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Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Viva Guadalajara!

Posted on 2014.07.13 at 18:47
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It's been a year of numerous losses of people near and dear to us for both me and Dave, but without a doubt the worst for me was the loss of my father. I can't bring myself to write about him yet. For Dave, it was the loss of his brother, Rod.

Both of us were so beat up that when he got a last minute business trip to Guadalajara and asked if I'd come along, I didn't hesitate. "Yes!" was out of my mouth so fast it made my head spin. So without further ado, I bring you a whirlwind four days in the beautiful capital of Jalisco.

I'm a 'when in Rome' kinda gal, so I try as much as possible to do at least some of the things locals do, which includes taking buses.

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Jesus ALWAYS has the driver's back, and if you look reeeeaallly close, you can see Dave in the little round mirror.

Street art is always good, but in Mexico, where the tradition of murals runs deep, I found this pretty whimsical.

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Who doesn't like a good cow on a wall?

When we first landed, we hit the bus to El Centro Historico right away, but the bus route near our hotel dropped us about 20 blocks shy of the plaza mejor in front in the Parque de Revolucion near this gothic edifice.

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It's the Templo Expiatorio, and at 9AM and 6PM, the doors of its German clock open up and the 12 apostles come out.

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We weren't there at 9AM or 6PM, though, so I can't swear on it. Had I been guaranteed a little apostle dance or something, I'd have OF COURSE hung around, but we had some Christmas shopping to do. So we sat across from the church in the Plaza del Agave...

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...and, no, we didn't drink any aged and fermented agave. Instead, Dave did some orienteering & got us pointed & aimed. We walked the 20 blocks (they were short) to the Plaza Guadalupe, and saw these in SO many stores I just had to take a photo.

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God, I loved these things when I was a kid!

As you get closer La Cruz de Plazas, you can see the twin spires of the Catedral Metropolitana rising up to lead the way.

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And not a moment too soon. There was a rain storm and people tucked themselves in the doorway of the cathedral to avoid a soaking.

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As my father, the former altar boy, would say, "Now, THAT'S a church!"

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But at some point we had to leave the sanctuary and head out into the lluvia because we had some IMPORTANT shopping to do at the Mercado Libertad, better known as Mercado San Juan de Dios. And you must know that I AM my father's daughter, and haggled like a good Hungarian, in remedial Spanish, por supuesto.

I can't really show you much inside because you might be getting a Christmas present from there and I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, but I was happy to see that the cart horses had little raincoats.

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The next three days, Dave had to work, so I shopped and wandered and saw sights and art and lived by my 'when in Guadalajara' rule, which includes eating at lunch stands that most gringos won't touch. And no, I don't get turista, because I always drink Coke or cerveza or aqua mineral sin hielo, por favor.

Since Guadalajara is only a couple hundred miles from Puerto Vallarta, I did a sampling of ceviches for most of my lonches, and they were ALL great, but this one in San Juan de Dios I KNEW was gonna be amazing. How? The cops were eating there too.

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Note that the owner of the loncheria is looking up. EVERYONE in the Mercado was watching the Copa Mundial game between Alemana y Brazil. And if you think the Guadalajarans were rooting for Brazil, think again.

In 1864, a second tier German royal - (The younger brother of Franz Joseph I) - came and declared himself Emperor of Mexico. Maximiliano I. He didn't last long. In fact, he was executed by Juarez in 1867.

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But he left behind a love of accordion and tuba and that polka-like music you hear in Mexico, Norteno.

Let's look at some art, shall we? In front of the Instituto Cultural Cabanas is La Sala de los Magos, an installation by the artist Alejandro Colunga. Here are a few images of that remarkable work.

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And yes, people most definitely hang out with these extraordinary creatures.

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The Instituto de Cultural Cabanas is housed in an old hospicio, or orphanage, and while it has installations by contemporary artists -

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It's mostly known for the monumental work "Man of Fire" by Jose Clemente Orozco.

