Here's another one. It's an HDR pic, which makes it kind of interesting, and it appears to be taken from somewhere vaguely near where we live (I think it's further east than us, and I don't recognise the bridge.) Photo by Dave Bullock (eecue).
[Update, 31st March: There are now 512 photos of the fire on Flickr]
Friday, March 30, 2007
Hollywood hills on fire
There was a fire in the Hollywood hills today. When I got home, and sat around for a bit, I thought that I should have gone to the top of the hill, because I could have taken exciting looking photos. But then I looked on flickr, and there were photos there already.
Still, as they said on the news, fire season has only just started, so there will be more opportunities.
Still, as they said on the news, fire season has only just started, so there will be more opportunities.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
All my CDs - ended
I was reminded today that I never updated the blog on my musical marathon. On November 28th, I decided to listen to all my CDs, in order, whilst I was at work. On Marh 4th, I finished.
I'll admit that I cheated occasionally. Once in a while, a CD would start, and I'd turn the volume down, and go for lunch (OG - Original Gangster, by Ice T was a good example of that one.) I've also been blessed with a large number of free CDs that came from magazine covers. What annoys me about those is that they don't tell you the name of the artist, just the name of the song. And as I didn't pay for them, I decided it was OK to fast forward them.
I'll admit that I cheated occasionally. Once in a while, a CD would start, and I'd turn the volume down, and go for lunch (OG - Original Gangster, by Ice T was a good example of that one.) I've also been blessed with a large number of free CDs that came from magazine covers. What annoys me about those is that they don't tell you the name of the artist, just the name of the song. And as I didn't pay for them, I decided it was OK to fast forward them.
The Cat's Arse
The cat went to the vet, and it seems that she had infected anal glands. Which explains why she rubbed her pooh covered bottom all over the carpet. They gave her a range of blood tests too, and said they would contact us with the results. So they gave us some antibiotic pills, and some cream to rub on her swollen bottom. Well, for S to rub on her swollen bottom, 'cos I'm not have anything to do with it. And for this, we had to hand over the family silver, and our first born son.
A couple of days later, they phoned with the results of the blood tests. It turns out the cat has hepatitis (they didn't put a letter after it). When your cat has hepatitis, I'd have thought it was time to talk about the word that starts with 'youthen' and ends with a continent. But no, it turns out that all she needs is more antibiotics, this time to squirt down her throat.
That cat will outlive me, just to spite me.
A couple of days later, they phoned with the results of the blood tests. It turns out the cat has hepatitis (they didn't put a letter after it). When your cat has hepatitis, I'd have thought it was time to talk about the word that starts with 'youthen' and ends with a continent. But no, it turns out that all she needs is more antibiotics, this time to squirt down her throat.
That cat will outlive me, just to spite me.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Working for the Nursery
As I've said before, the boys go to a pre-school which is a co-operative. It's part of the California Council of Parent Participation Nursery Schools. They look after the boys, and we have to participate. But sometimes it feels like it would be easier if we just looked after the boys.
We have to work there, 1.25 days per week, between us. Then there are events that need more people, we need do stuff like paint, and recently they've decided that we need to do fundraising. The nursery needs a loft - which will cost $1500 dollars. (It turns out that what they call a loft is more of a glorified cupboard) so they have to raise money. So we parents have to seek out donations. Now why anyone at all should donate money so that a bunch of SUV driving middle class parents (not us driving SUVs, as you know) can have a slightly nicer pre-school. After all, those women who, with their children, have become homeless as a result of having alcoholic violent partners have got perfectly nice places to put their children.
Part 1
So S has to spend afternoons co-ordinating with others to find out which local businesses have yet to be harassed, travelling there, and then harassing them. So the other day S and the boys set off for a local restaurant. They ate lunch there (because you can't harass a restaurant for a donation with eating there first), and then harassed.
On the way out some Japanese teenaged girls saw A and D, and started to squeak. I don't know why, but A and D particularly have this effect with Japanese teenage girls. The boys sighed, and had their hands held, were cuddled, and generally poked (the boys draw the line at being picked up - and as Japanese girls are usually slight, they don't try much any more) while the other Japanese girls took photos.
They got to the car, which was handily parked behind some bushes, and D then honked up all of his macaroni cheese and orange juice.
And if we're lucky, we'll get a $25 donation. It would be much easier to just given them the money (there must be 40 children at the school).
