Saturday, December 25, 2010

Christmas Breakfast Reprise


[At the special request of Karin, the Altadena Hiker, the engineer of the best Christmas Train around, mystery woman of the East Denas, and Queen of All Internet Smackdowns, whose every wish is my command (whether she knows it or not), and who, I might mention, is tall enough to be the perfect height, I'm reposting for the third consecutive year, my Christmas Breakfast Story.]








Christmas morning can be a challenging time for a single Jewish guy who wants to go someplace for breakfast. Every year I get in my car and drive up to Pasadena, and I always seem to find at least one place that's open. One year, the bakery next to Mi Piaci on Colorado was open. Another year, it was Robin's. It seems to vary from year to year, and I can't seem to count on any place to be open year after year.

Several years ago, as I made my way into Old Town on Christmas morning, I noticed that Ruby's Diner (http://www.rubys.com/) at the corner of Green and Fair Oaks was open. Ruby's was a '50s-style diner that had great food and waiters and waitresses dressed in 50s-style outfits.  (It has long since left Pasadena, but can still be found in some other locations like Fullerton, for example.)  Sometimes my swing-dancing friends and I would go there in the evening after a dance at PBDA (http://www.pasadenaballroomdance.com/) and dance to the 50s music in the aisles between the tables. I was really happy that Ruby's was open that Christmas morning.

Upon arriving, I realized that I needed to buy an LA Times to read as I ate, but decided I'd wait until after I ordered my meal. As I entered, a young woman greeted me and asked me if I was there for breakfast. I thought this was a rather odd question. It was around 8:00 am, so what else would I be doing walking into a restaurant? I noticed that the waiters and waitresses were not wearing their usual Ruby's outfits. Instead they were wearing blue jeans and flannel shirts. I thought, "That's funny, but it is Christmas, and maybe they just thought they'd let them wear regular clothes."

I was taken to a booth, and I sat down waiting for someone to bring me coffee and a menu and take my order. As I waited, I noticed that instead of the usual salt and pepper shakers on the table there were those little paper envelopes. I also noticed that the utensils were plastic. I thought, "Well, it's Christmas, I guess they didn't want to bring in a full crew of dishwashers and others."

I thought it was odd that it was taking so long for them to come and take my order, when suddenly two young waitresses appeared at my table. One had a pot of coffee and the other had a rectangular styrofoam plate containing scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast, which she began to place in front of me. "What's this?" I asked. "It's breakfast," one of them said. "But I didn't order this," I said.

Just then a light went on in my head. "Is this a free breakfast for the homeless?" I asked.  "Yes," she said. "Oh," I said trying to slide down under the table from embarrassment, "I can't eat this. I didn't realize..."  "Don't worry about it," she said, "We have enough food to feed 500 people and only 50 have shown up. We're just going to have to throw it out." 
So reluctantly, I began to eat my free Christmas breakfast. I looked around sheepishly at the other diners. I saw a few homeless-looking people, and a few large tables of what appeared to be special-needs patients. I had to eat my breakfast without the company of the LA Times, because you see, I felt so guilty for being there, I didn't have the nerve to show I had disposable income by getting up and spending a quarter on a newspaper.

After I was done, I went over and offered to pay for my food or to make a donation. The waitress said, "There's no way you can. We don't have registers working, and all the food's been donated and paid for. We're just going to have to send all the leftovers to the park where they're serving lunch, but there will be way too much food."

So that's the story of my embarrassing Christmas breakfast at Ruby's Diner.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Great Tamale Headline Keyboard Smackdown


It all started when Facebook Friend Kris decided to present her tamale-party dinner.  She placed it on her computer, but used a newspaper as a "barrier" to protect the keyboard.

I followed suit with a tamale, a plate, a newspaper, and a keyboard.  The Tamale Headline Keyboard Smackdown was on.  I thought the Giants World Series Victory was a nice touch.

We soon discovered we'd been hoarding some interesting headlines.  Rules: Tamale (or part thereof), plate, keyboard, newspaper.



Lorena Bobbit touch


                                        
                                            Were we suckers?



Lemon or not?




Which one's the Jesus Juice?

