handing this place over to a realtor when we're ready, when Dad's assured of a job over there, which we think will come soon, because we are not spending another year here. We're done.
It's overwhelming to me, though, and not in an emotional way or feeling like there's so much to do and I'll never get it done. Suddenly, I have all these options coming to me, all these things I can do in my two new hometowns, all these sights to see, all these roads to explore, all these Nevada history books to read (and once I have my library card, I'm going to ransack the Nevada history sections). If we had stayed in Valencia instead of moving to Saugus, the transition from Santa Clarita to Henderson would have been easier because at least we would have remained in a hub of things to do, things going on, and it never took long to walk to the library from our apartment. But having been starved of genuine parks, of shopping centers that feel like they're centered on a sense of community, of living somewhere that has just one high and low temperature for miles and miles (not eight or nine different climate zones as it is here in Southern California), that's why I'm overwhelmed. I can have my favorite mall whenever I want, and also set out to explore new malls. It takes a mere 20 minutes to reach the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue in Las Vegas. And I was serious when I told my mom I want to explore every single inch of Henderson and Las Vegas, and then Summerlin. I want to know everything about my two hometowns.
When we lived in Florida, I had Walt Disney World every weekend and sometimes during the week for a few years, and then we moved to South Florida, where I occasionally had the Sawgrass Mills Mall (take a helicopter above it and it's in the shape of an alligator) in Sawgrass, the Coral Square Mall in Coral Springs, and the Pembroke Lakes Mall in Pembroke Pines. It wasn't only malls, though. I had Publix and Winn-Dixie and parks and other points of interest as well, but I never had them in any one place because we moved so many times throughout Florida. I never had a home base from which I could go to other places and then come back to it. This time I will. I know I can make a great life in Henderson. And I know that when I travel throughout New Mexico in the years to come and go to all those presidential libraries, I can always go back to my home base in Henderson.
I know I'm only 28, and that things can change in life, but I don't think so with this. Maybe I'll visit Walt Disney World again one day, but at this point in my life, I can't only have Walt Disney World nearby. I need a lot more now, and Las Vegas fits it with a hedonistic lifestyle I passionately believe in. Whatever pleasure you want, you can probably find it there. And that's another huge load of history I want to study. Plus, the Midwest and East Coast would be far too cold for me in winter. So Henderson and Las Vegas are it. It's where I truly belong, and I feel it all the time. When we walked through the Galleria at Sunset mall, I thought to myself, "I think I've had dreams about this mall." Considering the dreams I do have often about malls and amusement parks and Walt Disney World, I belong there. All of it, including the rollercoaster at New York-New York and the Pinball Hall of Fame and various other arcades I've not seen yet, should be part of my waking life too. I wake up from those dreams, look around, and think, "I'm still here?" Here in Santa Clarita. But waking from those dreams there, I'd think, "I'm still here!" Huge difference to a soul seeking daily vibrancy.
The word "home" has only four letters, but it's big. In those four letters is everything I've ever hoped for, everything I never considered when I lived in Florida because I felt secure even with being relatively rootless from so much moving. I never knew how much I was missing in Florida until I came here. I want roots, finally. I need roots. I want to know that where I am is where I can always be. It's there. I can feel that vibrancy every minute I'm there, looking to that Las Vegas skyline, going to Chinatown there, passing by the airport and watching planes take off and land. I loved it when we drove past Fort Lauderdale International and planes would take off and land above us, and when we'd go to Miami International to park and watch the planes, and experience the same thing. I can have the same thing all the time now at McCarran International. It's there for me whenever I want it, even when I'm not thinking about it, seeing planes seemingly hovering in the air as they're on approach to land at McCarran.
As much as I think right here about what home will mean to me, I will fall right into its rhythms once I become a resident. I will begin to know it right at the start, making up quickly for these eight years, and it'll be like I've never lived anywhere else, which is what I want. I'll always appreciate Florida for making me what I am, but this is where I want to be, where I know I'll thrive, where waking up from a dream leads to living a dream. What better hope for life?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
New DVD Review
This review, posted today, is the one that has truly made me feel at home at Movie Gazette Online. I truly feel like I can do this without worry about my writing now, since I've got nothing at stake anymore.
