Reading The Last Campaign: How Harry Truman Won the 1948 Election by Zachary Karabell yesterday, I began planning my Saturday. I suddenly had a yen to watch Swing Vote for the probably 5,007th time. Then would come the usual stop at the newsstand for The Wall Street Journal Weekend and then the library, as usual.
I went to the Fandango website last night to see what the status was of the showings of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides at Edwards Valencia 12. Meridith and I want to see it, but we figured on waiting until its second weekend in theaters for the crowds to thin out a bit.
I woke up a little before 8 this morning, and found Mom on the El Capitan Theatre website, the theater owned by Disney in Hollywood, which had just had a marathon of all four Pirates of the Caribbean movies. And I remembered that Dad had had a desire to go to the Diabetes Expo being held at the Los Angeles Convention Center on Saturday. When I first heard about it, I didn't mind going. Gets me out of the valley and all I need with me is a book and I'm good.
Mom had the right idea, though. Of course, she would go with Dad, but why should Meridith and I wait to see Pirates? And at the 1 p.m. showing tomorrow, the day of The Rapture, in which I hope to suddenly become the proud owner of a Mercedes wherever I can find one after the believers have ascended, there were two available seats at the right side of the ground level of the theater at the ends of rows J and K, one behind the other. That works for me and Meridith.
And since general admission seats are in the balcony, these seats include popcorn and a drink, but hopefully a themed popcorn bucket rather than the standard El Capitan one.
And last night, Meridith finished the now-only season of "America's Next Great Restaurant" and found that not only are one of the three locations of Soul Daddy, the winner of the show, in Los Angeles, but it's inside the Hollywood & Highland Center, right across the street from El Capitan. So we'll go next door before or after the movie to see the generally overpriced souvenirs and then to Hollywood & Highland. She told me they have cheese grits as a side, and it would be a nice break from the Quaker Instant kind I always have.
I don't think the end of the world would affect Hollywood much, though. It's pretty much a godless place, but I say that because the Big Bang Theory t-shirts offered at the souvenir shops in the area are too expensive. I want another Sheldon shirt, but not for $25. I was a rube when I visited the area in April 2003, but I wasn't that much of a rube.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A Universal Beauty
It's 1994. Bill Clinton has passed a year in the White House. I keep playing Sheryl Crow's "Tuesday Night Music Club" over and over, and it becomes my favorite album ever. In that summer, I become fascinated by the concept of a double feature, when the South Florida Sun-Sentinel has an ad in the Lifestyle section that says, "Come for Angels in the Outfield, stay for The Lion King." I've never seen restrooms so crowded in between films at the GCC Coral Square Cinema 8 in Coral Springs.
Somewhere in that year, April or May, I'm at Universal Studios Orlando with my family; a one-day visit. It's the day after my part in a bowling tournament, the reason we're in Orlando from Coral Springs, 4 hours south. I didn't rank high enough for the next round, so here I am, at a better deal, since the most fun I got out of that tournament was the big arcade at that alley, causing me to nearly miss my turn twice. I love bowling, but that was one instance of boredom.
We traverse pretty much the entire park. E.T.: The Ride. The Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera. Kongfrontation. Nickelodeon Studios, where we sit down to watch them tape three opening challenges on "Legends of the Hidden Temple" for separate episodes.
At one point during the day, someone comes up to us and asks if we want to take part in a survey, what turns out to be a taste test of juices with the labels covered up. I notice that one of them is Ocean Spray, but that matters nothing to me, not with what I've seen.
An apparition.
A temporary vision.
A brunette about my age (10) who knows just what I like, even though she doesn't know me.
Mature. Even at that age, I like 'em that way, and it must stem from reading since I was 2. Nothing that I read in those books brought on this preference, but considering that my 3rd grade teacher once called my parents in for a conference because I was reading on a level far above my classmates with some John Grisham novels I brought to class to read, I expect a bit more.
I wish I remembered our conversation. I wish I remembered exactly what she looked like, beyond the long hair and those brown eyes that seemed curious but didn't want to ask the questions outright. I know, it sounds a little silly, but you come upon something like this in a theme park, just like that, and you wonder how on earth it managed to happen on that day, in that spot.
Of course, the severe disadvantage for me was not prying a bit more, like trying to extract a phone number or something to keep in touch. Saw her briefly, talked a bit, and that was it. Of course, this was at a time when I thought every girl I was attracted to would be unforgettable, like years later my memories of them would still haunt me. And then, you get older, and those preconceived notions become disposable notions.
