A converation with a Pomeranian.

Today, our little Pomeranian stood behind me in the bathroom while I got ready to get in the shower. No, she's not tall enough to do that...our Greyhound is, but I've stopped disrobing in front of him. So Sassie, the Pom, began barking at me in that tiny dog "ruh ruh ruh ruh ruff" thing. I turned around and she stopped barking and begged for attention. Then, as I turned back she started again. I could see her in the bathroom mirror and she me..."ruh ruh ruh ruh ruff"! She was barking at my reflection in the mirror. Granted, I was naked. But I'm not convinced I look that different naked in the mirror than I do not in the mirror.

Do dogs perceive there is another room or another world in a mirror? Quite possibly. I've observed our Boxer, Lucy, stare at me in the full length mirror in our bedroom...I was standing right next to her. She didn't bark at me though. She just wanted some attention from the dummy making faces at her in the reflection considering I was ignoring her "in person".

Perhaps I need to take a closer look at my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps dogs have some sort of visual perception that we humans have yet to acquire...or have lost over the course of evolution.

Me: Sassie, why are you barking at my reflection in the mirror? What's up with that?
Sassie: Well, I have noticed that the "you" in the mirror appears to be left-handed. And I know for a fact that you are a right-handed human. I thought you were someone else. By the way, dogs are ambidextrous you know.
Me: Thanks for that reminder. But can you see in color? Ah hah!
Sassie: Of course we can. You're wearing blue boxer shorts, aren't you?
Me: Another superior human myth dashed to the ground!
Sassie: We also have feelings. It took you over 50 years of yelling at your dogs before you realized that.
Me: How was I supposed to know?
Sassie: I guess I shouldn't look a gift human in the mouth. Get it, gift human!
Me: I get it.
Sassie: Dogs have a sense of humor too.
Me: Yeah, this conversation is a riot. Hey, why do dogs lick themselves and drag their butts around on the carpet?
Sassie: Because we can! What do you do when your ass itches?
Me: Ya' got a point there. Wanna potato chip?

Sleepless About Seattle

After spending five days in Seattle this past week, I’ve come away with mixed emotions about the city I’ve wanted to live in for over 30 years.

This was a long overdue trip to see my daughter and son-in-law, specifically to spend some time with her. We pretty much just did the tourist thing with cameras in tow. Plus a couple of culinary adventures for good measure. After all, I did eat sushi for the first time. Jen and Roth were excellent hosts, as always.

Back in the seventies, I sent many resumes and radio airchecks to Seattle radio stations. At the time it was (and probably still is) a Top 20 radio market, ie, regarding population, market size, etc. I really wanted to work there and live there, even though I had not even visited Seattle yet. The culture, the opportunities, the size, the demographics, the allure...all of which fascinated me for years. Still does. The closest I got to Seattle career-wise was Boise, Idaho...a poor substitute for the Emerald City in terms of culture. I lasted six months there. It took one month to discover the mistake, and five more months to find a way back.

I would still love to make that jump to hyper space and come out in Seattle. The call of the Northwest is still strong. Or maybe my aversion to where I am now is stronger. I don’t know at this point. Other factors are now affecting my decision whether or not to “blow this pop stand”.

Logistically speaking, picking up and moving a thousand miles is a daunting task. Finding a great job, selling the house, and the other things that come with this possible future all weigh heavily. Loretta’s anxiety can not be overlooked as well. She has always been agreeable to all of my adventures, with a smattering of trepidation of course. That’s expected.

Today, this morning, we will sit down and make one of those ‘Pros” and ‘Cons’ list about moving. Maybe that will help make things more clear for a making a righteous decision. And one of the items on that list, one that should be a ‘Pro’ has turned into a ‘Con’. The fact that my daughter and son-in-law live in Seattle now. And this particular ‘Con’ has much more weight than the “gloomy weather”, the “hassle of moving”, or “selling our house”.

I’ve come to discover that I’m expecting too much from my daughter when it comes to support for this move of ours. Actually, she recently told me that in an e-mail. I’ve also come to feel that she may not actually want a parental intrusion into her newfound world. After more than two years in Seattle, I’m not convinced that she would truly welcome close proximity on my part. An occasional visit, yes. A full-time city-mate, no.