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The piece is so vast you could spend days and weeks and still not take it all in.

Oh look! Another church!

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This is the Templo del Carmen, where I sat my butt on a bench in the plaza and took a breather.

Guadalajara is singularly blessed by not one, but two major works by Orozco. This one, depicting Hidalgo, a great leader in the War of Independence, freeing the slaves is in the Palacio de Gobierno. In fact, Hidalgo signed the emancipation decree in the Governor's Palace in 1810.

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Yeah, Orozco is not for the faint of heart. But imagine WORKING in this building. Yes, it's still a working office with another art gallery inside. And some of the historic salons are open for viewing too.

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A nice crystal chandelier takes away some of the sting of all that blood and fire.

As always in Mexico, I saw my share of stray dogs, but not a single stray cat, except this one, which I saw all over town.

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Gang Gato, perhaps? Anyway, by Thursday afternoon, Dave was done with work and could join me on a little side trip to the town of Tlaquepaque, which has basically been absorbed by the sprawl of Guadalajara. But it's known for the work of its potters and weavers and artisans, and it and the next town, Tonala, are famous for their festive Sunday markets.

Alas, this wasn't Sunday, but it WAS the last day we had to complete our Christmas shopping, so we went at it like...nah. Not really. We wandered around & went where our feet carried us. This house was decorated by its owner in what I recognize as something akin to Southern Folk Art from the Deep, DEEP South.

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Then we wandered into the Jardin Hildago and witnessed something extraordinary - El Danzo de los Voladores, or the Dance of the Flyers. You can look up a deeper history of it, but they believe it started among the Nahua, Huastec or Otoni people of the mountains of Veracruz, though now it's associated with the Totonacs of Papantla, Veracruz. The 4 dancers on the cuadro represent the 4 cardinal directions plus earth, fire, air and water, and the priest atop the pole on the caporal playing the flute and drum represents the 5th sun. The 4 dancers each make 13 revolutions, which, if you do the math, equals 52 - the number of years in the Aztec Round Calendar.



It was a privilege to see it.

But the day finally came to an end and with it our much needed trip to somewhere else. Salud.

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Hasta la pues, Guadalajara, y muchas, MUCHAS gracias.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Four Stars and 25 Years Ago...

Posted on 2014.05.10 at 14:19
25 years ago, MILL FIRE premiered at the Goodman Theater in Chicago, directed by David Petrarca. That production moved to New York and ran at the Women's Project that same year. Then the play had its U.K. premiere at the Bush Theatre, London at Riverside Hammersmith, directed by Brian Stirner.

After that, I didn't go to see any more professional productions of the play. Only college productions. Not because I didn't think the professional productions would be bad, but because I'd seen two superlative professional productions, I wasn't going to rewrite the play, and with college productions, I at least get to teach some workshops with the students, interact, and let them know that not all playwrights are dead.

But then, 25 years later, Sandy Shinner made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Sandy had directed gorgeous productions of some of my other plays in Chicago, she was taking over as artistic director of Shattered Globe Theater, and she promised that my old friend and favorite designer, Jeff Bauer, would design the set. How could I not want to see that?

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Throughout the casting and rehearsal period, Sandy, Jeff and I were in frequent contact. I even 'sat in' on some auditions via Skype (Oh, Brave New World!) and came to Chicago for previews so I could give last minute production notes. Sandy kept on worrying. She's so used to having the playwright in the room with her during rehearsals.

But the whole time I knew I had no reason to worry or doubt. And I was right. The cast was perfect, the lighting, sound and costume design were spot-on, Jeff's set and inventive use of a black box theater was inspired and Sandy did what Sandy always does - through meticulous work and flawless direction, she lets the play shine.

Don't take my word for it. Here are a few reviews.

