We're trying to survive L.A., but there are times when we just need the comforts of home. For Richard, that means cheese curds. (Deep fried, of course.)
On my first trip to the mid-west I was given the opportunity to try a food product that Richard thinks is sent from Heaven itself...a gift of the saints. Cheese Balls. (Get your own - my very benevolent husband does not share his cheese balls [Alex, insert joke here]).
Cheese curds are virgin cheese. Unaged. Before the cheese advances and gets hard, it is formed into tasty bites that are evaluated on their squeakiness. These tender young morsels are then breaded and deep fried. Think mozzerella cheese sticks with fresh cheddar.
And L.A. thought it had the market on cool food.
The midwest apparently tried for years to keep a cap on its best kept secret. Richard ate cheese balls en masse when he was home in Iowa because they were no where to be found in DC. In fact, few things made Richard so happy as the time his family came for a visit toteing a cooler of frozen deep fried cheese curds...which are so plentiful in the midwest you can buy them in the grocery store....but not get them anywhere on the East Coast.
When I was still wooing Richard I tried to make cheese balls. I'm a pretty good cook, but this went into the category of complete and utter failure. Even Richard, who is always honest (please don't make this again) and sometimes tender in his criticisms could not hold back. "These don't just look bad, they are inedible."
Apparently I would fail as a midwest chef.
So it was grand excitment recently at 8 oz. when Richard raised his hands to cease all conversation so he could point to the waitress at the next table and demand "what are those? I need a menu now."
Wisconsin cheese curds. On the menu. It's very possible that was the reason we went to 8 oz. 3 Saturdays in a row.
I thought this was a grand find. A place to satiate the palate of my dear husband. An occasional stop between trips to Iowa to tide him over. Satisfaction delivered from a deep fat fryer. Little did I know....
Just as the smog in L.A. permeates your brain, so did the scent of cheese curds infect Richard's nostrils....not to abate. So much has this obsession grown (is he just crying out for the culinary delights of home?) that tonight in my in-box I have no less than 6 emails from him on the very topic....ranging from places to get them to recipes for me to try to make for him. (Isn't he sweet, thinking of me like that.....)
So Richard may just survive L.A. yet - due to this newest discovery. (And me, well, I'll survive wherever Richard is. [Alex, insert gag sound here] As long as I can make deep fried cheese curds.)
Monday, April 6, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Surviving L.A. - Takes A Great Escape
In order to truly survive L.A., one must escape it from time to time. Fortunately, California offers so many amazing options. Wine country, San Diego, the Pacific Coast Highway, Death Valley, Palm Springs, Monterrey, Fresno, San.....wait....Fresno?
My knowledge of Fresno was that the town lent itself as the title and setting to a 1986 mini-series parody of prime time soap operas. Fresno starred Carol Burnett and Charles Grodin (among many others) as the first family of raisins. Being the 'pit' of such jokes, I could not imagine what our interest in actually going there would be.
"Oh my God, you can get the best food in Fresno." This is the rationale for any trip there from our friends George and Leah. I really, truly thought they were joking when they said if we EVER wanted to go up there, they would be up for a road trip just to eat there again. Really, Fresno?
Richard was even more skeptical than I, considering he goes to Fresno every week; it is the town near the POM Wonderful plant in Del Rey, where the POM Wonderful-ness happens. However, his steady diet of pizza, burgers and tex mex had really only taken him as far as Me-N-Eds and Taco Bell.
Then, like an angel's voice carried on the wind breaking through the heavy L.A. smog, I heard the secret: Bacon Fried Rice.
Apparently this brilliant concoction is served at a Japanese steakhouse in Fresno and it's enough to lure any person back. Okay I was sold, when were we going?
We went when escaping L.A. was even more imperative -- when the wild fires were occuring in Sepulveda Pass. Unfortunately for us, we needed to drive through Sepulveda Pass to get to points north, and the promise land, Fresno, where one can find the to-die-for fried rice. Ah, but Richard is never without the latest gadget, and we have GPS navigation systems...we can get around this! So, apparently, so can the 2,746 other cars on the road, which clogged up the one mountain road we could find to circumvent the fires. The 3-hour car ride became 6, and our first culinary experience of the trip was a Wendy's.
When driving into Fresno you can't help but understand the inspiration for the mid-80s Falcon's Crest spoof. Contrasting the black gold barons on Dallas are the royalty of breakfast cereal compliments, those tasty black nuggets of sweetness making bran worth eating. While not quite as bad as sausage, raisins share something in common with the meat product....you might not want to see them being made. No need for a tour, the rudimentary process for 'making' raisins is laying them on butcher block-type paper in the sun, right along the roadway. Pull your car over and take a look, but please don't idle, it's hard enough to think about all the exhaust spewed over the yummy ingredient in my father's cinnamon-raisin bread. I now have a theory that all raisins actually should be golden...but....well, for the sake of my next bagel, let's not pursue that line of thinking.