There is no fault or hard feelings. Just reason to rethink. I respect other people’s feelings, even if they pain me a bit. I would not be selfish enough to ignore another person’s wishes, especially my child’s.

Jenifer’s cordial and caring invitation for me to come visit recently was accepted and I made the trip. I know she truly wanted to see her Dad for a few days now since they won’t be coming here for the holiday season. I had a great time, her gracious hospitality made me feel right at home. Her efforts to provide an enjoyable itinerary were wonderful. I just hope I didn’t impose too much on her and Roth. Their house is small but very homey and comfortable.

Loretta didn’t make this trip due to job responsibilities. Our next visit to Seattle will include her. It will make things much easier on everyone if we stay in a hotel. They can make the short drive to downtown Seattle and we can take them out to dinner at one of those trendy eateries we always read about. It’s all good!

Now...time to get at that ‘Pro’ and ‘Con’ list. No decision has yet been made about moving.

And for Jen and Roth: If you hear a knock on your door someday and find a familiar-looking older couple standing on your stoop with four dogs...we’ll just be visiting. But, we may be living across town as well!

I ate "bait" this weekend.

A thousand pardons to true sushi and sashimi afficianados who detest the reference to sushi as “bait”. I just couldn’t help myself. After all, I have resided in the central valley of California for nine years now, and it is the redneck capital of the Golden State! In addition, there ain’t one heck of a lot of sushi fans, or sushi places, in the Modesto area. A mecca for even borderline foodies of any type it is not. In fact, it’s more of a cuisine wasteland...a desert...a black hole...the end of the earth...a netherland...a virtual nothingness of non-adventurous culinary catacombs. If it hasn’t been incinerated over a bed of 1000 degree mesquite coals then slathered in canned salsa and served with French fries, it won’t "go" around these parts, son.

My Seattle-ite daughter and son-in-law have been promising to deflower my sushi virginity on my next visit to the Emerald City for some time. And so, friends, it was done. I did it. I consumed copious amounts of uncooked animal protein in the form of tuna, amberjack, escolar, eel, several species of salmon, scallops, mackerel, shrimp, and yellowtail. I’ve had sushi now. And not to my surprise, I actually enjoyed it. I’ll do it again someday.

Technically speaking, we dined on nigiri, as opposed to sashimi. Nigiri is raw fish wrapped around cooked rice. Sashimi is just raw fish by itself. I might also add (for the benefit of any sushi virgins reading this) that a sushi bar experience is not raw fish exclusive. There are many other items on the menu that are actually cooked through and through. Tempura fish and vegetables, chicken teriyaki, and various panko-coated rolls abound on a good sushi bar menu just to name a few.

It’s kind of funny that just last weekend was my brother-in-law’s annual fish fry in Red Bluff. I’ve eaten more fish this week than in the previous six months. Both ends of the seafood spectrum, but seafood nonetheless.

If you’ve wanted to try sushi for the first time, I highly recommend going with someone who you consider to be at least a “novice” in this area. A somewhat seasoned sushi specialist in tow will make the endeavor a little less scary and mysterious. Even then...sushi is not for everyone. I can name a half dozen of my closest friends, relatives, and a food-picky spouse who will take much prodding to try it.

Truly good, fresh sushi is not fishy smelling. It is not fishy tasting either. My favorite from our night out at Seattle’s I Love Sushi is called escolar, or super white tuna. The taste is extremely mild, and it almost melts in your mouth. Even the fresh water eel (which was cooked) was very flavorful despite its foreign appearance and darker color.

Sake was not a part of our meal at this last sitting. We all drank big bottles of Sapporo (Japanese lager). Maybe a few shots of good sake prior to a first time will make the “deflowering” a bit easier! And stay away from the more exotic sushi fare like sea urchin, octopus, or squid. These critters served raw will turn you away from this cuisine in no time flat.

Thanks to Jen and Roth for holding my hand.

Still on my list of Things I’ve Never Eaten But Would Like To Before I Die: a beating cobra heart, coconut grubs, and deep fried bats. NOT!