From The Chicago Reader - http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/mill-fire/Event?oid=13240875

Time Out Chicago - http://www.timeout.com/chicago/theater/mill-fire

Stage and Cinema - http://www.stageandcinema.com/2014/04/28/mill-fire-shattered-globe/

and Chicago Theater Review - http://www.chicagotheatrereview.com/2014/04/burning-questions/

Nothing but four stars for the production.

And here's a new one on me. Back in the old days, our marketing plans for getting butts in the theater seats pretty much came down to printing posters, going out in the dead of night with a bucket of wall paste and plastering our posters over everyone else's posters.

Now? 'Movie' trailers and audience reaction videos, streaming on social media.





But some things stay the same. The morning after I arrived, Jeff still had some set painting to do, so guess who was his assistant for the day?

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And you know what? I loved every minute of it.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

A Tourist at Home

Posted on 2014.04.29 at 13:37
The Place of Wild Onions, City of Big Shoulders, Hog Butcher to the World, the Windy City, My Kind of Town.

Whatever you call it, for me, Chicago is HOME.

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I was there for a wonderful whirlwind anniversary, and in the next entry I'll talk about THAT, but since I had Dave in tow and he'd never really spent time in my hometown, I decided to play tourist just a bit, but of course a tourist with CLASS.

For instance, THIS Chicago girl has always wanted to stay HERE:

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How many times did I head south on Lake Shore Drive past the Gold Coast on a wintry day and see the red (now purple) sign above The Drake and think to myself, "Someday, I'm gonna STAY THERE."

So for my birthday, Dave burned a gazillion Hilton Honors points and got us a suite with a view of MY LAKE.

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Well, it's everybody's lake, but I spent so many years working on boats I feel a bit proprietary. And speaking of boats...

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Why yes, that's Dave sitting in the bow of Chicago's First Lady.

There are many river boat tours, but THE one to take is the one given by the Chicago Architecture Foundation, with volunteer docents who REALLY know their shit about the three distinct schools/eras of Chicago architecture, one of the greatest architecture cities in the world. That fire was good for something, and the something was that the city got to be planned from the ground up, leaving the lakefront open for ALL to enjoy.

So let us begin.

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The lovely white terra cotta of the Wrigley Building (1924, designed by Graham, Anderson, Probst & White) facing the dark gothic spire of the Tribune Tower.

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The 61 story twin towered Marina City, (1960, designed by Bertrand Goldberg), and fondly referred to by Chicagoans as "the corn cobs".

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Not particularly architectural - unless you count the classic Chicago trunnion bascule bridge - but I used to do this every spring. As soon as the ice in the harbors had broken up, I'd bring the sailing school's boats from the boatyard to their moorings. Chilly good fun.

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More bridges, with the Sears Tower (1974, Skidmore, Owings and Merrill) looming ahead. Try as I might, I cannot bring myself to call it the Willis Tower, though Dave of course does.

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333 West Wacker Drive, (1983, Kohn Pedersen Fox). I love how the curved green exterior reflects the river and the buildings across from it. Prime example of contextualism.

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And finally, as we made our turn back toward dock at the lake lock, the Coast Guard and Chicago Fire Department stations. These photos just scratch the surface of the tour, but I cannot recommend it more highly, even if you're a resident.

Next it was off to Millennium Park, where the psychedelic Sistine Chapel underside of the famous Bean gave Dave vertigo.

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And we marveled at Chicago's Frank Gehry, with the Standard Oil Building (Edward Durrell Stone, Perkins and Hull, 1974) rising behind the stage.

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Then it was off to visit the lions. Along with The Metropolitan in NYC and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, The Art Institute of Chicago is one of the great comprehensive museums of America.

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But for me, being at the 'tute was a homecoming. As a young woman, I worked at the Goodman Theater in the box office and when the weather turned nice, would take my lunch outside, dine at the feet of the lions and think grand thoughts, like having a PLAY produced at the Goodman. Which brings me around to why I was in Chicago in the first place.

