Another day, 2 more states (nearly 3)

I love all the travel advice in the comments. Thank you, M&M-ers.

Despite the apparent consensus, though, we decided to continue heading east out of Oklahoma City on Interstate 40, into Arkansas and toward Memphis, at which point our plan is to turn south on I-55 and make a straight shot to New Orleans.

Other than extremely strong southerly winds throughout Oklahoma, today was a beautiful day for driving, with clear skies and surprisingly (to me) pretty country in Oklahoma and Arkansas. We're both amazed at how much the landscape changes from day to day. Yesterday we saw hour after hour of high-mesa and red-rock desert; today we drove through the gentle hills of the Texas Panhandle, the wavy grass fields and red dirt of Oklahoma and the lush woods and horse country of Arkansas. Not a mesa in sight.

We thought we'd pull up somewhere around Little Rock for the night, but Michelle had an adrenaline rush and we kept on going -- almost all the way to the Tennessee state line. I don't know how she did it; I'm exhausted, and all I did was sit there. We're now tucked into a nice little EconoLodge in West Memphis, Ark., across the river from Memphis, and we hope to visit the Stax Records museum or maybe Graceland in the morning before we shoot south.

I keep meaning to post accounts of our poker adventures, or pics of lunch with Terry at Manhattan Beach and Miriam in South Pasadena, or our bitter riff on Starbucks' bungled marketing plan, or our cool new blog feature -- an "overheard" category -- but by the time we settle in for the night it's too late. That stuff will have to wait.

Here are a couple of quick pics from today's travels:


One of the first things you see when you cross from Texas into Oklahoma on this route is a sign advertising the largest cross in the Western Hemisphere. ("Exit for a spiritual experience you'll never forget.") Well, we got lucky. You could see the cross from the freeway, no exit required. I'm not sure how long I'll remember the spiritual experience, but I do recall that the actual cross, the one in the Bible, was in the Eastern Hemisphere, for whatever that's worth.


Oklahoma City. These are the bastards who are stealing the Seattle SuperSonics basketball team, and this Ford Center, on I-40, is where they'll play. I say "bastards" because people in Seattle are all upset about the team's moving. I couldn't care less, honestly. Good luck to the team and the OKC. I'm personally fine without either of them. The Oklahoman newspaper today was promoting a sports columnist who was taking great pleasure in poking the Pacific Northwest.


You're driving through Oklahoma, surrounded by cows, you ought to have a steak, is what I say. We finally found the perfect-looking joint, Big Jake's Cattle Co., although it was actually two miles inside the Arkansas state line. Sure enough, the menu featured a vast array of beef meals. Michelle ordered The Big Jake, a center-cut steak that the menu promised to be "the best eatin' of your life." I wasn't all that hungry. In fact I was going to order the "petite steak" but since they described it as "perfect for the ladies or the little fellas" I decided to go with a top sirloin instead.

They accidentally gave me Michelle's order, and I have to say that was one pretty tasty steak. But the best eatin' of my life? I don't know. I can think of quite a bit of eatin' this good or better on this very trip: the feast at Kaye & Val's, dinner at the awesome Bellagio buffet in Las Vegas, the Pete's turkey sandwich and Trieste cappuccino and Mama Matassa's manicotti ... and that's without even getting to the best Harley Dog in Kingman, Arizona.

More meals, wheels and photos tomorrow.

7 states, six state lines ...

OK, time to hit the road. More to come.

11 days, 7 states, and counting ...

We just pulled into a little roadside motel in Amarillo, Texas, called the Camelot Inn, styled sort of like the Excalibur in Las Vegas, only a fraction of the size -- and price. We got our comfy but flashless double for $43, which includes free donuts and coffee in the morning and, surprise, free wireless.

It's been a long day of driving for poor Michelle though. We realized that our leisurely sightseeing along Route 66 through Arizona yesterday set us back a bit on our mission to reach New Orleans by Friday's JazzFest lineup. So we pushed on tonight farther than we planned.

Good couple of days, though. Today began at the Motel DuBeau, pictured above -- really now a youth hostel, the DuBeau Hostel -- a vintage 1930s-era stop on old Route 66 and our cool Flagstaff, Ariz., find. We drove across Arizona, into the beautiful mesa country of New Mexico, with a quick walk around old downtown Gallup and a stop for lunch at the famous and picturesque Hotel El Rancho just east of town. We played cards for a short while at Route 66 Casino (everything here milks the name) outside Albuquerque and then crossed into Texas to Amarillo.

That makes seven states -- Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas -- since we left home on April 19.

Fun, but a long day. Tomorrow back on the road to Oklahoma City, and we're still debating the best route from there: south to Houston then east to New Orleans; or east to Memphis and then south to New Orleans. Thoughts, experienced travelers?

Here are a few shots from the past couple of days.

Michelle in Vegas:

Mr. D'z, the awesome roadside diner in Kingman, Arizona, on Route 66, which really deserves its own post. It caters to bikers, like a lot of places on this highway, and advertises "Best Harley Dog in town!" I ordered one up. "I hear you make the best Harley Dog in town," I said to our waitress, Ginger. "Well, it's the only one, really," she said. I figured. Pretty good hot dog, though:

The storied El Rancho, host to movie stars once upon a time. The sign says, "Charm of yesterday, convenience of tomorrow":


Typical sight on today's long drive:

Flagstaff 19 years later

Kaye informs me that it was 19 years ago that she and I first drove through Flagstaff, heading out to find our fortune in LA, where Kate hubby Val had a job lined up, and I hoped to find one somehow.

We drove up through Palo Duro Canyon in Texas, hit the I-40, passed through the sad land of drunk Indians in Gallup, NM, crossed through the hell that is Albuquerque and then found our way into the pine treed town that is Flagstaff. The day we were here happened to be the day of the homecoming parade, and hundreds of blond and pure apple pie people rode by us in convertibles, cheered along side us, as quarterbacks and cheerleaders looked out misty eyed from their parade float perches and I guess wondered what they'll ever do in life to top this.

The air was clean and light, the town was small and charming and it seemed impossible that something so innocent was still around, untouched.

I loved Flagstaff. I was so glad to be passing back through on our trip to New Orleans this week.

I thought maybe it was my faulty memory at work again when we hit the strip malls and Taco Bells and car washes that make up most of the town now. I thought maybe my memory of the idyllic Flagstaff was selective -- I maybe just chose to remember the cool parts, and forgot the scabby strip mall side of the town.

I called Kaye to check, and she confirmed that yes, it had been 19 years. It was pure when we were here.

Mark says he doesn't regret the change that happens to this world. You lose somethings, but then you gain some too.

As evidence he points to the excellent local Starbucks, which certainly was not here 19 years ago. We did appreciate that cup of fresh brewed Verona, indeed.

Blogworthy, but tardy

Man, get out on the road a few days and it can be tough to find the time or the wherewithal to keep the blog current. Sorry about that. No shortage of fun adventures though.

Since we last checked in here, we shared an unsurprisingly spectacular dinner with Kaye, Val and Laurie at K&V's house. And I had nice lunches with McDermott and Miriam, played plenty of poker in Los Angeles, including with my friend Stuart.

Also we drove (well, Michelle drove) to Las Vegas and spent an excellent night there, and drove much of the day today -- over Hoover Dam, south to Kingman then east across Arizona, mostly on historic Route 66, and now we're ensconced for the night in a cool old-school Route 66 stop called Motel DuBeau. $45! With free wireless! It rocks.

There are stories to tell and photos to post, but I don't know how much we'll get to tonight. We're both kind of tired, and we need to find some food and a beer.

Idol Across America

Who needs Tivo? Turns out we can keep up with the latest Idol updates on Youtube. We heard already, of course, that Tattoo Girl was kicked off the show this past week. Tonite after the fabu dinner at Kay and Val's, we loaded our bloated bellies into the bed and cozied up to the computer to see the performances that were behind the vote.

The internets are both cool and convenient.

Do you like food?

Check out this incredible menu on tap at Kaye and Val's tomorrow night. Few people throw a dinner party like these guys, and I know this meal is gonna rock.

We'll post photos after dinner.

The trip so far

At Kateco's urging, I've started a Google Map of our trip. Pretty basic so far, just the route and a few key stops. You can click below for a larger version and zoom all the way in to a street-level view.

I'll add pictures later and keep it updated as we go, so check back.