After an amazing personal tour of the POM Wonderful factory, which was fascinating but decidedly bacon-free, we called the restaurant to make a reservation.
To find that none were available.
Apparently, bacon-fried rice is not a well-kept secret. You cannot imagine the disappointment after a 6-hour stop-and-go road trip that was only fueled by the scant scent of sizzling pork product. Instead, one of Richard's colleagues invited us to the Purple Potato. This place was not even on our navigation system, causing the car passengers to give a hard time to the driver, who shall remain nameless, for taking us to a place named after a food product the color of which could only be explained by large amounts of the same exhaust that covers the sweet raisins. AND, there was no bacon fried rice on the menu.
We did, begrudgingly, have to ultimately admit to Richard that the food at the Purple Potato was actually fantastic, and perhaps it lent credence to the rumor that the greater Fresno area does, in fact, have amazing gastronomic experiences to offer visitors.
Richard took me back to Fresno a few weeks later for the Christmas party for the POM Wonderful plant. We had a fabulous time, but I would like to point out that I still have yet to experience the make-me-drool-just-thinking-about-it bacon fried rice. I am starting to think it is just an urban legend. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The Holy Grail.
But Fresno is one gateway to Yellowstone and its natural wonders, so I will be back. And I have deliberately left the name of the restaurant out of this entry so that I can get a reservation next time. I'm not leaving until I can fully report back on the elusive, succulent, savory, glorious calorie-fest that is the stuff of fantasies that make surviving L.A. a little easier: bacon fried rice.
My knowledge of Fresno was that the town lent itself as the title and setting to a 1986 mini-series parody of prime time soap operas. Fresno starred Carol Burnett and Charles Grodin (among many others) as the first family of raisins. Being the 'pit' of such jokes, I could not imagine what our interest in actually going there would be.
"Oh my God, you can get the best food in Fresno." This is the rationale for any trip there from our friends George and Leah. I really, truly thought they were joking when they said if we EVER wanted to go up there, they would be up for a road trip just to eat there again. Really, Fresno?
Richard was even more skeptical than I, considering he goes to Fresno every week; it is the town near the POM Wonderful plant in Del Rey, where the POM Wonderful-ness happens. However, his steady diet of pizza, burgers and tex mex had really only taken him as far as Me-N-Eds and Taco Bell.
Then, like an angel's voice carried on the wind breaking through the heavy L.A. smog, I heard the secret: Bacon Fried Rice.
Apparently this brilliant concoction is served at a Japanese steakhouse in Fresno and it's enough to lure any person back. Okay I was sold, when were we going?
We went when escaping L.A. was even more imperative -- when the wild fires were occuring in Sepulveda Pass. Unfortunately for us, we needed to drive through Sepulveda Pass to get to points north, and the promise land, Fresno, where one can find the to-die-for fried rice. Ah, but Richard is never without the latest gadget, and we have GPS navigation systems...we can get around this! So, apparently, so can the 2,746 other cars on the road, which clogged up the one mountain road we could find to circumvent the fires. The 3-hour car ride became 6, and our first culinary experience of the trip was a Wendy's.
When driving into Fresno you can't help but understand the inspiration for the mid-80s Falcon's Crest spoof. Contrasting the black gold barons on Dallas are the royalty of breakfast cereal compliments, those tasty black nuggets of sweetness making bran worth eating. While not quite as bad as sausage, raisins share something in common with the meat product....you might not want to see them being made. No need for a tour, the rudimentary process for 'making' raisins is laying them on butcher block-type paper in the sun, right along the roadway. Pull your car over and take a look, but please don't idle, it's hard enough to think about all the exhaust spewed over the yummy ingredient in my father's cinnamon-raisin bread. I now have a theory that all raisins actually should be golden...but....well, for the sake of my next bagel, let's not pursue that line of thinking.
After an amazing personal tour of the POM Wonderful factory, which was fascinating but decidedly bacon-free, we called the restaurant to make a reservation.
To find that none were available.
Apparently, bacon-fried rice is not a well-kept secret. You cannot imagine the disappointment after a 6-hour stop-and-go road trip that was only fueled by the scant scent of sizzling pork product. Instead, one of Richard's colleagues invited us to the Purple Potato. This place was not even on our navigation system, causing the car passengers to give a hard time to the driver, who shall remain nameless, for taking us to a place named after a food product the color of which could only be explained by large amounts of the same exhaust that covers the sweet raisins. AND, there was no bacon fried rice on the menu.