Tidbits from the Third Issue of The Henderson Press
One of these days I'll write more about my trip to Henderson with my family back in January, hopefully by the time we go again, either in April or a little later. As it stands now, and as it likely will be, we'll probably be residents of Henderson by late August, at least before the new school year starts.
I have a guest post I wrote for Janie Junebug's blog that I want to post, but only after I've written everything I want to about Henderson (including me and Meridith's first movie in Southern Nevada, and the Galleria at Sunset mall), since most of it takes place after we got back, with quick flashbacks to certain points during the trip.
Since I don't feel like writing about any of that tonight, I present what I've learned from the third issue of The Henderson Press, dated November 19 - December 9, 2010. This feels different for me because before we went back to Henderson in January after two years away from Meridith and I, I'd forgotten the layout of Henderson and thought it to be a quaint, peaceful town near Las Vegas, small enough to really feel like a close-knit community. The articles from the previous two issues gave me that impression too, but actually being in Henderson again, I was dead wrong.
It's huge, but it's still peaceful. As busy as certain areas of Henderson can get, they're always welcoming. And I've come to realize that the way The Henderson Press is written is perfect because it does bring Henderson together more closely. The Las Vegas Review-Journal can't possibly report on every single thing going on in Henderson unless it's as big as the police chief of Henderson announcing her retirement last month. For everything else, including that huge story, I go to The Henderson Press. Even as a weekly paper, it's still very thorough.
So here's what I've gleaned from the third issue, Vol. 1, No. 3:
- There's a Veterans Memorial Wall at City Hall. I will visit it, since I want to know all the history of Henderson, including its people.
- There are apparently two Nevada State Railroad Museums: One in Carson City and the other in Boulder City. As of 2011, according to yelp.com reviews, it was still open, but there's no website for the Boulder City one.
- A quarter-page ad at the bottom of page 3 announces an online business directory on The Henderson Press website. It's still there, and I guarantee I'll read every listing. I want to know about all the businesses I might pass by on my way to and from work once I'm there.
- At the time of this issue, the Henderson police department was building a joint training facility with the Boulder City police department.
- Las Vegas Natural History Museum. As long as there's exhibits about Nevada's natural history, I'll be there.
- Nevada State Museum on South Valley View Blvd. in Las Vegas. I want this!
- Phillips Furniture in Henderson sells "clean used furniture," as they advertise. I think I know where I'm going for bookcases hopefully in good condition.
- Henderson has the Henderson Symphony Orchestra, and I will only attend a concert if works by Schubert or Gerswhin are included.
- On South Water Street is an Italian restaurant called Emery's La Barrista. The menu on its website has fettucine alfredo, and, as a resident, I want to find as many great fettucine alfredos as I can.
- A column by Dr. Robert Fielden on page 15 states that "Henderson was built under the Roosevelt administration specifically to manufacture magnesium bombs for World War II in 1942. To keep the plant from being sold off as war surplus after the war ended, the State of Nevada authorized the Colorado River Commission to purchase the facilities. In 1953 the city was incorporated and named and named after Nevada's US senator Charles B. Henderson. Its population then was approximately 7400 people, and the city covered 13 square miles. Today the city has grown to serve more than 250,000 people living within a 94 square mile area." Ok, so it's not as quaint as I thought after two years away from it, but it's still approachable. Not only will I ransack the Nevada history sections of my local libraries after I get a library card, but I also want to know more about Charles B. Henderson.
- I love this final paragraph in Fielden's column: "From time to time, in future pieces I'll report on other influential Henderson pioneers and the role they played in making Henderson the best place in Nevada today for all of us to live." I hope he delivered what he promised in later issues.
- The "Upcoming Events" calendar lists a children's program at the Henderson Bird Viewing Preserve featuring education about roadrunners and sandwich terns. The website mentions that the "Preserve is home to thousands of migratory waterfowl as well as numerous resident desert birds." It's generally only open until 2 p.m. throughout the year, except for June, July and August, when it's open until noon due to the heat.
- Two and a half pages of coupons. I hope that's still prevalent in current issues.
- In the "Transportation" ads, a 2009 Toyota Corolla Sedan is being offered for $14,967. Findlay Toyota. I should have known it's from a dealership. No used Corollas this time.
- There's also houses listed for rent and for sale, houses that I'll never know because an apartment rental seems much more reasonable. I'd rather someone else fix a fussy toilet for me, costing less than it would if the toilet was in a house.
