1. You got to meet her! Nice!
2. Sounds like a good day. 
Our day was very much like the last few hours of the day you'll be writing about soon, but slight alteration of the venue. We met back in October, but that was only for a few minutes. We had the whole evening this time.
Or save the draft on the phone and then finish it up on the computer.
Or just do it all on the phone like I ended up doing it, and probably will for a while now.
Oh! Yes, that was very good advice.
Thanks! I'm really glad I went.
I recommend.
I probably won't get there until I see the original in Portland which is looking even more likely now.
Me neither!
It's like we're living
parallel lives.
I would've paid to see/hear that.
Next time you visit we'll get our horns out and put our cases in front of us while we play.
I really need to coordinate with
you before visiting again.
You are always shrouded in secrecy! I tell you, I know a few things!
Have you seen Dave?
You should if you get the chance.
Nice movie.
Never even heard of it....will have to Google....later....
Yup! Just tell Fran the next time
she sees the city in the background
off the balcony...
She's seeing a curtain.
That's one of the series that she watches while I am running errands, asleep or otherwise out of the TV room.
Oh? Do tell.
OK, there is sort of a lot of background to go along with this....
First keep in mind that I was raised in Silicon Valley
before there was a Silicon Valley. At the time it was pretty much a farming sort of community slowly moving to a bedroom community. There were still lots of apricot orchards when I was growing up. In fact for a few days one summer I sliced apricots (for drying) to make extra money. At $1.25 per tray (12 ft by 4 ft) I think I made about $3+ over the course of 3-4 1/2 days of work. What I'm getting at is that I did not grow up in a big city though the area I grew up in eventually turned into a big city. The point of this is that I grew up in a community that was very wholesome and not at all associated with crazy homeless, or other deranged types of people. Unrelated to the farm issue, my Mom also continually told me that I grew up in an Ivory Tower. I had no idea what that meant, and I thought she was insane.
While I was in High School my parents made me believe that their financial situation was destitute, we were never in any danger of being homeless. I think she was just telling me why they couldn't take
me along to fancy restaurants that they were going to. And why we didn't go out to dinner as often as we had in the past. But they trained me to have a fancy palate. If you've been reading the comments on Mark's TR, PB&J was not a part of
my childhood. My sister did eat Peanut Butter and Honey sandwiches, but that was at her request. My Mom probably humored her since it was easy. I learned to eat fancy food. After my senior year of high school I learned that I like shellfish. I would order Shrimp Cocktail at restaurants and found out that I liked Crab. Anywhere I ordered it I was served perfectly prepared Crab legs, probably on a bed of ice, with the body cleaned and neatly placed amongst the legs.
Fast forward to first year of college. I went to Cal State Northridge located in the San Fernando Valley. Like Oh my God! Fur Sure! The Vaallleeey! I met my friend Julie. The only thing that we had in common was that we both played saxophone. She lived with her father whose mother had divorced him. He had custody of the kids. (Later I learned that her mother realized that she was a lesbian and went on to become a visible activist in the Gay Community out in Palm Springs and successful businesswoman.) Julie had a younger brother and sister, and her family (as it was) introduced me to a type of family life I had never known. It was common for her father to hand her a $20 bill (went a lot farther back in the 80s) and say "pick up dinner for your sister and brother at McDonald's." I remember that they had kittens in their house and none of them had any whiskers because they were eating the crumbs off the stove and the pilot light burnt off all their whiskers. I realize that this was not even rock bottom poverty, but for me it was eye opening. I realize that even more destitute people can't even afford McDonald's. Maybe they weren't necessarily poor just lazy.
So here we are at the 1984 Olympics. They were in Los Angeles and they needed people to be in the Marching Band. There were 800 people selected, 200 from USC, 200 from UCLA, 200 from Colleges around Los Angeles, and 200 from bands around the country. We were sequestered at Pepperdine in Malibu and it was like a two week band camp where we were going from 7AM until 9PM almost every day. I had two friends from Cal State Northridge Band (however, we weren't the only Northridge folks) that were also in the band and one of them had a car, Julie.
So we were going all day and half the night for days on end. They gave us one night off, maybe they gave us two because I remember another night where we drove back to our homes in the valley to pick up stuff we hadn't planned for and forgot to bring along. But I digress. Since we were at Pepperdine in Malibu, we thought it was a great idea to go visit the Santa Monica Pier as it was only a few miles south of Malibu. I don't know how we ended up where we did for dinner, but I think Julie had a hand in that. My friend Terri had a similar upbringing. I think the crab she had eaten came from the seafood counter at the supermarket or a similar restaurant experience.
So however, this whole thing went down we ended up at a place on the pier where they served crab. You picked your crab out of the tank, they dropped it in the boiling pan, wrapped it up in newspaper and handed it to you with a mallet. I'm sure it's not there anymore. Notice the expression on my face and how thrilled I am with this situation.
I had never seen crab "guts" before in my life. I wanted to barf. I think Terri was similarly disgusted. She took the pictures. Now Julie is the one with the busy hair and in the picture where she is holding the crab body you will see a guy behind her who is shirtless. I'm not sure if he was homeless or just obnoxious, drunk as heck or all three, but even though he had a lady (and I use that term loosely) with him, he was sort of trying to impress us from a table away. He was taking the crabs and drinking the liquid from them opening them up and scooping out the insides and all three of us were absolutely disgusted. I've never really had a desire to go back to the pier, and I think I can count on one thumb how many times I have been back.
The other picture there was taken at some kind of celebration party for the opening ceremonies. Not exactly sure about that one. But I vividly remember that night with the icky crabs and the SM Pier. Since then I've learned to clean crabs and I'm over the disgustingness, but back then it was totally unexpected and given my distaste of all things icky, it stands out in my mind of "worst experiences ever!"
Interesting.
And here Liesa just said
the better way is not battered and fried.
OK. You've seen both Liesa and I in person. Liesa is petite, skinny and tiny. Hence the grilled fish tacos.
Me? I didn't get this Rubinesque body eating grilled fish tacos. Bring on the battered and fried fish!
When has battering and frying not made something better? Tempura? Fish and chips? Chicken Fried Steak? Funnel Cake? Deep Fried Snickers?
It's up to you. Try it however you want. But I'll tell you the best Fish Tacos I've had are at the place I mentioned above. Hole Mole. There are several locations in Long Beach and in So Cal. Their fish tacos are small but at $1.50 each they are quite the deal. And they have both grilled and fried fish so you could try them side by side.
I promise I won't wear it for the next game. I will just cheer them on.