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

SF GIANTS - WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONS







                                                                




The Following is from a blog called RocketShoes
by Drew Hoohorst

This is why I’m a Giants fan. This exact moment. Scratch that: this is why I like stupid, grunt grunt sports in general. San Francisco, this very moment.
It’s legitimately a magical time in San Francisco right now. I have the fortune of working approximately two blocks away from AT&T/”For Christsakes, it’s PacBell” Park, and it’s been absolutely surreal. If a unicorn came around the corner and high fived me right now and said, “Go Giants”, I wouldn’t even take an earbud out. I’d just high hoove him right back and point and smile.
For people who don’t understand why people love sports so much, move to a town where this kind of thing might happen, and you’ll get it.
This team has done something to this city that is unreal. It’s even more unreal because this is San Francisco. Home of the polarizing “I hate your district NO I HATE YOUR DISTRICT LET’S MAKE OUT THOUGH BECAUSE WE BOTH LOVE SAN FRANCISCO” landscape. Hipsters hate marina guys. Marina guys hate hipsters. We judge every goddamn thing on the planet that isn’t organic, and then can’t understand why people judge the crap out of us right back (irony alert). I mean…I work down the block from a fucking artisan grilled cheese store. This town is, by no means, indicative of the rest of the American landscape. We’re just weird, and we embrace the living crap out of it.
And right now, everyone is a Giants fan. Everyone. Your grandma. That homeless guy directing you into a wide open parking spot and then expecting you to congratulate him for his non-feat with a dollar. Right now? I’d give him two. Because this town is effing electric.
You know what? To all the people who hate “bandwagon” fans? Let it go. Who cares. You know who you are? You’re the guy who liked the Kings of Leon and then got mad when everyone else did. You’re the guy who said “this band is SO good”, and then when someone said, “hey I agree” you said NO YOU DON’T ONLY I CAN LIKE THEM. That’s silly. Knock it off. Let them in. Buy them a beer, or a kombucha. Whatever it is. I don’t care. Just let this happen and stop Eeyoring the crap out of our unlimited happiness we’re on the brink of.
I love sports for this reason. Every now and then, everyone just stops being so damn frumpy and acts like our city is just a big college. You ever been to a college town that really loves their team a scary amount? Like, Ray Finkel’s Mom amounts? It’s great. You know why? Because everyone is just actually nice to each other. You have a common bond. And whether or not it’s a bond that is contingent upon a guy throwing a ball or waving a wooden stick, it’s an awesome bond.
I love this time. I find myself smiling at people when I buy coffee. I see my friends who bicker over ridiculous crap calling each other and inviting each other to hang out. I see strangers hugging because a guy from the Dominican Republic is hitting sac fly’s. Marina guys are wearing the same goddamn t-shirt hipster guys are wearing. HOW CAN YOU NOT BOTTLE THIS MOMENT UP? We’re in a vacuum. Enjoy it.
I have grown up with the Giants. My brother and I spend half of our “that’s so adorable that they are ACTUALLY best friends” time talking to each other about them; it genuinely brings us together.  It’s in the blood of my family, and I was taught from a very young age to bring a blanket to the ‘stick because it’s never a comfortable temperature in this city. My mother and father brought our family together with this ridiculous game. If you never lived here or you’re just getting on the bandwagon? Let me be your creepy metaphorical father and open the front door and hand you a beer. Welcome. We love you, too.
So fear the Just for Men beard. Embrace the fact that every woman in town is in love with the good guy (THAT NEVER HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE). Embrace the fact that we have a pitcher that resembles one of the greatest characters in film history, one Mitch Kramer (he even smokes pot…how San Francisco is that?). Embrace it.
No matter what happens, San Francisco, embrace it. This is why we like sports. Because they are ridiculous, and they make people really happy when we’d usually just bide the time complaining about what we don’t like about each other.
Embrace it, San Francisco. This is why we like each other. Right now.

Friday, September 17, 2010

South Pasadena City Council Exposed

[This editorial appeared on September 16, 2010, in the Pasadena Star News and related San Gabriel Valley News papers.  It's nice to know that someone with a voice has some sense.]

We've reported since late last year on the odd way popular former South Pasadena police Chief Dan Watson was removed from his job - or, as the city would have it, did not have his contract renewed. He was recently hired as police chief by the town of Mammoth Lakes.

In theory, the appointed city manager, rather than the elected City Council, appoints chiefs of police. But we've also reported on the strong public perception in South Pasadena that the Watson resignation and the looming - and now, as of Wednesday night, actual - appointment of a retired former South Pasadena sergeant, Joe Payne, was engineered by council members, many of whom have known Payne for decades, not by relatively new City Manager John Davidson.

Because personnel issues are discussed in closed sessions, it will remain hard to prove much about whether a putsch was engineered in South Pasadena. But we certainly know that the council abused California's open-meeting laws when it met with Payne and another chief candidate using the ruse of an executive session labeled "performance evaluation of the city manager." A leading open-government expert said that fudging of the facts violates California's Brown Act.
Joe Payne is well-known and well-liked in South Pasadena, his hometown even after he left the force. If his appointment sticks, he may well be an excellent chief - we hope so. But community concerns about the whole process deserve to be addressed by City Hall.