We did, begrudgingly, have to ultimately admit to Richard that the food at the Purple Potato was actually fantastic, and perhaps it lent credence to the rumor that the greater Fresno area does, in fact, have amazing gastronomic experiences to offer visitors.
Richard took me back to Fresno a few weeks later for the Christmas party for the POM Wonderful plant. We had a fabulous time, but I would like to point out that I still have yet to experience the make-me-drool-just-thinking-about-it bacon fried rice. I am starting to think it is just an urban legend. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The Holy Grail.
But Fresno is one gateway to Yellowstone and its natural wonders, so I will be back. And I have deliberately left the name of the restaurant out of this entry so that I can get a reservation next time. I'm not leaving until I can fully report back on the elusive, succulent, savory, glorious calorie-fest that is the stuff of fantasies that make surviving L.A. a little easier: bacon fried rice.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Surviving L.A. - Takes Star Sightings
A little background: Richard got a job offer almost 18 months ago that was a brilliant career move on his part but that caused us to do something we said we never would - move to Los Angeles, CA.
Since we departed our wonderful east coast lifestyle, we've been trying to figure out how to adjust to the West Coast mentality. We're surviving......
One question we get constantly about living in L.A. is whether or not we have spotted any stars. At first, our skills were not up to snuff. During the recruitment weekend we were sitting at breakfast when a friend told us we were about to get our first star sighting walking through the door to the restaurant. A group walked in the door and Richard and I rapidedly examined the faces before they were shown into a back room. We had to ask who the famous person was. We were told we had just seen Damian Lewis of Band of Brothers and Life fame.
Our second brush with fame occured at Universal Studios when we spied a group of people clamoring to take pictures with a young girl. We snapped a picture too, and then had to ask everyone we knew who in the heck it was. Not until we showed the picture to our 8-year-old neice did we get an answer to the mystery star....known to Disney-Network fans everywhere, but not to us.
Eventually, we saw throngs of stars, but that was at Laker's games where, frankly, seeing stars is like shooting fish in a barrel. Yeah, Richard had to excuse himself to use the restroom past Jerry Van Dyke (of Coach fame), but that hardly counts as an authentic run-in with the daily, everyday lives of the rich and famous.
But when a friend recently visited, even SHE got a star sighting: Archie Kao (aka Archie on CSI) was also in the airport when she was leaving.
So we thought maybe going to the airport was a good place.....
It started on a recent red eye to Orlando. We were seated in the front row near the door coming on, and after it seemed all the passengers had on-loaded there appeared a lime-green jacket at the door, accompanied by a security guard. Ms. Paula Abdul (and, um, boyfriend?) were escorted onto the plane. She was apparently headed to Orlando for the opening of the Idol Experience at Hollywood Studios Orlando. We were admittedly surprised she was on a commercial red-eye flight, but she must have had a stylist and make-up artist in her bag (or perhaps the boyfriend?) because the next morning when I felt - and probably looked - like death warmed over, she walked through the terminal in Orlando looking just like she had looked walking on to the plane in L.A....where, although he was seated, she came about eye-to-eye with Richard. As he describes the encounter by holding his hand up to his chest, "She's tiny!"
Our prowess at spotting stars has improved.....which was useful last night in Hollywood. We headed out to a night with friend's at the Hollywood Improv. We had gone to see Iliza Shlesinger do some stand-up comedy. SHE is a funny woman, but we paid to see her so we don't count that as an official sighting.
The evening started with dinner at 8oz., a burger bar we will be eating at a lot now that Richard has discovered it as the one place outside Iowa that serves fried cheddar cheese balls.
Richard returned from a trip to the bathroom to report that a booth in the back of the restaurant held someone, someone he knew he ought to recognize. When the rest of our group got there we all sneeked peeks and figured out it was James Spader (currently of Boston Legal, formerly of Stargate, Bad Influence and - showing my age - Pretty in Pink fame.)
Dinner, BTW, was fabulous.
We walked to the Improv and sat at the bar waiting for our show and listening to our friends - long time Los Angelians - share their stories of other brushes with fame. (Apparently, 8oz is also an accasional haunt of Mylie Cyrus.)
Richard and our friend Todd returned from the bathroom exchanging questions of "did you see who that was"? Jim Gaffigan, who is a stand-up commedian and actor, was apparently at the urinal, providing proof to the age-old question: yes, we do all pull up our pants the same way. He then came into the bar area, where the rest of us could see him. Later, hemjumped in and did a set on stage, one of the funnier of the night. The man is obsessed with bacon.