- Full back page ad for Johnny Mac's. I really want to try their wings.
By the time this move begins to get really serious, I want to have read every single issue up to the latest one. Time to catch up.
I have a guest post I wrote for Janie Junebug's blog that I want to post, but only after I've written everything I want to about Henderson (including me and Meridith's first movie in Southern Nevada, and the Galleria at Sunset mall), since most of it takes place after we got back, with quick flashbacks to certain points during the trip.
Since I don't feel like writing about any of that tonight, I present what I've learned from the third issue of The Henderson Press, dated November 19 - December 9, 2010. This feels different for me because before we went back to Henderson in January after two years away from Meridith and I, I'd forgotten the layout of Henderson and thought it to be a quaint, peaceful town near Las Vegas, small enough to really feel like a close-knit community. The articles from the previous two issues gave me that impression too, but actually being in Henderson again, I was dead wrong.
It's huge, but it's still peaceful. As busy as certain areas of Henderson can get, they're always welcoming. And I've come to realize that the way The Henderson Press is written is perfect because it does bring Henderson together more closely. The Las Vegas Review-Journal can't possibly report on every single thing going on in Henderson unless it's as big as the police chief of Henderson announcing her retirement last month. For everything else, including that huge story, I go to The Henderson Press. Even as a weekly paper, it's still very thorough.
So here's what I've gleaned from the third issue, Vol. 1, No. 3:
- There's a Veterans Memorial Wall at City Hall. I will visit it, since I want to know all the history of Henderson, including its people.
- There are apparently two Nevada State Railroad Museums: One in Carson City and the other in Boulder City. As of 2011, according to yelp.com reviews, it was still open, but there's no website for the Boulder City one.
- A quarter-page ad at the bottom of page 3 announces an online business directory on The Henderson Press website. It's still there, and I guarantee I'll read every listing. I want to know about all the businesses I might pass by on my way to and from work once I'm there.
- At the time of this issue, the Henderson police department was building a joint training facility with the Boulder City police department.
- Las Vegas Natural History Museum. As long as there's exhibits about Nevada's natural history, I'll be there.
- Nevada State Museum on South Valley View Blvd. in Las Vegas. I want this!
- Phillips Furniture in Henderson sells "clean used furniture," as they advertise. I think I know where I'm going for bookcases hopefully in good condition.
- Henderson has the Henderson Symphony Orchestra, and I will only attend a concert if works by Schubert or Gerswhin are included.
- On South Water Street is an Italian restaurant called Emery's La Barrista. The menu on its website has fettucine alfredo, and, as a resident, I want to find as many great fettucine alfredos as I can.
- A column by Dr. Robert Fielden on page 15 states that "Henderson was built under the Roosevelt administration specifically to manufacture magnesium bombs for World War II in 1942. To keep the plant from being sold off as war surplus after the war ended, the State of Nevada authorized the Colorado River Commission to purchase the facilities. In 1953 the city was incorporated and named and named after Nevada's US senator Charles B. Henderson. Its population then was approximately 7400 people, and the city covered 13 square miles. Today the city has grown to serve more than 250,000 people living within a 94 square mile area." Ok, so it's not as quaint as I thought after two years away from it, but it's still approachable. Not only will I ransack the Nevada history sections of my local libraries after I get a library card, but I also want to know more about Charles B. Henderson.
- I love this final paragraph in Fielden's column: "From time to time, in future pieces I'll report on other influential Henderson pioneers and the role they played in making Henderson the best place in Nevada today for all of us to live." I hope he delivered what he promised in later issues.
- The "Upcoming Events" calendar lists a children's program at the Henderson Bird Viewing Preserve featuring education about roadrunners and sandwich terns. The website mentions that the "Preserve is home to thousands of migratory waterfowl as well as numerous resident desert birds." It's generally only open until 2 p.m. throughout the year, except for June, July and August, when it's open until noon due to the heat.
- Two and a half pages of coupons. I hope that's still prevalent in current issues.
- In the "Transportation" ads, a 2009 Toyota Corolla Sedan is being offered for $14,967. Findlay Toyota. I should have known it's from a dealership. No used Corollas this time.
- There's also houses listed for rent and for sale, houses that I'll never know because an apartment rental seems much more reasonable. I'd rather someone else fix a fussy toilet for me, costing less than it would if the toilet was in a house.