But right then, wow. I don't remember if I asked her where she came from, to compare the distance between that and Coral Springs, but I wanted her with me for the rest of the day. No chance, though, since it was time to go.
I do recall that in line for Kongfrontation, there was a girl named Bridget in line behind me, and we had a longer conversation than the one I had with that taste test goddess. Bridget was a little more bubbly, excitable, but that didn't work for me. Like that brunette, I prefer mystery, time to explore in conversation what a person is, what they like, what they don't like, what they want in life. Now that stems from books and also having written my own, which required exploring facets of the lives of so many actors from nothing. I had to start from nothing and find the books and read them and get out of them what I needed. That works for me with women, too. I don't want to know everything right away, but just some trait, some manner of speaking that makes me want more.
Somewhere in that year, April or May, I'm at Universal Studios Orlando with my family; a one-day visit. It's the day after my part in a bowling tournament, the reason we're in Orlando from Coral Springs, 4 hours south. I didn't rank high enough for the next round, so here I am, at a better deal, since the most fun I got out of that tournament was the big arcade at that alley, causing me to nearly miss my turn twice. I love bowling, but that was one instance of boredom.
We traverse pretty much the entire park. E.T.: The Ride. The Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera. Kongfrontation. Nickelodeon Studios, where we sit down to watch them tape three opening challenges on "Legends of the Hidden Temple" for separate episodes.
At one point during the day, someone comes up to us and asks if we want to take part in a survey, what turns out to be a taste test of juices with the labels covered up. I notice that one of them is Ocean Spray, but that matters nothing to me, not with what I've seen.
An apparition.
A temporary vision.
A brunette about my age (10) who knows just what I like, even though she doesn't know me.
Mature. Even at that age, I like 'em that way, and it must stem from reading since I was 2. Nothing that I read in those books brought on this preference, but considering that my 3rd grade teacher once called my parents in for a conference because I was reading on a level far above my classmates with some John Grisham novels I brought to class to read, I expect a bit more.
I wish I remembered our conversation. I wish I remembered exactly what she looked like, beyond the long hair and those brown eyes that seemed curious but didn't want to ask the questions outright. I know, it sounds a little silly, but you come upon something like this in a theme park, just like that, and you wonder how on earth it managed to happen on that day, in that spot.
Of course, the severe disadvantage for me was not prying a bit more, like trying to extract a phone number or something to keep in touch. Saw her briefly, talked a bit, and that was it. Of course, this was at a time when I thought every girl I was attracted to would be unforgettable, like years later my memories of them would still haunt me. And then, you get older, and those preconceived notions become disposable notions.
But right then, wow. I don't remember if I asked her where she came from, to compare the distance between that and Coral Springs, but I wanted her with me for the rest of the day. No chance, though, since it was time to go.
I do recall that in line for Kongfrontation, there was a girl named Bridget in line behind me, and we had a longer conversation than the one I had with that taste test goddess. Bridget was a little more bubbly, excitable, but that didn't work for me. Like that brunette, I prefer mystery, time to explore in conversation what a person is, what they like, what they don't like, what they want in life. Now that stems from books and also having written my own, which required exploring facets of the lives of so many actors from nothing. I had to start from nothing and find the books and read them and get out of them what I needed. That works for me with women, too. I don't want to know everything right away, but just some trait, some manner of speaking that makes me want more.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
No More Novels on DailyLit
Yesterday, I finished reading Paranoia by Joseph Finder. According to my Goodreads profile (http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/270540-rory, which you can also find in my links list under "Look! I read good!"), I started it on December 7 of last year.
It never takes me that long to read a book. But in this case, I read it through DailyLit (www.dailylit.com), which gives you a page a day via e-mail or a little longer, if you choose.
I chose Paranoia because it was a surprise to see a relatively recent book on there (well recent in paperback form, as that was published in 2006. It was first published in 2004), offered whole. You'd expect that with the novels of Charles Dickens, being in the public domain and all, but there that one was, full-length.
The plot sounded interesting, forced small-scale corporate espionage, and Finder is quite a writer, making every technical aspect easy to understand. He's not one of those aloof thriller writers who expect you to climb to Mount Olympus to even be able to understand what you're reading. He's like a friend telling you a story about something that happened. Your friend is going to make sure you know every detail, and that's what Finder does here.