Part II
There are two 'sessions' at the school. Monday/Wednesday/Friday, and Tuesday/Thursday. When there are special occasions at the school, they happen once for each session, and so our boys have to participate twice. And there are, of course, two of them. So that makes 4 participation events. This week was Persian New Year which unusually didn't seem to involve us doing anything (but you can see how many things there might be).
Soon it's "Spring Celebration", which is Easter by another name. (Although it sounds very pagan calling it Spring Celebration). So the children need to bring eggs, to paint and decorate the place with. (Two children are allergic to eggs, and will not come into school for the week). They need to bring 6 hard boiled eggs, 4 blown eggs, and 6 plastic eggs with 'treasure' (not candy or food, 'cos that's not allowed) in them.
So we need 6 boiled eggs, and 4 blown eggs. Times 2, 'cos we have two boys. Times 2, 'cos we go to 2 sessions. So we need 24 boiled eggs, and 16 blown eggs. Or a total of 40 eggs. (Plus 24 plastic eggs with treasure in.)
We have to work there, 1.25 days per week, between us. Then there are events that need more people, we need do stuff like paint, and recently they've decided that we need to do fundraising. The nursery needs a loft - which will cost $1500 dollars. (It turns out that what they call a loft is more of a glorified cupboard) so they have to raise money. So we parents have to seek out donations. Now why anyone at all should donate money so that a bunch of SUV driving middle class parents (not us driving SUVs, as you know) can have a slightly nicer pre-school. After all, those women who, with their children, have become homeless as a result of having alcoholic violent partners have got perfectly nice places to put their children.
Part 1
So S has to spend afternoons co-ordinating with others to find out which local businesses have yet to be harassed, travelling there, and then harassing them. So the other day S and the boys set off for a local restaurant. They ate lunch there (because you can't harass a restaurant for a donation with eating there first), and then harassed.
On the way out some Japanese teenaged girls saw A and D, and started to squeak. I don't know why, but A and D particularly have this effect with Japanese teenage girls. The boys sighed, and had their hands held, were cuddled, and generally poked (the boys draw the line at being picked up - and as Japanese girls are usually slight, they don't try much any more) while the other Japanese girls took photos.
They got to the car, which was handily parked behind some bushes, and D then honked up all of his macaroni cheese and orange juice.
And if we're lucky, we'll get a $25 donation. It would be much easier to just given them the money (there must be 40 children at the school).
Part II
There are two 'sessions' at the school. Monday/Wednesday/Friday, and Tuesday/Thursday. When there are special occasions at the school, they happen once for each session, and so our boys have to participate twice. And there are, of course, two of them. So that makes 4 participation events. This week was Persian New Year which unusually didn't seem to involve us doing anything (but you can see how many things there might be).
Soon it's "Spring Celebration", which is Easter by another name. (Although it sounds very pagan calling it Spring Celebration). So the children need to bring eggs, to paint and decorate the place with. (Two children are allergic to eggs, and will not come into school for the week). They need to bring 6 hard boiled eggs, 4 blown eggs, and 6 plastic eggs with 'treasure' (not candy or food, 'cos that's not allowed) in them.
So we need 6 boiled eggs, and 4 blown eggs. Times 2, 'cos we have two boys. Times 2, 'cos we go to 2 sessions. So we need 24 boiled eggs, and 16 blown eggs. Or a total of 40 eggs. (Plus 24 plastic eggs with treasure in.)
Avocados
When I was young (and perhaps when you were young too) avocados were eaten in a bowl, with a tomatoey vinaigrette dressing, and a spoon, with which you scooped the flesh out . (I once bought my mother a bowl for mother's day that was designed to eat avocados - it was green, and sort of avocado shaped. Some sort of argument arose between me and my sister about whose idea it was, or who it was from, or something like that, and mum said she never wanted a mother's day present again. Which is pretty much what happened.)
When I got older, one scooped avocados out, chopped them up and put them in a salad, or occasionally mashed them and made guacamole.
Here, you see avocados all over the place. I've never seen anyone eat one out of a bowl, or put one in a salad. You see a lot of guacamole though. (This morning, for example, I had a burrito for breakfast from a stand in the market - it had guacamole in it.) In England, I've only seen avocados in a sandwich once, and that was in a delicatessen, and people thought it was weird. (They also sold chili peanut butter and banana sandwiches, so they did have some weird stuff.) The place you see avocados the most is in sandwiches.