- Full back page ad for Johnny Mac's. I really want to try their wings.
By the time this move begins to get really serious, I want to have read every single issue up to the latest one. Time to catch up.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
My Latest Review
My latest review for Movie Gazette Online was posted on Thursday. It's about the History Channel documentary, The Presidents, which is being rereleased on DVD on April 17 in thinner packaging, with the addition of the A&E Biography episode about Barack Obama. What better time than an election year to push it out into the market again? I really liked it. And I've stuck to what I said about reviewing only what truly interests me.
Meridith's Birthday at Souplantation
Thursday evening, nearing the end of the one day of separation between my birthday and Meridith's birthday, Meridith decided on where she wanted to go for dinner on her birthday: Souplantation.
Across the country it's known as Sweet Tomatoes, but in Southern California, it's called Souplantation. I don't know why. Tax reasons come to mind, but then that's always the case when I learn of changes in business between states.
When we first went to this Souplantation last September, I loved it. I loved the blueberry muffins full of tiny blueberries that burst blue inside, the chocolate muffins with syrupy centers, the fettucine alfredo with enough four-cheese sauce to make me get two more bowls. What may also have made the difference was going there on a late Wednesday afternoon rather than a late Friday afternoon, when the Valencia Town Center mall shopping district becomes the premier social hub of the Santa Clarita Valley. Add to that four regular screens and an IMAX screen given over to The Hunger Games at Edwards Valencia 12, and it was easy to see why the tables were crowded so.
Souplantation starts at the entrance with a loooooooong salad bar with spinach and various hand-tossed salad, including a Caesar salad that's made every 20 minutes that Meridith waited for. She loves freshly-made everything, so watching lemons squeezed and garlic pressed and cheese sprinkled on was worth the wait. I didn't take any, but she really went for it.
Along the salad bar are various accessories including shredded cheddar, crumbled blue cheese, and pasta dishes, including tuna tarragon and country macaroni salad with ham. Keep this in mind.
When you reach the end of the salad bar, nearest to the tables, you pay your $10+. You can go back to the salad bar while you're there without having to pay again, since you're already there and somehow the people at the two registers opposite each other (there's two salad bar lines, left and right) know if you've been there for a while. Perhaps it's from walking slower and slower as you eat more and more.
We found the ideal table, directly across from the soup bar, in front of the soda machines, diagonal from the door through which employees go carting trays of dishes, and pushing carts with containers of cut vegetables for the salad bar placed on both levels. That door would be annoying to some, especially with the banging of dishes in the back, an employee slamming soup bowls atop other soup bowls near the soup bar, and people walking up to the soda machine that sits behind the table, a partition in between. We didn't mind it, since Meridith loves hearing the activity of a kitchen, and it was easier for Mom than walking across the main dining room to get soup, buttermilk cornbread, and pasta.
The soup bar had many different kinds of soup, such as a New England clam chowder that had very few clams and a lot of potato, Irish leek potato soup, broccoli cheddar soup, tomato basil soup, and a chicken noodle soup in which all the noodles and chicken sat at the bottom of the pot, which I suppose is the best way of it if you want more broth than noodles, but there wasn't enough chicken. The thick noodles, however, were good. And there was a vat filled with baked potatoes with appropriate condiments on the side.
The bread station, in between the soup bar and the pasta station, had those chocolate brownies, the blueberry muffins, grilled cheese focaccia and four-cheese focaccia, and slices of sourdough bread wrapped in red cloth, with small paper cups of butter on the glass shelf above it, and a squeeze bottle of clover honey next to the butter.
To the right of the bread station, the pasta station, with four-cheese fettucine alfredo, the same disappointing, watery macaroni and cheese like last time, and penne arrabiata.
Potatoes. Starch. Pasta. Starch. Breads. Starch. The pasta salads at the salad bar. Starch. What's the best way to keep turning over tables, to make sure that no one stays too long? Give them potatoes and pasta and breads and pasta dishes at the salad bar!
It is nice at the start, with a lot of selection, but then is easily seen as a genius scheme at the end. It's obviously not a buffet restaurant that can easily offer seafood (my favorite kind of buffet), but there is no food there to lighten the load while you're eating. You're there for a short time as a result, and then you're gone. Considering its location, near the mall and closer to the movie theater, I'm not surprised. Eat and go. Eat and go.