Citizens know that, whether or not Payne will really be a pushover for the salary demands of the union he belonged to for decades, he was recently glowingly profiled in a city employees' union newsletter as a "stalwart" and a "workhorse." They know that four of five council members - the principled exception being Richard Schneider - were behind the move to dump Watson by "inviting him to reapply for his job," a dishonor he declined. They know that, though Payne indeed served the department for a long time, it's highly unusual for a policeman who's never been in senior management ranks to take over a department, even in a small town. South Pas has 25,000 residents, for instance; Sierra Madre about 11,000. Yet when the latter hired Marilyn Diaz as chief, she came as a commander from the Pasadena Police Department.

Come clean, South Pasadena. Confession is good for the soul.

Friday, August 6, 2010

My Kind of Town

I was enlisted to fly to Chicago to teach two one-hour classes.  Things got off to a good start when I misplaced my car keys with just enough time to head for the airport.  Luckily, I found the backups.  Got to the airport.  Long lines to check bags at American, but none were moving.  I have no idea what these counter people were doing to go so slow.  An agent tells me there are shorter lines at the other end.  She's right, but they were moving even slower.  Takes me a full hour to get checked in and through security.


We get on the plane a little late and when we're all on and ready to go the pilot announces that the navigation computer isn't working right.  We sit for an hour while they fix it.  At some point, some people get up and head for the front of the plane.  The attendants announced that people should sit down, but apparently some got off.  Finally we taxi out to the runway.  But then, we pull off to the side.  The captain explains that because some people got off, they have to recalculate the weight and fuel.  We wait, and wait, and wait.  The captain is pissed, "I'm not getting the information I need to take off," he tells us.  Then they have the attendants come out and hand count the passengers.  I mean come on.  If you knew it was important why didn't you count the ones who got off?  Why did you let them get off in the first place?  Who knows what's going on?  Maybe they had to retrieve their bags or something.  After about 45 more minutes of sitting by the side of the taxiway, we finally get to leave.  When I ask out loud if they can go over the safety instructions again, no one laughs.  And don't expect free drinks anymore  when this kind of stuff happens.  These planes don't carry enough food and drink to go around.  They routinely run out of the "food" they're selling.


When we arrive in Chicago two-and-a-half hours late, we learn that there's no gate for us.  That's another twenty minutes.  I look at the news on my Blackberry.  Seven dogs dead on American Airlines flight to Chicago earlier that morning.  This is not AA's day.  Or maybe it's their usual, I don't know.  As we get off, the captain announces that our bags will be at carousel 5.  Our flight is not on the monitors at the baggage claim.  I ask an agent and she tells me that our bags will probably come out on carousel 7.  She doesn't tell all the other passengers that.  Why bother?  She also tells me that the monitors are broken.  After probably 45 minutes I see that our bags are coming out on carousel 7.  After I get mine, I go back and tell the others who are waiting at 5 to go to 7.  For a moment, I'm in control of the baggage area.  Is there a work slowdown at American?


But that's not the story.  The story is how the big 300 pound guy, who looked like he had no business walking into a Hyatt Regency, jumped in between my friend and his wife as we're walking into the revolving door at our hotel after dinner.  The guy blocks the door with his foot and starts pounding on the glass.  My friend is trapped inside the door, and I'm in the back, exposed to the street, but there are two guys behind me.  At first I think the guy who's blocking the door is crazy and he's throwing some kind of weird tantrum.  But then the guys behind me are kind of getting up too close to me and telling me to push on the door with both hands as hard as I can, as if this happens all the time and they know just what the cure is.  This makes little sense to me.  In split seconds, I'm trying to decide if the door is broken and the crazy guy is trying to help fix it, but I keep seeing he's blocking it.  "He's blocking the door," I say.  The guys behind me keep telling me to push with both hands.  But I realize it would be futile, and I also realize that I have no particular need to get through this door, so I say, "Why would I do that?" and step aside and over to one of the regular doors.  Only when I'm in the lobby and they are gone do I realize that this was all about picking my pockets, but they didn't get anything.  I don't leave things that exposed, and I never committed both hands to pushing the door as they wanted me to.


Well I'm glad their little plot was foiled and I didn't have to spend today in Chicago trying to figure out how to fly without identification or money.  These guys seemed like amateurs.  I could give them some tips on what they did wrong, but I'll save that for another day.