The standard vegetarian sandwich in the cafe at CoCE is avocado and cheese. Subway has avocado in every sandwich as an optional extra (50c). This is Subway, which competes with McDonald's. (McDonald's might do avocado too, but as they're an evil corporation, I wouldn't know. And I only went in a Subway once in England, that I remember, at Milton Keynes train station, and I think I'd have noticed if they do avocado). There's a place near us called "The Shack", which is a slightly seedy bar, which also sells burgers. Optional extra on your burger is, yes, you guessed it, avocado. When we go to Venice beach, there's a burger place we frequent (because it's completely vegan, but you'd never guess by looking), and they do a burger with avocados on. (They also have a pull up bar outside, and the more pull ups you do, the larger the discount on your burger.) S and I went for breakfast the other Saturday, on the third street promenade (so we could see if there were any celebrities about - I saw someone who looked a bit like Oliver Stone, but S didn't know who that was, and a lot of people look a bit like Oliver Stone). One of the options, at a fairly standard diner, was avocado omelette.
When I got older, one scooped avocados out, chopped them up and put them in a salad, or occasionally mashed them and made guacamole.
Here, you see avocados all over the place. I've never seen anyone eat one out of a bowl, or put one in a salad. You see a lot of guacamole though. (This morning, for example, I had a burrito for breakfast from a stand in the market - it had guacamole in it.) In England, I've only seen avocados in a sandwich once, and that was in a delicatessen, and people thought it was weird. (They also sold chili peanut butter and banana sandwiches, so they did have some weird stuff.) The place you see avocados the most is in sandwiches.
The standard vegetarian sandwich in the cafe at CoCE is avocado and cheese. Subway has avocado in every sandwich as an optional extra (50c). This is Subway, which competes with McDonald's. (McDonald's might do avocado too, but as they're an evil corporation, I wouldn't know. And I only went in a Subway once in England, that I remember, at Milton Keynes train station, and I think I'd have noticed if they do avocado). There's a place near us called "The Shack", which is a slightly seedy bar, which also sells burgers. Optional extra on your burger is, yes, you guessed it, avocado. When we go to Venice beach, there's a burger place we frequent (because it's completely vegan, but you'd never guess by looking), and they do a burger with avocados on. (They also have a pull up bar outside, and the more pull ups you do, the larger the discount on your burger.) S and I went for breakfast the other Saturday, on the third street promenade (so we could see if there were any celebrities about - I saw someone who looked a bit like Oliver Stone, but S didn't know who that was, and a lot of people look a bit like Oliver Stone). One of the options, at a fairly standard diner, was avocado omelette.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Bottom problems
The cat had some bottom problems. Specifically, there seemed to be blood coming out of it, which seemed kind of serious. So I rang the vet.
"The cat's bleeding out of her bottom." I told the person who answered the phone. "Bottom of her what?" They replied.
"Bottom".
"Bottom of her foot? Bottom of her head? Bottom of what?"
I was flummoxed. What could I say? Arse? They wouldn't understand. I felt like Borat, and wanted to say "ah-noos".
"The cat's bleeding out of her bottom." I told the person who answered the phone. "Bottom of her what?" They replied.
"Bottom".
"Bottom of her foot? Bottom of her head? Bottom of what?"
I was flummoxed. What could I say? Arse? They wouldn't understand. I felt like Borat, and wanted to say "ah-noos".
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Birthday Fun
It was S's birthday on Monday, so she picked me up at work at 3pm, and we went to a restaurant called Geoffrey's of Malibu. Which has staggeringly attractive sea views, and is expensive. (Well, Americans think it's extraordinarily expensive, but more on that in a moment).
We went to Geoffrey's (which the waiters pronounced Joffrey's - apparently this was the original owner's wish, but he's dead, so no one can check that it wasn't some sort of joke. We arrived at Geoffrey's in our car - and drove into the car park. You can't park your own car - it's valet parking only.
In films, people get out of the car and throw their keys to the parker (or whatever they're called) and park their car. Having done this sort of thing before, I've learned that it's better to just leave the keys in the ignition. It doesn't look as cool, but I think it annoys them less. The car park was full of cars that made ours look small - there was a Ferrari, two Porsches, and a sprinkling of BMWs, Mercedes, and Lexi (that's what Douglas Coupland says the plural of Lexus is). (Or strictly speaking, one of the characters in the book Microserfs).