Another member of our party then spotted one of her favorite actors in the waiting area - Craig Robinson (aka Darryl Philibin from The Office). We were waiting for other fans to give him space and were fully prepared to buy him a drink as soon as they one in his hand was empty, but before he finished he was escorted into a private VIP area. I guess even someone who works on a sitcom needs some comedy in their life.
One of the other performers for the night (unknown to us at the time of ticket purchase) was Doug Benson, stand up comedian and subject of the documentary Super High Me. He gave a very funny set as well.
So there you have it, an update to the oft-asked question - yes, we have spotted a few famous people. No papparazzi or body guards or scandalous moments, just another night of good food and good entertainment in Los Angeles, CA.
And it helps us survive L.A. - under the stars that really matter...the ones in the night sky.
Since we departed our wonderful east coast lifestyle, we've been trying to figure out how to adjust to the West Coast mentality. We're surviving......
One question we get constantly about living in L.A. is whether or not we have spotted any stars. At first, our skills were not up to snuff. During the recruitment weekend we were sitting at breakfast when a friend told us we were about to get our first star sighting walking through the door to the restaurant. A group walked in the door and Richard and I rapidedly examined the faces before they were shown into a back room. We had to ask who the famous person was. We were told we had just seen Damian Lewis of Band of Brothers and Life fame.
Our second brush with fame occured at Universal Studios when we spied a group of people clamoring to take pictures with a young girl. We snapped a picture too, and then had to ask everyone we knew who in the heck it was. Not until we showed the picture to our 8-year-old neice did we get an answer to the mystery star....known to Disney-Network fans everywhere, but not to us.
Eventually, we saw throngs of stars, but that was at Laker's games where, frankly, seeing stars is like shooting fish in a barrel. Yeah, Richard had to excuse himself to use the restroom past Jerry Van Dyke (of Coach fame), but that hardly counts as an authentic run-in with the daily, everyday lives of the rich and famous.
But when a friend recently visited, even SHE got a star sighting: Archie Kao (aka Archie on CSI) was also in the airport when she was leaving.
So we thought maybe going to the airport was a good place.....
It started on a recent red eye to Orlando. We were seated in the front row near the door coming on, and after it seemed all the passengers had on-loaded there appeared a lime-green jacket at the door, accompanied by a security guard. Ms. Paula Abdul (and, um, boyfriend?) were escorted onto the plane. She was apparently headed to Orlando for the opening of the Idol Experience at Hollywood Studios Orlando. We were admittedly surprised she was on a commercial red-eye flight, but she must have had a stylist and make-up artist in her bag (or perhaps the boyfriend?) because the next morning when I felt - and probably looked - like death warmed over, she walked through the terminal in Orlando looking just like she had looked walking on to the plane in L.A....where, although he was seated, she came about eye-to-eye with Richard. As he describes the encounter by holding his hand up to his chest, "She's tiny!"
Our prowess at spotting stars has improved.....which was useful last night in Hollywood. We headed out to a night with friend's at the Hollywood Improv. We had gone to see Iliza Shlesinger do some stand-up comedy. SHE is a funny woman, but we paid to see her so we don't count that as an official sighting.
The evening started with dinner at 8oz., a burger bar we will be eating at a lot now that Richard has discovered it as the one place outside Iowa that serves fried cheddar cheese balls.
Richard returned from a trip to the bathroom to report that a booth in the back of the restaurant held someone, someone he knew he ought to recognize. When the rest of our group got there we all sneeked peeks and figured out it was James Spader (currently of Boston Legal, formerly of Stargate, Bad Influence and - showing my age - Pretty in Pink fame.)
Dinner, BTW, was fabulous.
We walked to the Improv and sat at the bar waiting for our show and listening to our friends - long time Los Angelians - share their stories of other brushes with fame. (Apparently, 8oz is also an accasional haunt of Mylie Cyrus.)
Richard and our friend Todd returned from the bathroom exchanging questions of "did you see who that was"? Jim Gaffigan, who is a stand-up commedian and actor, was apparently at the urinal, providing proof to the age-old question: yes, we do all pull up our pants the same way. He then came into the bar area, where the rest of us could see him. Later, hemjumped in and did a set on stage, one of the funnier of the night. The man is obsessed with bacon.
Another member of our party then spotted one of her favorite actors in the waiting area - Craig Robinson (aka Darryl Philibin from The Office). We were waiting for other fans to give him space and were fully prepared to buy him a drink as soon as they one in his hand was empty, but before he finished he was escorted into a private VIP area. I guess even someone who works on a sitcom needs some comedy in their life.