Friday, July 30, 2010

It's My Birthday Too, Yeah!

My friend Dixie Jane, mother of Laurie over at Glimpses of South Pasadena, wrote this lovely poem for me today, and I just had to share!  
Thanks again, DJ!


Let the celebration get started
And the banners all unfurl
Tomorrow is a day to remember
It's the birthday of Mister Earl.

Dixie Jane would not find a new beau
She's just not that sort of a girl
But she would fly the miles it would take
For a dance with Mister Earl.

It's memories you'll make
With champagne and cake
As we give the dance floor a twirl
Happy Birthday, dear friend, and many, many more
To the man we call Mister Earl.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Save Hahamongna

On July 12, the Pasadena City Council will consider whether or not to build soccer fields in Hahamongna Watershed Park. We oppose the building of these soccer fields. Hahmongna is a watershed that should remain in its natural state. Soccer fields can be placed anywhere. A watershed like this cannot be replaced.

For more information please look at these websites:

Monday, July 5, 2010

Fifth of July

looking out the fishbowl
at this beethoven bust
ever since the canine
no one's looking at us
but i bet with a running start
we could leap out of the water
a two foot drop to the oriental rug
and no one would be bothered
we could flip and flop across the hardwood floor
hold our breath through the lawn
the bust now sits where a globe used to be
canada should be at the end of this street
and lake louise is where i want to be

it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what

looking out the kennel
at the dying oak tree
ever since the newborn
no one's looking at me
but i bet with these incisors
i could gnaw through this lead
a two mile run to the county line
a two state run to the sea
i could run through the briars and the brambles
where a rabbit wouldn't go
so fast the hounds couldn't catch me
like a johnny horton show
and anywhere is where i wanna be

it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what

one if by land
two if by sea
three if by phone or facsimile
four if by plane
five if by boat
six if bilingual
seven by goat
eight by ten glossies of me

looking out the bedroom
at the snowy tv
ever since commencement
no one's asking 'bout me
but i bet before the night falls
i could catch the late bus
take small provisions and this beethoven bust
i could find work in the outskirts of the city
eat some fish on the way
befriend an old dog for a roadside pal
find a nice couch to stay
a pull sofa, if you please

it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what

FIFTH OF JULY
by Eddie from Ohio - A folk-rock band from Virginia
Artwork by Suzanne Thiel, Lansing, Michigan

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Fourth of July


Comerica Bank Restoration Update


The bank as it looked from circa 1960 to 2009. The clock, over what once was and is now again the main entrance, continued to operate. This was a branch of Security Pacific Bank at some point, but I don't recall that it was used for anything but a furniture store since I arrived in South Pasadena in 1981.
In this photo, taken June 20, 2010, the restoration is complete, and the palm trees have been planted. The one thing they didn't get right in the restoration is the ATM machine, which was much more understated in the 1920s.
In 1920, the First National Bank building on the corner of Fair Oaks and Mission in South Pasadena looked like this. Notice the streetcar tracks in the middle of Fair Oaks:
A careful examination of the back of the building reveals that the stonework is a facade. I presume the original stonework was a facade as well. The folks at the bank say they will display a photo of the 1920 bank on their wall soon. Comerica is only using the front portion of the building. They plan to lease out the rear portion, although from the looks of the raised concrete slab and the concrete room in the center of the rear space, the lessee will have a lot of jack-hammering to do.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Restoration



In 1920, the First National Bank building on the corner of Fair Oaks and Mission in South Pasadena looked like this. Notice the streetcar tracks in the middle of Fair Oaks:

Today, almost completely restored and about to open as a branch of Comerica Bank, it looks like this:

For more information, including a glimpse at what the building looked like in the interim, see today's post on Laurie Allee's wonderful blog Glimpses of South Pasadena.

A careful examination of the back of the building reveals that the stonework is a facade. I presume the original stonework was a facade as well. To see what the building looked like before this restoration, go to Google Maps and look at the street view of Fair Oaks and Mission.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Pasadena City Hall






These photos were taken during Pasadena Public Information Officer Ann Erdman's tour of city hall for several local bloggers. I especially loved hearing about the history of the building, which only cost a little more than a million dollars when it was built in the 1920s.

Monday, May 3, 2010

La Super Rica Taqueria

The Santa Barbara taqueria that Julia Childs made famous. It's at the corner of Milpas and Alphonse. Exit the 101 at Milpas and head toward the mountains. It's tasty, unique, and funky. Most of the time there's a line, but this day it was not as busy as usual.




Saturday, April 24, 2010