Guys, please excuse me for the catch-all thang going on this week, but I hope that y’all will forgive the arachnid, cinematic, avian and philatelic vibe, all in one post.
OK, there is going to be nothing chronological about this rambling, but the CoCo vibe is unmistakable.
Friday night, Kathy and I did a belated birthday (hers, not mine) dinner: a Tuscan-styled three-course fest paired with appropriate vino.
Caprese, roasted pork loin sided with mushroom gnocchi, and kale accompanied by rosemary potatoes: It did not hurt that Kath and I had the best convos with our “family style” (that was the rule: no table reservations) tablemates.
Check out Kath’s photo: Michelle was the cool court reporter who, if I was any judge, could drop the bomb: She knows which attorneys whisper to the jurors, as if to circumvent, but she don’t play that. “Your honor, I can’t hear counselor,” Michelle civilly tells the judge. End of story: the courtroom theatrics on the part of counselor are done.
Nuff said. Apparently there are judges, working their way through a million cases a week, who need a reporter to be accurate. You got a grandstander shyster who wants to win this one? Michelle may not be the one reporter you want to cast aspersions on.
No further questions, your honor.
Hey, our local cinema-plex is doing the hardcore community outreach doo.
Now, while I don’t want to look a gift copyright-expired-DVD-OK-for-exhibition disc in the mouth, I do have to give kudos to RAVE Cinemas management for engaging the digital tech to hit everything.
Dude! I watched “Cyrano de Bergerac’ on a bad DVD transfer at RAVE. Sweetness! I’d never seen José Ferrer’s performance in this classic. Homes won, oh, I don’t know, AN OSCAR!
And now, I, old-skool, am buying stamps. Who is featured? Fifteen guesses. And the first fourteen don’t count. José. And the Don is smiling.
His son, with then-wife Rosemary Clooney, is Miguel, who played anal-retentive Special Agent Albert on “Twin Peaks.” Oh, and the lead in “Where’s Marlowe?,” a crazy late-90s neo-noir with “Mad Men”’s John Slattery as his biz partner.
Ferrer-pere is so arrogantly wonderful in “Cyrano” that it’s actually jarring to see his avuncular mug smiling from postage. Each time I affix his visage to a utility bill, I envision his deadly wit and mortal swordplay. En garde, Pacific Gas & Electric! This time, I shall spare thee, varlet Comcast!
Hey, Audrey is back! Our black-widow spider pal has made a return, looking plumper than ever. A couple of months ago, Kath and I saw the makings of a bad web in the garage; shortly thereafter, we saw what we thought was Audrey. Now we have a bad web on the front porch (Audrey’s previous domain), and have seen a ready-to-burst black widow, while still having the web in the garage. Kathy thinks that Audrey is in front ready to give birth and that our other tenant, Constance, is chilling in the garage. (Though, I’m sorry to break the news that temps in our Northern Cali ‘hood are not “chillin’.”)
Oh, and this week we discovered one talon-equipped raptor mofo fending off dive-bomb attempts from other birds, from atop our backyard Sequoia redwood tree.
I’d sing, “California, Here I Come,” but for the fact that I’m already here.
Talk soon.
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