Tonight's unexpected dessert - the black things are walnuts.
As far as dates go, tonight's was a pretty good one. Brenda is smart, funny and engaging, and if I leaned just a little bit more towards the whole Woody Allen thing, I'd be really interested. As it stands, well ... we'll see.The evening (sans date) began with dinner at Randy's - despite having recently emerged from the hospital, he rallied to make a killer chicken stir fry with cashews and a cous cous he'd prepared in homemade broth. Knowing Randy would go down for the count early, I arranged to meet my date for a drink afterwards. (When I say "meet" I mean that literally - Brenda and I had exchanged a few emails and spoken on the phone, but never actually met). The chosen spot was Vinoteca in Los Feliz, but I'd barely arrived when I realized I'd forgotten my wallet (classic Karen, unfortunately). No cash, no cards, no nothing. I sat in my car for a good minute or so deciding what to do next, then took out my cell phone and dialed.
"Hello, Brenda? You're taking the 134 to the 5, right? Good, well ... I was thinking, how do you feel about a change in plan? Turns out Vinoteca is a total scene tonight - it took me forever to find a place to park. And then there's the part where I forgot my wallet ... Would you be up for going a few more exits on the 5 and having a drink at my place instead?"
It's a good thing she said yes, since I was already halfway back to my house by the time I finished my spiel. Fifteen minutes later she arrived, a cute Jewish woman with an excellent sense of humor and a serious allergy to dogs and cats. I sequestered Sydney, Callie and Mojo (they were not amused) and we sat at the kitchen table and had a drink (no wine for Brenda, who's allergic to the tannens in wine. She instead had a Cointreau and Soda, even cutting herself a nifty French Twist with a lime peel).
We began talking and telling stories, and when she noticed the fruit on my table (a fancy selection given to me by one of the families I tutor), she suggested baking some pears. Right then and there. I liked that about her. Ten minutes later, after being dolloped with butter and sprinkled with brown sugar, walnuts, and cinnammon, the pears were in the oven.
Brenda was sweet and complimentary as we talked, and impossible not to like. I definitely got the impression she was interested. Did I feel a similar attraction? I'm not sure ... maybe. I'd certainly go on another date to find out.
The pears were delicious.
The Lighting of the Tree - 2006
For three years now (ever since I moved into my house), I've watched the woman pictured above make her daily walk around the neighborhood.Her pace is slow but steady, and her expression never changes. I've never seen her talk to anyone, carry anything, depart from a location, or arrive at one. I've never seen her stop walking, either.I've wanted desperately to take her picture, but I haven't for two main reasons: I don't usually carry my camera around, and I feel weird asking strangers if I can take their picture. I also worried I might offend her.I was driving home from my final goodbye over at George's on Friday when I saw her ... and this time, I had my camera with me. I guess my sadness made me bold, because I stopped the car alongside her, rolled down the passenger window, and asked if she'd mind if I took her picture.She spoke no English (and I know like, 50 words in Spanish), so maybe that's why she thought I was asking her to take a picture. She nodded - and reached out to receive my camera - and I snapped one shot. "No, I meant I wanted to take your picture," I said at roughly the same time. I suddenly felt guilty, like I'd stolen something.She stared at me for a moment, shrugged, and continued on her way.When I saw her again this afternoon, she smiled at me.
A Final Look Out George's Window - 2006...
When I was a kid, my family moved a lot. Florida, Virginia, New York, Colorado ... when someone asks me where I grew up, I never know quite what to say.As an adult, I've also moved more times than I care to remember. Since coming to Los Angeles 14 years ago, however, I've actually been pretty stable - I've only moved six times. It always sucks. Even when you're happy about where you're going, it's stressful. Watching George and Jackie prepare to move over the last few weeks has left me empathetic. It's also left me a lot of stuff.As he's been paring down to take off, George has been gifting me all kinds of cool belongings. It's a random assortment that's dribbled in as he's made tough packing choices: a half-dozen books, a painting he's had since high school, an antique meat scale, a gazillion This American Life shows on tape (all handmade), the extra-special 1977 presidential plate (featuring all 38 Commander in Chiefs, with Jimmy Carter in the center), an antique wooden mini bar (with amber glass decanters) ... the list goes on.The best gift of all, though - without question - is Door Monkey. I just noticed him tonight, sitting in the bottom of a box, smiling up at me with one hand raised in salutation. I picked him up and smiled.Door Monkey has been stationed next to the door at George's house for as long as I can remember. George's keys were generally hung on DM's hand - or, on occasion, tossed into the foot dish. When George used to wear a watch, I think I remember seeing that there, too, and sometimes, Door Monkey was in charge of George's wallet. He had a lot of responsibility. I guess that's why he wears the top hat.I was surprised George had gifted me Door Monkey. When I called him up and asked why he was letting him go, George said something about having had a lot of good years together, but it being time for someone else to steward him. When I mentioned that I didn't have a place for Door Monkey by my door - and that maybe he'd have to become Desk Monkey - the idea was gently shot down. Apparently, Door Monkey has a job to do, and if you deny him this job, well, George says he can't be responsible for the "mischief" DM might get up to.So ... I guess I'll be finding Door Monkey a home near my door. I actually kind of like the idea, because then, every time I walk in or out, I'll think of George.It's funny how one little thing - a strange little monkey, no less - can make a big thing somehow easier to bear.
