Showing posts with label inappropriate animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inappropriate animals. Show all posts

Friday, October 09, 2015

Comments on sets/costumes/direction of SFO’s Lucia

(Disclaimer: not a coherent essay, more like a list of observations.)

We are in a nonspecific “near future dystopia” (per director’s own program notes). The world is cold and forbidding—marble, hard surfaces, sharp angles, roiling ocean views. It is beautiful to look at, but intimidating, oppressive, and impersonal. The front curtain projection with the opening in the marble wall narrowing in on itself hints at the suffocating forces that will close in on Lucia. (Update: I noticed that the 'porthole' in the marble gets smaller and smaller each time we see it throughout the opera.)

If you were not specifically told this was the near future, it would be easy to believe it was the present. I like the implicit message in that—the dystopia is already here. The fact that I noticed an actual real estate ad in the program with an $11+ million Pac Heights estate for sale that looked remarkably like Enrico’s living room was a nice bonus.

Family ties are important only insofar as they generate wealth or other advantages. Is it a family or a corporation or a political unit or some combination? Enrico is obsessed with power and influence, but also suffers hugely from anxiety. His obsessive tendencies are evidenced in his manner: stiff, doesn’t like to be touched, needs objects to be arranged just so (e.g., Lucia slightly disturbs the objects on his desk and he is immediately concerned with realigning them), always wearing gloves (germ phobic?). This motivating factor behind his actions (being a control freak with crippling anxiety, that is) makes him a more sympathetic character than the typical Enrico, who can be a cookie cutter jerk. And we are being shown perhaps that obsession and mental instability run in the family.

The clothing and mannerisms of the guards in the opening scene suggest a special forces unit—disciplined, impersonal guns for hire; men in black. Normanno and Alisa have severe, almost angular costumes (even Alisa’s bangs are hard-edged). Enrico is elegant and fastidious in his light suit and gloves. Lucia, on the other hand, in her soft, full, princess-like dress and oversized cloak/hood, looks like someone out of another era or even a fairytale; she does not belong in this world.

Enrico’s estate seems to be perched on a rocky cliff. Again, the setting is beautiful but also harsh and bleak. Nothing here is cozy or welcoming. Lucia is the only person or thing here with soft edges.

Lucia’s wedding dress is quite severe, however, with a high neck and tight bodice, very different from the more billowing style she wears when behaving as her true self. Her flowing hair is likewise pulled into a flat, tight style. It is like watching someone in an extremely elegant straitjacket.

The guests’ dresses at the wedding reception seemed to perplex many viewers, since they seemed more old fashioned, with their full skirts, than other clothing in the production. I took them as a nod to recurring/cyclical ‘retro’ fashion trends, the same ideas recycled over and over with a few new touches. The dresses technically are all unique, yet the overall effect (same basic style, same color palette) is of a uniform, and the one whimsical, potentially personalizing touch—an oversized floral hat—is worn by every woman in the room. This is a society of barely veiled conformity.

I love Arturo’s plaid suit, fur-trimmed jacket/cape, and pompadour hairstyle. The plaid is a funny nod to the Scottish setting, and the over-the-top styling of both the clothes and the hair (another recycled retro look, but seen only on him) suggests he is far less fettered by society than those around him. Indeed, he is described as nouveau riche; the rules of how to be rich haven’t been passed down to him over generations. Arturo just wants to have some fun, for chrissake.

I even love Raimondo’s clothing, in that it reminds me of something they might wear on a Star Trek style planet-that-is-similar-to-Earth-but-not-exactly. It’s us, but not quite. What can we learn from this world? This production is asking similar questions.

The chessboard-like floor is probably the most bang-you-on-the-head-symbolic part of the set, but I confess it took me a while into the dress rehearsal before I had the ‘aha’ moment about it, so I wouldn’t call it too heavy-handed. Lots of floors are, in fact, checkered. And of course it makes a point about the situation being primarily a strategic or political game--with Lucia as pawn--and that makes the story’s consequences for Lucia all the more infuriating.

