Backing up to Day One of the Memorial Day Weekend trip to the Bay area..
Our drive time somehow always has us hungry around Kettleman City and the only choice besides In 'n Out is Mike's Roadhouse where we inevitibly try our head and hand at the IQ test and usually toss that shit back to the corner of the booth within minutes. Which is oddly similar to what we'd like to happen with the food consumed there. The I-5 really needs some finer dining establishments between LA & SF.
We took a detour near Oakland to the Las Trampas Regional Wilderness area for a small hike where we walked the creek trail and Oscar picked up tick #1.
And tick #2...
On our way out of the refuge, we spotted these three tykes crossing the road, probably getting away from the wild turkeys we drove past a few seconds later.
Met up with this wild canine in Yountville next. Made a pass at introducing the terrier to the Pit, but it was not to be. They would sniff at each other on opposite sides of walls and doors for the next 24 hours.
While the dogs slept off their excitement, the humans trolled the streets of Yountville and tasted outstanding wines and noshes and I had to say the next morning, "Man, I don't see 1 AM too damn often these days."
Those are the words I heard a woman say at O'Neill's Pub after the Giants game in San Francisco on Sunday. We watched the papers every day leading up to the game wondering if it was possible that we might see Barry Bonds break The Babe's record. It was not only possible, but we were 11 seats and one row in front of where it bounced off a guy's chest and into the concession stands in between and below the bleachers. Say what you will about Barry - he's got eye/hand coordination that's unrivaled and on that day he made it feel for a few minutes like the Cubs had won the World Series.
The "8 Men In" - They had eight guys following Bonds around the country hoping to get one of the historic balls so they could donate the funds to the Hall of Fame, I believe. They had one guy strategically placed where the #715 landed but ultimately didn't catch it.
The above pic before the homer, the one below as they are changing the 714 to 715, which took place immediately as the streamers were shot and rockets red glared.
And here is the guy whose chest the ball bounced off, regaling the tale in all his humility. Later we would watch the footage - he held on to his $8 beer only to miss the ball then dump the beer over the railing, watching the ball go to a guy waiting in line for a beer. Who waits in line for a beer when Barry is up to possibly bat a record breaker!? A really lucky mother.....
At least this guy had a humorous attitude about his bobble, though I'd bet he's having recurring nightmares about it now.
There's nothing like sitting in the bleachers at Wrigley, but Pac Bell/SBC/AT&T Park is a close second - especially when history is being made, baby.

Getting bit by a dog suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks! BAD!
And yet............................................tomorrow he will poop and I will pick it up.
But I won't be wiping his paws after a rainy day. Ever. Again.

Look at this. My little brother sent me this photo on my birthday. It's me and him probably the last time we were civil to each other until we were adults. I look like I'm cast straight out of BIG LOVE in my maxi-skirt and peasant blouse. But seriously, if it weren't for denim and t-shirts, I could still see myself in this outfit and occasionally almost get there with the help of resale except for the lenght of the skirt. AND I've been trying to recreate that haircut ever since to no avail, though most of my favorite rock stars have. I'm also trying to recreate in my head where exactly on the floor-plan the fabulous brown velvet corduroy chair and its twin sat. I believe it was in the only-on-holidays-and-parties sunken living room, on the ivory shag flanking the glass and chrome coffee table and the cush couch and the baby grand. In fact I'm certain the picture was taken as my father was playing Bach, tinkle, tinkle.
And speaking of tinkling and Big Love, HERE'S AN HBO INTERVIEW with the great Harry Dean Stanton, one of my favorite drinking partners.
Finally having a moment to sit with a cup of coffee and jot down the events of the whirlwind birthday week. A few weeks ago I did some graphic work for chef Govind Armstrong and I requested that what I wanted in payment was dinner for two at his restaurant Table 8. Cashed in on it Tuesday night. Hardy har har, our liquor and water bill equaled the gratis food bill. But the food and wine were excellent and the place was packed. Govind stopped by the table and talked about his upcoming book and new South Beach restaurant and I could feel the eyes of the room upon him.
The next day it was David's birthday and his dinner choice was Vitello's for a plate of Robert Blake pasta. Seriously. He had the Robert Blake. It's actually the most interesting combination of ingredients including spinach and garlic, unlike the Garry Marshall which just sounds disgusting. After, we stopped in at Barsac for a nightcap with Robert Forster. Okay, not with but amongst. He was seated right behind the bar with a group of boisterous fellows including an ancient old chap who secretly paid for the group's meal. Probably been Robert's agent for a lifetime.
Thursday night we cashed in on one of my presents to David and we spent the evening at the Geffen Playhouse watching Laurie Metcalf and Neil Patrick Harris kick ass in Arthur Miller's All My Son's. In three weeks we will be attending the Ahmanson to see Black Rider. In between I think we will rest. Oh - well, except for the trip to the Bay area for four days. That might age us a little in the process. All in all, this week, which started out pretty crappy, was pretty pip. Might be a good weekend to sit in a theater for 2 1/2 hours deciphering the code.
Dear Brian,
I had a dream that you rescued me from the dark ages. I was wallowing in the muck with the dinosaurs, slow fat dinosaurs. You pulled me out and like Eve to Adam you fed me a ripe juicy APPLE. The most delicious apple ever! Screw the snakes! You turned the dinosaurs and slugs into racing machines and away we went! Thank you, thank you. I awoke ready to rock 'n roll.
Yours truly,
Nora