View Larger Map

Dinner @ Crystal Cove

Tonite I met my friends Jeff Light and Teri Sforza for dinner at Crystal Cove. This is a very cool spot where a few dozen people for years lived cheaply in houses built up on a state beach; they were recently booted and the residences they left behind are being used as cheap state park rentals. Awesome!! Teri and Jeff scored a place here for just $30 bucks a night. Don't even think about it -- theres a 6 month wait list ...

Tonite I met Jeff and Teri's daughter -- the charming Xia all in pink -- a smart and feisty three and three quarter year old who loves hot dogs and making fun of the way Jeff talks with his hands. She spent a good five minutes over dinner saying everything he said and waving her hands around in the classic Jeff Light style. She's awesome. Here she is jumping like crazy for the camera.



For a slideshow with larger images go here.

You can almost see Disneyland from here

We're staying in a nice but also sort of odd place, the Embassy Suites in Anaheim, just a few long blocks down Harbor Boulevard from Disneyland.

Here's the view from our room. If you could crane your neck just a little bit to the right you could see the tops of a couple attractions at the Happiest Place on Earth. That big lot outside our window is an abandoned golf driving range. At least I think it's abandoned; I've never seen anyone using it.


Better days behind for the Harbor Greens Golf Range:


The room is comfortable as can be, and it comes with free breakfast and a complimentary evening happy hour -- I'm enjoying a free beer and pretzels right now -- but it's also overflowing with sunburned, slightly pudgy couples and their Mickey-eared and princess-gowned kids, all seemingly fueled on way too much soda.

Also just now the lobby was crammed with a bunch of teenagers wearing tuxes and silky dresses. In the elevator a 30-something guy looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know," I said, "the world's lamest prom party?"

When I told Gina where we were she broke out the all-caps: "MAN, are you going to go to disneyland? you know you want to."

Probably not this trip. We're staying here because it's centrally located to Long Beach, to friends Michelle wanted to visit at the Orange County Register and to the Commerce Casino, just up the 5 freeway.

Which reminds me, I need to jet now to meet my friend Stuart for some poker action there tonight. It ain't Disneyland, but it'll do.

More to come, including a report on last night's M&M card game, as well as my lunch today with my buddy McDermott in Manhattan Beach. Nice photos with that one.

Santa Barbara to L.A.

A few stray shots from yesterday's relaxing and pretty day.

We woke up in the Excellent Element at the beautiful El Capitan State Beach just north of Santa Barbara. This was the place Michelle booked for us online. It was as lovely as advertised and, at $25 a night, quite the bargain. There were a few other campers there, some sitting around a fire, others running a generator to power the TV inside their RVs. But it was clean and quiet, a four-glioma campground.


We got in after dark on Monday, flashlighted our way down to this nice beach just beyond our campsite and enjoyed a simple but perfect dinner: a second turkey sandwich from Pete's in San Francisco and a Red Hook beer from the Element-powered mini-fridge.


We continued driving down the 101 toward LA, but detoured to Ojai, as I mentioned yesterday, and jumped onto the free wireless at the nice little Ojai Coffee Roasting Co.


Entering Los Angeles, we left the 101 for the first time since downtown San Francisco and merged onto the 405, our "home" freeway, or one of them, when we lived here.

Then we headed straight for a little reunion at Kaye's in Belmont Shore (that's in Long Beach, for you non-Californians), and later had dinner with Kaye and Val at El Torito's, one of our old hangs.

Yet another very fun day.

Pie in the Sky II stats so far: Days 4, Excellent Days 4.

For Gina and Franny

This is just to see if they're checking the blog.

When we lived in Belmont Shore the girls and I used to stop at this In-N-Out Burger after spending the afternoon boogie-boarding at Huntington Beach. They loved it.


Michelle and I drove by the In-N-Out this afternoon on the way to Kaye's, and I thought of them.

Girlies? Picture comment me!

Thank you, Mich

... for sending me this awesome post from the Slog, the Stranger's blog.

Mich knows me.

'Happy 420'

That was the greeting we got at about 9 o'clock Sunday night as we walked up Grant Street in San Francisco to North Beach Pizza. It came from a group of three 20-somethings, one in dreds, all possibly buzzed and just hanging out on the sidewalk. We knew what they meant: 420 is the unofficial passcode for pot, and 4/20 -- that is, April 20 -- is like an unofficial holiday.

"It's my birthday!" Michelle called out over her shoulder as we walked by.

"Really? Cool!" one of the dudes said. "Do you smoke?"

It had been a long day of driving for Michelley, who won't let my epileptic self near the steering wheel of the Excellent Element, and I wouldn't have been shocked if she'd pulled up to bogart the guy's doobie. But there was sausage pizza and an Anchor Steam to be had a block away and we were ready; we didn't need any help getting the munchies.

Although Pie in the Sky II really began on Saturday with the drive to Mom's house, Sunday's long Eugene-to-San Francisco leg felt like the true kickoff.

And what a strange day, to begin with several inches of snow on Michelle's car and to drive through intermittent snow flurries all the way through the Siskiyou Range separating Oregon and California.

After that the weather and the landscape changed as we pushed on through Redding, Corning (home of the Corning Olive Festival), Weed and the rest of those little Northern California towns, stopping occasionally to have a cup of joe and one of Mom's excellent cupcakes.



As it got dark, we finally crossed the Bay Bridge into San Francisco.
We spent an excellent night at the San Francisco Westin, thanks to the SF Chronicle, where Michelle did some consulting yesterday morning, and then we had our favorite lunch: the world's greatest turkey sandwich from Pete's BBQ at Mission and 20th, and a cappuccino at Cafe Trieste in North Beach. Special bonus: We met Trieste's founder, Papa Gianni, who posed for the picture at the top of this post. Click here to see how he looked back in the day, when he started this business 52 years ago.

From the Trieste web site:

If asked how he does it, "No big deal," Papa Gianni would say. "Buy the best beans, roast them yourself, and brew each cup like it's for you."

Then a beautiful longish drive down Highway 101 (with a stop in Steinbeck's home town of Salinas) to Santa Barbara, where we camped at El Capitan State Beach. Nice. The Element worked beautifully as a bed.


And now we're in Ojai, the little artist enclave 20 miles inland, where we're scamming the free wireless at the Ojai Coffee Roasting Co. and enjoying our second cup of the day.

Heading now into LA for a few days of fun with friends and poker junkies.

Thanks to all for the comments.

We're off!

Pie in the Sky II has begun. With the Excellent Element all packed and ready to go -- suitcases, electronics, tools and food stashed in genius cubbies under the futon platform -- Michelle and I hit the road this morning at 11:42. We weren't a mile away before I thought of something I forgot -- the cool CD set of Terry Gross interviews with writers that Mich gave me for my birthday-- but Michelle said it was too late to turn around.

"What direction are we pointing," she said, at about the corner of Fauntleroy and Alaska. "That's right. Ahead."

Weirdly, it was beginning to snow a little bit as we left town, the latest in the year that snow ever has fallen in Seattle, I believe. And it snowed off and on all the way to Mom's house in Eugene, along with patches of hail, really strong rain, and brilliant sunshine.

Here we are crossing into Oregon.

Mom prepared us an excellent manicotti dinner. I'm really glad she was the first stop on this cool trip. We're off now to visit our friends the Stahlbergs, a couple miles away, and then in the morning we'll head out for San Francisco.

Are the flavors all as they should be?

My cool sister Michele was nice enough to buy me a going-away lunch this afternoon -- a nice break from packing for Pie in the Sky II -- but we had to laugh at our over-the-top waitress at the normally reliable Il Fornaio downtown.

Everything had to be explained just so and with a little extra flair, and the attention was a bit much. Shortly after she delivered our plates -- ravioli for Mich, capellini for me, both delish -- she was back to check on us.

"Are all the flavors as they should be?"

Mich, who had trouble stifling a laugh until the poor woman walked away, actually answered: "Yes, they are."

I muttered something to Mich about the tomato sauce tasting like chocolate.

Still, the food was good and it was great to see Michy one last time before Michelle and I leave in the morning. We get together quite often and we both said we'll miss our little lunch and coffee dates. She told me about the Kanye West concert she and her family saw the other night, and even offered to write a guest review for M&M! Can't wait for that.

Also she offered to swing by and pick up my drugs this weekend and forward them to Kaye's house but, miraculously, they appeared as scheduled this afternoon. So that's good.