Sleepless in Seattle

I'm in Seattle this week through the weekend. It's one last chance until next year to visit my daughter Jen and son-in-law Roth. It looks like they won't be doing the Christmas whirlwind tour to California this time as in years past.

Surprise! It's rainy here. The typical northwest Fall weather pattern has begun. After a Summer of nasty, 100+ degree days in central California, the clouds, cool temperatures, and showers are a welcome relief for me. I like the rain.

My night on the guest futon was a bit restless last night. After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, I eventually drifted off into a deep sleep and a long, detailed, multi-faceted dream worthy of a short story of its own. Without going into specific details here, I have one question for myself this morning. Can a dream help provide some closure on a chapter of my life that just won't seem to close? A chapter that should have been over and done with more than thirty years ago. Or will this dream perpetuate the memories? I know the answer to that question. It's up to yours truly. It's up to me to simply savor those memories, and not covet that space in time. Because it will never return.

Reality check!

More reunion thoughts...

Right up front, I will say now, our reunion weekend was very enjoyable. Rather than save that statement for a final after thought, there it is. We had a lot of fun. In fact, it turned out exactly as I had imagined in the weeks leading up to it.

Despite all the cynicism that arose from exposure to the present condition of our town compared to the Wonder Years days, we weren’t disappointed in the actual event. By the way, the “we” here is myself and my best friend from high school, Bob. We attended the 20th reunion and the 35th as well.

Of the three events that took place Saturday - the school tour, our afternoon Meet & Greet, and the reunion party itself - our afternoon Meet & Greet at the motel was probably the most congenial, relaxing dose of classmate nostalgia. About a dozen of us (plus a few guests) gathered around the pool for a few hours. We sipped Pina Coladas and beers and chatted. That’s all. But it didn’t feel like a meeting of twelve people from the class of 1967. It was simply a dozen or so 58 year olds with one common denominator: we just happened to go to the same school at the same time. Beyond that, we really have all that much in common...until we started talking. Marriage, divorce, kids, grand kids, ups, downs, growing old, napping, plans and goals realized and unrealized. Most folks our age say that their “To Do List” in life is not complete. It seems we all still posses an adventurous spirit. Coming to this reunion itself was evidence of that. Maybe that is why we decided to go...and others did not. Maybe that is why 71 stalwart souls made that commitment...while 869 others stayed home. Maybe some just couldn’t fit it into their schedule...while others have simply lost the desire to take a chance. To take that leap of faith. Age will do that to a person. Life will do that to you. In my case, maybe I just don’t care what people think of me like I did in high school...so I go.

Earlier in the day, a young history teacher at the school hosted a tour of the campus. His name is Mr. Tibbetts. His enthusiasm for the history of Canoga Park High School was infectious to say the least. A school that has been around since 1915 deserves such a historian. There was a lot to be said, and Mr. Tibbetts said it well.

It seemed there was a group of fifteen or so who made it to the school tour. Each and every one of us came away with a new appreciation of that place. Even though the high school has suffered through many changes, including earthquake damage, much of it looked very similar to its 1967 image. Several of the old, familiar, two-story classroom buildings had to be torn down and replaced by more modern looking structures. The two gyms are still there, as is the outside lunch area. The area where much socialization occurred way back when. Where relationships were nurtured, or broken. Where a high school student could step out academia, and back onto the “playground” for a hour. Where the guys could ogle the girls, and vice versa. Where you could be free for a short time.

We visited the library and the new media room next door where a museum of sorts is being put together. A museum of CPHS memorabilia. We got to see the inside of the old meeting hall where we attended school assemblies and watched noon-time movies. The classic pipe organ is still there, and very functional. Outside of the meeting hall the quad area is still there. Surrounded by classrooms, the pine trees, grass, and benches still sit just like they did 40 years ago. Another place to sit and socialize. At the edge of the quad there is a memorial to students who have fallen in battle. Here is where most of us experienced the most emotion. Not surprisingly, it was a very touching part of the school tour. Not surprisingly, at our age, we’ve all become much more sentimental.