The 25th anniversary production of MILL FIRE, which debuted at the Goodman in 1989, was being produced by Shattered Globe Theater at Theater Wit on Belmont, directed by my old friend Sandy Shinner and designed by another old friend Jeff Bauer. And THAT I could not miss.

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So next entry, I'll write ALL about that. But in the meantime, spring was just beginning to arrive after a long, brutal winter.

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And when I lived in Chicago, seeing daffodils and crocus push up from the ground while trees began to bud, that was always a joy well earned.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

The Finished Product

Posted on 2014.04.01 at 11:04
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As promised, here's the link to my Covered California commercial I blogged about in the last entry. And no, I STILL haven't seen it on the air, though many others have.



AND as an extra bonus, the 'montage' ad, where I not only appear, but my backyard makes an appearance in the segment with the tall, dark & handsome man with the bicycle.



My mutts are FAMOUS!

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But you already knew that.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Coming Soon to a Bus Station Near You!

Posted on 2014.02.11 at 18:58
In my neck of the woods, when you get one of these taped to your door, all you can think is, "Great. There's gonna be no damn place to park."

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But in addition to "There's gonna be no damn place to park," I was also thinking, "AND I've got to apologize to all the neighbors." Because this time, the shoot was at Casa de Sal.

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And not only was the shoot AT Casa de Sal, but I was the subject of all this attention. How did this happen, you may ask? Well, like all good things, it started with ALICIA.

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My dear, sweet friend Alicia Hankes (who I owe big) is a stylist extraordinaire, and she's done multiple shoots as the wardrobe stylist with this director, Joe Murray

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And Joe is now destined to become my new 'grab a beer in the 'hood' buddy. But I digress. Joe was directing a series of verite commercials - ya know, real folks in their own words - talking about their experiences signing up for Covered California and since I'd had such a good experience getting MUCH better and vastly more affordable health insurance than I'd had on the open market, Alicia suggested me to him.

Here's another photo of Alicia & Dave. Just because.

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So they sent someone over to interview me with a little tiny camera, then they had me come to an actual casting studio (with couches) for a callback and then Joe and his producer Dolly came over to the house for a location scout, and then....THE CREW DESCENDED.

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Craft service on the front lawn. If only I could wake up every morning to coffee and lovely toasty things served to me on my front porch.

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Video and audio village in the dining room.

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Gear out the wazoo. They even shot someone else in my backyard and made it look kinda not like my backyard. I didn't feel right about taking a photo of the guy's face, but when you see the commercials, he's tall, dark and handsome, wearing a green shirt and holding a bicycle. And he's in my backyard.

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Then it was my turn. Because it was for real, Alicia pulled clothes out of my closet and Liz Rizo did makeup that made me look like me. Only better.

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So Joe shot me telling my story, and he and the editor asked me questions and I went on and on and on as I am wont to do and now it's up to them to cut my incessant blathering down to a coherent minute. I'd hate to be them.

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No, Joe shot the commercial with the big camera to his right. Here he's just shooting stills for documentation. But I did do a still shoot too, and my photo will likely be coming soon to a bus station or billboard near you...if you live in California, that is. In fact the commercial will only show in California, but maybe if you're good, I'll send you links later.

Or maybe not. They did, after all ALSO film me swimming. Yeah. Me. In my bathing suit. On TV. Yikes.

But then again, my mutts did get their own little cameo, making out with Mom on the back steps. So for their sake, I'll share.

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As if Garcia and Emmy Lou aren't famous enough already.

post show discussion

Hard to tell from this distance, but this is a post-show discussion with the cast, crew and director of MILL FIRE at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga. And yeah, I'm there too, with the director of the production, Gaye Jeffers, sitting to my left.

Time does fly.

Twenty five years ago, Gaye was the assistant director of the world premiere production at the Goodman Theater in Chicago.

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Now, she's a tenured professor in the theater department at UTC, and not only did she decide to revisit MILL FIRE all these years later, the university was generous enough to bring me out to campus and put me up at a REALLY nice B&B across the street from the theater building.