In that span of time, between December and now, I bought all of Finder's books in paperback for cheap. I want to explore every other thriller he's written. I haven't started those yet (I also did the same with Tessa Hadley, after I read a short story of hers in The New Yorker, and just like with Finder, I haven't started reading her novels yet either), but I will get to his second book, The Russia Club soon (There was no reasonably priced copy of his first book, Red Carpet).
I liked getting a page a day from DailyLit (or rather a few compressed into one, since the mass market paperback edition is 448 pages, and there were 170 e-mails from DailyLit for it), but towards the end, I got impatient. I wanted to know how it all shook out, so yesterday, on "161 out of 170", I kept going. I clicked on the option of "Get the next installment right now," and I finished it.
I've done this before. On DailyLit, I read Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom by Cory Doctorow the same way, except I read it in one sitting. And then I did it again a few months later, craving it again. And then I bought the book from Amazon. I expect that's what Joseph Finder also hopes for in having Paranoia available for free, and that's exactly what he got from me. But I don't like doing this often. I prefer the real thing, real covers, real pages. I could never read Dickens like this. In fact, in the years before DailyLit, when I was doing a book report in middle school, I found A Tale of Two Cities available online, and I read it all online. That's not the way for me. Never do I want technology to take over how I read. For music, fine. An mp3 player was a godsend, because I don't have to cart around my entire CD collection on a road trip as I used to. And my mp3 player is always with me whenever I go out. I can understand that. But I will never, never, never, never get a Kindle. Give me stacks numbering into the hundreds. Give me that aging, yellowing smell of a book that perhaps has been read by so many across so many years and is now owned by me. I could never get the same pleasure of downloading a title to a Kindle as I do when I search for a particular book on abebooks.com and can compare prices and figure out what's the best seller to get it from. That happened last night with On the Volcano by James Nelson. I'm a huge fan of his The Trouble with Gumballs, and his son Jeff informed me that not only is he still alive, but he's still writing, and On the Volcano was recently published.
I appreciate having found The Trouble with Gumballs while searching for books about vending machines on the County of Los Angeles library website, but I wasn't going to do the same with this one. I wasn't going to wait. And abebooks.com had plenty of copies. So it's on its way to me.
However, I am going to wait for Nelson's The Poor Person's Guide to Great Cheap Wines and Everybody's Guide to Great Wines under $5 to get to me from whichever library will send it. I don't drink wine, but I do love good writing about anything. It's why I sometimes read the wine column in The Wall Street Journal Weekend.
This entry has really wandered, so I'll get back to the point: No more novels on DailyLit. During the middle portion of Paranoia, I could wait, and I was fortunate to discover Finder's other books, but that kind of discovery doesn't happen that often on DailyLit. The last time was Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom a few years ago, and as mentioned, that ended up the same way. But I'll stick with my discoveries in print. I'll get that feeling right then and there that I should have a book in my collection, and that doesn't happen often either, but when it does, it's a feeling that the word "euphoria" can't contain.
I'll stick with poems and quotes-of-the-day on DailyLit. Shorter and less time.
It never takes me that long to read a book. But in this case, I read it through DailyLit (www.dailylit.com), which gives you a page a day via e-mail or a little longer, if you choose.
I chose Paranoia because it was a surprise to see a relatively recent book on there (well recent in paperback form, as that was published in 2006. It was first published in 2004), offered whole. You'd expect that with the novels of Charles Dickens, being in the public domain and all, but there that one was, full-length.
The plot sounded interesting, forced small-scale corporate espionage, and Finder is quite a writer, making every technical aspect easy to understand. He's not one of those aloof thriller writers who expect you to climb to Mount Olympus to even be able to understand what you're reading. He's like a friend telling you a story about something that happened. Your friend is going to make sure you know every detail, and that's what Finder does here.
In that span of time, between December and now, I bought all of Finder's books in paperback for cheap. I want to explore every other thriller he's written. I haven't started those yet (I also did the same with Tessa Hadley, after I read a short story of hers in The New Yorker, and just like with Finder, I haven't started reading her novels yet either), but I will get to his second book, The Russia Club soon (There was no reasonably priced copy of his first book, Red Carpet).