Nicolosi & I still have a few things to put together tonight before we can leave in the morning, but we're actually in pretty good shape considering. Look out, open road, here we come.

(Mich, don't forget to send the review!)

My M&M calendar ...

... tells me this is Freda Nicolosi's birthday. Happy birthday, Freda.

Here you are earlier this month with the cooler half of M&M. We'll see you again in a couple of weeks in New Orleans.

He has seen the future

... and it is grayer.

That's Ross Anderson, a friend and former reporting colleague, reporting on his idyllic retirement at Cape George, a little enclave just outside Port Townsend, Wash.

Ross retired from the Seattle Times a few years ago, and last year he and his wife Mary Rothschild, who was an editor at the paper, decided to give up their beautiful Seattle house and move up to the Peninsula. But Ross can't stop writing, and he has started a nice new site, RossInk, to capture his observations.

The above post describes his move to what sounds like a beautiful and welcoming little community of oldsters.

Every neighborhood has its cranks and whiners, but seniors seem to have more to be cranky about and more time to whine about it.
Still, we're a diverse group of people living diverse lives. Take our street: a retired airline pilot, a former history professor, a nurse-turned-part-time gardener, a software engineer, a retired physics professor who runs a small technology company in town, a couple of ex-schoolteachers, and Mary and me. One of my friends is a former Fulbright Scholar who's written a novel about revolutionary China. Another spent 30 years building Boeing airplanes.

He also has a mini-history lesson on the beautiful Discovery Bay, little takes on Seattle politics, the environment, the news business and more. I can tell it's going to be a regular and worthwhile stop for me.

So Long, Fishies

Wow, just in time for the launch of MySeattlePets, I went and gave away my fish. Yesterday, a neighborhood kid and his dad responded to my ad in the local newsletter and came over to take away the guppies, tetras, plants, tank, lights and all.

I kind of miss hearing them bubbling away in the back room. I hope they all like their new home okay. Goodbye fishies!

Announcing: MySeattlePets

The behind the scenes beta for myseattlepets is live -- this is the new section we're hoping will bring mondo new traffic to Seattlepi.com. We've been working on it for 3 months or so. I know most M&M readers aren't in Seattle -- but if you feel the urge, go ahead and add your pups anyways. :)

At the moment everything's done but the front page. In phase II we're adding a database of pets looking for homes. What do you think? Is the top of the page too dark? I've been thinking for months that the black is too much, but I let myself be talked out of it. Should I have stuck my landing, or is this okay?

Thanks in advance for your reviews!

Scary

This lead story in the New York Times this morning gave me a start: Insurance companies are quietly beginning to charge their clients/patients a much larger percentage of the true cost of expensive prescription drugs, often without any warning.

There are plenty of horror stories in this article, enough to make me think of the $4,000 or so that my drugs cost every month.

The whole drug thing is a giant-ass nuisance enough without having to pay even more for the privilege.

For instance: I was supposed to be taking chemo this week, finishing off this month's course before heading down the road this weekend. But the stupid hospital forgot to schedule my MRI and doctor's visit last week, when we had agreed it would occur, and instead had my appointments set for next week, when we'll already be gone. I was able to get a pair of squeeze-in appointments for this week, on Wednesday, but given the UW's poor history of coordinating with my online pharmacy, Caremark, and its poor record of speedy delivery, I'm dubious about getting the drugs before Saturday. So that's a drag. And who knows, still, whether they'll come through with three months worth of pills -- that's about $12,000 to you and me -- as promised.

Annoying.

How funny

I noticed in the Live Traffic Feed in the left sidebar that someone from Indiana came to our blog directly on the the post Hot naked chicks ...," about Rosanne Olson's new body-image book. So I checked Google: Sure enough, we're the No. 8 result for the search "hot naked chicks," behind one science fiction story and a bunch of porn.

Yay for M&M! SEO rocks!

Sorry, Mr. Indiana. But pick up a copy of Rosanne's book.

She was on "Good Morning America" today, by the way. I watched, thanks to Tivo; you'll never see me awake at 7 a.m. on a Sunday. Short, sweet segment with Rosanne and several subjects of her book. Nice plug, and everyone looked and sounded great on TV.

Pie in the Sky, Parts I and II

Several mentions here recently about the big Pie in the Sky II road trip, and since the Excellent Element hits the highway a week from today I figure it's time to tell how the voyage got that name, and when and where we're going.

It all started seven years ago, actually, when Miriam rescued me from unemployment and potential bankruptcy by offering me a job at the Los Angeles Times. That story here. I was scheduled to start work in mid-October that year, 2001, so Michelle and I decided to leave a month early and take the long route from Seattle to LA ... via Chicago, Boston, New York, Washington, Louisville, Denver, the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas.

We both always had wanted to take a cross-country road trip and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. When I called Mom to tell her about the plan, though, she thought it sounded over-ambitious.

"That sounds a little pie-in-the-sky to me, Mark," she said.

Well that cracked me up, so we immediately dubbed our trip the Pie in the Sky Tour, and made concert-style t-shirts, complete with projected tour stops on the back, to commemorate the adventure. I still wear mine.










Amazingly, the day of our scheduled departure -- with the moving van showing up early that morning -- was Sept. 11. Yes, that Sept. 11: 9/11. The moving dudes knocked on our door at about 7:30 and asked if we were watching TV. No, we said, and we turned it on to see the footage of planes flying into the World Trade Center. And then the moving guys unplugged our TV to load it onto the truck and Michelle and I climbed into my old Honda Civic wagon and we started driving east.

Weird. No planes in the sky and by the time we got past Spokane, a couple hundred miles east of Seattle, no solid radio signal either. We went for hours at a time without any news about what was going on.

And yet, we managed to have a great trip. We camped in Yellowstone, played cards in Deadwood, ate dinner with a bunch of flag-waving patriots in a small red-state diner someplace and then, later that same day, cruised into the liberal college town of Mankato, Minn., to find a peacenik coffee shop still open at midnight. Trippy.

Our plan had been to see ballgames in some classic parks like Wrigley Field, but the terrorist attacks suspended the baseball season. Some guy in a poker game in Shakopee, Minn., was raving about the beauty of the northern shores of the Great Lakes around that time of year, so we decided to blow off Chicago and head north instead, through Duluth and into Canada. That leg of the trip truly was as beautiful as advertised, but strange too. That's where we ran into Canadians, including the proprietor of a B&B where we stayed, who told us Americans had the attacks coming and almost seemed to hold us responsible.

Eventually we made our way through Niagara Falls and Boston and into New York, where we visited the less-than-two-week-old Ground Zero -- eerie, upsetting and unforgettable -- before moving onto happier destinations.

Some of the coolest parts of Pie in the Sky I were hooking up with friends and family, including M&M regulars Ronelle and her crew in New Jersey and Janice (below) and hers in Louisville, as well as Michelle's sister Renee and her family in Colorado. We also loved the Grand Canyon and the area around Moab, Utah (top picture). All those stops will be part of Pie in the Sky II as well.

Although we had tour dates on our t-shirts, we didn't really have a set agenda for that first trip, and that was a lot of its charm. The Canada detour was just one example of our spontaneity. We had a big Rand McNally atlas with us, and we traced our path in pen as we went -- it still hangs on our wall.

For this trip, with three times as much time on the road, our plans are even less set -- really, really, pie-in-the-sky, Mom -- except for the first two weeks, which are planned. We're leaving next Saturday, heading for Mom's place in Eugene; then to San Francisco, where Michelle has a speaking gig at the San Francisco Chronicle; to Santa Barbara, where she booked us an awesome camping spot on the beach; to Los Angeles, where she's speaking at a Cal State Fullerton writer's conference; to Las Vegas for a night; and then to New Orleans for JazzFest.

After that, wide open. We know we want to see some friends and hit some card rooms. We both kind of want to see the Florida Keys and Maine, where we've never been, and we hope to stay off the interstates and travel the smaller highways and back roads. The beauty of a long break. We'll camp and sleep in the tricked-out car when we can, grab a motel room if we absolutely need a shower.

Overly ambitious? Pie in the sky? Maybe, but something tells me we'll pull it off. With stories to tell.

'I will have vengeance!'

That singing you hear here in West Seattle is coming from all those girls, and one guy, in full costume, filming scenes in and around our house for their remake of "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street."