At the dress rehearsal, the ghost version of Lucia that appears at the end had small, delicate antlers on a natural crown; the antlers were gone on opening night. (I had joked on Twitter that Piotr Beczala must have a clause in his contract requiring antlers in every production, since they had featured prominently in Iolanta at the Met as well.) This was the only last minute change I noticed that I thought was unfortunate. The antlers had reinforced the idea of Lucia’s being a gentle, innocent creature pursued by human hunters. The antlers also kept up the feeling that she was somehow of another world.

Some comments I have seen suggest there is an erotic desire in Enrico towards Arturo, but I think that reading is off, or at least is too literal. In the scene where Lucia is finally agreeing to marry Arturo, she is seated with Enrico at her feet, and he behaves like a lover, stroking her skirt and looking up at her longingly. Avarice is expressed as erotic desire. Any similar-seeming urges towards Arturo have the same basis: the passion for wealth has overwhelmed Enrico's capacity to have interpersonal relationships grounded in anything else. The only time Enrico expresses anything like tender emotion is when he is anticipating increased wealth and power. (Update: I noticed later that when Arturo arrives chez Ashton for the wedding, Enrico gets a barely contained look of eagerness on his face, and stands with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers, as if to say, "Ooh, come to daddy!" or maybe just "Gimme gimme.")

I suppose it is a cliche to talk about updating an opera to make it "relevant," but ultimately I think that is what this production does successfully and quite stylishly. The work is presented as written, but these aren't characters distanced from us by time and outdated social customs; these characters might be us.

Update 10/11: Just back from a third viewing, where I noticed another nice touch. When Raimondo comes from the bridal chamber to tell the guests what has happened, he has blood on his hands, and he rubs them together anxiously. This is especially effective as he sings the line (approx.) "I hope this girl's blood-stained hands don't bring the wrath of God down upon us all." He and we all know that he is deeply culpable in this situation (as are all the other primary male characters, down even to Normanno).

I heard someone wonder what was in this for Arturo, since he has the money Enrico craves so badly, and Enrico is on the verge of collapse. But Arturo is an arriviste, and by marrying into an established family (or acquiring insider status at an established, respected corporation, if you want to look at it that way) he is getting something--gravitas--that you can't just buy in the Neiman Marcus catalog. He has plenty to gain from marrying Lucia.

I keep thinking more about Alisa. Her clothing and mannerisms tell us that she is part of this corporate world, but we also see that she has very little power in it. When she tries to persuade Lucia to give up her affair with Edgardo, it is because her insight into the reality of their world tells her that Lucia's romantic sensibility will be her ruin. Throughout the opera we see Alisa trying to argue with the men around her, as if pleading angrily and desperately for her friend; she is repeatedly rebuffed. 

Yesterday I heard someone defending Edgardo, saying that he pledged to be faithful and did in fact write letters to Lucia, as promised. But it is a total jerk move to coerce a young woman into being your wife (even if she's just your unauthorized moor-wedding wife) right before you head off to another country for an extended period. This is just a more romantic-seeming way of asking her to wear a chastity belt. I mean, please.

Update 10/21: I noticed a new thing today, from the balcony viewpoint--when Lucia signs the wedding contract, everyone on stage (which includes all the wedding guests) crowds behind her, leaning forward expectantly. It's a nice, almost literal image of social pressure.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

keeping austin weird

I am in Texas for the Fourth of July weekend, mainly because I love 100+ degree temperatures, large bugs, and copious and unabashed pro-U.S.A. "these colors don't run" style sentiment. Also, I am a devout Christian and favor big hair.

The real reason I am in Austin is that this is the home of my fun and kooky pseudo-in-laws, as well as the lovely and delightful Vickie Howell, who is one of my MEOW kitties and who has a wee 5-week-old bebeh at the moment.

James's sister and her husband live in a development called Agave, which is all cubist/modernist and eco-friendly, and it is so effing cool that I almost want to move to Austin so I can live in one of these homes. There's also the fact that even the largest, fancy-schmanciest model still does not set you back as much as an 875-ish sq ft Edwardian apartment in San Francisco (ask me how I know). Plus this neighborhood attracts the upscale lefty hipster tree-hugger types, what with being all sustainable and shit, so it would practically be like living in San Francisco anyway. Except for the heat and the giant bugs and all.