One of the other performers for the night (unknown to us at the time of ticket purchase) was Doug Benson, stand up comedian and subject of the documentary Super High Me. He gave a very funny set as well.
So there you have it, an update to the oft-asked question - yes, we have spotted a few famous people. No papparazzi or body guards or scandalous moments, just another night of good food and good entertainment in Los Angeles, CA.
And it helps us survive L.A. - under the stars that really matter...the ones in the night sky.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Surviving L.A. - Takes Deception
L.A. has a reputation for being 'fake' - fake boobs, fake personalities, fake stunt people, fake houses for TV sets, fake lipsyncing....
You have no idea just how well deserved it is. The Grammy's air this Sunday and you have to ask yourself as you watch...is it fake or is it real? And no, I'm not talking about Pamela's Boobs or Angie's lips or Mariah's latest marriage. I'm talking about the celebrities in the audience. Is that really Will Smith, or just the back of a head with big ears? Is that Pink or someone else with a dye job? Look closely....is that what Britney was wearing on the way in....or did they find someone else at the asylum with an affinity for Clorox? Do that many people really pack an auditorium to hear about the latest
It might be me.
Check out www.seatfillersandmore.com and you too can fill in the crowd at an awards show. (They need asses in seats for all....Grammy's, Emmy's, Oscar's, Country Musis, SAG, Critic's Choice, Art Director's Guild, People's Choice, ESPYs, Darwin, Award for the best Award....) Perish the thought of an empty seat during a camera pan of the crowd. You can fill out applications for the seats inside or the Red Carpet. Send in a head shot, because L.A. does, afterall, have a reputation to uphold. You must look good and you must plan to dress accordingly. You might even have a clothing and hair allowance....if....
....if you have the fortune of looking like Jennifer Aniston or Halle Barry or the misfortune of bearing a resemblence to the Olsen Twins or Courtney Love, you can cash in. Because if Fergie has to go to the bathroom during the award for Best Zydeco Music Album (look it up....I'm not making this stuff up! I don't have to...I live in L.A.!) , then you could actually get paid to make sure that her seat is not empty during a critical moment when the crowd goes wild for the Pine Leaf Boys (a perennial favorite! This could be their year!).
So as you're taking in the awards show this Sunday, be sure to look closely so you are not one of the thousands in America duped by an imposter. Demand real cleavage on Shania Twain. Demand that the fedora is on Justin Timberlake's head. Demand J-Los ass. Ask yourself....are those really Steven Tyler's lips?
We are not deceived. We are surviving L.A. - by heading for a restaurant. We have discovered that the "can't get a reservation" restaurants are empty during awards shows....they are THE place to see and be seen. (Or at least get a stellar meal.)
You have no idea just how well deserved it is. The Grammy's air this Sunday and you have to ask yourself as you watch...is it fake or is it real? And no, I'm not talking about Pamela's Boobs or Angie's lips or Mariah's latest marriage. I'm talking about the celebrities in the audience. Is that really Will Smith, or just the back of a head with big ears? Is that Pink or someone else with a dye job? Look closely....is that what Britney was wearing on the way in....or did they find someone else at the asylum with an affinity for Clorox? Do that many people really pack an auditorium to hear about the latest
It might be me.
Check out www.seatfillersandmore.com and you too can fill in the crowd at an awards show. (They need asses in seats for all....Grammy's, Emmy's, Oscar's, Country Musis, SAG, Critic's Choice, Art Director's Guild, People's Choice, ESPYs, Darwin, Award for the best Award....) Perish the thought of an empty seat during a camera pan of the crowd. You can fill out applications for the seats inside or the Red Carpet. Send in a head shot, because L.A. does, afterall, have a reputation to uphold. You must look good and you must plan to dress accordingly. You might even have a clothing and hair allowance....if....
....if you have the fortune of looking like Jennifer Aniston or Halle Barry or the misfortune of bearing a resemblence to the Olsen Twins or Courtney Love, you can cash in. Because if Fergie has to go to the bathroom during the award for Best Zydeco Music Album (look it up....I'm not making this stuff up! I don't have to...I live in L.A.!) , then you could actually get paid to make sure that her seat is not empty during a critical moment when the crowd goes wild for the Pine Leaf Boys (a perennial favorite! This could be their year!).
So as you're taking in the awards show this Sunday, be sure to look closely so you are not one of the thousands in America duped by an imposter. Demand real cleavage on Shania Twain. Demand that the fedora is on Justin Timberlake's head. Demand J-Los ass. Ask yourself....are those really Steven Tyler's lips?