I'm not sure whose idea this production was, but I know Gina and Franny and their friends are obsessed with the recent "Sweeney Todd" movie -- did I mention it stars Johnny Depp? -- and somehow they've decided to shoot their own version this weekend. Very cool project.

So this afternoon Maddy and Katy and Austin and Mim and a bunch of other kids I didn't know and whose names I already forget showed up here after school with Bean. Maddy's the director; she even had a raspberry beret and a clapboard. Austin is Sweeney. Gina is Mrs. Lovett, the Helena Bonham Carter character. Franny's Pirelli.

They seemed quite organized and got a lot of scenes in the can this afternoon. We watched the daily rushes tonight. Not bad. Katy's going to edit on her computer.

I told them that when they're done cutting the trap door in the kitchen floor and dropping barbershop victims head-first into the basement, I'd appreciate it if they mopped up all the blood. That seemed OK with everyone.

Another long shooting day tomorrow and more, probably, on Sunday.

Michelle took official cast photos this afternoon.

Politics, West Seattle-style

Last fall I noticed a Hillary for President sign at the little pink house on the corner a couple blocks up. Lately, though, the Obama support has been in spring bloom with yard signs, window banners and car stickers popping up all over our liberal little neighborhood.

I started taking snapshots of the campaign signs last week. Most, these days, are Obama, with still just the one Hillary and a stray sign or two for an also-ran.

The ultimate, at the cool "dog advice" house up the street, is an Obama sign that manages to get "West Seattle" in there too, although it didn't turn out very well in the photo.

'I've got that going for me ...'

The big news around here today is that the Dalai Lama is in town, part of a five-day visit about compassion. Cool. Free Tibet!, "See Yourself as You Really Are," and all that, but me, I'm celebrating by re-enjoying this classic scene from "Caddyshack" and one of the world's truly great spiritual leaders, Bill Murray. (Thanks to Michelle for sending the clip.)

Preliminary Seattle Times departure list

Here is the first list of news staffers who apparently are going to lose their jobs as part of the Seattle Times cuts announced this week (the full staff memo from Executive Editor David Boardman follows):

Ashley Bach, Eastside reporter
Diane Brooks, Snohomish County reporter
Jordan Dawson, lead news assistant
Rachel Dooley
Sherry Grindeland, Eastside columnist
Judy Groom, resale and permissions specialist
William Holden
Karen Johnson, reporter
Janica Lockhart, copy editor resident
Stephen Norris
Amy Roe, Eastside reporter
Christina Siderius
CeCe Sullivan, home economist
Lynn Thompson, Eastside reporter
Lauren Vane, reporter
Diane Wright, Snohomish County reporter

Although news reports said 30 people in the newsroom would be laid off (along with 19 job openings that won't be filled, all part of 200 positions lost in all departments of the paper), this list includes 16 people. Others may come from targeted buyouts. And the list isn't final, since it's possible that some here will be able to exercise an option under the Guild contract to move to a different position. We'll try to keep the list updated.

M&M wishes to extend our sympathy and best wishes to these journalists, their families and their colleagues.

Here is Boardman's April 8 memo to the news staff:

Here, as we discussed in today's staff meeting, are the people and positions directly affected by today's announcement of a Reduction in Force. As we explained, the first list is people who have been informed that they will be laid off because their job functions are being reduced or eliminated. They are:

Ashley Bach, Diane Brooks, Jordan Dawson, Rachel Dooley, Sherry Grindeland, Judy Groom, William Holden, Karen Johnson, Janica Lockhart, Stephen Norris, Amy Roe, Christina Siderius, CeCe Sullivan, Lynn Thompson, Lauren Vane, Diane Wright.

The second list is positions that we designated for possible layoff in our required communication to the Guild. However, this list may bear little resemblance to the ultimate reality. Each of the people in these positions has been advised as to his/her likely vulnerability of layoff.

Those positions are:

Desk Editor (4), Reporter (4), Photographer, Lead News Assistant, News Resident, News Page Designer (2), Editorial Cartoonist.

Depending on the number of accepted Expressions of Interest we get from people willing to leave voluntarily, the least senior people in these categories may or may not lose their jobs involuntarily. We will know that next week.

Again, please be respectful and sensitive to the people who are losing their jobs and those whose jobs are at risk.

If you have questions about the Expression of Interest process or package, please see Suki, Kathy, Pat or me.

Earlier on M&M:
Wanted: Seattle Times Departure list
Saving the Enemy

Yet another new FOM&M

Kaye informs us that our Long Beach friend Laurie, an occasional commenter here, has launched her own new blog too, lauriesue.com.

Her first post, "Crap-Shit," is terrific. Check her out.

Wanted: Seattle Times departure list

Since the Seattle Times announced on Monday that it would be cutting 200 jobs, including laying off 30 people in the newsroom, no official list of names has surfaced, even though I believe those being let go have been informed.

I don't have such a list myself, official or unofficial, but we know that the suburban bureaus are closing, with most of those employees being axed en masse, and that a couple of people in distinct job categories at the main office are losing their jobs as well.

The reason for this pattern, from what I can determine, is that reporters are represented by the Pacific Northwest Newspaper Guild, and union rules require that staffers be laid off according to seniority. Except that those seniority rankings apply within specific job categories, and not all employees, or even all reporters, are created equal. The suburban bureau reporters, for example, are in a different class than other reporters in the main newsroom, so it's possible -- even easier, in some ways -- for the management to strike that entire group than to retroactively "unhire" people newsroom-wide on a last-in, first-out basis.

The result is that some very senior reporters, like Diane Brooks, a 22-year veteran (all 22 years, unfortunately for her, in the bureaus) are getting the sack, while some newer (and also excellent) hires like investigator Ken Armstrong are safe.

I'm expressing no opinion on these layoffs, except my deep sympathy for those affected and my wish for them that better days are ahead.

I'd like to post the names here of those who are losing their jobs, not to embarrass anybody or to dog the Times, but as a tribute to their work over the years and a farewell, for now, to their bylines.

Readers, Times friends, Guild reps: If you can confirm names for this list or correct any mistakes, please let me know.

Thank you.

Dick move of the week

We stopped watching Jon Stewart during the writers' strike, when "The Daily Show" returned early and, we determined, wasn't quite ready for not-quite prime time. He just sort of seemed to have lost it.

But based on this funny segment, which I caught thanks to the Huffington Post, I might be ready to give him another try.



(I just had trouble getting this embedded video to play here. If it doesn't work for you, try the HuffPost link above; you can see it there.)

Saving the enemy

Well, OK, the Seattle Times isn't exactly my enemy, only the main competitor of my last paper, the P-I. And I'm not exactly saving it. But I did agree -- not foolishly, I hope -- to take part in an online discussion at Crosscut on the topic "How to turn around the Seattle Times."

Chuck Taylor, my friend and the editor of Crosscut, asked a large group of former Times reporters and editors to join him in the virtual roundtable following the news this week that the paper is cutting 200 jobs, including 30 layoffs in the newsroom.

Chuck began by laying out a somewhat radical view of what the Times should do, including giving away the paper for free at newsstands and raising the home subscription price "until it's cheaper for people to buy and own an iPhone." Then my old colleague Peter Lewis chimed in with a few ideas, and last night I added some thoughts too. So far, with the exception of a meager comment thread from readers, that's the extent of the discussion. You can read it here if you're interested.

I had some trepidation about offering what could be construed as advice to the Times, having last worked at the P-I and holding out some hope of returning there. (Not that the Times would listen anyway or, for that matter, that I came up with anything particularly novel.) Anyway, I hope my former bosses aren't offended.

Meanwhile, in clicking around this morning I ran across this funny cartoon by Rob Tornoe at a new site called PolitickerWA.com.


PolitickerWA, about a month old now, is part of a growing national network of "Politicker" sites. In fact, I read just yesterday about PolitickerCA at LAObserved, one of my favorite sites, and looked to see if there was a WA version. Sure enough. Its managing editor is James Pindell, whose bio lists political reporting, editing and blogging gigs at several web sites and papers including the Boston Globe.

So far the content is a bit thin but it looks promising. The more sources for this kind of information the better, and I wish this enterprise well.

(Cartoon used by permission)

Hot naked chicks ...

... inside and out.


Not the most politically correct headline* for a post about Rosanne Olson's awesome new book, "This Is Who I Am," and probably not in fully keeping with the spirit of the enterprise either. But with the help of "... inside and out" maybe it's not so far off.