Here is my sorta-brother-in-law-in-law in his kung fu outfit. Also, a photo of his horrifying gorilla-foot kung fu shoes.





There are cute cats here. This one tries to act all dignified:



Except when she doesn't:



But she is still awfully cute:

Monday, June 08, 2009

ass menagerie

I've been on a spree of creating crocheted and knitted mascots for my coworkers:

A dolphin for Amanda:



A dachshund for Dan:



Cthulhu for Casey:



A gibbon for Jim:



A jackass for Lon:



A mutant, bacon-eating panda for Andy:



6/10: Updated to add an aardvark for Johan:

Saturday, May 02, 2009

inappropriate animals

I just got an email from James, who is down at his house near Los Angeles. The subject line was "guess who was climbing the loquat tree?" and the attachment was an m4v file titled "bear-in-yard."

I do not make this stuff up, people.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

is mah birfday w00t!

It's birthday week here at Casa de Phibetakitten: mine was last Tuesday and James's is this coming Tuesday. James showed up last Monday, and when I got home and saw this hugemongous box in my living room I thought I'd finally gotten that pony I've always wanted:


Turns out it was an iMac 24", which comes in at a very very very very very close second to a pony. Plus, as Jenny Jo pointed out, it's way better than a dead pony in a box. I have to give her that one.


I'm really wondering what James is going to do for Xmas this year, because I am running out of room for Apple products in my home. Maybe I really will finally get a pony!

April is a dangerous month for my pocketbook, because it turns out that I can justify quite a lot of things by telling myself they are "for my birthday." I don't exercise a lot of fiscal restraint during the remaining 11 months of the year as it is, so you can see where this attitude might get me into trouble. My favorite birthday present to me this year is this painting, which I got from a Romanian artist named Andrada Anghel:


It's called "Outer Space Landscape." (Click on the photo to enlarge it and get a better sense of the texture it's got going on.) I love it.

We spent this weekend in Santa Rosa, visiting one of our favorite restaurants (GG's Earth and Surf) and our favorite brew pub (Russian River Brewing Co.) and going on a geeky hike called the Planet Walk in Sugarloaf Ridge state park. I don't have anything particularly funny to report about any of this, but since I refuse to miss an opportunity to use my "inappropriate animals" tag, allow me to present to you two rattlesnakes I noticed hiding out under a bush:


We also saw two ridiculously large wild turkeys running down the trail and making ridiculous noises.

Even though James's birthday isn't till Tuesday, I was unable to resist giving him one of his presents ahead of time. This is handknit sweater #31:





And by that I mean it is #31 for JAMES, not the 31st that I've ever knit. I have no idea what that number would be, but particularly if baby clothes count it is easily in the many hundreds by now. I may need to get a life.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

historiae animalium

There is absolutely nothing funny about half your beloved colleagues getting laid off unexpectedly, so I'm not going to discuss what happened at my company this week beyond saying that there is absolutely nothing funny about half your beloved colleagues getting laid off unexpectedly.

I am back down in Los Angeles for the three-day weekend. I was reminded on the way here that the last time I went through Oakland airport it was just a day or two after the "miracle on the Hudson," which, as you already know unless you've been living under a rock with your iPod turned up to 11 with the Ride of the Valkyries on repeat and a silky sleep mask over your eyes, involved a plane that crash landed in a river on account of birds being sucked into its engines. There is a piece of artwork at the Oakland airport called "Auspicious Cranes," and it struck me last time that this piece of art was maybe no longer so appropriate lining a corridor people walk through as they are about to board planes at an airport that sits on the shore of a major bay, seeing as it basically depicts a bunch of large water birds whose heads appear to be bloodied:



But maybe that's just me.

As many of you know, almost nothing pleases me more than getting a chance to deploy the "inappropriate animals" tag on this blog, and today I have occasion to do so yet again, not only on account of the mangled cranes but also because we were walking at the L.A. Arboretum this morning and encountered an extra-large grade A coyote sauntering across the path ahead of us. As we got closer, he stopped and turned around with his big ol' coyote head poking up over the side of an embankment and I swear to god all he needed was a jaunty bandana around his neck and he'd have been ready to act as mascot for a cheesy Southwest souvenir shop.

