3rd Year Anniversary – Pine Hills Lodge

We went to the Pine Hills Lodge in Julian, CA for our third anniversary. We went there for our first anniversary too, that same black and that same black and white cat from 2007 was still wandering around. We arrived late Friday night and the main building was locked up, couldn’t get the key. Pine Hills Lodge is in a tucked away spot up in the mountains, they shut the operation down early. Eventually they answered the phone and came downstairs and we went to sleep in Pine Cone 2 cabin. It’s a lovely room but it has curious graffiti inside the wooden dresser drawers, former residents signing their names and leaving positive comments about their stay.

The next day we went to ride horses (see previous post). Later we went to the Julian Grill for some dinner, went there in 2007 too. Nicole ordered some soup before dinner.

The real fun began when we got back to the cabin. For our anniversary Nicole got me “The Last Days of Disco” on DVD, one of my favorite movies. I’ve been waiting for this to be re-released on DVD for years. Before we watched it on Nicole’s tiny DVD viewer I wanted to achieve an appropriate level of excitement, so I opened up the Mountain Dew. As you may remember, drinking an ice bucket of Mountain Dew has been an anniversary ritual for me since our honeymoon. This year Nicole provided me with a test market size bottle of the experimental blue Mountain Dew. Blue Mountain Dew tastes disgusting but we gave it a whirl.

“The Last Days of Disco” is eleven years old this year and it stood the test of time. The Mountain Dew did its job. The scenery and horses can speak for themselves. Great food, it was an utterly satisfying weekend. But Nicole met a dog that she liked at the Julian Stable and now she wants a long-haired Chihuahua too.

3rd Year Anniversary - Julian Stables

We married three years. THREE YEARS! If our marriage was a person it would already have self-awareness and the ability to speak with limited coherence. Doesn’t seem that long, seems like, hmm, a year and half maybe.

To celebrate, we went back to the site of our first wedding anniversary, Julian, California (old-timey historical town in the mountains above San Diego). We visited the Julian Stable and went on a trail ride. You’re not supposed to take photos on a trail ride because the horse might get nervous hearing camera noises. The helmet ruins whatever decency your hair begins with, but riding the horse is worth it. I was surprised that the horse smell wasn’t that bad, I was expecting to have to destroy my clothes afterwards.

The horse that I rode was named Harry Trotter. Hm, okay. Nicole’s horse was named Angel. If you’re like me, the name Angel immediately brings to mind the 1984 film “Angel” about the girl who is a floozy at night and who attends high school by day.

The controls on the horse are easy to work. To turn right you pull the horse’s rein in your right hand and push your left foot into the horse’s body. To turn left you do the opposite. If you want to go slower or stop you pull the reins with both hands and say “Whoa.” The brakes on my horse were bad, he kept crowding Angel. Our guide said that he wouldn’t keep his distance because horses are herd animals, they like to stay together - that’s why he resisted control. In horse lingo that means that his gears are stripped.

After we got back from our ride we got to feed the horses carrot treats. There was one nameless horse kept in a pen who was forced to wear a blindfold – he had committed crimes against both humans and horses and so he was being brainwashed with sensory deprivation/isolation punishment. He didn’t understand English or any language. Actually that’s not true, he could see through his mask, he was wearing it to protect his eyes from flies and irritations. Can’t remember if he got a carrot, but the little pony got carrots. I can’t think of anything funny to write about the pony, his eyes were already crazy, but apparently he was normal.

We had a great time at the Julian Stables, they gave us each a blue ribbon that says, “Champion Trail Rider.” I’m looking forward to meeting new horses and learning how to control them.

Cruel Summer – “The Stoning of Soraya M.” – Get me off of this rock

This summer began in chaos and clutter. Work all day, come home and sort through boxes of paper. Preparing for Nicole’s pa and Dixie to come visit in July.

During the first week of its release we went to go see “The Stoning of Soraya M.” Without the momentum that Nicole provided I wouldn't have gone at all. I wanted to pay for tickets, contribute to opening week success, but I didn’t wanta watch. Not my first choice for a movie to help me relax. I got the heebie jeebies anticipating the climax. In fact, I didn’t plan to watch the climax. I planned to slip out and go chat with the snack counter attendants during the stoning. Buy some Junior Mints.

Thirty years ago (yes, thirty years), the summer of 1979, “Alien” was released. Seeing it in the theater was out of the question, I had to wait until it came on cable TV and go watch it at my cousins’ house. Even in that environment I was scared out of my wits. I had already been exposed to the graphic novel (or “illustrated story” presented by Heavy Metal). The prospect of watching the film had my imagination going haywire.

"Alien" was certainly harrowing, but even at it's most gruesome it couldn't compare to what I had built up in my mind. In addition, it was also cool.

A cool aspect of "The Stoning of Soraya M." that I wasn't expecting was the Iranian lead actress, Shohreh Aghdashloo . She wasn't Soraya, she played Soraya's aunt, and much of the movie is seen from her perspective. You might've seen her in "The House of Sand and Fog" or "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" (I haven't watched those yet). I can't imagine that she won't be among my top five actresses of 2009, she has a fascinating magnetism.

The movie takes place in 1986, but in the rock village where Soraya lives, most of the folk seem to live like Jawas. It's bad enough to see injustice performed by Romans or Communist China but it's doubly frustrating to see mob injustice at the hands of Jawas. It's like the Wild West without guns. Actually the two guys in the village who have Kalashnikovs instead of rocks are every bit the hillbilly as their brothers, but somehow their guns give them a sense of technological sophistication.