We are not deceived. We are surviving L.A. - by heading for a restaurant. We have discovered that the "can't get a reservation" restaurants are empty during awards shows....they are THE place to see and be seen. (Or at least get a stellar meal.)
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Surviving L.A. - Takes a parade
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As if people watching in Los Angeles was not good enough on a daily basis, occasionally they throw a parade to put L.A. life on display. You may yourself have started off the New Year by watching the Annual Tournament of Roses Parade from Pasadena, CA. Pasadena is just east of Los Angeles, and has been home to the Tournament of Roses since 1890, when organizers first decided to rub what they perceived as California's stellar weather into the noses of the rest of the country.
"Oh, you have 8 inches of snow? We have roses blooming in 80-degree weather....just look, we have so many we can have a parade!"
Two years later, they added races in an effort to expand the event. The first race was between an elephant and a camel. In 1902, they decided human entertainment was more interesting and, according to the official tournament of roses website, was added in 1902 to "enhance the days festivities". (http://www.tournamentofroses.com/history/)
Those of us who miss snow may not be so impressed by the 80-degree weather Los Angelian's brag about, but we do enjoy a good parade. (Okay, I should say I, I can't lump Richard in here.) So when our friend Bob asked about attending the parade, we decided we could not pass up one of the best people watching opportunities in Southern California.
If you are willing to spend the money, several hotels line the route offering fabulous packages for their balcony rooms overlooking the flowers going by. (See picture including hotel.)
If you are okay getting out of your PJs to watch the parade, you can spend between $50 and $150 (and perhaps more) to get a a number on a peice of cold steele -- and $10 more for a seat cushion.
If you are adventerous (or out of your mind), you can camp out the night before. Before you dismiss the idea, consider that this is not your parent's camp out on hard ground. Gone are the days of stumbling out of your New Year's Eve party to pass out on the curb, only to wake up when the first school's band goes by.
This is a new family bonding event. (See crowd shots.)
Starting at Noon on New Year's Eve, you and those you can coherce into joining you can stake out your 'section' of the sidewalk, your home for the night. Imagine a massive game of musical chairs ending at the stroke of a clock. Your mission is to have the people in your party spread out blankets and chairs as far as they can get away with until they border the person next to them. This will enable you to set up your TV room, dining room, kitchen and bedroom. Afterall, you need space for the bed rolls, the table to eat on and cooler to keep meals in, the grill or outdoor firepit for cooking and warmth, and the generator and TV. You don't have to miss the ball drop in Times square, plenty of people had flat panel TVs. You don't need to relegate yourself to hotdogs and smores over a hibatchi. Oh no, there were buffets rivaling Super Bowl tailgate spreads. (Appropriate that they tailgate before a parade that preceeds a football game.)
The parade starts at 8 a.m. local time. Depending on your location on the route, the parade may start at 8:55 a.m., as it did for us. (Bands don't march quickly when they've been cueing since 3 a.m.)
This being our first experience, we were not sure what kind of insanity to expect. We left West L.A. for Pasadena at 5:45 with the intent to getting into Pasadena, getting into our parking space, and into our seats before 8. For the record, we left late, we arrived early and we spent a lot of time in the bleachers waiting for a parade. It's almost as if Pasadena has done this before and they know how to handle crowds!
Given the same circumstances in the future, what we would do is leave, late, arrive late, and not miss a beat. There were obviously people in our section who knew this strategy, because their seats were empty until about 10 minutes before the B-2 flew over to open the parade.
Being there early was not all bad....there were plenty of characters providing pre-parade entertainment. Protesters. Running clubs making their inagural run of the year. Christians reminding us to repent. Random people with a wagon throwing candy into the crowd, some of whom were still sleeping in their bed rolls. Cyclists. Kids playing in the street. Vendors with just about any snack food you could want. L.A. truly is the entertainment capital of the world.
As for the parade itself, we highly recommend it as an addition to your life list. Having watched the parade many times on TV, I can say it is a fabulous experience to catch the live show. The floats are amazing, the bands entertaining and the whole experience a very good way to start any new year. You might even be able to talk us into going with you again....so long as Richard doesn't have to use the curb as a pillow.
We did not attend the football game itself, choosing instead to watch that from the comfort of our couch, a much-welcomed cushion after the bleachers. Here is my favorite story about the Rose Bowl - as relayed to be by a former lobbyist for Washington & Jefferson University. In 1922, W&J, located in Pennsylvania, was invited to play California in the Rose Bowl. The school took a barebones team across the country, playing exhibition teams along the way to pay for the trip. The day of the game, the local paper had a long article about the game. The writer extolled the virtues of California's football team without really refering to W&J until the final sentence: "The only thing I know about Washington & Jefferson is that they are both dead."
