Make that four...

The second to last time I saw Claire, she was sitting on a bed where everyone was storing coats and purses in the middle of a party. She was giving me great details about some strange events that had occurred in her life including a major breakup and a couple of misdiagnosed illnesses. She showed me her tattoo: the classic lighting bolt with TCB. She felt she was starting to take care of the business of her life.

She had always been such an inspiration to me as a budding improviser in Nashville and then Chicago. She is the one who signed me up for comedy classes where I met Rich Jeni (see last post.) She convinced me to do Second City.

The last time I saw Claire, she was in a parking lot in Sherman Oaks, Ca with her mom. I was going to lunch on a break from an acting workshop that I have no memory if. (Must have been good.) She looked confused and a little desperate. But then again, she had a flat tire. So would I.

And so Claire bought the ticket on Elvis airlines last week. Diabetes.

TCB, Claire.

They come in threes

Monday, three people who in some way touched my life did so once again in the most profound way possible. They died.

Actually, they did not all die on the same day, but I found out about their deaths within 6 hours on Monday afternoon.

First up was a seasoned stand-up, a regular on late night shows, sometimes actor and all around good guy. I had the privilege of dining with him in 1990 in Chicago and getting to ride in his limo. He was kind and attentive, listening to me ramble on about emergency rooms and the general state of medical care. He encouraged me to create stand-up bits out of my own experiences, something I was never able to do. Mostly because I never thought I or my experiences were funny. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your headliner tonight, Richard Jeni!

A few hours later I was shocked to learn that the sandwich guy at work, Chef Johnny, found out he had liver cancer and promptly died 8 days later. He was an energetic man with a fondness for the ladies, unless he was in a cranky mood in which case he had a fondness for no one. He used to make me a special turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce until they stopped carrying cranberries. Bon Appetit, Chef.

Finally, at the end of the day I learned that Karen was gone. She was the wife of the guy who directed Brother Bear and animated most of the Disney movies you know. The recent ones, he's young. He and his wife shared among other things long blonde hair. I always loved that. And when she lost hers from the chemo, he shaved his head in solidarity. She was a beautiful soul. The sort of person you instantly feel comfortable with and the sort of person that inspired you to be better. I will always regret not going to see her in the hospital. I think I was hoping she would just get better and I would see her at parties as I always did. The world just seems a little more harsh.

We are born and we die and in between are good times and bad times. Hopefully, more good. And those are the ones we try to remember. Those are the ones we hope others will remember about us. I have a lot of remembering to do.

In Charm's Way

Yesterday was an incredibly bizarre day, in the best sense.

I rushed off the work at 9:30 which is the earliest I have been in since early January. But yesterday was the first of four sculpture classes with my friend, Dan. If you saw Dan, he'd look vaguely familiar since he resembles the I, Robot robots that he sculpted. I was very excited about my first sculpting class and it did not disappoint. Dan showed us how to use basic tools and work with Scuply clay. Our assignment is to model the head of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas, which is pretty basic. What is even more exciting is that in the class is Mike Belzer who was an animator on said film. At the break he brought in some actual Jack heads he had left over from the movie. He answered all our questions about the making of the film and how they did things. All while we sculpted away.

It was amazing fun and I was so jazzed, I carried that into my therapy session which followed immediately. When I got back to work, I was thrilled to be asked to witness a wedding in the Remembrance Garden right outside the building. Seems that Marlon's friends he had married on Hawaii had to redo the ceremony and sign the papers again. Something didn't translate from the Hawaii wedding. It was such a cute, fun little wedding with their daughter Ruby playing the whole time. As Marlon was doing the paperwork, I learned that the couple is actually from Seattle and were familiar with all the Seattle places I love. I had to stop short of telling them where I got married. For the first time, I wasn't able to tell my wedding story which I am so proud of. That was hard.

After a fiscal check up with the financial advisor, Ben, I headed home to work on my trip to Europe. Over my street was a bright, shiny sphere. I thought it was the full moon until I realized it was only about 30 feet in the air. Apparently a lighting company was testing a new type of theatrical light. And so there I was booking a hotel in Zurich while a fake moon shone overhead on me and my half finished sculpture.

Such is life.

Clean up on aisle 8

On Sunday morning, I headed over to the neighborhood Pavillions, an upscale groceria, to get some edibles for the Oscar Party later that afternoon. Still in my lonely phase, I was wearing a black workout ensemble which I had slept in but rolled all the cat hair off. A hat I figured would hide my make-up-less face and the cut above my lip from a sharp plastic bit on a water bottle. At least I was hydrated.

I raced to find the Boston Creme Pie I had seen earlier in the week to highlight my themed cuisine for the party. Each nominated Best Pic is represented:
Iwo Jima = edamame and gyoza
Little Miss Sunshine = Olives and Olive tapinade (for the main character's name)
The Queen = stilton and bangers
The Departed = the aforementioned Boston Creme Pie
Babel = humus and 7 layer dip

SCORE! they had the pie. I didn't have the time to create one myself. And that's when I saw him. John Lassiter. CEO of Disney Creative and Pixar. He's pushing a trolley along the cheese aisle. I smile and nod, as I usually do when I see him in the hallway at work. But out of context, I am nothing more than a very friendly yet lonely cat owner in the cheese aisle. And then I remember that he's going to the Oscars THAT AFTERNOON! Hey, I should have said something to him such as, "Good Luck!" "Don't trip on your way to the stage!" You know, something pithy.