"It's a good thing there aren't any roadrunners around here," James opined. "Yeah," I said, "That would be nothing but chaos."

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

crying fowl


The other night we were watching a Werner Herzog documentary called Encounters At the End of the World, which is about Antarctica and which Herzog narrates in English, and we were trying to guess what part of Germany he was from by scrutinizing his accent. I guessed Bavaria, not so much based on my presumed expertise as someone with graduate degrees in both Germanic literature and Linguistics, but rather as someone whose German relatives are not from Bavaria and also sound nothing like Werner Herzog when they speak English. I called up the Wikipedia entry for Herzog on the laptop that just happened to be in front of me, and confirmed that he is indeed from Munich. We went back to watching the movie, but every so often I would glance down and scan the information on the computer screen.

Suddenly I had to hit pause. "Listen to this!" I said, and started to read aloud to poor James, who presumably was along for this particular ride primarily in the hopes of getting to see some weird scientific crap about Antarctica. "One recurring symbol running through Herzog's films is chickens, which Herzog fears." We paused for a moment to let this sink in. Herzog had stated near the start of the documentary that it was definitely not going to be yet another film about penguins, so naturally that statement suddenly resonated with us. "Penguins are kind of like chickens," said James. "Yeah," I said. "This is all starting to make sense." We hit play and continued watching.

A few minutes later I glanced at the computer screen once again and lunged for the pause button. "WAIT OH MY GOD LISTEN TO THIS!" Reading aloud, I continued, "Even Dwarfs Started Small features cannibalistic chickens, and several sequences of dwarfs throwing chickens."

"Several sequences, " I repeated. "SEVERAL."

"Uh huh, I got that part."

"Sevvvveral. More than one."

"Got it."

I had barely started the movie up before the proceedings were halted once more. Again I quoted directly from the computer screen: "Signs of Life and The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser feature chicken hypnosis."

Me: "Herzog has so much to say about chicken hypnosis that he can't fit it all into one movie?"

James: "Wait, so the chickens are being hypnotized, or are they hypnotizing someone else?"

Me: "It doesn't specify. Maybe both, if we're lucky."

Then we got back to watching the rest of the documentary, only now occasionally inserting phrases into the narrative, suchlike:

Herzog: "Zee wattur iss negative 2 dekrees Celzius. Zee divers must be carefull not to go too far..."

Us: "...becauss of there mayght be chickenss."

Also, we are now planning a Werner Herzog film festival/drinking game.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

travelogue

James and I decided that instead of driving down the I-5 to Los Angeles for Thanksgiving week, we'd take two days for a leisurely drive down California Route 1. We spent the night in San Simeon, which is right next door to Cambria.




Cambria has some nice beaches, where you can view lovely sunsets and all that crap, but the town itself is what we now lovingly refer to as "White Trash Ashland." The shops in Ashland (Oregon), while clearly aimed primarily at tourists, at least have things you might want to purchase--for someone you like, even. In Cambria you are confronted with tacky shoppes [sic] with holiday-themed baby clothes, amateurish seascape paintings, Australian dry goods (apparently to make something Australian you just have to glue some shearling on it somewhere), and cutesy tee shirts. One store prides itself on being rubber ducky headquarters for the entire USA. Do they carry Hanukkah rubber ducks, complete with yarmulkes, you ask? Zikher, I say:



I couldn't even bear to look at, much less photograph, the rubber "celebriducks." These were kind of like centaurs, except with a rubber duck's ass where the horse part should be and an elaborately detailed famous person's head and torso up front (Queen Elizabeth, George Washington, etc.). I am all for animals disguised as other animals, and while technically a historical figure in the form of a duck would fall into that category, I think we can all agree that that is just stupid and disturbing.

Speaking of disturbing animals, this morning we got in the car to go to Whole Foods and James noticed a dog that was off leash and became concerned. "My neighborhood isn't very safe for loose dogs these days," he said, in a way that made me realize he regretted saying it as it was still coming out of his mouth. "Um, what do you mean?" I asked suspiciously. "Does this have something to do with mountain lions?" And indeed it turns out that several dogs recently have been killed by a mountain lion in his neighborhood, in areas further away from the foothills than his own house.