I liked getting a page a day from DailyLit (or rather a few compressed into one, since the mass market paperback edition is 448 pages, and there were 170 e-mails from DailyLit for it), but towards the end, I got impatient. I wanted to know how it all shook out, so yesterday, on "161 out of 170", I kept going. I clicked on the option of "Get the next installment right now," and I finished it.
I've done this before. On DailyLit, I read Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom by Cory Doctorow the same way, except I read it in one sitting. And then I did it again a few months later, craving it again. And then I bought the book from Amazon. I expect that's what Joseph Finder also hopes for in having Paranoia available for free, and that's exactly what he got from me. But I don't like doing this often. I prefer the real thing, real covers, real pages. I could never read Dickens like this. In fact, in the years before DailyLit, when I was doing a book report in middle school, I found A Tale of Two Cities available online, and I read it all online. That's not the way for me. Never do I want technology to take over how I read. For music, fine. An mp3 player was a godsend, because I don't have to cart around my entire CD collection on a road trip as I used to. And my mp3 player is always with me whenever I go out. I can understand that. But I will never, never, never, never get a Kindle. Give me stacks numbering into the hundreds. Give me that aging, yellowing smell of a book that perhaps has been read by so many across so many years and is now owned by me. I could never get the same pleasure of downloading a title to a Kindle as I do when I search for a particular book on abebooks.com and can compare prices and figure out what's the best seller to get it from. That happened last night with On the Volcano by James Nelson. I'm a huge fan of his The Trouble with Gumballs, and his son Jeff informed me that not only is he still alive, but he's still writing, and On the Volcano was recently published.
I appreciate having found The Trouble with Gumballs while searching for books about vending machines on the County of Los Angeles library website, but I wasn't going to do the same with this one. I wasn't going to wait. And abebooks.com had plenty of copies. So it's on its way to me.
However, I am going to wait for Nelson's The Poor Person's Guide to Great Cheap Wines and Everybody's Guide to Great Wines under $5 to get to me from whichever library will send it. I don't drink wine, but I do love good writing about anything. It's why I sometimes read the wine column in The Wall Street Journal Weekend.
This entry has really wandered, so I'll get back to the point: No more novels on DailyLit. During the middle portion of Paranoia, I could wait, and I was fortunate to discover Finder's other books, but that kind of discovery doesn't happen that often on DailyLit. The last time was Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom a few years ago, and as mentioned, that ended up the same way. But I'll stick with my discoveries in print. I'll get that feeling right then and there that I should have a book in my collection, and that doesn't happen often either, but when it does, it's a feeling that the word "euphoria" can't contain.
I'll stick with poems and quotes-of-the-day on DailyLit. Shorter and less time.
Night Moves
Last night was one of those nights in which I slept in sections. It doesn't happen often, thankfully, but I drift off, wake up, drift off, wake up. It doesn't happen five minutes later, but probably an hour or two, and always a dream involved. I was surprised that no dream involved the taping of the third- and second-to-last Oprah Winfrey shows last night, which I followed closely on The Hollywood Reporter website via a reporter who had a live chat blog going while the episodes were being taped at the United Center in Chicago. Both episodes are called "Surpise Oprah! A Farewell Spectacular" (They air on Monday, May 23 and Tuesday, May 24) and it seemed like nearly all of Hollywood was there. Tom Hanks, Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, Beyonce, Queen Latifah, Jamie Foxx, Dakota Fanning, Usher, Kristin Chenoweth, Aretha Franklin, Will Smith, Jada Pinkett Smith (the latter two hosted the second episode, while Tom Hanks hosted the first, apparently), Stevie Wonder, Alicia Keys, and many other names I've forgotten. The two episodes were producers' choice. Oprah didn't know anything about what was going to happen. The NBA agreed to push back the next Finals game (Bulls vs. Heat) for this. That's power over many decades.
I know the different parts of the night. I figured that when I woke up the first time, it was 1 a.m. The next time was 3. The third time was probably getting closer to 6, since the heat clicked on and soon enough, Tigger came to my bed, licked me and got in. I never look at the clock and I'm never overly concerned about being awake during the night. I just shift and drift right back off.
It also rained during the night. Not a "Holy-crap-why didn't-I-build-an-ark" downpour, but just a steady rain that there's always too little of here in Southern California, but that's expected with the desert atmosphere, though rare in May. Usually the heat ratchets up around this time and doesn't stop until the end of summer. I'm all for rain as late as we can get it.