It's called the Mayor's Mansion Inn and has one of those grand Southern porches you dream about.

In fact, that whole area of town - Historic Fort Wood - is full of grand old mansions like the Mayor's Inn, many of which are in various states of renovation. The Faculty and Alumni Club even has CANNONS on the front lawn.

Personally I think EVERY University Faculty and Alumni Club should sport cannons on the front lawn. Northwestern University? Please take note.

But I digress. I was there to meet local writers and members of the Southern Lit Alliance, teach a writing workshop, do the aforementioned post-show discussion, and talk with the theater students about many things theatrical.

And, OF COURSE, to see the show. Which was terrific.

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Here's Erin Skelley Holderman as Marlene, with the Widows in the background.

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Mario Hoyle as Champ and Madeleine Young as Sunny.

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Calvin Forrest as Jemison, Austin Blackburn as Bo and Madeleine Young as Sunny.

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The Widows, left to right - Erin England, Maya Abram and Heather Chang.

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Madeleine Young as Sunny, Erin Skelley Holderman as Marlene, Austin Blackburn as Bo and Matthew Erwin as the Minister/OSHA Investigator.

My deepest thanks to ALL the faculty, staff, and students at UTC who made my time there so memorable. But I'm especially grateful to Gaye. Time sure flies, don't it, girl?

And because of all the college and small theater productions of the play over the years, MILL FIRE is again on a roll. The acting edition will finally be published this fall by Broadway Play Publishing, and the 25th Anniversary production in Chicago will be in April at Shattered Globe Theater, directed by their new Producing Artistic Director, Sandy Shinner.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

The Rumpus Letters for Kids

Posted on 2013.09.24 at 14:27
The Rumpus Letters for Kids is a subscription for - yup - kids, classrooms and libraries edited by kidlit maven Cecil Castellucci.

Kids, classrooms and librarians who subscribe at the low-low rate of $4.50 a month (cheap!) get letters from authors like YOURS TRULY via ACTUAL SNAIL MAIL. And they can write us back too. Letters take on many forms, and here's mine, which was sent to all the lucky subscribers on July 15th.

If you're interested, sign your kid or classroom or library up. With the holidays approaching faster than you think, The Rumpus Letters for Kids makes a GREAT GIFT. And I did mention $4.50 a month, yes? (cheap!)

MY GRANDADDY'S TACKLE BOX - A story for YOU, from Sally Nemeth

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The last time I visited home, I found my Grandaddy's tackle box. It's full of old fishing lures and tide charts and even a very old bar of soap to wash your hands after you've been touching WORMS. And it made me remember the first and last time I ever went fishing with Grandaddy.

I was seven, and we were living in Delaware, about a half hour away from the Brandywine River. Grammy and Grandaddy were staying with us for a couple months. Grandaddy had been in a car accident, had broken both his legs and was in two HUGE casts. He needed a lot of help.

So he recovered in a big hospital bed in the den where he could watch TV or read. But Grandaddy had grown up on a farm and was used to doing things like riding horses and fishing, and being stuck indoors with two HUGE casts on his legs really drove him crazy.

When the two HUGE casts came off and he could walk again, even on crutches, he didn't waste any time. While Mom packed him a lunch, he packed up his tackle box, dug up some worms, and hopped into our station wagon with his rod and reel and a bucket in the back. I begged to go. I loved being down by the river and besides, I'd never gone fishing before. My dad, who'd grown up in the city, didn't fish.

After all that time being cooped up with family, I think Grandaddy probably really wanted to be alone, but he told my mom to make another sandwich, he grabbed another rod and reel and off we went on our big fishing trip.

It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun was shining, the weeping willows on the river banks were dripping with leaves and the lilacs were in bloom. Grandaddy stuck a wiggling worm on my hook, which made me feel sorry for it, so when I flung my line toward the water, I was happy to see the worm come off the hook and wriggle away. Still, I kept casting my empty hook into the river to make it look like I was really fishing.

