as geeked out as i get

So I'm watching ST:TNG on SpikeTV this afternoon because the weather is a mix of snow, sleet, and soul-crushing general ickiness. Plus, I have nothing else to do at this particular moment in time.

It's the episode called "Starship Mine," which is a great episode in many ways -- not that you care -- but there's a moment near the start that I just realized has always bothered me.

It's when Picard ducks out of the reception because he wants to go riding, and he claims he needs to go get his saddle. And he acts all bumbling and inept about it, which is so not Picard-like, but that's not actually what gets me.

No, what gets me is that Deanna is one of the people who seems shocked -- shocked! -- that Picard keeps a saddle in his quarters. She and Geordi seem to be insinuating that he's clearly lying about his attachment to his saddle just to get out of having to listen to the inane Commander Hutchinson ("Call me Hutch!") and his endless small talk.

But! In Season 2, there's an episode called "Pen Pals" in which Picard tries to go riding on the holodeck. He doesn't quite make it (the actual, you know, plot interferes), but before we get to that, we get a long, presumably necessary bit of character exposition about how Picard has all these varied interest because he makes a point of going to the holodeck with Deanna so that he might explain to her the elements of a true horse-lover's connection to riding and its accoutrements ... including his saddle.

(By the way, is anyone else amused that Marina Sirtis has almost exactly the same body language in these two shots? Weird.)

Not that TNG was ever known for its outstanding continuity, but given that the horse thing was actually a recurring aspect of Picard's life -- I don't know, maybe it represents his "sensitive side" or something equally lame -- the writers should have gotten this a little more right. Yes, it's terrifying and awful that I know this and more so that I care. Yes, I'm That Fan, the one who nitpicks the Nitpicker's Guide. It's even more terrifying and awful that I'm still going to watch this episode. Because I'm sure as hell not leaving my house today.

Canceling cable when we move? Definitely the right choice.

may 24 cannot come soon enough

I mean, honestly.

i love highschool friends

Me: "So, I have to ask. What kind of pain am I going to endure as the wife of a 1L next year?"

Mr. S.: "Wow. Well, do you want the real answer, or should I lie to you?"

Me: "I am not drunk. So ... lie."

Mr. S.: "It's like ice cream and unicorns every day."

Hot! Gotta love your senior year homecoming date.

an entirely pointless post

Planet Earth gets more and more entertaining. Seriously -- the penguins and the eider ducks? Awesome footage. Although we're pretty convinced that Sigourney Weaver's narration is missing big chunks in order to allow for commercials, given that the segues to commercials are essentially nonexistent.

I kind of want a baby musk ox, by the way.

In other news, the Chateauneuf was sold out by the next day. Damn and blast. I should have bought it all when I was there.

shameless plug

So, I'm generally pretty modest about my abilities in just about every area...except stage management. I know I'm a damn good stage manager, and frankly, there aren't that many of us out there. Even while I feel guilty even thinking I'm good at it, I know I am, and it's kind of sustaining.

However, in my theatrical experience, I have met a few stage managers who are as good as, or better than, I am. And one of them is my friend Mel.

We met at the Williamstown Theatre Festival -- hilariously abbreviated among its denizens as "WTF"-- and Mel amazed me from day one with her skills.

She now has her AEA card, which is wonderful except for the fact that AEA stage managers get paid crap, and that's totally unfair and the topic of another long ranting post at some point. In the meantime, she has stage managed or PA'ed (i.e., worked as a production assistant on) many fantastic Broadway shows.

Some clunkers, too, but we'll ignore those.

And today, she sent me this (relevant info at bottom of scrolldown and reposted below):

"A by-invitation-only developmental reading of Craig Shemin's The Green Room will be held April 23 at the 45th Street Theater. Original Avenue Q stars Stephanie D'Abruzzo and Jordan Gelber will be joined by Jimmy Bennett, Tim Cain, John Gaines, Tom Galantich, Tom Mizer and Amanda Weeden for the 8 PM reading. Lisa Gilbar will direct; Melanie T. Morgan will be the stage manager. [...] Interested industry professionals may request tickets by sending e-mailing greenroomplay@yahoo.com."

Dude. She got boldfaced on Playbill. And I have a picture of her with Tom Stoppard and David I'm-Blanking-On-His-Last-Name-But-He's-Important. Really.

Mel is my idol.

Anyone wants an AEA SM, you know whom to call.

whine and roses

I hate hate hate moving. Just, you know, in case you were unaware.