Shortly after our Pina Colada Meet & Greet broke up, we headed over to The Sagebrush Cantina for the actual reunion party. The Sagebrush was within crawling distance of our motel, just up the street, very convenient at least. This place is a sprawling bar and restaurant akin to Gilley’s in the movie Urban Cowboy. I didn’t see a mechanical bull though or any cowboy hats. The outside patio is probably a square acre in size with a small stage in the front corner, the remainder is tables for drinking and appetizers. They located us in the back 40, about 3 1/2 miles from the stage. There were umbrella-covered tables, tall propane heat lamps, and a buffet line. There is also a small bar at that end of the patio to purchase overpriced, weak drinks. I will tell you at this point that several classmates said to me, “What the hell is this?” referring to the accommodations compared to past reunions. The 10th and 20th were at the Santa Monica Hilton. The 35th was at the Air Tel Hotel Ballroom in Van Nuys. No, it wasn’t posh, or even remotely worth the price we paid...but it was a reunion venue...good enough for the 71 people who decided to come!

The food? Well, the food was adequate. Again, certainly not worth the money we paid ($42). It consisted of a buffet line with a Ranch dressing salad, refried beans, rice, enchiladas, some old leftover BBQ’d chicken, some old leftover BBQ’d ribs, and tri-tip. That’s it. So, for anyone reading this who didn’t attend, you didn’t miss much with the food. By the way, no dessert. No cocktail waitresses, no service personnel of any kind. It was serve yourself all the way.

Back to the camaraderie. I spent the entire night taking photos of as much as I could. Being a photographer, it wasn’t a stretch for me. I enjoyed every minute of it. Plus, it gave me the opportunity to meet and chat a bit with just about everybody. I felt fortunate to be able to do this.

Here’s the deal with reunions. You did not know everyone from high school...period. We all had our little social groups. But when you get to the 35th or the 40th reunion, that doesn’t seem to matter as much, especially when the number of people attending dwindles over the years. Everyone has something in common. Everyone appreciates seeing and meeting the people who do show up. Some will remember your name even if they had never spoken to you in school. Some will not. The last three reunions, I had the most fortunate opportunity to attend with my two best friends over the past 45 years! Beyond that, I also met up with some nice people who remembered me, people who I went to class with. People who had something in common with me. We went to the same high school together. End of story.

New relationships were formed. Some old ones were reconstituted. Regarding the 45th reunion? Who knows at this point. Most of the people I spoke with were already excited for the 45th...and the 50th. They want to make it bigger and better than this one. Maybe so. Maybe it will be. All in all, I feel most of us thought this was one of the friendliest, nicest reunions so far. Less is better I guess. We’ll see in five years.

Reunion thoughts...

I grew up in the extreme western end of the San Fernando Valley, just outside Los Angeles. My town, Canoga Park, used to be one of the largest orange groves anywhere. Now, it shares that end of the valley with Woodland Hills, West Hills, and Calabasas...not orange groves...just a lot of urbania.

Calabasas always seemed to be an afterthought as far as towns go. Maybe it wasn’t even officially a town. Some sort of last place to pull over and get gas and snacks on your way west on Highway 101 out of the valley. A place where Treeland was located. The location of the Motion Picture Retirement Home. A couple service stations and a bar or two. A somewhat remote spot where you could find places to “park” with your date on the weekend. That was forty years ago. Now, Calabasas is the new Studio City or Encino or Westwood. Movie stars...swimming pools...BMWs...the nouveau rich...the wannabe nouveau rich. Hulking, mansion-like homes hanging on the edge of the hills overlooking the town, hundreds more back up in the canyons that eventually find their way to Malibu. Most of the streets begin with “Park”...Park Sorrento, Park Mirasol, Park Granada, and so on. Speilberg Drive is there also. I wonder if HE lives there?

Calabasas, a mere 4.03 miles from our school, is where we decided to hold our 40th Canoga Park High School reunion last weekend. We gathered at a huge, popular watering hole and restaurant called The Sagebrush Cantina. I called it a “dump”, a “dive”, and a rustic, west valley “meat market” for the non-Hollywood, middle income types looking to hook up.
But, this blog isn’t really about a old bar with sawdust on the floor, over-priced drinks, crappy food, smelly restrooms, lousy live music, and managers and servers with typical shitty L.A. attitudes. It’s about our reunion weekend, and it just happened to be in Calabasas. The venue was actually quite incidental compared to the impressions I came away with.