The actual subtitle of the book is "Our beauty in all shapes and sizes," and the point, as the title suggests, is that women (and the rest of us) can and should appreciate their beauty even if they're not glammed-up Hollywood cover girls. To prove the point, Rosanne interviewed women of all ages and body shapes and also photographed them nude.

The feelings the women share about their bodies, combined with the images, are enlightening and moving -- and, as John Marshall notes in a Seattle P-I piece on the book yesterday, they don't always seem to go together. One roundish woman is actually a triathlete; one attractive young woman is pickily dissatisfied with "flaws" that many people wouldn't notice; a 95-year-old woman seems at peace with who she is and how she looks.

"This Is Who I Am" caught my eye because Rosanne has been a friend since we worked together at the Eugene Register-Guard 25 years ago. She was a terrific newspaper photographer and it doesn't surprise me at all that she's having such success now as a commercial photographer and artist in Seattle.

It's been a long time since we've seen each other -- the last time might have been when Rosanne photographed Greta for the cover of her first CD in 1991 -- and it's been nice catching up with her via email over the past couple of days.

You can see more images and interview excerpts from "This Is Who I Am" at the official site, and also in a P-I photo gallery. Rosanne's appearing on "Good Morning America" on Sunday and has book signings in Portland and Eugene next weekend. I wish her all the best. She deserves it. She too is beautiful inside and out.

(Top photo copyright Rosanne Olson, used by permission)

* But good for SEO

The cost of free money

(Or, how to lose $500 dreaming of a thousand.)

This is a big week at the Muckleshoot Indian Casino, my card room of choice. In one of its quarterly promotions for regular poker players, the Muck is giving away $100,000 this week. On Monday through Friday nights, every hour from 7 to 10 p.m., they're drawing five names from a big barrel and giving each winner an envelope containing $1,000. They keep drawing until they get five winners an hour, so that's $5,000 an hour, $20,000 a night, $100,000 over the course of the week.

Free money!

All you had to do to qualify for the drawing was play a minimum of 25 hours over the past three months (they track your hours via credit card-type readers built in to every table). The more hours you played, the more tickets you had in the tub, but really any semi-regular had at least two tickets; I have three or four. Some wackos have dozens.

The only catch is that you have to be in the room when your name is called. What that means is that the place is packed like I've never seen it, even in the old days when they had "bad beat" jackpot promotions that sometimes topped $200,000. On Monday night, all 18 tables in the main room were full, and half of the newer "back room" was full too. There must have been 24 or 25 games going. And the excitement: It was like Christmas morning for degenerates.

I showed up on Monday night because, hey, I've got a shot, and it's free money! At 7 o'clock, the name Tuan Lee was called, and everyone cheered; they know Tuan. Except when he walked to the barrel to claim his winnings he was informed that, sorry, the winner was Tuan Ly, L-Y, a different guy. Who wasn't even there.

Two people whose tickets were drawn but who weren't present showed up half an hour later to learn their tardiness had cost them $1,000. Two other players, both present, were drawn twice over the course of the night -- two grand each for both of them.

For me, nothing, which shouldn't be a huge surprise. My paltry few tickets are a giant underdog in this promotion.

Meanwhile, in trying to pull down my share of the booty, I didn't have one of my better nights in my regular $4/8 game. Lost a hundred bucks, in fact. At this rate, I thought, I could lose $500 this week dreaming the unlikely dream of winning a thousand. Maybe I wouldn't make this a regular stop after all.

But then my friend David e-mailed me suggesting we play today (he's on vacation this week). So, good friend that I am, I trundled out there this afternoon. Always thinking of others, that's me, never ever myself.

Sadly, the scene and the results were similar. A lot of degenerates, a lot of oohs and ahs as familiar names were called, and even one "Mark" but, alas, not me. And I lost another hundred bucks. Poop.

David, playing at my same table, was on fire and won several hundred. Poker's dumb.

I got up to leave after the 8 p.m. drawing. The dealer at our table, Vinh, protested: "The drawing's not over yet," he said. "Two more hours."

Yeah, I said, but I can't afford to stick around and see if I win.

Never mind

Hillary might want to rethink that thing about spotting Obama two frames.



Hat tip to Truthdig for the video.

News news, good and bad

Strange day in the news biz yesterday. On what's normally a day of journalistic celebration, announcement of the year's Pulitzer Prizes, the Los Angeles Times formally retracted it's horribly flawed Tupac Shakur story of last month.

As was alleged earlier and then confirmed by the Times' own investigation of its own investigation, the paper was duped by some phony documents -- provided by a known con man, in prison no less. It's a terrible black eye for the paper I love, and I feel bad for the new editor Russ Stanton, a guy I know and like and who I hate to see having such trouble so soon after taking over.

Locally, the Seattle Times announced yesterday that previous budget cuts, a hiring freeze and even property sales wouldn't be enough: The paper is whacking about 200 jobs, including layoffs to come in the newsroom. It had to be a tough day over there at Fairview and John yesterday, and I can't imagine the mood was much better for my friends at the P-I. Is this a preview of what's to come there too?

The coolest Pulitzer announced yesterday was an honorary prize awarded to my hero, Bob Dylan, for his ''profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power.''

Curiously, I didn't see much news coverage singling out Dylan's award. I did like this quote, in an AP story, by David Lang, the classical composer who won the Pulitzer for music. ''Bob Dylan is the most frequently played artist in my household so the idea that I am honored at the same time as Bob Dylan, that is humbling,'' Lang told the AP.

And, coincidentally it seems, the LAT has this nice piece today about a new compilation CD of music drawn from Dylan's XM radio program.

Another new FOM&M

This week we've already announced one new Friend of M&M -- The Freda Blog -- and now there's another: Wish I Were Here, by Jim Thomsen.

Jim showed up in the comments yesterday, remarking first on my post about Ellen Craswell. As night news editor at the Kitsap Sun, Craswell's home paper, Jim had crossed paths with Ellen too and had a few thoughts to share.

I searched around and found his blog, which I immediately liked. I recognized Jim's name but couldn't quite place him; in fact I had to ask him in a comment thread on his site whether we knew each other. Turns out no, but he was an intern at the Seattle Times the year I started there; we may have met at an orientation or a writing workshop somewhere along the line.

Anyway, Wish I Were Here is a smart and eclectic blog about stuff going on in Jim's life, with topics that will be familiar to M&M readers: writing, music, the news biz, ethics.

And he's already shown up in several comment threads here, with good points or discussion joggers about whales, Stones, politics and more. Hey, anybody who shares my disgust for Richie Sexson is more than welcome.

Jazz Fest 2008

One of our big early stops on the Pie in the Sky Tour of America (II) will be to attend the second weekend of the Jazz Fest in New Orleans. Here's a slide show of our last trip to New Orleans and to the Jazz Fest:



For a slideshow with larger images go here.

In case you're wondering just how jealous you should be of our Jazz Fest pitstop, here's the lineup:

Friday, May 2

Art Neville, Stevie Wonder, John Prine, Michael Franti & Spearhead, Richard Thompson, John Butler Trio, John Hammond, Trombone Shorty & Orleans Ave., Marva Wright & the BMWs, Terence Blanchard & the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra, Papa Grows Funk, Sunpie’s Tribute to Clifton Chenier, Zigaboo Modeliste, The Jackson Southernaires, The Lee Boys, Bonerama, The Bad Plus, John Boutté, Soul Rebels, Ingrid Lucia, Coco Robicheaux & Spiritland, Theryl “Houseman” DeClouet, Chubby Carrier & the Bayou Swamp Band, Bluerunners, Wanda Rouzan, Driskill Mountain Boys, Ann Savoy’s Sleepless Knights, New Orleans Jazz Vipers feat. Sophie Lee, Stoney B & Grampa Elliot, Gina Forsyth & the Malvinas, Clive Wilson & the New Orleans Serenaders feat. Butch Thompson, New Wave Brass Band, Tuba Woodshed feat. Matt Perrine and Kirk Joseph, Belton Richard & the Musical Aces, Eve’s Lucky Planet, Larry Garner with Henry Gray, Ritmo Caribeño, New Orleans Jazz Ramblers, Louisiana Repertory Jazz Ensemble, Betty Winn & One A-Chord, Lyle Henderson & Emmanuel, Kid Simmons’ Local International Allstars, Pinettes Brass Band, D.L. Menard & the Louisiana Aces, Legacy – the students of Alvin Batiste, Greater Antioch Gospel Choir, New Orleans Mardi Gras Rhythm Indian Section, Ebenezer BC Radio Choir, Loyola University Jazz Ensemble, Casa Samba, The Smooth Family, Eulenspeigel Puppets of Iowa, Original Big Seven and Original Four SAPCs, McMain High School Gospel Choir, Fi Yi Yi & the Mandingo Warriors, New Orleans School of Circus Arts and ISL, Gospel Inspirations of Boutte, Rosedean Choir of South Africa, Scene Boosters and Old N Nu Fellas SAPCs…