James hadn't mentioned this sooner because he knows I am already a little concerned about the occasional bear that wanders down the street or parks itself in a hot tub, so naturally I had to make fun of him for thinking I was too delicate to handle this latest bit of news. "I CAN'T BELIEVE you didn't tell me that a mountain lion had been eating babies in your neighborhood," I said. (Pause.) "I can't believe you didn't tell me that a mountain lion had killed your next door neighbor Mike...and his wife."

Anyway, the police have killed the mountain lion in the meantime, which kind of sucks in theory but probably seems like a great idea as you watch a giant feline dragging away your Labrador. Personally, though, I am more of a cat person.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

totoro!

Since Rick (and by proxy, Cathy) originally introduced me to Hayao Miyazaki and the film My Neighbor Totoro...



...when I saw the pattern for this baby hat I naturally had to make one for Baby Rick-and-Cathy, who is due in about a month. Yay!!



Speaking of critters, James and I pulled into the driveway at his house in Monrovia today and this guy was hanging out in the yard:



Let's just hope he doesn't come bounding into the living room later.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

oh deer


This weekend James and I had dinner at the Saturn Cafe in Santa Cruz, where the tables are sort of like shadow boxes--they've got all kinds of little scraps of paper and photos and trinkets and other stuff underneath the glass, and the space is ample enough to fit some interesting larger items. We sat at a table that had an old credit card verification machine in it, opened up so that you could see the guts of the printed circuit board assembly. James went into full-on Asperger mode and started naming all the different components complete with their technical designations. Since I personally fall way outside the autism spectrum I can't recall exactly what any of these were, but the (one-way) conversation sounded something like "That's the JFET-623, wow I haven't seen one of those in a long time, and that one is a MOSFET 2279R...interesting...and over there is the blah blah blah letters numbers blah blah blah" and so on. This continued for a couple of minutes and I finally said, "Oh my god, you're an attention whore! You're trying to get on the blog again, aren't you?" And as you can see, he succeeded.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the midwest, a friend of mine spent much of her weekend listening to her 3-year-old daughter's angst-ridden proclamations about deer: she did not like them, they were scary, they jumped through windows, etc. Naturally my friend and her husband tried to console their daughter by telling her that deer were in fact gentle and nice and kept their activities confined to the great outdoors, having no inclination whatsoever toward the comforts of, say, a foyer or sun room. "A deer jumped through the window at my SCHOOL!" the tyke insisted, only to be gently but just as insistently rebuffed with the assertion that surely that was just pretend. And then my friend arrived at the school Monday morning to find:

Dear Parents,

In case you are not aware on Friday afternoon about 4:15 a female deer
decided to jump through a window in room 117 and after a very short
visit turned around and jumped back out through another window in the
same room. The deer never left room 117 and there were no children in
the classroom at the time. I would like to say that we had a plan of
action, but realistically we never thought about writing one for a
deer jumping through the window.

(etc.)

And now my friend feels like the worst mother on the planet. However, another friend wisely pointed out that being the worst mother on the planet would probably involve something like noisily bursting into the child's room in the middle of the night wearing a deer costume.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

sux et veritas

Back in early July I wrote a little about the naming of Lynx, the project we're wrapping up right now. Our engagement director Dan and his wife conveniently scheduled the arrival of their baby (and Dan's consequent paternity leave) to coincide with only the last couple days of the project, but Baby Diego had other plans and decided to show up about 10 days early. I wanted to get a lynx-themed baby card to send to them from the team, but Hallmark inexplicably has not yet taken advantage of this potentially lucrative niche market, and so I had to make a card myself, third-grader style, with felt tipped pens and card stock. Please note that it is a baby lynx peeking out of the bundle:



Speaking of little bobcats, James and I hiked at Tomales Point on Saturday and get a load of what we saw there:





We also saw lots of Tule Elk, but those are totally par for the course in the Point Reyes area so those weren't as exciting somehow. Plus they don't have fangs or claws, and Dan and I don't have a running joke about them.