The food wasn't hideously expensive, if you only had salads and starters, which is what we did. Not really by choice - there was no vegetarian main course, but this was a snack 'cos we weren't going to be eating properly until 10 ish. We had desserts too - I had a passion fruit tower, which cost $8. I realized that I might be turning American when I started to recoil at the price. This is a restaurant that Americans say is staggeringly expensive - for very special occasions only. (It actually came up in discussion today, and 'expensive' was the first adjective that everyone thinks of). Salads were $11, and starters about $8.
The waiters were extraordinarily courteous and polite and nice. Instead of asking what we wanted to order, they asked "What would you like to enjoy?" When it came time to leave, the car was parked about 20 feet away from is (with the keys still in the ignition), but they ran over and drove it to us - then the chap had to leap out , run around the car and open the door for S, before she managed to do it. She was slightly surprised by someone jumping between her and the door, moments before her door reached the handle.
Then we went to the cinema, to see Music and Lyrics. Now, Google can do some clever stuff, like maths (I'm supposed to say "Math" now). But I typed the name of the film into Google (which was 'Music and Lyrics' ... I know, but it was her birthday. What was I supposed to say). And Google gave me the cinemas that it was on at, and the times, near our house. In one sense this was rather useful. In another, how does Google know where we live?
Anyway, we got to the cinema very early, and as it was S's birthday and she was allowed a treat, we went shopping and she bought me a pair of trainers and a shirt. It's part of the deal that I have to throw out an old pair of trainers and a shirt. But maybe she'll forget.
We went to the cinema to watch the film, and bought an enormous vessel of Diet Pepsi to share. S suggested that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have such a large caffeinated drink in the evening, but we were going to share it, and it wasn't that late. And we watched the film. (Which had a fairly stereotyped storyline, but was quite amusing in places).
Our plan was then to go to a Thai restaurant, but we were too weary, so we went home. On the way home we decided we were hungry, so we stopped at Ralph's supermarket to get some snacks. Ralph's is an American supermarket, so it sells all sorts of prepackaged tasty food that's ready to eat, so I bought some sushi (with avocado inside), some spring rolls, and some salad.
Aside: Spring rolls aren't usually what we call spring rolls - they are egg rolls (for some mysterious reason - they don't have egg in them). Spring rolls are raw, and have beansprouts, and sliced vegetables inside a sort of soft rice paper. These had a big lump of tofu, and came with peanut sauce.
Then we had some champagne (it seems that S had been drinking it earlier) and went to bed. I lay awake twitching and listening to my heart race for a while, then I gave up and read a book, until 2:30, and the caffeine in the diet coke had worn off.
We went to Geoffrey's (which the waiters pronounced Joffrey's - apparently this was the original owner's wish, but he's dead, so no one can check that it wasn't some sort of joke. We arrived at Geoffrey's in our car - and drove into the car park. You can't park your own car - it's valet parking only.
In films, people get out of the car and throw their keys to the parker (or whatever they're called) and park their car. Having done this sort of thing before, I've learned that it's better to just leave the keys in the ignition. It doesn't look as cool, but I think it annoys them less. The car park was full of cars that made ours look small - there was a Ferrari, two Porsches, and a sprinkling of BMWs, Mercedes, and Lexi (that's what Douglas Coupland says the plural of Lexus is). (Or strictly speaking, one of the characters in the book Microserfs).
The food wasn't hideously expensive, if you only had salads and starters, which is what we did. Not really by choice - there was no vegetarian main course, but this was a snack 'cos we weren't going to be eating properly until 10 ish. We had desserts too - I had a passion fruit tower, which cost $8. I realized that I might be turning American when I started to recoil at the price. This is a restaurant that Americans say is staggeringly expensive - for very special occasions only. (It actually came up in discussion today, and 'expensive' was the first adjective that everyone thinks of). Salads were $11, and starters about $8.
The waiters were extraordinarily courteous and polite and nice. Instead of asking what we wanted to order, they asked "What would you like to enjoy?" When it came time to leave, the car was parked about 20 feet away from is (with the keys still in the ignition), but they ran over and drove it to us - then the chap had to leap out , run around the car and open the door for S, before she managed to do it. She was slightly surprised by someone jumping between her and the door, moments before her door reached the handle.