Grandaddy really was fishing. One after another he reeled in beautiful speckled sunfish. They looked like this:

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He caught fish after fish. Some, the size of his hand, he unhooked and tossed back in, but if a fish spanned both of his hands he kept it, setting it gently in a bucket he'd filled with water. Happy to be off the hook, they swam around and around.

Soon, I quit fake fishing and started watching the fish in the bucket, giving each a name that fit its personality. One swam around really fast, so it was Speedy and another swam really slow, so it was Pokey. Fish after fish joined them, each getting a name.

Finally, when the lunch bag was empty and the bucket was full, Grandaddy declared our fishing trip was over. We got in the car, he wedged the bucket between my feet so it wouldn't spill, and off we went, back home.

When we got there, my mom looked in the bucket and said, "Well Dad, I guess I know what we're having for dinner."

WHAT????

Grandaddy started to sharpen a knife. I looked in the bucket at Speedy and Pokey and all my new pals, happily swimming around, not knowing the terrible thing that was about to happen to them.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I threw a fit. I wailed and cried. I stomped my feet. I REFUSED to let him kill my new pets.

Grandaddy said, "Come on, Sally. You eat fish, don't you? Why do you think we went fishing?"

But I wasn't having it. No way. These fish were my FRIENDS. Not FOOD.

"OK," sighed Grandaddy. "Get in the car."

He wedged the bucket between my feet again, and drove the half hour back to the river. Wading into the water with me, he submerged the bucket and let all the fish go. I watched as they swam away, their orange spots glittering in the sun, and I was both happy and sad to say goodbye. So Grandaddy did it for me.

"'Bye Speedy," he said. "'Bye Pokey. Have a good swim."

We got back in the car, drove back home and had burgers for dinner.

After that, I did other fun things with Grandaddy, but that was the one and only time I went fishing with him. If it had been a normal fishing trip where we ate the fish at the end, I'd probably never have remembered it. But since he drove back to the river and let the fish go, just because he loved me more than he loved a fish dinner, I'll never forget it.

THE END

At the end of this letter, I gave kids my agent's address so they could write me back, and told them that I loved to hear stories too. But you all know where to find me, and you can tell me as many tall tales as your hearts desire. And even if it's a fish tale, I might actually believe it.

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Are you Sirius?

Posted on 2013.09.06 at 18:25
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It's the Dog Days in LA. Most of the rest of the country sweats through their own Dog Days in August, but here the very worst of the heat thoughtfully saves itself up for September and early October.

Dogs suffer. Hens stop laying. And for something new & different, cats sleep all day.

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But the Dog Days aren't called the Dog Days because our pets are melting. They're called the Dog Days because that's when the dog star, Sirius, is most prominent in the night sky.

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Sirius, the brightest star in our sky other than the sun, is the nose of the constellation Canis Major. And if you have a dog, you KNOW how perfect that is. They live by their nose.

It's also, other than our own sun, the closest star to us. Which only seems fitting, since the human/canine relationship is one of the most ancient and enduring.

But Sirius is not out there alone. It has a little tag along, which sounds JUST like a little someone I know.

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Emmy Lou, or as we like to call her, Little Miss Me Too.

But I digress. There are TWO dog stars, Sirius A, the big bright nose of Canis Major, and its sidekick, Sirius B, a white dwarf.

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They are a binary star, and through the eons have circled each other in a 50 year orbit.

Of course, other binary systems are conveniently joined at the hip.

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So during your own Dog Days, as you slowly become one with the pavement...

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...take a moment to look up to the night sky and ask, "It's a hundred degrees out. Are you SIRIUS?"

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Victor of the Vine!

Posted on 2013.08.13 at 10:42
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The great grape-off of 2013 is now complete, and since there was such a fantastic bunch of limericks, (and the possibility of accusations of nepotism), I enlisted the help of guest judge and former WINNING WINO, Lauri Maerov!