The excitement continued on Saturday night when I realized about $1500 had evaporated from my checking account via fraudulent PayPal transfers. As is typical, James came to the rescue and applied his mad Internet forensics skillz to ascertain that the breach had occurred not via my home machine (which is a Mac behind two firewalls, so that was unlikely anyway), and not via PayPal per se, but via the "junior high school level" (no, James, tell us how you really feel) security protocols in place at my grad school alumni association--whose forwarding email alias I have long used and which unfortunately was also my PayPal login ID. The details are not terribly interesting and I should be getting all my money back within a few days, but this all just goes to show that if you are such a pretentious tool that you want to have a fancypants Ivy League school in your email address, you should probably just go for YaleTool at gmail dot com or some such--because while the Elis are great at winning squash tournaments and coming up with clever Latin slogans to shout at football games, apparently they know fuckall about web security.

Before all that went down, however, we stopped at Pizzeria Picco in Larkspur and had a fabulous meal after our long hike among the elk. Picco had recently been written up in the New York Times for its soft serve ice cream, and their pizza is nothing to complain about either. My favorite was the Marin, which is a white pie with paper-thin baby red potato slices and rosemary. Picco is only about 10 miles north of the city, so if you're a San Franciscan and have a car you should totally get your ass up there ASAP. I have five words for you: Scharffen Berger chocolate soft serve.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

in fine feather



I am rarely happier than when I have an excuse to use the "inappropriate animals" tag on this blog, so imagine my delight to find occasion to use it twice in two days.

James and I did a 12+ mile training walk this morning down to the L.A. Arboretum, which is known for its large peacock population. Perhaps not surprisingly, the residential neighborhood next door to the arboretum is now also home to many of these birds. In fact, it's a big enough problem that some of the streets have fancy official signs saying "Feeding of peafowl is prohibited." On the way back we decided to count the peafowl we saw on the two blocks between the arboretum and Colorado Blvd. We saw forty-nine. FORTY-NINE.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

let's BEE friends


I decided to jet down to Los Angeles for the weekend to pay a visit to the House of Geek. And thank god I had a geek at my direct disposal, because I arrived here only to discover that my laptop, which I had put in sleep mode, placed in a drawer, and not used for maybe two weeks before hauling it down here, had decided to re-set its internal clock to 4:01 p.m. on DECEMBER 31, 1969. This of course interfered with the internal doodads and their ability to properly interact with the whatchamahickeys. It also debarred the machine from connecting to the wireless network, which it deemed to have "incompatible security" (incompatible with the wireless security available in 1969? You don't say!).

James opened up a command shell, made some disapproving comments such as "Well, THAT'S not good," and generally scared the crap out of me and had me convinced that my iBook was toast, forever to remain in a virtual world where the Beatles were still together and I had barely outgrown the nickname "Peach Fuzz." Except I forgot that this is a man who can cobble together a supercomputer/DVD player/refrigerator/spaceship combo from the detritus he finds in the dumpster behind Fry's, and so two minutes later my iBook was behaving as if nothing had ever happened, coaxed into forgiving and forgetting that its owner doesn't remember that there is a difference, power-usage-wise, between "sleep" and "shut down."

I say I am in Los Angeles, but really I am in Monrovia. Not the capital of Liberia, but rather the small city east of Pasadena in the San Gabriel foothills. Or as I like to call it: Bear Country, U.S.A. I haven't seen a bear here myself lately, but James's neighbor has a recent photo of one in her pool. Last night as we were driving up to the house, four critters of some variety scampered across the road. One turned and looked at us with a little masked face. "Ach du lieber! Raccoons!" I exclaimed. Not because I was surprised, but because that is what I always say when I see raccoons (see Vitti, Jon [Writer] & Kirkland, Mark [Director]. Episode 46 [1991], "Burns Verkaufen der Kraftwerk." The Simpsons).