Then we went to the cinema, to see Music and Lyrics. Now, Google can do some clever stuff, like maths (I'm supposed to say "Math" now). But I typed the name of the film into Google (which was 'Music and Lyrics' ... I know, but it was her birthday. What was I supposed to say). And Google gave me the cinemas that it was on at, and the times, near our house. In one sense this was rather useful. In another, how does Google know where we live?
Anyway, we got to the cinema very early, and as it was S's birthday and she was allowed a treat, we went shopping and she bought me a pair of trainers and a shirt. It's part of the deal that I have to throw out an old pair of trainers and a shirt. But maybe she'll forget.
We went to the cinema to watch the film, and bought an enormous vessel of Diet Pepsi to share. S suggested that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have such a large caffeinated drink in the evening, but we were going to share it, and it wasn't that late. And we watched the film. (Which had a fairly stereotyped storyline, but was quite amusing in places).
Our plan was then to go to a Thai restaurant, but we were too weary, so we went home. On the way home we decided we were hungry, so we stopped at Ralph's supermarket to get some snacks. Ralph's is an American supermarket, so it sells all sorts of prepackaged tasty food that's ready to eat, so I bought some sushi (with avocado inside), some spring rolls, and some salad.
Aside: Spring rolls aren't usually what we call spring rolls - they are egg rolls (for some mysterious reason - they don't have egg in them). Spring rolls are raw, and have beansprouts, and sliced vegetables inside a sort of soft rice paper. These had a big lump of tofu, and came with peanut sauce.
Then we had some champagne (it seems that S had been drinking it earlier) and went to bed. I lay awake twitching and listening to my heart race for a while, then I gave up and read a book, until 2:30, and the caffeine in the diet coke had worn off.
In laws
Oma and M (S's brother) have been visiting. Usually this would be a source for a veritable torrent of anecdotes, but this time they are rather few and far between. Oma doesn't speak English,.
Both of them have very little sense of urgency, which can rile me a touch. As it did last Saturday. I was due to take the boys to German school, and normally I leave at 8:30 with them. However, today we needed to take some windmills to the nursery school, and drop them off on the way. So at 8, I told them that we were leaving in 20 minutes ("Zwanzig minuten" - my German stretches to that). M said he was ready. Oma said she would be.
At 8:30, neither of them were to be seen, so the boys and I set off to the car, and waited at the lift. After some waiting, they hadn't turned up, so I sent the boys back to get them, and then I saw them taking another route (they took the stairs - I had the boys with me, their lunchbags, my bags, some empty shopping bags, random toys, and two containers of windmills - I wasn't going to take the stairs, and a couple of milliseconds thought might have led to that conclusion).
When they reached the stairs, they realised they couldn't get to the car park without a key (how this fact had escaped them in the past was a mystery to me), so I had to go down. But first I had to retrieve the boys.
Anyway, eventually we all got in the car. A and D hadn't eaten any breakfast, 'cos we were all running a bit late, but I had prepared (given that I'd had nothing to do for the while I was waiting) two bags with some Joe's Os in them (which are like Cheerios, but from Trader Joe's). I gave them the bags, and asked O to open them (well, sort of indicated).
Instead, Oma started to open a packet of shortbread biscuits. At this point I wanted to explain to Oma that whatever alternate universe she lived in where feeding 4 year olds shortbread biscuits, which have pretty much no nutritional value whatsoever, for breakfast, well, that universe wasn't one I was familiar with. But saying this was beyond my German (which, as we've seen tops out at "Zwanzig minuten"). So, actions speaking larger than words, I took the packet of biscuits and threw them out of the (moving) car window.
D didn't like that very much, and cried and cried. Oma didn't say anything. M didn't say anything either, but that's common.
D hadn't forgiven me by the time we dropped him off, so I bought him (and A) a toy car each (for $1.29, from Long's Drugs - pharmacies are great, aren't they?). However, by the time it came to pick them up, he'd forgotten, and was very pleased (and surprised) with his car.
Oma never mentioned it again, but asked S if that was the sort of thing I did often. A few days later it was S's birthday, and there were some pastries from the 24 hour Donut shop, that Oma was offering to the boys. "Aus Fenster?" I asked Oma. (Which I thought meant "out of the window?", but I've just looked it up on Babelfish, and it seems to mean "From window?"). Oma just looked at me. M didn't say anything.
Both of them have very little sense of urgency, which can rile me a touch. As it did last Saturday. I was due to take the boys to German school, and normally I leave at 8:30 with them. However, today we needed to take some windmills to the nursery school, and drop them off on the way. So at 8, I told them that we were leaving in 20 minutes ("Zwanzig minuten" - my German stretches to that). M said he was ready. Oma said she would be.