Another check off my list...this is Luther, a dearly departed and now immortilized. The person who commissioned Luther had these words to say - treasure..beautiful...art....
I say the same thing about someone who commissions art for a friend's birthday after their beloved dog passes...
They grow good people (and handsome dogs) in the Chicago area.
More dog portraits at Every Dog Has It's Day
Last night I watched the second-to-last That 70's Show and then the farewell show with the HIGHlight clips and interviews with the cast members. In honor of the 360 - the smokey round table in Eric Forman's basement - I got a little "choked up". I found myself crying and then I got REALLY tired. My eyes looked like I was stoned and I'd been crying.
In the real 70's after a round table, I'd be happy happy and someone would ask if I'd been crying and I'd say, uh, who me, duh no, I'm just tired.
Dreaded question of the month - How's the movie coming?
As I've said before, it'd be coming along a lot better if I had a much needed new computer. Though I still have half a dozen scenes to shoot, not to mention writing the narration, I have about four hours of DV that I could be editing already. My very proficient filmmaker friend was over the other day and took one look at this iMac and said, "wow, that's a dinosaur." He must have thought he was at the Apple Museum.
I read the other day that when blogger Tony Pierce's iPod broke down he mentioned to his readers that if twenty of them sent him twenty dollars each, he could get a new iPod. And they did and he did. In fact that was how he got his first iPod. So if twenty of my readers...okay, maybe if all my readers...okay maybe if everybody I know sent me twenty dollars - I could get that new iMac with the intel and the super drive et al and I could really start putting together this damn movie! Golly, I guess that Tony Pierce is on to something, but then he was asking so little. Sigh.
Nora T. Wood
May 9, 2006

Gardner and Sunset is fast becoming the latest "it" block - not quite the Cahuenga "corridor" as yet - but still a great place to find some good eats and shop for comic books, hip clothes ("rock moms not soccer moms"), smoking devices and tattoos.

I think that Toi has maybe gone through another recent transformation because the last couple times the food has been very so-so, but Friday night it was quite good and the service was almost attentive. Still the same is the ambience and the original bathroom art just screams "graffiti me" and gets it.

And there's nothing better than dessert at Musso's. The only time I've ever seen food actually being served at the bar was Friday night which happened to be Reuben's birthday and he shared his cheese cake with those at his station. I asked him what he thought about Monday's rallies and he poo-pooed it all as he does so well. Said calmly in his still heavy accent after all these LA years, "These guys don't understand...they have to work their way up the way everyone else does...they expect things to just be handed to them..." Makes Reuben-sense since it's coming from a guy whose fortieth anniversary at Musso's is coming up next year and he only turned 58 that day. Cinco de Mayo no less.
I pondered outloud that I'd been along for that ride for half of those Musso years. He leaned into my boyfriend and said - in that thick accent and hand gestures, "oh you should have seen her, so cute with her crazy hair and that jacket with all the pins and things hanging from it..."
Pretty damned honored he remembered me and my fashion statement all the way back to the mid/late eighties - after all he's served everybody from Sam Peckinpah to Steve McQueen to Bukowski (a lot) to Keith Richards and Johnny Depp. I consider myself in some damn fine company - just as those guys revered Reuben's company - and his concoctions, of course.
I just may have to do a repeat dessert/birthday visit to Musso's in oh, about a week---
While on the road yesterday, staring at bumpers, I saw two license plates that woke me up for brief moments in traffic.
The first was on a big macho truck with stickers plastered across the back window, chrome pipes and giant tires. It read:
2GALSNLV
So cute. The second one read:
CLOWNRT
Boy, if there's one thing I like less than clowns - it's clown art.
I gotta full tank of gas
It's cloudy
I'm wearing sunglasses
I'm on a mission from Dog
Those of you that are familiar with LA's topography, will know that when I say I had a Hell of a day - I did. And know that though I do already drive a good portion of my day, I would not want to be a courier or a cab driver.
I left Toluca Lake this morning, got on the 101 to the 405 and drove to Santa Monica. Then I went through Westwood, then back on the 405 over Mulholland to Laurel Canyon to Mt. Olympus. Next trip was to Van Nuys then back on the 405 and back to Santa Monica. Then it was the return on the 405 to the 101 to Studio City then to Toluca Lake. Aside from the aforementioned - some other major LA arteries I navigated today were Sepulveda, Centinela, Pico, Wilshire and Ventura.
Only half of that mission was [Angels Walk] dog related. Today was actually the one day of the year that Women Painters West reviews work for artist membership. Three paintings dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon and notified by mail. I was #32 of 48 entrants. Beats picking up dog poop and least I can check that endeavor off the list.