Saturday, May

Marcia Ball, Jimmy Buffett, Diana Krall, Steel Pulse, The Roots, Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Bishop Paul S. Morton Sr. & the Greater St. Stephens Mass Choir, Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Henry Butler, Aaron Neville’s Gospel Soul, John Mooney & Bluesiana, the subdudes, New Leviathan Oriental Foxtrot Orchestra, Ruthie Foster, Irvin Mayfield & the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, Savoy Center of Eunice Saturday Cajun Jam, Charmaine Neville, The Dixie Cups, Nathan & the Zydeco Cha-Chas, James Andrews, Dr. Michael White & the Original Liberty Jazz Band feat. Thais Clark, Lillian Boutté, Geno Delafose & French Rockin’ Boogie, Stephanie Jordan, War Chief Juan & Young Fire, Pine Leaf Boys, Bionik Brown, Treme Brass Band, New Orleans Blues Serenaders, Spencer Bohren, Don Vappie & the Creole Jazz Serenaders, Roddie Romero & the Hub City Allstars, Lil’ Buck Sinegal feat. Rudy Richard, Feufollet, Pinstripe Brass Band, Storyville Stompers Brass Band, Tribute to Max Roach feat. Herlin Riley, Jason Marsalis, and Shannon Powell, Tondrae, Chappy, Danza feat. Evan Christopher and Tom McDermott, Beyond Measure, Lil Nathan & the Zydeco Big Timers, Rumba Buena, Rocks of Harmony, Guitar Lightnin’ Lee, St. Joseph the Worker Mass Choir, Big Chief Ke Ke & Comanche Hunters and White Cloud Hunters Mardi Gras Indians, Leviticus Gospel Singers, Tulane University Jazz Ensemble, Secondline Jammers, New Generation and Undefeated Divas SAPCs, Trouble Nation and Mohawk Hunters Mardi Gras Hunters, Archdiocese of New Orleans Mass Choir, Bester Singers, Donald Lewis, Young Guardians of the Flame, Stephen Foster’s Mid City Workshop Alumni Ensemble, Westbank Steppers, Valley of the Silent Men and Pigeon Town Steppers SAPCs, Golden Blade and Wild Tchoupitoulas Mardi Gras Indians…


Sunday, May 4

The Neville Brothers, Santana, Maze feat. Frankie Beverly, The Raconteurs, Dianne Reeves, Galactic, The Radiators, The Derek Trucks Band, Keb’ Mo’, Rebirth Brass Band, Sonny Landreth, Snooks Eaglin, John P. Kee & the New Life Community Choir, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Tribute to Mahalia Jackson feat. Irma Thomas, Marva Wright and Rachelle Richard, Vernel Bagneris: Jelly Roll & Me, Amanda Shaw & the Cute Guys, Ivan Neville’s Dumpstaphunk, DJ Captain Charles, Abigail Washburn & the Sparrow Quartet feat. Bela Fleck, Kenny Neal, Sherman Washington & the Zion Harmonizers, Bob French & the Original Tuxedo Jazz Band, Elysian Fieldz, The New Orleans Bingo Show!, Benny Grunch & the Bunch, Goldman Thibodeaux & the Lawtell Playboys, Jonathan Batiste, Rotary Downs, George French, Chris Ardoin & Nu Step, Guitar Slim Jr., Grupo Fantasma, Lost Bayou Ramblers, Ovi-G & the Froggies, The Revealers, Pfister Sisters, Salvador Santana Band, William Smith’s Tribute to Kid Sheik, Eddie Boh Paris aka Chops, SUBR Jazz Ensemble, Chris Clifton, Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz Ensemble, New Orleans Spiritualettes, Zulu Male Ensemble, The Jazz Jam, Tribute to Tuba Fats, Highsteppers Brass Band, Black Eagles, Hardhead Hunters and Apache Hunters Mardi Gras Indians, Lady Rollers and CTC Steppers SAPCs, Guyland Leday with Family & Friends Zydeco Band, Young Traditional New Orleans Brass Band, Watson Memorial Teaching Ministries, Wild Apaches, Young Magnolias and Black Feathers Mardi Gras Indians, Original Prince of Wales and the Original New Orleans Lady Buckjumpers SAPCs, Tornado Brass Band, Judy Stock, Minister Jai Reed…

If we get there early enough on Thursday, we might be able to stop in for Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, and Tower of Power.

Here's what we need ...

for the big M&M road trip. The title of this xkcd comic is "Cheap GPS."

God's plan for Ellen Craswell

It may have included a folding machine, as she loved to say, but apparently God's plan for Ellen Craswell didn't include a political comeback election as governor or, sadly, the opportunity to beat cancer a third time.

My friend David Postman, author of the excellent Seattle Times blog Postman on Politics, emailed this morning to let me know that Craswell died over the weekend (here's the Kitsap Sun obit). He knew I'd want to know, and I appreciated the note.

Craswell, pictured in a Seattle Times photo, isn't someone you'd automatically assume was my type. She was an old (75 when she died on Saturday), very conservative, very religious retired politician without much humor or even common cultural references. She didn't see movies or watch TV, and didn't read much of anything except the Bible. In her political career she wanted more religion in schools, softer laws against child abuse and, most famously, castration for sex offenders -- views that I, as a voter, probably wouldn't support. Yet I considered her an exceptionally warm person, a terrific journalistic subject and, finally, a sort of long-distance friend.

I covered Craswell for years when I was a statehouse reporter for the Seattle Times, but really got to know her in late 1994 and early 1995 as I wrote a feature about her for the Times' Sunday magazine. She had decided to run for governor and was considered a fringe candidate and sure loser. But this was at a time when I was most plugged into the state's politics and, although the election was two years away, I could see a path for her to the Republican nomination. I decided to do the magazine piece, which turned out to be one my favorites of my own stories, and it also turned out to be pretty prescient: She did navigate her way through a large Republican field to win the nomination, although she was easily defeated by Democrat Gary Locke in the 1996 general election.

Anyway, like a lot of people, as I got to know Ellen I was totally disarmed by her sincerity and her lack of pretension. I've known a lot of politicians and a lot of religious zealots and I have to say that, whatever one may think of her beliefs, she was the most honest of the lot. There wasn't an ounce of charlatan in her. She didn't even have the good sense -- or the trickster ability -- to soft-pedal her wackier ideas when a reporter was following her around with a notebook and tape recorder.

As I wrote in the story, Craswell believed that God had a plan for everything: the world, the country, the state, her. She found evidence in the smallest things; when she needed a folding machine to continue producing her religious-right newsletter and then got one, she believed that it was literally a miracle. Her job, she said, was to try her best to understand God's plan and then to let him work it through her.

She didn't win the election, but that's OK, she said, that was part of God's plan too. Later, when she got cancer and I visited with her in the hospital, she saw the illness as some vital part of God's plan, even if it was one she couldn't understand. Twice the cancer went away and came back before claiming her on Saturday.

My honest, journalistically unobjective opinion is that it's probably best that Ellen Craswell wasn't elected governor. And getting to know her never sent me back to church, if that was part of the plan. But I liked her a lot and I'm glad I got to know her.

My thoughts today are with Ellen's husband Bruce, her son Jim, who I met, and the rest of her large family of children and grandchildren.

A thing I have bought

I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point in my life, I became an art collector. It's an odd thing to be, I have always thought. You always think of art collectors being super rich. I started paying cash for art when I was still pretty much broke. In fact, my first piece of art was bought for me by a friend for $50 bucks because I really did not have that kind of cash back then. That piece was a portrait of me done by a guy who is now famous -- Jamie Mitchell, who has since changed his name to James Michalopoulos. I used to hang out with Jamie in New Orleans coffee houses back in the 1980s. Here's his painting of me.