The games have gotten much more interesting, and the parade is always fabulous whether or not the game is a close contest....and it is helping us survive L.A.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The holiday edition of Surviving L.A. - Takes Sheep
Just when Richard was missing the farm, he recieved the holiday gift given to executives by Roll International, the parent company of POM Wonderful, Fiji Water, Teleflora Flowers and Paramount Farms (growers of citrus and nuts).
For reference, the items on the floor are slippers, and the "ottoman" is bigger than my 35-pound dog....who tried briefly to herd it.
The ottoman is hollow and items can be stored in there. (A wool blanket, perhaps?) It came with products from each of the Roll companies in it...POM Wonderful products, oranges and Cuties, Fiji water and a variety of nut products...including their signature "Everybody's Nuts" which now takes on a whole new meaning.
Let the Iowa, farm, and general holiday jokes begin. I'll start...Baaaaahhhhhh Humbug.
Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good night......counting sheep....
We're sheepishly surviving L.A. - on the 'lamb'
Richard and AJ
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Surviving L.A. - Takes Management
*****Disclaimer.....for those of you who are new to Surviving L.A. or who have forgotten my earlier disclaimer....I am NOT making this stuff up. I don't have to. I live in L.A. where this stuff happens....daily....makes me wonder why some TV shows are so bad when some of this fabulous stuff is available for foder. Writers for The Office look here!****
When Richard first accepted the job here on the left coast he worried about the business environment and its reputation for being far more laid back than the rest of the country. Would be be able to keep up his frenetic business-at-light-speed-until-midnight, then-slowing-until-1 a.m. pace?
Turns out that yes he can....just check your email at 2 a.m. But there are definitely differences in the work environment out here. As it turns out, Richard and I got lucky. We could have found jobs with our friend Tommy (name changed to protect the innocent), who works at Strobe (named changed to protect the guilty).
The type of business is irrelevant. This insanity should not happen any place.
When Tommy wishes to dialogue with (and no, you do not speak to, you dialogue with) his colleagues, he must open with his name, indicating that he is taking ownership of the words coming forth from his mouth. This is a good strategy for ensuring that no one shows up being possessed by an alien intent on wrecking their business model.
Meetings open with a discussion of how everyone is feeling today, to gauge the level of readiness and receptivity among the participants. Meetings close with a discussion of everyone's feelings about the meeting.
Monday Morning Water Cooler Talk at Strobe
Tommy: My name is Tommy, and I am disappointed in the lousy performance of the Kings yesterday.
AJ: But I, as AJ, am excited that they lost to the Rangers, because I feel we need all the victories we can get.
Tommy: My name is Tommy, and I am emotionally ready to agree that the Rangers played a good game, but, with due respect to your feelings toward your team, I still dismay today at my teams poor performance. I do not feel I would be productive in the budget meeting.
AJ: I, as AJ, can say we should change the topic of the budget meeting to a discussion of how to deal with losses suffered by our athletic champions.
Tommy: I, Tommy, thank you for compassion toward my feelings. I feel this will be a very productive meeting and that the team will have a lot to contribute.
AJ: Group hug!
Tommy: You didn't say AJ says.
How someone does their job at Strobe has to do with their mental model. Not skills or attitude, but how an employee perceives their job is critical to the management of this company, and it applies to everyone from the CEO to the front line workers, who I gather are in the service industry (read: a lot of high school and college kids in a low-skill, low-wage job, not a career).
A manager, adhereing to the "improve business by sharing your feelings" recently sent out a late-night missive in which s/he described being fatigued by all of the dialogues with employees and wondering what s/he could do to shift their mentality to building a learning community in which they could improve their servant leadership. (Because, of course, that's what high schoolers want to work on.) S/He questioned his own actions of asking management to solve a problem during pulse check huddles rather than allowing employees to grow in problem solving. S/He wondered if he was the reason so many shift managers problem-solved for the employees rather than allowing them to think critically and problem solve for themselves and the company (again, because that's what a high schooler with an after-school job thinks about at work). S/He closes, pondering the questions he posed and added that s/he was more and more resolved to approach them differently so that she didn’t hamper their business maturity and development. Please reflect on this missive and be prepared to dialogue about your reflections at a 10:00 meeting tomorrow, which will no longer be about the budget.
I can tell you what the mental model of a high schooler working on a Friday night is: "Have I made enough yet to buy that Xbox game? (Slurps on free Coke) Why isn't it time for me to go home? (checks out the girls walking by) Should I ask Katie to the party?"