That's pretty much all I have.
I know the different parts of the night. I figured that when I woke up the first time, it was 1 a.m. The next time was 3. The third time was probably getting closer to 6, since the heat clicked on and soon enough, Tigger came to my bed, licked me and got in. I never look at the clock and I'm never overly concerned about being awake during the night. I just shift and drift right back off.
It also rained during the night. Not a "Holy-crap-why didn't-I-build-an-ark" downpour, but just a steady rain that there's always too little of here in Southern California, but that's expected with the desert atmosphere, though rare in May. Usually the heat ratchets up around this time and doesn't stop until the end of summer. I'm all for rain as late as we can get it.
That's pretty much all I have.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Easiest Book in My Research
This morning, I finshed reading Dwight D. Eisenhower by Tom Wicker, part of the American Presidents series published by Henry Holt and Company through its Times Books arm.
On my small legal notepad, I only wrote the title, the author, the year of publication (2002), the publishing company and "New York." No notes. Just "Omar Bradley" in the margin, to look up on Google out of curiosity about what that general did in his career. No notes about books Eisenhower read, because the only mention was the Western novels he so loved, and I knew that from Going Home to Glory by David Eisenhower.
I liked the detail that Wicker brought to Eisenhower's presidency, but I don't want all the books I read to be like this, because then I won't have my three books to write. But it was nice to have a break from writing down page numbers and which paragraphs I wanted to transcribe. That's necessary when they're long paragraphs. I don't get writer's cramp, but I do get bored with long handwritten transcription.
Next is Franklin Delano Roosevelt by Roy Jenkins. I love hopscotching through history.
On my small legal notepad, I only wrote the title, the author, the year of publication (2002), the publishing company and "New York." No notes. Just "Omar Bradley" in the margin, to look up on Google out of curiosity about what that general did in his career. No notes about books Eisenhower read, because the only mention was the Western novels he so loved, and I knew that from Going Home to Glory by David Eisenhower.
I liked the detail that Wicker brought to Eisenhower's presidency, but I don't want all the books I read to be like this, because then I won't have my three books to write. But it was nice to have a break from writing down page numbers and which paragraphs I wanted to transcribe. That's necessary when they're long paragraphs. I don't get writer's cramp, but I do get bored with long handwritten transcription.
Next is Franklin Delano Roosevelt by Roy Jenkins. I love hopscotching through history.
Cold Today
Normally I don't talk about the weather, but this is an unusual exception being that it's chilly outside with gloomy drizzling. It was rain a little after 5 this morning, but not heavy. Not something expected in May, but a welcome change, being that it's always warm enough around this time and getting warmer. Much warmer.
Other than that, not a whole lot going on. Still doing research for my three presidential books. It's pretty quiet.
Other than that, not a whole lot going on. Still doing research for my three presidential books. It's pretty quiet.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Random Sunday
There are some things that just won't fit enough to make one entry apiece.
Under the near-flat screen computer monitor here in the living room, we've got a white weather clock with a digital display. 9:01 a.m., a symbol of the sun under "FORECAST", and this says that it's 67.7 degrees in here, with 50% humidity. You'd think that would lend itself to a cool day, and maybe it will, but yesterday, with the same weather, it was pretty warm.
I've been reading Dreams & Schemes: My Decade of Fun in the Sun, a compilation of columns by Steve Lopez of the Los Angeles Times. The Soloist as a book got big play when it came out, and it's disappointing at first that these columns were relegated to a smaller publisher, but you know, it feels right. Camino Books, Inc. is no-nonsense, here's the book in floppy paperback, and read all you want. He's always been Los Angeles, but this brings him right back into the bits and streams of this particular world. I hope he makes something off of it. I'm no help, since I checked it out from the library yesterday.
Treme came from Netflix, and I watched the first episode yesterday morning and the second episode this morning. There's not only attention to the new, conflicted, heartbroken world that emerged from Katrina, but also the anger toward the federal government for their utter failure not only in doing anything right away to save the people of New Orleans, but for levees that were a failure in construction and maintenance. John Goodman as Creighton Bernette embodies this in a rant during an interview with a British reporter, and it's apt, since Goodman has lived in New Orleans for years. The viewpoint of Treme is so wide-ranging, taking in the musicians that live to make New Orleans alive again, those who struggle to pick up what's still left, and those who have no clue about New Orleans beyond what they see on TV, such as the three members of a Christian group who have flown out from Wisconsin to rebuild one of the wards. They don't quite understand the world that has emerged. And then there are those, faceless, who say that the city shouldn't be rebuilt. These citizens, even fictional, still represent those who believe that not only should it be rebuilt, but it needs to live again, lively and important to all those who made New Orleans home. It would be like asking after an earthquake if parts of California should be rebuilt, holding that very same doubt. New Orleans is just as much a part of the United States as anywhere else in the nation.