I drove south on Highway 99 for about 300 miles and entered the valley around 2:00 pm Friday. From the moment I got off the freeway the nostalgia I was feeling began to dissipate. My old stomping ground had continued to undergo the transition that started the day I left almost forty years ago. Something had happened. Not an over night thing. But something that wasn’t good. One way to describe it cinematically is that my beloved San Fernando Valley now looks like a cross between Blade Runner and Back to the Future II. I kept expecting to see billboards with pictures of Biff Tannen on them directing me to his latest real estate or business venture...or that casino. I’m sure at night there are huge flames venting out of the tops of the buildings and air-cars flying around between the skyscrapers.

There are no traffic problem times in L.A. The traffic sucks all day every day. It’s a constant swarm of cars traveling on all the roads, always honking at something or someone. The volume of automobiles transversing the streets never subsides according some old friends I met there. It’s always fucked up! They even have full-blown traffic reports on the radio and TV news on Sundays. Defensive driving was invented in L.A.; you must be a defensive driver to survive there.

All the land is taken. Where there aren’t homes, there are stores or apartments. Where once there was a familiar store, there is now an unfamiliar store. Nothing looked the same. My little home town, Canoga Park, could be located anywhere in Mexico. Other parts of the valley...Thailand or Cambodia or who knows where? Nothing...no signs...are in English any longer. To quote Bruce Hornsby...that’s just The Way That It Is now.

We made it safely to our motel room in Calabasas. The reunion weekend was afoot.

Saturday morning we managed to squeeze in a 90 minute driving tour of our old town, trying to find things that looked familiar, like the houses we lived in and our old neighborhoods. We did that. We did that five years ago at the 35th reunion, and at the 20th reunion twenty years ago. We’ll do it again at the 45th and the 50th. Our Bob’s Big Boy, Canoga High School's quintessential hangout, had long since been razed and replaced by a Mexican Super Market and strip mall. Gone. Poof! Pretty much says it all.

My house looked somewhat familiar, but more like something I had seen in a hundred disturbing dreams...that alternate reality that stems from the difference between perception and the real world. It was where I grew up, but not really. My house actually looked better this time than it did five years ago. I guess someone moved in at 6655 Melba Avenue with some semblance of pride. The street looked good. Huge birch trees planted on the parkway along the sidewalk in 1957 now over-hang the entire street, touching the ones on the other side of the street, totally shaded. It is now quite a mature, respectable looking neighborhood. Fifty years will do that! Regarding one’s old neighborhood...you can never go back.

(More to come tomorrow)...

Nostalgia Road

As much as I hate to admit it, I am a bit nervous about this weekend. My 40th high school reunion happens Saturday.

So far, only about 50 classmates are attending out of a class of 940. Many of the people I would be more nervous seeing aren't going. I guess that's a good thing.

What am I hoping to bring back from all of this? I'm not sure. There really isn't anything that needs "closure". I have no need to say things to anyone I wish I had said forty years ago. Except maybe a couple of "Just thought you'd like to know that I had a crush on you in junior high and high school!" It's doubtful I will have the bravura to do that even now.

I will be taking a lot of photos, at least that is the plan. I have promised to do that on the reunion website, then make available a DVD slide show shortly thereafter. The picture taking will make it easier for me to assimilate into this gathering; put me more at ease. Of course, I'll drop a few shots into this blog next week and write a few lines about the whole experience.

I did attend the 20th and 35th reunions, so I'm no stranger to the environment. This time it's a bit more casual and relaxed. No tie, no suit for me. I didn't really do a lot of chatting with folks at the other two reunions. This time may be different since it promises to be a more "intimate" gathering of enthusiastic supporters.

I must go now and iron a couple of tropical shirts and my "cargo" shorts. Gotta look somewhat respectable for my old classmates.

I just hope I remember to check my zipper before making the grand entrance! Beyond that...I not that concerned about what else happens.