At 8:30, neither of them were to be seen, so the boys and I set off to the car, and waited at the lift. After some waiting, they hadn't turned up, so I sent the boys back to get them, and then I saw them taking another route (they took the stairs - I had the boys with me, their lunchbags, my bags, some empty shopping bags, random toys, and two containers of windmills - I wasn't going to take the stairs, and a couple of milliseconds thought might have led to that conclusion).
When they reached the stairs, they realised they couldn't get to the car park without a key (how this fact had escaped them in the past was a mystery to me), so I had to go down. But first I had to retrieve the boys.
Anyway, eventually we all got in the car. A and D hadn't eaten any breakfast, 'cos we were all running a bit late, but I had prepared (given that I'd had nothing to do for the while I was waiting) two bags with some Joe's Os in them (which are like Cheerios, but from Trader Joe's). I gave them the bags, and asked O to open them (well, sort of indicated).
Instead, Oma started to open a packet of shortbread biscuits. At this point I wanted to explain to Oma that whatever alternate universe she lived in where feeding 4 year olds shortbread biscuits, which have pretty much no nutritional value whatsoever, for breakfast, well, that universe wasn't one I was familiar with. But saying this was beyond my German (which, as we've seen tops out at "Zwanzig minuten"). So, actions speaking larger than words, I took the packet of biscuits and threw them out of the (moving) car window.
D didn't like that very much, and cried and cried. Oma didn't say anything. M didn't say anything either, but that's common.
D hadn't forgiven me by the time we dropped him off, so I bought him (and A) a toy car each (for $1.29, from Long's Drugs - pharmacies are great, aren't they?). However, by the time it came to pick them up, he'd forgotten, and was very pleased (and surprised) with his car.
Oma never mentioned it again, but asked S if that was the sort of thing I did often. A few days later it was S's birthday, and there were some pastries from the 24 hour Donut shop, that Oma was offering to the boys. "Aus Fenster?" I asked Oma. (Which I thought meant "out of the window?", but I've just looked it up on Babelfish, and it seems to mean "From window?"). Oma just looked at me. M didn't say anything.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Painting
The nursery that the boys attend is a parents' co-op. Partly this means it's a bit radical and lefty and possibly unAmerican, which appeals. But mostly it means it's slightly cheaper ('cos parents need to work there) and it means that parents (i.e. us) have to work there. In addition, when stuff needs doing, it needs doing by the parents.
It was decreed, by whoever it is that decrees such things, that the main classroom needed painting. The email said that it would take from 1pm to 5:30 on Sunday. So we duly turned up only slightly later than 1pm to do whatever we were told.
There were about 10 people to start off with - a couple were assigned to making sure the children who were outside frolicking, didn't injure each other. Or get hold of some paint and paint the climbing frame. (Actually, they failed on the second one, but it wasn't our children.) We duly sanded and masked and washed and were told that our sanding wasn't good enough so we had to do it again (well, that was just me).
An awful lot of jobs seemed to be needed to be done by someone 'tall', and I was the only person who satisfied the description, so I did a lot of standing on things to reach the ceiling - eventually someone went home and fetched a stepladder.
Anyway, we primed and painted and painted again, and it all went on for a lot longer than the promised 4.5 hours. We finished painting at 9:30, and it took almost another hour to put the room back together, and remember where all the noticeboards went on the walls. Someone had diligently polyfilla-ed all of the holes, including the screw holes for the things that were on the walls. They did such a good job that we couldn't find the old holes and had to make new ones. (Although we had an electric screwdriver, so I just screwed into the plaster).
One reason it was interesting was the chance to chat to some of the other parents. As they say where I come from"There's nowt as queer as folk", but I'm still surprised by people's queerness. One (white) woman was an actor (I looked her up on IMDB - there was nothing I'd heard of, and not a great deal I hadn't heard of either). She had adopted a boy, who was now about 4, and seemed to be (to put it mildly) quite a handful. She asked if I knew any 45-55 year old divorcees. They had to be active, she said. And spiritual. Definitely spiritual. I didn't really know what that meant, but she told us about the church she went to, which didn't really believe in the bible. (I wondered what it did believe in.)