Soon after, I became addicted to the art of Kay, which you can see over on her site.

One of my Kate Cohen originals:



And another:



And another:


Since coming to Seattle, I've become addicted to two artists I met at the Seattle PI: Andrew Saeger and Guillermo Munro. I bought these pieces off of them:
From Saeger:



From Guillermo:



Today, I bought another piece off of Guillermo. It should arrive next week. It's called Power Hurts:



Hooray! Art is cool. Too bad I don't live in France, where the government recently created some new tax incentives for art collectors.

Also recent great news for Guillermo: He's being featured in ART CHICAGO, the biggest art happening in Chicago. If you're interested in becoming a Guillermo collector, act now, before the prices go up! Check out his stuff on his site.

Announcing a new mom blog

Hey everybody,

Freda, a frequent commenatator on the M&M blog -- and also my mom -- has launched a blog of her own. Check her out at The Freda Blog.

And the Pulitzer goes to ...

Unlike the Oscars, there's no big buildup to the announcement of the Pulitzer Prizes for journalism, with lists of nominees and debates about the most deserving nominees. Not officially anyway.

Traditionally the prizes are awarded at a New York luncheon in the spring, about a month after the early April announcement of the winners but otherwise with no previous disclosure of which pieces or publications are in the running. For the past couple of decades, though, thanks to leaks from Pulitzer jurors, journalists around the country have had a pretty good idea of what has been nominated. That has allowed the familiar newsroom tableau of reporters and editors huddling around computer screens, hitting refresh on a list of wire stories until official word appears. Among other things, I expect such leaks allowed Michelle's bosses to have champagne at the ready when she won her Pulitzer back in the day.

This year's announcement of winners is tomorrow, but this time the buzz is significantly diminished. As Poynter Online describes in an interesting piece by Roy Harris, who has a new book about the Pulitzers, inside sources on the prizes are all drying up. For example, Editor & Publisher magazine has taken pride over the years in breaking the secret list of nominees, but this year, according to Harris, it has cracked only four of the 14 categories.

Dave Boardman, the Seattle Times editor who has been on the judging and receiving ends of the Pulitzer process, figures prominently in the Poynter story, and it turns out Boardman still harbors much bitterness about a 2002 Times investigation that was nominated for a prize but didn't win. That episode, in fact, is said to figure prominently in the clamming up of jurors.

Harris' piece is a good look inside this process.

These guys are old, but they totally rock

That was Gina's comment this evening after she and I saw "Shine a Light," the amazing new Rolling Stones concert movie by director Martin Scorsese. Aside from being a perfect capsule review of the film, Gina's line, as Michelle noted later, was the dream response from a teenage daughter.

Wow, imagine: My kid thinks it's possible, theoretically anyway, for old guys to be cool!

It's hard to believe the Rolling Stones are in their mid-60s now, that they've been at this for 45 years-plus, and that they still rock so hard. Especially when you consider how much damage they've done to their bodies over the years.

Scorsese's genius technique in this movie, as it was in "The Last Waltz," his 1978 film about The Band's farewell concert, is to get the cameras right up on stage, so you have an experience you couldn't get even from the front row of the audience. With multiple angles and near-constant camera movement, you're right there for every Mick Jagger strut, Keith Richards vamp, Ronnie Woods burning guitar solo and Charlie Watts steady but effective drumbeat. And more -- backup singers, a soulful horn section and, from time to time, Scorsese's jittery instructions to his crew.

Jagger looks great at 62 (his age when this New York concert was filmed two years ago). His deeply lined face and slightly deflated lips are the only hints to his age. Everything else -- his hair, clothes, physique and, especially, his on-stage energy -- looks like classic Mick from 30 or 40 years ago.

At one point the concert footage pauses for a flashback to an early Jagger TV interview. It must have been 1964 or 1965; Mick doesn't look to be much more than a teenager and he says something about the band having been together for two years. How long would they keep playing, he is asked. Actually, he says, he's surprised they've lasted this long. Maybe they've got another year left in them.

The quick cut back to the Beacon Theater show, 40 years later, provides the real answer.

Richards, looking like he just escaped from a nursing home for old pirates, lays down his signature hooks and brilliantly minimalist guitar riffs, and he trades knowing looks and accomplished solo lines with Woods. In another cutaway interview Woods and Richards playfully spar about who's the better guitar player. The truth, Richards says finally, is that neither of them alone is very good, but "put us together and we're better than any 10 other players."

Hyperbole? I don't know. They're pretty damn good. Jack White, of the White Stripes, no slouch guitarist himself, comes on to play one song with the band. He can barely hide his glee. I'm onstage with the Rolling Stones! A bit later the legendary blues guitarist and singer Buddy Guy comes out for a tune ("Champagne and Reefer," one of highlights of the show). This time the admiration is on the other foot. Though older than the Stones, Guy looks younger, plays with every bit as much vigor and, you can tell, is a longtime idol of the band. Mick and Keith especially look thrilled to be in his presence.

The music in the film is rhapsodic if you're a Stones fan, but, as Gina's experience testifies, effective even if you're not. The 1978 album "Some Girls" is heavily represented, and there are plenty of the older big hits: "Jumpin' Jack Flash," "Brown Sugar" and "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" among them.

Watching, I was struck by how simple many of the Stones' songs are: a catchy hook and some straightforward, even shallow, lyrics, all laid over basic blues-based chord changes. The magic lies in some spectacular solo work, the warm interplay among the band members and, especially, the power and vitality Jagger brings to the show as singer, dancer and all-around circus master.

These last two elements particularly are at the heart of Scorsese's movie, and its greatest accomplishment. It puts you there in the middle of the band and the show. As one of the tunes goes: "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Woo!" 4 gliomas.

(Gina and I saw the film in the super-size IMAX format, which makes the on-stage feeling even stronger, but it's also playing in regular theaters.)

Here's the trailer for "Shine a Light," followed by a 1969 performance of "Honky Tonk Woman" for the sake of comparison.

Blow, hump and tail

Right, sounds like a typical Friday night in college. But actually, those were the bywords we were given today as we kept an eye out for gray whales in Puget Sound. Michelle's mom Freda is in town, visiting from New Orleans, and we took her this morning for a four-hour whale-watching tour out of Everett, 45 minutes or so north of here.


When we got to the dock -- with only a minute to spare thanks to some unusually heavy traffic in Seattle -- we were greeted by a nice young woman in a dark green and black Gore-Tex jacket. Her intro was the Northwest equivalent of a SoCal restaurant server's:

"Hello, I'm Kate and I'll be your naturalist today!"

OK then, let's go!

Our tour boat, the Island Explorer 3, puttered around the shores of Whidbey, Hat and Camano islands for a couple of hours with Kate, on a loudspeaker, masking the absence of any whales by pointing out some seabirds -- her favorite is the double-crested cormorant -- and a few very cool California Sea Lions, including one that we saw chomping into a salmon he had just caught. Very Mutual of Omaha-y.

This sightseeing company, Island Adventures, guarantees that you'll see a whale on the tour, though, and Captain Mike seemed none to eager to give in without a hit. Finally he said he had received word that some grays were 10-15 minutes from our location, and he opened the throttle.

When we got there, sure enough, a group of three of these massive animals were surfacing frequently -- first a plume of vapor and water, followed by a good long view of its humped, barnacled back as it rolled through the water and then, once or twice, a glimpse of its tail, or fluke. We were close enough to hear them exhale and to smell their rank breath. Pretty spectacular, really.

We had to laugh at Kate, though, who was really into her job and couldn't contain her enthusiasm for the whales. At one point she was describing how remarkably aware they are of their own enormous bodies -- 45 feet long, as much as 3,000 pounds -- "and remember," she said, "they're living in a three-dimensional world while ours is only two-dimensional."

My stomach begs to differ; it's getting more 3-D every day.

Michelle took some great pictures of the whales, and I'm sure she'll post some soon. I just wanted to give a quick report with a couple of snapshots.

Chilly out there, though not as cold as either of the baseball games I attended this week. It was a very fun day, and as we said we were glad we had Freda here as a "tourist" to entertain. We'd never have taken the trip today on our own.

Obama is no Jesus

The other day I was playing cards and glanced up at the TV to see some sportscasters laughing at what looked to be a clip of Barack Obama bowling. I checked it out later and, sure enough, stumping for votes in Pennsylvania Obama had the bright idea to establish his blue-collar cred with a trip to the lanes.