On the upside, I got two bottles of a lovely Chateauneuf-du-Pape for $6.99 each today -- $15 off due to a vintage change.

Wine makes everything better.


Well, and guacamole.

sacrilicious

I made really fantastically awesome guacamole* this afternoon.

Guacamole almost (but not quite) demands to be eaten on things that require leavening.

Sigh. Blasphemy, here I come.



*My recipe: One half red onion, minced. One large or two small cloves garlic, minced. One jalapeno, seeds and ribs removed, minced. One half tomato or approximately ten grape tomatoes, diced. Two ripe avocados. Juice of one lemon. Freshly-ground salt. Freshly-ground pepper. Mash roughly with fork. Eat on anything that will convey guacamole to mouth, including but not at all limited to matzah.

geek acres is the place

Jim and I are getting slightly obsessed with Planet Earth on Discovery Channel.

I mean, seriously. It's frickin' amazing -- evolution really should have no right to have created such amazing stuff on this one little rock orbiting a star in the middle of nowhere.

Also? We have to get our fix while we still have cable. We plan to give it up both to save money and to avoid unwise temptation once school starts come fall.

Although if we buy this particular miniseries on DVD (hi, early Christmas present hint!!), it could conceivably be a write-off in light of Jim's future enviro-policy bent. I can make anything a write-off. I am such a CPA-wannabe.

robert palmer ain't got nothin' on me

Yay!
(Addicted to love. Me. Weddings. Stuff. Get it? Cool.)

the district

I've got one real estate agent for condominiums and two more for rentals (they think I'm crazy since there's nothing available yet for July, but whatever -- they work on commission and I'm a sure move).

I've packed sweaters for the 35-degree night on the way there and tees for the 73-degree days in Washington.

I actually copied down a list of free wi-fi spots around town.

I made a reservation at a fun Mexican restaurant for Friday night.

And, oh yeah, we have all the events at GULC to attend.

Yeah, I think we're ready. Let's roll.

furry goodness

Our next-door neighbors are dog-sitting this weekend, so I've been getting a daily dose of poodle time. Actually, I've been acting like a giddy toddler, sitting on the floor throwing treats and crying, "DOGGIE!"

Yeah, I'm animal-deprived.

In a similar vein, I now visit this little guy on my desktop when I feel lonely:


Virtual kitty loves the meta, no?

a typical night chez les maltese

1. Order pizza for take-out from Flatbread.

2. Discuss over dinner why you have never actually eaten Flatbread for dinner* before, in two-plus years in Portland.

3. Somehow get into a discussion about presidential assassinations.

4. Discover you were both right: McKinley and Garfield were both assassinated. Sort of.

5. Wonder if having three names makes one more likely to succeed as a presidential assassin.

6. Wind up talking about Stephen Sondheim.

Yeah. Trust me; if you wiki "Jim and Leigh Maltese," you get redirected to a terribly appropriate term.

OK, actually, it'd be cooler for us if that were true. Which just proves the point.

And dude. Garfield's assassin? Totally nuts.




*If you care: We have both had Flatbread before, but because I am a yuppie pizza snob, we have never ordered it in for ourselves. Or any other pizza, for that matter -- we've made do with quais-gourmet frozen for as long as we've lived in Maine. Yeah, I'm serious. And yeah, I know I'm weird that way. Deal.

procrast in motion, part II

Now that I have a computer with a DVD-ROM drive, I am finally able to upload the wedding pictures that our photographer sent us.

The files are enormous because they are supremely high resolution, and I didn't feel like devoting the rest of my afternoon to picture-sorting, so I only put the ones that are also in our print album onto my hard drive. Which if you think about it is totally ass-backwards, since I should have the ones that are not preserved in hard copy available. Guess that just ain't the way I roll.

Going through the files and renaming them, I immediately proceeded to get all mushy and wedding-obsessed again. So I went ahead and uploaded the photos to my Flickr site. Not only will this allow me to direct friends to the photos without having to email them huge files that could potentially explode either their computers or their patience, but the uploader doober also automatically resized and renamed the files (from .tifs to .jpgs) so that I can redownload a smaller version to my hard drive.

Which means I can now post them here. Salud!

yum

Way too good.

I've been to Whole Foods 4 of the 6 days it's been open. I'm officially addicted, y'all.

Hicka-bicka-DUH.

lush to love you baby

I just got out of the shower to find that my husband had been sent home early from work.