Today, Dad, Meridith and I are planning to walk through a food truck festival going on where all the cars of this valley are sold. Food trucks of all kinds will be there, including one that sells quesadillas and nachos (my area) and one that sells cheeseballs (I think Meridith's going to try to buy up everything from that one). There's also a Jewish food festival in the huge parking lot at College of the Canyons, and Dad wants to stop by that one, though I'm sure it's pretty much the same as it was last year in the parking lot of what used to be Bristol Farms, when Bristol Farms was still there. There's also a food truck that sells "potato tornados", fried twists of a potato on a stick, with the option of sausage within it. There's a lot of possibilities and this will be our first time amidst food trucks. They're omnipresent in Los Angeles, but never like this in this valley.
I doubt I'll be able to burn off all the calories consumed from this festival while walking past everything that's offered, but hey, exercising right after eating and while eating sounds like a good deal to me. Just a quesadilla, nachos, and whatever else I don't know about yet and I'm good.
Under the near-flat screen computer monitor here in the living room, we've got a white weather clock with a digital display. 9:01 a.m., a symbol of the sun under "FORECAST", and this says that it's 67.7 degrees in here, with 50% humidity. You'd think that would lend itself to a cool day, and maybe it will, but yesterday, with the same weather, it was pretty warm.
I've been reading Dreams & Schemes: My Decade of Fun in the Sun, a compilation of columns by Steve Lopez of the Los Angeles Times. The Soloist as a book got big play when it came out, and it's disappointing at first that these columns were relegated to a smaller publisher, but you know, it feels right. Camino Books, Inc. is no-nonsense, here's the book in floppy paperback, and read all you want. He's always been Los Angeles, but this brings him right back into the bits and streams of this particular world. I hope he makes something off of it. I'm no help, since I checked it out from the library yesterday.
Treme came from Netflix, and I watched the first episode yesterday morning and the second episode this morning. There's not only attention to the new, conflicted, heartbroken world that emerged from Katrina, but also the anger toward the federal government for their utter failure not only in doing anything right away to save the people of New Orleans, but for levees that were a failure in construction and maintenance. John Goodman as Creighton Bernette embodies this in a rant during an interview with a British reporter, and it's apt, since Goodman has lived in New Orleans for years. The viewpoint of Treme is so wide-ranging, taking in the musicians that live to make New Orleans alive again, those who struggle to pick up what's still left, and those who have no clue about New Orleans beyond what they see on TV, such as the three members of a Christian group who have flown out from Wisconsin to rebuild one of the wards. They don't quite understand the world that has emerged. And then there are those, faceless, who say that the city shouldn't be rebuilt. These citizens, even fictional, still represent those who believe that not only should it be rebuilt, but it needs to live again, lively and important to all those who made New Orleans home. It would be like asking after an earthquake if parts of California should be rebuilt, holding that very same doubt. New Orleans is just as much a part of the United States as anywhere else in the nation.
Today, Dad, Meridith and I are planning to walk through a food truck festival going on where all the cars of this valley are sold. Food trucks of all kinds will be there, including one that sells quesadillas and nachos (my area) and one that sells cheeseballs (I think Meridith's going to try to buy up everything from that one). There's also a Jewish food festival in the huge parking lot at College of the Canyons, and Dad wants to stop by that one, though I'm sure it's pretty much the same as it was last year in the parking lot of what used to be Bristol Farms, when Bristol Farms was still there. There's also a food truck that sells "potato tornados", fried twists of a potato on a stick, with the option of sausage within it. There's a lot of possibilities and this will be our first time amidst food trucks. They're omnipresent in Los Angeles, but never like this in this valley.
I doubt I'll be able to burn off all the calories consumed from this festival while walking past everything that's offered, but hey, exercising right after eating and while eating sounds like a good deal to me. Just a quesadilla, nachos, and whatever else I don't know about yet and I'm good.
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