Another woman was part of a gay couple, who had had one baby each (spaced a year apart). The second one required IVF, the first didn't. (I wondered how the, ermmm, seed, was introduced, but I didn't ask). They both worked as sound engineers - one of them had recently stopped being freelance, and started working for Fox, doing the sound on the trailers between programmes. The other mostly worked on TV and radio ads. (I wondered what they thought about working for Fox, which is owned by Rupert Murdoch, who isn't really known for his tolerance of what we might call 'alternative' lifestyles. )
They both worked in Santa Monica - a lot of 'the industry' has moved out of Hollywood, and into Santa Monica. (Hollywood is too "eeekkk", nowadays, it seems. I didn't know what that meant.
Note for anyone hanging around with showbusiness types. It's not called showbusiness - it's called 'the industry'. Santa Monica is an 'industry town'.
One thing I learned is that lots of words involved in DIY are different - it was often hard to know what people were talking about. Lots of things that are referred to by their trade name (like Polyfilla) had a different name. There was a lot of talk of something called TSP, which seemed to be a cleaning product, and Goo-B-Gone, which was for getting rubbery goo off things. Skirting boards had a different name too (trim boards? I forget).
It was decreed, by whoever it is that decrees such things, that the main classroom needed painting. The email said that it would take from 1pm to 5:30 on Sunday. So we duly turned up only slightly later than 1pm to do whatever we were told.
There were about 10 people to start off with - a couple were assigned to making sure the children who were outside frolicking, didn't injure each other. Or get hold of some paint and paint the climbing frame. (Actually, they failed on the second one, but it wasn't our children.) We duly sanded and masked and washed and were told that our sanding wasn't good enough so we had to do it again (well, that was just me).
An awful lot of jobs seemed to be needed to be done by someone 'tall', and I was the only person who satisfied the description, so I did a lot of standing on things to reach the ceiling - eventually someone went home and fetched a stepladder.
Anyway, we primed and painted and painted again, and it all went on for a lot longer than the promised 4.5 hours. We finished painting at 9:30, and it took almost another hour to put the room back together, and remember where all the noticeboards went on the walls. Someone had diligently polyfilla-ed all of the holes, including the screw holes for the things that were on the walls. They did such a good job that we couldn't find the old holes and had to make new ones. (Although we had an electric screwdriver, so I just screwed into the plaster).
One reason it was interesting was the chance to chat to some of the other parents. As they say where I come from"There's nowt as queer as folk", but I'm still surprised by people's queerness. One (white) woman was an actor (I looked her up on IMDB - there was nothing I'd heard of, and not a great deal I hadn't heard of either). She had adopted a boy, who was now about 4, and seemed to be (to put it mildly) quite a handful. She asked if I knew any 45-55 year old divorcees. They had to be active, she said. And spiritual. Definitely spiritual. I didn't really know what that meant, but she told us about the church she went to, which didn't really believe in the bible. (I wondered what it did believe in.)
Another woman was part of a gay couple, who had had one baby each (spaced a year apart). The second one required IVF, the first didn't. (I wondered how the, ermmm, seed, was introduced, but I didn't ask). They both worked as sound engineers - one of them had recently stopped being freelance, and started working for Fox, doing the sound on the trailers between programmes. The other mostly worked on TV and radio ads. (I wondered what they thought about working for Fox, which is owned by Rupert Murdoch, who isn't really known for his tolerance of what we might call 'alternative' lifestyles. )
They both worked in Santa Monica - a lot of 'the industry' has moved out of Hollywood, and into Santa Monica. (Hollywood is too "eeekkk", nowadays, it seems. I didn't know what that meant.
Note for anyone hanging around with showbusiness types. It's not called showbusiness - it's called 'the industry'. Santa Monica is an 'industry town'.
One thing I learned is that lots of words involved in DIY are different - it was often hard to know what people were talking about. Lots of things that are referred to by their trade name (like Polyfilla) had a different name. There was a lot of talk of something called TSP, which seemed to be a cleaning product, and Goo-B-Gone, which was for getting rubbery goo off things. Skirting boards had a different name too (trim boards? I forget).
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Meet the Europeans
Two people from the European offices of CoCE were over visiting last week. We think of it as the European office - CoCE has 4 offices in the USA, the largest of which has something like 1500 employees. The European office has 30 people, and is in England. (There's also an office in Dubai, but I've never heard anything much about it).