He should have taken a minute to think about whether he could bowl. Or at least asked if the lanes had those bumpers like they use for 5-year-olds' birthday parties.

Gutter ball after gutter ball. Check it out. Pathetic.



Hillary Clinton, no dummy, jumped right on the opportunity, challenging Obama to a "bowl-off" for the nomination, even offering, as Maureen Dowd points out in this excellent op-ed piece, to spot him two frames.

I don't know if Hillary can bowl either, or McCain. And I'm not sure settling the presidency in the alley is the way to go anyway. If it were, I guess my candidate would be Jesus -- no, the other Jesus, from one of the great movies of all time, "The Big Lebowski."

Now here's how to bowl:

So Long, Celexa

About a year ago, it dawned on me that I wasn't handling my new status as Cancer Girlfriend very well. I was depressed and freaked out. Mark would turn his head to the side to look at the clock and I'd jump out of my skin, thinking he was having another seizure. (He does a slow head turn every time he has a seizure.) I did the "watchout! Mark's having a seizure!" routine about 15 times a day. It got on his nerves. It was making me crazy.

I kept replaying the moment when Mark slid out of his chair and went into an hours-long Grand Mal seizure. I kept imagining all the worst case scenarios. I couldn't stop worrying. I'd be walking around the Home Depot sizing up power tools, and my heart would suddenly start racing out of the blue. I'd be driving down the highway and seize up with a sudden feeling of panic. I was a basketcase.

I tried for a long time -- five months -- to bull through the side-effects of Cancer Girlfriend-itis. Then in March, I said screw it. I went to see the doctor, who practically flung the anti-anxiety drug Celexa at me and told me to get started on it right away.

Now, a year later, it felt like time to wean off the drugs that got me through the hardest time. Recently I've been constantly clenching my jaw -- through the entire day. My face hurt. For some reason, the heart palpitations had come back. And then, there was the fact that I was eerily in a good, upbeat mood all the time. That's mostly great, but when your boyfriend is dealing with the sadness of having brain cancer, it's kind of weird to always be looking at that sadness through a veil of drug-induced good mood. I found myself wanting to feel my feelings again. And so I went to the doctor again. I started weaning off the drugs two weeks ago. My last dose was Thursday.

So long, Celexa, hello crazy ass side effects.

For four days now (it takes three days for the drug to get completely out of your system) I've been walking around feeling like my brain is floating inside a water balloon. I'm disoriented, wobbly, dizzy, spacey, forgetful -- did I mention spacey? I have had the constant feeling like I need to throw up. Mark says it sounds just like chemo side effects. Too bad I didn't time it to coincide with chemo week.

At the ballgame last night, I found myself just staring out into the distance, and then sort of coming to again, however many minutes lost to a spaceout. Today, I totally missed a warning at the morning news meeting not to post a story before a certain time because of an embargo. The story went up too early, creating all kinds of havoc.

Last night I went online to try and figure out how the hell long I have to put up with this Swiss cheese memory, the weird bobbing brain, the space outs, the dizziness.

People who have been through this before report that it can take anywhere between one week and two months to fully get past the withdrawal.

According to one study on Pubmed: SSRI withdrawel symptoms "include dizziness, light-headedness, insomnia, fatigue, anxiety/agitation, nausea, headache, and sensory disturbance. The syndrome may last up to 3 weeks." Sensory disturbance. Yike.

Celexa is an SSRI -- selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. It keeps you cheery by keeping serotonin -- a cheer-inducing substance -- circulating in your brain longer than usual. Usually, seratonin floats around in your brain juice for a while, then is removed -- a process called "reuptake." SSRI's block that "reuptake," forcing the serotonin -- and lots of it -- to stick around and keep you all cheered up.

So now, the serotonin plug has been pulled out of the drain. The seratonin is getting sucked out of my brain like nobody's business. It's a pretty disorienting experience.

Some say depression follows this little period of discombobulation. I'm hoping that won't be part of my experience. Some get it, some don't.

For now, I'm hoping every day I'll wake up and my brain won't feel like it's floating in a water balloon, and I'll stand up and won't feel like falling down. And I won't feel like barfing. And won't forget everything.

Maybe tomorrow.

Mid-season form, only colder

It was M&M Night at Safeco Field -- our first game of the season together -- and I must say we had our form down like it was the middle of summer. Michelle scored us the fancy-pants P-I tickets in the "Terrace Club," the exclusive second-level seating area with its own limited-access restrooms, concessions and lodge-like bar, and I rounded up our standard order: a jumbo "major league" dog and a microbrew for me ($14.50) and a regular "minor league" dog and giant diet Pepsi for her ($12.25), and we grabbed our front-row seats.

Here's the view:

We got to the game in the bottom of the first inning, and the Mariners' so-called clean-up hitter Richie Sexson was batting. As always, the usher asked us to wait for a break in the action before walking down to our seats, so we wouldn't block the other spectators' view.

"OK," I said, "we can wait until Sexson strikes out."

I hate to watch Sexson. He's 6-foot-8, a giant galumph of a first baseman who once upon a time hit home runs but now rarely makes any contact at all. In his seven-year career he has more strikeouts than hits. $15 million a year he makes.

"Oh, no," the usher said. "He's going to get a hit!"

I teased him about this apparently being his first game at Safeco Field. He laughed, and then when Richie whiffed with his signature giant swing-and-miss, we took our seats.

There was no snow, like on Opening Day, but it was still colder than hell in the park. Michelle was smart enough to bring the nice warm blanket that our friend Susan made for us, and she loaned it out for a couple of innings to Ken Bunting, the associate publisher from work, and his wife, whose name I never remember, sitting next to us. Eventually it got so cold they closed the roof, and that helped just a little.


Here's the inside bar where many of the Terrace Club fans, including the Buntings, retreated as the temp dropped:


Nice tight ballgame for the first seven innings. Felix Hernandez -- "King Felix," the Mariners' ace of the future, who turns all of 22 years old next week -- held the Rangers to one run and the score was tied going into the eighth inning.

Sexson predictably missed a couple of chances to help. When he came up for the third time the scoreboard flashed his stats so far: a .000 batting average for the young season and, for tonight, the notation "Struck out swinging" and "Struck out looking." I heard a lady behind us wonder aloud, "How's he gonna do it this time? Struck out sneezing?" I liked that. Mid-season cynicism from a regular fan.

I'd say Richie was in mid-season form too, but he obviously has a few kinks to work out. He only struck out three times. Once he managed to get wood on the ball for a weak popup out and another time he stroked a clean single to left field.

In the 8th Seattle's normally genius bullpen came in and gave up two runs, but the Mariners miraculously came back and scored three in the bottom of the inning to retake the lead. Then, totally unexpectedly, the usually lights-out closer J.J. Putz, one of the best in the game, blew the save in the ninth inning and Ms notched their first loss of the year.

Still, a fun night. There'll be more hot dogs and strikeouts where those came from, and in warmer weather too.

Langston on assignment

Triple treat this morning: I walked up to my current favorite West Seattle hang, Bakery Nouveau, to meet P-I reporter Jennifer Langston for an almond croissant and cappuccino.

These dudes know how to make a croissant. In fact everything I've had from this bakery is excellent; Michelle and I are baguette regulars. Even the coffee's good.

It was really nice to catch up with Langston, who gets my vote for best all-around reporter and writer in the P-I newsroom. I had some hits and misses in my time as metro editor there, but the one thing I know I got right was spotting Jennifer's talent (going ... well, not wasted exactly, but underutilized) in the paper's north-suburban bureau and moving her into a vital beat that we created together: Seattle-area growth and development.

She totally rocked in the gig until ducking out on a one-year leave with her husband, Seattle Times reporter Craig Welch, who won a Harvard Nieman Fellowship for the 2006-07 academic year. Jen had a dream opportunity as Craig's tag-along: She was able to audit any class at Harvard, as he was, but without the fellows' thesis requirements. Craig's now on leave writing a book, and Jennifer's back at the P-I working as a general assignment reporter.

Anyway, she was going to be in West Seattle this morning for a story, so we agreed to meet over coffee. She talked about what she's been up to lately, I talked about our upcoming road trip -- she was encouraging about the book idea I've kicked around -- and we chatted about the news biz and how much we enjoyed working together (true, I think, for both of us).

When I start my 5 Guys and a Mac newspaper, you can bet Jen will be in the crew.