That reminds me, the other day Alex was giving some kind of tech-head presentation (I refuse to say "brown bag") about a particular document review platform, and at the end there was time for questions. I kept my mouth shut, but on the way out I stopped by and said to him, "I have a question. Is it right to buy a Chrysler?" (see Kogan, Jay and W. Wolodarsky [Writers] & Lynch, Jeffrey and B. Bird [Directors]. Episode 41 [1991], "Like Father, Like Clown." The Simpsons).

It is a sad (but occasionally hilarious!) state of affairs that I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to slip over-15-year-old Simpsons references into anything Alex might hear me say. Alex, I hope you appreciate that.



Speaking of The Bumblebee Guy, last week James finally took care of the bee population that had been inhabiting his eaves for, oh, approximately 8 years. The guys came out to remove the bees, and then when they returned a few days later to close up the damage, a new population of (angry) bees had already moved into the now-vacant, pre-honeycombed paradise that was James's roof overhang. So, they had to kill those too, resulting in a scene that James refers to as "sort of a bee Armageddon." ("You may not want to walk barefoot outside for a few days," he added. Right, because the threat of rattlesnakes is not already enough to convince me that footwear is a good idea out there.)

But here is the fun part. Please guess how many pounds of honeycomb they pulled out of the eaves. I'd keep you in suspense, but this entry is already long enough. THREE HUNDRED POUNDS. So if you're in the greater Los Angeles area this weekend and see a guy in a funny hat driving a pickup hauling 12 full-sized garden trash bags stuffed with honeycomb, please salute him.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

have you seen this monkey?


WANTED


October 21, 2007
India Official Dies After Monkey Attack

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Filed at 10:28 a.m. ET

NEW DELHI (AP) -- Wild monkeys attacked a senior government official who then fell from a balcony at his home and died Sunday, media reported.

New Delhi Deputy Mayor S.S. Bajwa was rushed to a hospital after the attack by a gang of Rhesus macaques, but succumbed to head injuries sustained in his fall, the Press Trust of India news agency and The Times of India reported.

Many government buildings, temples and residential neighborhoods in New Delhi are overrun by Rhesus macaques, which scare passers-by and occasionally bite or snatch food from unsuspecting visitors.

Last year, the Delhi High Court reprimanded city authorities for failing to stop the animals from terrifying residents and asked them to find a permanent solution to the monkey menace.

Part of the problem is that devout Hindus believe monkeys are manifestations of the monkey god Hanuman and feed them bananas and peanuts -- encouraging them to frequent public places.

Over the years, city authorities have employed monkey catchers who use langurs -- a larger and fiercer kind of monkey -- to scare or catch the macaques, but the problem persists.

We told you Delhi was covered in monkeys.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

food and critter update

A woman true to my word, I made vegan (banana oatmeal) pancakes for breakfast last Saturday:



And tonight I made Moroccan vegetable stew and couscous with raisins:



When we got home this evening, we were greeted by a tiny insurance salesman. Alex and Robin tried to catch him while I started making dinner, but they lost sight of him. He may or may not still be in the apartment. Earlier Lon was trying to freak me out by deadpanning, "You know, geckos really like to crawl on your face when you're sleeping."

Saturday, September 29, 2007

put that cat in a bag...please, people, for the love of god already

I never thought I'd be able to use the "inappropriate animals" tag on a post from San Francisco, but the cats at Borderlands Books have proven me wrong.





Many of you know that I have a severe allergic reaction to sci-fi/fantasy literature, so you will not be surprised to hear that I only go to Borderlands under duress and as a favor to a particularly geeky friend. And usually I just go across the street to the Little Otsu vegan boutique instead. So don't get the wrong idea...because that bookstore gives me hives, seriously.

Friday, August 03, 2007

moooombai

OK, so you come to India and you kind of are prepared to see cows walking around the city. I mean, you're an educated person, you've heard of this stuff. And then you get here and the first few times you see cows in traffic you get all excited and take photos because, look! cows in traffic! that is so awesome, and we love awesome! And then it just keeps getting more and more normal and you even start to think it's cute when a new person is visiting and gets all excited about cows in traffic. Geez, big deal, cows in traffic; tell me something I don't know. At least wait to get excited when you see an elephant or a monkey or a great white shark or something in traffic. Pfft. I mean, cows in traffic? Big whoop.