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Obviously this isn't Lauri, but I figured pretty Elsie among the vines was a good stand-in.

ANYWAY, Lauri offered this assessment - in limerick form of course - on the difficulties of judging such dazzling doggerel.

"Lauri Maerov's Dilemma"

Said a one-time winner of wine
asked to judge all these limericks sublime,
The task is not easy,
as brilliance flows freely,
Among Sally's friends of the vine.

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So, without further ado, here are the kudos, building up to an unprecedented win.

To Abby Farber, who could not have known my nephew Carter is a talented tubist, big 'ups' for rhyming "tubas" with "uvas" in your limerick. To her brother Bill, props for "fermenting/unrelenting", and of course commenting on the divinity of my wine. To John Hall, a special humor mention for even suggesting I might seek out a virgin in LA to stomp my grapes. And to Dan Watson, my purple toes ARE in fact here to stay!

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Now, the real buildup begins. Runner up - which brings big bragging rights - goes to Tara Gallagher, who did NOT go "there" with Nantucket! Here is her PG version of the classic:

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who said, "Try as I might I can't duck it -
I must have good wine
And Sal's red is most fine!"
So he headed out west with a bucket.

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Excellent, no? But there can only be ONE WINNER...oh wait. That's not true. Because in an unprecedented first, our guest judge has called the 2013 contest a TIE.

And who are our triumphant poetesses? Who receives the laurels AND the wine?

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Why, it's a tale of TWO CAROLYNS!

From Carolyn Ott Martin, designer extraordinaire, who worked her profession into her poem, and hit the double whammy with "catatonic" for Cat Nap Red:

If the challenge was label design
I'd outline a reclining feline!
As a poet I stink,
But I DO like to drink...
Catatonic elixir, be mine!

And from Carolyn Nemeth Porter, sister extraordinaire, a killer reference to everyone's current obsession, Breaking Bad AND big points for Nemeth/behemoth:

There once was a gal named Sal Nemeth,
whom you might think was cooking some wee meth.
But her chemistry lab
crafts a potion more fab,
'cause her harvest this year was behemoth!

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Thanks to all for participating! Already I'm pondering next year's contest.

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But in the meantime, get yer cat nip...er...cat NAP on!

Me & Garcia, Morro Bay

Win the Wine!

Posted on 2013.07.28 at 11:38
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Yes, yes, YES! The time of year has come to WIN THE WINE!

And for those who are curious, that's 100 lbs. of grapey goodness.

Or enough to make 10 gallons of vino, currently percolating in the office.

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And umpteen jars of jam. One of which will go to the winner if he or she is a teetotaler or underage.

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And WHAT, pray tell do you have to do this year to that precious bottle of 2012 vintage CAT NAP RED?

Not THIS:

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That's DONE. And lemme tell ya, the feel of that first squish? My face says it all.

Anyway, I seriously debated on what to have you write this year.

To recap, Lauri Maerov won two years ago with her lovely haiku -

"The Grapes of Nemeth"

Trampling the vintage
We taste the glory of her
Terrible swift feet

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And last year it was Amy Goldman Koss, who won with her brilliant acrostic -

"G-R-A-P-E"

Gorgeous globes of grapeish growing
Round and firm and full of hope
Arbor heavy, shade and spiders
Pleasing atheist to pope.
Enjoy!

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So, haiku & acrostic are old news. Quatrain? Maybe. Envelope Quintet? Perhaps. Cinquain? Intriguing.

But no. Though I resisted it, this year's choice of verse is inspired by the new resident goofball, whose charms I also resisted. Until, that is, I could no longer hold out.

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So. To WIN THE WINE, this year you'll be writing the goofiest of poems, a LIMERICK.

As always, keep it clean(ish), enter early and often, either via facebook or email, and I will be the sole judge and jury.

You have 2 weeks. The happy winning wino will be announced on Monday, August 12th.

Ready? Set?

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Start pecking!

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