I like that I can say "I've lost 40 pounds." It sounds so much better than saying, "I've lost 39 pounds."
I don't know why ... it just does.
Another parent gave me a box of chocolate today ... can you believe it? (I'm tempted to roll out the "fucktard" label, but I won't.)
I went out to my goodbye dinner with George and Jackie tonight. I'm going to miss them both in ways I can't even begin to think about. There were moments during dinner in which I was dangerously close to tears ... but I maintained. Why? Because (of course) I am not one to be maudlin.Well, until I think about the fact that I ate and drank 100 points. Seriously. But it was a great dinner, and worth every second I'll spend making up for it over the next 6 days (if that's even possible). I can't believe they're leaving on Friday. George was supposed to be here forever.
Sometimes, when you can't find the right art, you just have to make it yourself. I went on a date yesterday and actually had a pretty good time. We played pool during Happy Hour, and the games were fun. The conversation was lively. The girl (Alice) was cute, bright enough, and had a good sense of humor. On paper, we should have hit it off. But there was no romantic spark. None. Seriously - when you've each had a couple of drinks and you're still not flirting, well, that's just a serious lack of chemistry.It got me thinking about my take on the laws of attraction, and what it is I'm looking for. Then, on the drive home, it hit me: Alice was a nice girl and all, but nothing about her hit any of my bells (and, apparently, I hit none of hers). I wasn't picturing ordinary bells, though - they were those bell and hammer games you play at the county fair. You know, when you use a hammer to smash a platform as hard as you can, the goal being to make the little metal thingie shoot all the way up and ring the bell.I think four Hammer Bells need to ring in order for there to be a true connection: Emotional, Physical, Intellectual, and Companionship.Or, if you want to make an acronym out of it (and you know I do) ... A four-bell person is E.P.I.C. (there can be Epic Girls and Epic Boys; this is a theory that crosses gender and sexuality lines). An Epic Connecion is rare indeed, and if you're lucky enough to stumble across one, you know it in your bones.What needs to exist for a particular bell to sound?The E-Bell looks at a wide range of emotional issues, from basic kindness and compassion all the way over to stability (no mental cases, please), maturity (no drama queens, thank you very much), and sincerity. The ability to process a problem quickly and efficiently is also key.The P-Bell is the most obvious. Does the thought of kissing this person make you feel all melty inside? Do you even find his or her physical shortcomings attractive? And, at the end of the day, is this someone you simply like looking at?The I-Bell covers basic smarts, self-awareness, the depth, range and power of conversation, and the degree to which the person is both interesting and interested. Are you challenged, intrigued, surprised and confounded? Does the potential exist to grow in directions that might actually keep it that way?And then there's the C-Bell: Companionship. This one's about the day-to-day - the level of basic compatibility when it comes to everything from workday routines to shopping to vacations. Is this the first person you want to see when you wake up and the last one you want to see before going to bed?Granted, it's tough to know on a first (or second or third or tenth) date whether or not someone is Epic. But you can generally tell pretty damn quickly when someone isn't. (As a believer is all things idealistic and romantic, I suppose I should add that yes - I do believe in rare cases of love at first sight. I swear, it's a fucking miracle that I don't believe in unicorns and the magic of rainbows).Hey, if nothing else, the Epic Theory makes it easy to rate a date.She was a two-bell girl, but in the other two categories, she barely registered.Well, he only hit one bell, but since it was the P-Bell, I went home with him anyway.That date sucked - she didn't even have a hammer!
And then, there's ever elusive:
Holy shit - I think I've met someone truly Epic!Hope springs eternal ...
The Bottom of the Bowl - 2006
Log Jam - 2006
Butter's never met a stream of water he didn't want to attack.I tried not to get all worked up during my walk with George and the dogs today - I tried not to think about the fact that in two weeks, he'll be gone.
I succeeded on the outside, anyway.George and Jackie (and Butter) have found a place to live up north. Movers have been arranged. Belongings have already started going into boxes. It's definitely happening. They're going.The walk was also tough because it was the first I've taken with George in 13 years that didn't include Hawk. Denny was there to run up and down the hillsides after his ball (which he lost 10 minutes in), but Hawk's absence was certainly felt.I know everything will be fine. I know George and I will see each other, that our friendship will survive, that when friends become family, they last forever.I'm going to miss him something awful.
George earlier today, flanked by Desi, Butter, Sydney, and Callie (the one with all the junk in the trunk).