The sort of non-snow snow we were having? Yeah, it suddenly morphed into oh my God the world is exploding with sleet and hurling gigantic piles of snow through the air at warp speeds run for your liiiiiives!!!! in the blink of an eye, and the boss told everyone to pack up and head out.

As is his wont, Jim brought up the mail when he got home. I went over to it and was flipping through when I noticed a neatly wrapped box addressed to me.

Me: "But I didn't get you anything!"

Jim: "I didn't ask for anything."

Me: "Neither did I!"

Jim: "..."

Me: "Well, except a puppy--"

Jim: "Just open it."

I did. Turns out that Lush has opened a store in Harvard Square, and Jim decided to explore it during his breaks from running recruiting interviews on Friday. I don't know where he hid what he bought between then and now -- Lush products have such strong aromas (given that they are all made fresh) that it's hard to miss them when they are in your general vicinity -- but somehow he got it back here without my noticing.

Every once in a while something reminds me that I know I married the right man. What did so today? Well, the absolutely wonderful Jim did not merely get me a fantastic gift box filled to the brim with wonderful bath-y items. No, indeed. That's for rank amateurs.

My husband? Seems he applied the most important lesson of cosmetics shopping: spend enough to get the free gift.

Not one, but two boxes filled with bath bombs, lotion soap bars, and lip balm that smells good enough to eat?

I love him.

it's like porn-laced crack

Today, Whole Foods opened its new Portland market.

They've been building this monster for a good six months. It's enormous and gorgeous. I've heard rumors that it's actually the new flagship.

(Which strikes me as odd, because what a weird place for a flagship store, but then my brain replies -- yes, to itself -- with "Hello? L.L. Bean?" and, well, Q.E.D.)

Anyway, despite the total overreaction of a blizzard warning that the weather services posted this morning, Melissa and I braved the crowds to attend the grand opening. I honestly did not know that that many people lived in southern Maine, much less (a) near enough to Portland to (b) go out in the snow and (c) park on streets because the lot was full in order to (d) shop at a store sarcastically referred to as "Whole Paycheck." But shop they did, and so did we.

I have not yet recovered from the chef-wannabe heaven I found myself exploring this morning. Our Whole Foods has things I've never seen, even at the big River Street store in Cambridge. In addition to the usual salad bar, for example, this store boasts an antipasto bar, a soup bar, a separate chowder and stew bar, a make-your-own trail mix bar (aside from the bulk foods aisle), another salad bar focused on prepared dishes, an Indian food bar (no, really), and a dessert bar, plus a hibachi grill, a trattoria, a dim sum and noodle counter, and an actual sit-down sushi bar.

I won't even get into the outstanding produce, butcher shop, seafood counter, and cheese counter -- or, as I like to think of it, la fromagerie.

Or the freshly made (in-house) gelato.

Going to shop there today was kind of my Valentine's Day present, inasmuch as it's not the type of store where I would ever shop for staples. However, a lot of the prices in the produce section, and the specials in seafood -- I didn't shop meat or gourmet cheese today -- ran the gamut from "reasonable" to "less than the big supermarket." (Red seedless grapes for $1.50/lb definitely beats the local grocery stores, at least at this time of year.) I also found items like baby french carrots and pattypan squash, which I've never seen, in season or out, anywhere else, and for which I've actually been harboring the perfect romantic-meal recipe, and locally-made marscarpone cheese for my made-from-scratch marscarpone-swirl brownies.

Melissa and I had a blast. I can't wait for the crowds to die down so I can explore without actually having to smack people upside the head in order to reach the portobellos.

such a child of the eighties

From Reuters, we learn that The Police have a sense of humor about reuniting. Or are just desperate for money.

From Defamer, we learn that most of the entertainment bloggers are pretty much the same age as I am ("Dune's Feyd-Rautha, the band leader from the Dennis Miller Show, and an unnamed drummer have announced their intentions to embark upon a worldwide tour as a musical act. This "super group," as it were, will travel under the name of The Police. Should be interesting.") and can make that joke far more amusing.

Donations of Bonnaroo tickets welcome.

it's because i used to eat gin-soaked olives out of parental martinis

My next vacation?


Clearly, London.

lousy smarch weather

I'm sorry, WCSH News, but if this is "unseasonably cold," just when would it be, well, seasonable???







Thank heavens Jim did not decide to apply to law schools in Alaska. Lordy.

best thirty seconds of the whole night