Garlic Shrimp and Veggie Stir Fry

Every once in a while, any food-passionate chef enjoys some success with a recipe. He or she has an almost transcendental experience. For someone like me who thoroughly enjoys the cooking, the menu planning, the mis en place...even the shopping...it isn't often that I relish the outcome. And when it comes to Asian cuisine, my favorite food, my ratio of self satisfaction to disgusted disappointment is high. I am often frustrated with the final product. In the case of this dish, I was more than pleased and proud with how it turned out...Loretta echoed my elation last night as well, although I was very judicious with the chili sauce for her sake.

I combined several elements from different recipes (borrowed) from many sources. In the end, it is a very savory, Thai-inspired dish that will make you wonder why you still go to Panda Express or any other MSG-laden Asian take out. The ingredients are all fresh. Unlike many restaurants of this type, it utilizes fresh garlic and ginger (not powder or other manufactured seasonings and shortcuts). The fresh chopped green onions and cilantro as a garnish perfectly finishes the dish. The garlic shrimp sauce is slightly sweet and sour. Add more garlic if you're so inclined.

You can make it more Thai-like by adding more heat such as sambal chile sauce or fresh or dried chile peppers. I will try adding some lemon grass the next time I prepare it. As with any cooking adventure, a true foodie "fiddles" with the recipe to suit their tastes.

One bit of advice, besides the mis en place thing, is to make sure your stir fry vegetables are not cooked too much...keep them crisp...and serve it right away.

With any multi-ingredient recipe such as this, you must mis en place all the elements before you begin to cook, ie, get everything cut up and ready to go before turning on the heat. You’ll notice there is no salt or pepper in this recipe since it uses soy sauce, therefore, salt is probably unnecessary.

1 pound large shrimp (21-25), peeled
2 tablespoons canola oil

Shrimp Sauce:
1/4 cup chicken broth
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup ketchup
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons dry sherry
4 garlic gloves, minced
2 tablespoons fresh minced ginger
6 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon or more sambal or other chili sauce (depending on amount of heat desired)
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped

Stir Fry Vegetables:
3 tablespoons canola oil
1/2 cup sliced water chesnuts
2 cups broccoli florets, blanched for 1 minute, then put in ice bath
1 cup red bells, julienned
1 cup green bells, julienned
1 cup mushrooms, quartered
1 cup white or yellow onions, sliced
2 tablespoons green onions, diced
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped

Vegetable Sauce:
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons dry sherry
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons corn starch
1 tablespoon sesame oil

In a small saucepan, mix the chicken broth, vinegar, ketchup, soy sauce, sherry, garlic, ginger, sugar, and sambal. Stir well. Bring to a boil, lower heat to a simmer. Keep warm.

In a wok, canola oil to 275 degrees (not smoking). Add shrimp and stir fry just until they turn pink. Add garlic sauce and toss well with shrimp. Remove from wok and set aside. Rinse out wok, return to high heat.

Add canola oil. When oil is hot, add the vegetables and stir fry until al dente. Add vegetable sauce, stir until sauce thickens and coats vegetables. Add sesame oil.

Serve shrimp and sauce on white basmati or rice of your choice. Plate vegetables along side and garnish all with green onions and fresh chopped cilantro just before serving.

Remember...no soggy vegetables! Bon Appetit.

Sorry, no photos this time. We were too anxious to eat it!

Questions 67 & 68 plus a few more

10. If it was inexpensive to live in Monterey, wouldn't everyone live there?

9. If it was expensive to live in Modesto, would anyone live here?

8. J.T.: do you get it?

7. Why do vegans insist on eating meat-shaped bean curd products if they don't miss meat?

6. Untapped market: Vegetable-shaped meat products for us carnivorous types?

5. Flourless, sugarless cake: What's the point?

4. If there was no gravity, would Dolly Parton be able to see where she was going?

3. "Mild" hot sauce at Taco Bell: What's the point?

2. Is it going to be painful when one of those comets slams into the Earth?

1. Do you think it's really possible to suck a golf ball through a garden hose? Or suck the chrome off a trailer hitch?