A recent management meeting to decide how to compassionately announce layoffs at the corproate office was held at an exclusive (read: expensive) L.A. hotel, and resulted the following information: 150 of you will lose your job over the next year. But don't think about that now. We expect really great work from you until the pink slips go out. This is the 9th year of double-digit negative cash flows, and the management team finally feels like the company is ready to make the shift from a good company to a great company. We feel the operating philosophy is being practiced at a high level, and we have the right people and processes in place to make this happen.
Good ahead and re-read that paragraph. It won't make any more sense the second time around....
So please pray for Tommy. Pray that he does not leave the job. Because whenever I need to feel good about my challenges, I remember the hell he lives in, which he cannot decide is closer to a cult or 1940s Germany.
So, Richard and I are Surviving L.A. -one 9-to-11 p.m. workday at a time.
When Richard first accepted the job here on the left coast he worried about the business environment and its reputation for being far more laid back than the rest of the country. Would be be able to keep up his frenetic business-at-light-speed-until-midnight, then-slowing-until-1 a.m. pace?
Turns out that yes he can....just check your email at 2 a.m. But there are definitely differences in the work environment out here. As it turns out, Richard and I got lucky. We could have found jobs with our friend Tommy (name changed to protect the innocent), who works at Strobe (named changed to protect the guilty).
The type of business is irrelevant. This insanity should not happen any place.
When Tommy wishes to dialogue with (and no, you do not speak to, you dialogue with) his colleagues, he must open with his name, indicating that he is taking ownership of the words coming forth from his mouth. This is a good strategy for ensuring that no one shows up being possessed by an alien intent on wrecking their business model.
Meetings open with a discussion of how everyone is feeling today, to gauge the level of readiness and receptivity among the participants. Meetings close with a discussion of everyone's feelings about the meeting.
Monday Morning Water Cooler Talk at Strobe
Tommy: My name is Tommy, and I am disappointed in the lousy performance of the Kings yesterday.
AJ: But I, as AJ, am excited that they lost to the Rangers, because I feel we need all the victories we can get.
Tommy: My name is Tommy, and I am emotionally ready to agree that the Rangers played a good game, but, with due respect to your feelings toward your team, I still dismay today at my teams poor performance. I do not feel I would be productive in the budget meeting.
AJ: I, as AJ, can say we should change the topic of the budget meeting to a discussion of how to deal with losses suffered by our athletic champions.
Tommy: I, Tommy, thank you for compassion toward my feelings. I feel this will be a very productive meeting and that the team will have a lot to contribute.
AJ: Group hug!
Tommy: You didn't say AJ says.
How someone does their job at Strobe has to do with their mental model. Not skills or attitude, but how an employee perceives their job is critical to the management of this company, and it applies to everyone from the CEO to the front line workers, who I gather are in the service industry (read: a lot of high school and college kids in a low-skill, low-wage job, not a career).
A manager, adhereing to the "improve business by sharing your feelings" recently sent out a late-night missive in which s/he described being fatigued by all of the dialogues with employees and wondering what s/he could do to shift their mentality to building a learning community in which they could improve their servant leadership. (Because, of course, that's what high schoolers want to work on.) S/He questioned his own actions of asking management to solve a problem during pulse check huddles rather than allowing employees to grow in problem solving. S/He wondered if he was the reason so many shift managers problem-solved for the employees rather than allowing them to think critically and problem solve for themselves and the company (again, because that's what a high schooler with an after-school job thinks about at work). S/He closes, pondering the questions he posed and added that s/he was more and more resolved to approach them differently so that she didn’t hamper their business maturity and development. Please reflect on this missive and be prepared to dialogue about your reflections at a 10:00 meeting tomorrow, which will no longer be about the budget.
I can tell you what the mental model of a high schooler working on a Friday night is: "Have I made enough yet to buy that Xbox game? (Slurps on free Coke) Why isn't it time for me to go home? (checks out the girls walking by) Should I ask Katie to the party?"
A recent management meeting to decide how to compassionately announce layoffs at the corproate office was held at an exclusive (read: expensive) L.A. hotel, and resulted the following information: 150 of you will lose your job over the next year. But don't think about that now. We expect really great work from you until the pink slips go out. This is the 9th year of double-digit negative cash flows, and the management team finally feels like the company is ready to make the shift from a good company to a great company. We feel the operating philosophy is being practiced at a high level, and we have the right people and processes in place to make this happen.
Good ahead and re-read that paragraph. It won't make any more sense the second time around....
So please pray for Tommy. Pray that he does not leave the job. Because whenever I need to feel good about my challenges, I remember the hell he lives in, which he cannot decide is closer to a cult or 1940s Germany.
So, Richard and I are Surviving L.A. -one 9-to-11 p.m. workday at a time.
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