Because they were from England, we went out with them - me, two of them, and M - who's actually from New Zealand originally, but lived in London for 5 years, so I count him as an honorary Brit. (He seems to live in Vancouver most of the time, it's something of a mystery to me how that actually works). It turned out that one of the Europeans was actually American, but we didn't worry about that.
Anyway, we took them to a Mexican restaurant at the end of the pier. Which was cold. Vast quantities of food were brought - when we sat down, they brought a basket of tortilla chips, and a little bowl of salsa (each). As soon as anyone's bowl of salsa, or the basket of chips, looked half empty, it was replaced with a full one. Before the starters came, we were all reasonably satiated, and could have happily left.
We ate starters and man courses (most main courses were barely touched, but I finished mine) and drank cocktails. When the bill came, they forgot to charge us for the drinks, so we feasted on fine food for about £12.50 each (in old money). This was a double bonus, because we'd talked about work, we decided that it was a work meal, and because there was no alcohol on the bill, CoCE could pick up the tab.
We left the restaurant, M went back to work, and J asked what music I liked. I said I wasn't all that fussy, so she said "Oh good, because it's hip hop night at this cocktail bar." So we went to the hip hop bar and drank (expensive) cocktails. Amongst others, I had a 'Paradise Martini' which was coconut milk, crushed strawberries, and vodka. And came with an orchid floating on the top.
I was planning to get the bus home, but it was cold and there was a row of warm, empty, inviting taxis just sitting there. So I got one of them. Then I discovered I hadn't got enough money to get all the way home, so I had to walk the last couple of miles, and the bus would have been a better idea.
The boys had their special "Daddy's been out drinking" detectors finely tuned, so they woke up at 4am ("It's too dark Daddy"), 5am ("Blanket not right") and 6am ("Is it daytime?"). Then the next day it was my turn to go to the nursery and be a working parent. Which actually wasn't too bad, which rather spoils the end of the story. Still, the next one is better.
Because they were from England, we went out with them - me, two of them, and M - who's actually from New Zealand originally, but lived in London for 5 years, so I count him as an honorary Brit. (He seems to live in Vancouver most of the time, it's something of a mystery to me how that actually works). It turned out that one of the Europeans was actually American, but we didn't worry about that.
Anyway, we took them to a Mexican restaurant at the end of the pier. Which was cold. Vast quantities of food were brought - when we sat down, they brought a basket of tortilla chips, and a little bowl of salsa (each). As soon as anyone's bowl of salsa, or the basket of chips, looked half empty, it was replaced with a full one. Before the starters came, we were all reasonably satiated, and could have happily left.
We ate starters and man courses (most main courses were barely touched, but I finished mine) and drank cocktails. When the bill came, they forgot to charge us for the drinks, so we feasted on fine food for about £12.50 each (in old money). This was a double bonus, because we'd talked about work, we decided that it was a work meal, and because there was no alcohol on the bill, CoCE could pick up the tab.
We left the restaurant, M went back to work, and J asked what music I liked. I said I wasn't all that fussy, so she said "Oh good, because it's hip hop night at this cocktail bar." So we went to the hip hop bar and drank (expensive) cocktails. Amongst others, I had a 'Paradise Martini' which was coconut milk, crushed strawberries, and vodka. And came with an orchid floating on the top.
I was planning to get the bus home, but it was cold and there was a row of warm, empty, inviting taxis just sitting there. So I got one of them. Then I discovered I hadn't got enough money to get all the way home, so I had to walk the last couple of miles, and the bus would have been a better idea.
The boys had their special "Daddy's been out drinking" detectors finely tuned, so they woke up at 4am ("It's too dark Daddy"), 5am ("Blanket not right") and 6am ("Is it daytime?"). Then the next day it was my turn to go to the nursery and be a working parent. Which actually wasn't too bad, which rather spoils the end of the story. Still, the next one is better.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Trader Darwin's
We went to a different Trader Joe's from normal yesterday (because we were looking for a Wholefoods Market - we found it, but it wasn't built yet). This meant that I looked at other stuff from normal, while I was trying to find the bread. Regular readers already know that Trader Joe's sells Chinese food under the name Trader Ming, and Italian food under the name Trader Giotto, but yesterday I looked at their vitamins and protein supplement and stuff like that section.
It's sold under the name 'Trader Darwin's'. Because (it says on the packs) it's for the Survival of the Fittest.
It's sold under the name 'Trader Darwin's'. Because (it says on the packs) it's for the Survival of the Fittest.
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