Of course I ended up watching the stoning. As with "Alien", my imagination turned out to be much worse than the actual film. Nevertheless, even when I know I'm watching actors performing in a drama and even though I recognize "Well, that blood came from the hidden squib that the special effects guys exploded", it's still pretty awful to watch somebody get buried up to the waist and get rocks thrown at them until they die. Sigh. It's unbelievable that movies like this need to be made and seen. It's the equivalent of needing movies about parents putting babies in microwaves for tax reductions.

The most peaceful scene in the movie occurs near the beginning when Soraya is playing with her two daughters in a meadow. Like the rest of the film, it's still creepy because you know what's coming, but it's comparatively peaceful. When Soraya finally dies the film cuts back to this meadow, as if to say this place is heaven for Soraya, where she can be at peace. I was thinking to myself, "You gotta be kidding - she's still on planet Earth, Planet of Bastards?" Nobody is safe on this rock, she should at least be allowed to go to outer space away from the cavemen.

I can't imagine the target audience for this movie, but when we went to see it the crowd looked to be made up mostly of Middle Eastern folk and female college students. I kept my sunglasses on until the moment the film started to delay the experience as long as possible. Not a good date-night movie but I'll be looking for the next film that features Shohreh Aghdashloo.

John and Nicole Three Year Anniversary / Northwoods Inn

Our third wedding anniversary fell upon the middle of the week. We were looking forward to a weekend away in Julian, but on June 24 we managed to go out to dinner. Hadn't been to the beloved Northwoods Inn for about six months.

I splurged and ordered coffee even though it was the middle of the week. Don't remember any ill effects. In addition, I was wearing my new "Jim Jones" shirt that Nicole procured for me as an anniversary present. She has knowledge of Jim Jone's tastes from her vast readings of People's Temple.

We both ordered steak kabobs and they were *perfect*. I don't often ingest beef but this was some fine meat. I couldn't even eat my potato. Cheese bread, yes, that was another case of splurging. The hostess told us that our waiter's name was Mike. He introduced himself as Michael. Usually it's the other way around, Michael to Mike.

Michael had a knack for snapping the plastic bags that he was putting our leftovers into. It was like a show, he was a showman. I asked him, "Did you ever work at Disneyland?" He gave me a flat "No." We gave him a decent tip.

So on the first night of celebrating our third anniversary we were very well fed.

"Now we are here in Xanadu..."

...in the words of Olivia Newton John. I have a tendency to quote that to my cousin Jennie every few years, including last night.

But yes, we are done movin'. This photo was taken a couple of days after we moved in. Unfortunately the place looks pretty much the same now, about six weeks later. But what can I say - it's such a relief to be out of the old place that we obviously don't mind our cluttered condition in the new place.

Has it come to this? I'm blog posting about clutter? There must be something more interesting going on.

Moving to Pasadena

Oh, what can I tell you? We had great hopes for the Villa Montanic apartment complex. It used to be an attractive, quiet place.

I'll go ahead and say it - I didn't like the landlord. Life at Villa Montanic was like the old Soviet Union, both the just and the unjust suffered but there was centralized control. Last spring, after we endured a particularly annoying battle with the landlord over a small fee that he had no right to demand, he promptly died.

Suddenly the hitherto quiet and cowering neighbors became barnyard animals. The next door neighbors would bellow at each other morning, noon and night (this was particularly evident during my struggle with hyperthyroid and stomach flu when I would be blundering around the apartment at all hours listening to the ignorant, bestial peasants shouting at each other). I would pound on the wall with my hickory stick and they would have the effrontery to curse back in their own coarse foreign language. The new landlord turned a deaf ear, decent folk began moving out and anyone was invited to move in as long as they were loud, filthy, and enjoyed entertaining on their patios.

What put Nicole over the edge was when I gave up trying to clean my bathroom and started using hers. I couldn't help it, the fan in my bathroom would pull in all manner of filth and sprinkle it over every surface. The shower was tiled so unskillfully that the drain was at a summit, the water would pool in the corners. I was constantly fighting the slime. After years of previous abuse, the drain itself was chock full of human detritus. Even after repeated flushings with Drano I still had to cut circles of window screening to put over the opening to prevent several of my hairs from going down there and clogging the pipes. I quietly moved into Nicole's bathroom and she quietly began looking for another place to live.

In record time she found this lovely condo in Pasadena. At first I balked at the stairs ("When we have babies they're going to take a swan dive off of the top step and then I'm going to have to write a book about Fulfilling Your Destiny Despite Life-Shattering Challenges Because of Bent Children") but I can honestly say that this condo is the highest quality of life I've enjoyed since my last apartment in La Jolla (and I loved that place!).

That old landlord at Villa Montanic could inspire a whole series of uncharitable blog posts. I'm never going to rent from a human being again, only rental agencies from now on.

Branford Marsalis at Catalina Jazz Club

I've been back in Los Angeles for almost three years now, but I haven't taken nearly enough advantage of the entertainment available. Visiting Catalina jazz club with Nicole and Dad was a step in the right direction.

Most of the time I don't recognize upcoming people on the Catalina calender, I had't been there since it used to be located on Cahuenga. The new place seems bigger. We got a table in a perfect spot close to the stage. Dinner was perfectly adequate, the equivalent of paying $8 for a beer at a stadium. Dessert was more than adequate.

The show was perfectly entertaining, Branford Marsalis and his group are at the top of their game. Many transcendent moments. The piano player wrote some terrific songs, I'll have to find out what his name is. They played a Thelonious Monk song that I recognized called "Monk's Dream".

Watching Branford Marsalis on TV never gave me an accurate sense of his physical presence. I was amazed. This guy is tall, handsome, charming, witty, talented, charismatic, well dressed, confident, and he doesn't perspire. I can't get any taller, but I could work on my charisma.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts on the show, but Nicole and I are in the middle of packing to move to Pasadena and it'll have to wait.