It was nicer on that Wednesday last September, being that it was fairly empty, and felt leisurely. Meridith liked it, though, and that's what mattered most. But geez, sitting at that table, watching people pour out of the parking garage to walk across the street to the movie theater, wow! However, I won't read The Hunger Games until sufficient time has passed, if I read it at all. I don't like to ride hype. I decide what I want to read in my own good time.
Across the country it's known as Sweet Tomatoes, but in Southern California, it's called Souplantation. I don't know why. Tax reasons come to mind, but then that's always the case when I learn of changes in business between states.
When we first went to this Souplantation last September, I loved it. I loved the blueberry muffins full of tiny blueberries that burst blue inside, the chocolate muffins with syrupy centers, the fettucine alfredo with enough four-cheese sauce to make me get two more bowls. What may also have made the difference was going there on a late Wednesday afternoon rather than a late Friday afternoon, when the Valencia Town Center mall shopping district becomes the premier social hub of the Santa Clarita Valley. Add to that four regular screens and an IMAX screen given over to The Hunger Games at Edwards Valencia 12, and it was easy to see why the tables were crowded so.
Souplantation starts at the entrance with a loooooooong salad bar with spinach and various hand-tossed salad, including a Caesar salad that's made every 20 minutes that Meridith waited for. She loves freshly-made everything, so watching lemons squeezed and garlic pressed and cheese sprinkled on was worth the wait. I didn't take any, but she really went for it.
Along the salad bar are various accessories including shredded cheddar, crumbled blue cheese, and pasta dishes, including tuna tarragon and country macaroni salad with ham. Keep this in mind.
When you reach the end of the salad bar, nearest to the tables, you pay your $10+. You can go back to the salad bar while you're there without having to pay again, since you're already there and somehow the people at the two registers opposite each other (there's two salad bar lines, left and right) know if you've been there for a while. Perhaps it's from walking slower and slower as you eat more and more.
We found the ideal table, directly across from the soup bar, in front of the soda machines, diagonal from the door through which employees go carting trays of dishes, and pushing carts with containers of cut vegetables for the salad bar placed on both levels. That door would be annoying to some, especially with the banging of dishes in the back, an employee slamming soup bowls atop other soup bowls near the soup bar, and people walking up to the soda machine that sits behind the table, a partition in between. We didn't mind it, since Meridith loves hearing the activity of a kitchen, and it was easier for Mom than walking across the main dining room to get soup, buttermilk cornbread, and pasta.
The soup bar had many different kinds of soup, such as a New England clam chowder that had very few clams and a lot of potato, Irish leek potato soup, broccoli cheddar soup, tomato basil soup, and a chicken noodle soup in which all the noodles and chicken sat at the bottom of the pot, which I suppose is the best way of it if you want more broth than noodles, but there wasn't enough chicken. The thick noodles, however, were good. And there was a vat filled with baked potatoes with appropriate condiments on the side.
The bread station, in between the soup bar and the pasta station, had those chocolate brownies, the blueberry muffins, grilled cheese focaccia and four-cheese focaccia, and slices of sourdough bread wrapped in red cloth, with small paper cups of butter on the glass shelf above it, and a squeeze bottle of clover honey next to the butter.
To the right of the bread station, the pasta station, with four-cheese fettucine alfredo, the same disappointing, watery macaroni and cheese like last time, and penne arrabiata.
Potatoes. Starch. Pasta. Starch. Breads. Starch. The pasta salads at the salad bar. Starch. What's the best way to keep turning over tables, to make sure that no one stays too long? Give them potatoes and pasta and breads and pasta dishes at the salad bar!
It is nice at the start, with a lot of selection, but then is easily seen as a genius scheme at the end. It's obviously not a buffet restaurant that can easily offer seafood (my favorite kind of buffet), but there is no food there to lighten the load while you're eating. You're there for a short time as a result, and then you're gone. Considering its location, near the mall and closer to the movie theater, I'm not surprised. Eat and go. Eat and go.
It was nicer on that Wednesday last September, being that it was fairly empty, and felt leisurely. Meridith liked it, though, and that's what mattered most. But geez, sitting at that table, watching people pour out of the parking garage to walk across the street to the movie theater, wow! However, I won't read The Hunger Games until sufficient time has passed, if I read it at all. I don't like to ride hype. I decide what I want to read in my own good time.
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