I make my way around the store searching for him and there he is on the other side of the produce section talking to the VP on Feature Animation, Carolyn and her beau and daughter. By the time I make my way over, he's scooted over to the checkout. So I chat it up with Carolyn for a bit and we head our separate ways.

My phone rings. I answer. "Dara McGarry. I can hear you giggle all the way over in the wine section." It was John and his wife Audrey. John sits next to me at work. He knows my giggle. I head over to wines and spirits and find them shopping for the wine to bring to my house later. (6 bottles total were consumed, I think mostly by me and Audrey, judging from our headaches.) We recount the days events and the impossibility that we are all at Pavillions at the same time.

I make my way back to shopping, as there is still so much left to buy! At least 30 minutes go by and there is John Lassiter again, this time with a hand basket. He's vacantly roaming the aisles. This time, I stop and wish him luck. His glassy stare tells me I'm still the loney cat owner. I introduce myself and his gaze instantly turns warm as he shakes my hand and seemingly tries to memorize my face, I hope not to have me sacked later. After the awkward "we have nothing more to say" pause, we go our separate ways. But I keep seeing him in teh aisles. It's now 1:00. The pre-show starts at 3:00. I'm concerned. "Shouldn't you be getting your tux on about now?" He looks dejected. "Yeah, I really should be getting ready. My wife needed hair spray," he says picking up a bottle of water to read the ingredients. Clearly he was nervous. I give him one more good luck and decide to give the poor man his space. he obviously doesn't need another friendly, hairy cat lady giving him Oscar advice.

I was really hoping he'd win.

Being and Loneliness

I have come to the astonishing conclusion that I absolutely hate being alone. I will do anything to avoid it including making bad decisions. When I was growing up, my brother was 11 years older and probably still is. By the time I was 6, he was off to college and I was an only child. We lived in a neighborhood where the houses were very far apart and there weren't any kids there anyway. I was so lonely I took to spraying a variety of harmless aerosols on my bedroom wall. Things like hairspray and deodorant. I never said I wasn't easily entertained. I kept denying that I was doing it. It didn't really leave a mark anyway, so I wondered what all the fuss was about. But my insistence on lying left my parents no alternative but to ground me for a week. I was mad of course, but even worse I was stuck in my bedroom without a spray can. Horrors. And that left me where I am today: lonely and bored. What a lethal combination. Anyone got a can of aqua net?

Keep Moving Forward

It happens to be the catch phrase for the movie I just spent the last 2 years and 2 months of my life working on. And it also seems to be the best advice I can give myself. Just like Lewis in the movie, I have this desire to go back and change things in the past, to undo some wrongs or perhaps to not do some wrongs. Maybe to do some things I didn't...etc. Oh, I guess this will make more sense after you see the movie on March 30. (BTW, the intro on the web page features some of the cool efx my department did. So proud of those guys.)

There is a ridiculous software application used by companies around the world and universally hated by them as well. It's called SAP. If you happen to be in any SAP module, you can't really step backwards like you are probably doing right now, hitting the back button back into MYSpace and finally back to your midget porn you were surfing earlier. Much more interesting than my drivel. Anyhoo, in order to get anywhere in SAP, you have to click forward. Ridiculous and time consuming. But you just simply can't go backwards. Which means you usually can't get the exact same page more than once.

I guess that's supposed to be a life lesson or something like that.

Firecracker

Yesterday, in the pouring rain, James, Marlon and I headed to Chinatown to run the annual Firecracker 5/10k race. I opted for the 5k since I've been under the weather lately and not running so much. James and Marlon were set on the 10k. The race commemorates the Chinese Lunar new year 4705 - the year of the Boar. As the celebrity (I didn't know who he was but I am sure he is famous somewhere) stated before the race, "The year of the Boar is sure to be either boring or all about you bringing home the bacon." Mmmmmm, bacon. Ironically, we had bacon that morning not even realizing it's connection to the lunar calendar.

As usual, we spotted other Disneyites amongst the ranks and promised to catch up with each other post race for the usual dim sum at Emperor's Palace. We waited in the rain for the start which is supposed to include the Lion Dance and 10, 000 firecrackers to ward off evil spirits. We were right up at the start. Soon enough, the announcer came forth and introduced a quartet of lovely young women to sing the national anthem. They were called Jazzmin and it was the best rendition of that impossible song I've heard in well, maybe forever. It was in fact jazzy. Then the Lion Dancers took center stage (or street as it were) and began the traditional dance of the 2 lions that, well, dance. Not sure what it is supposed to represent but it was really beautiful. They tossed an orange and a cabbage back and forth. It was kinda cool, in a salad sort of way. And then, the 10, 000 firecrackers were lit. And we were right next to them. That's a lot of firecrackers. Bits of exploding cracker hit our hats and faces. I had my iPod buds in just to absorb the noise, so it wasn't too bad. It was amazingly wonderful. So much smoke. The Lions danced all the while looking like two demented puppets in a fog.

Then they called the 5k runners to the line and off we went. I had a great spot up front and was able to run from the sound of the horn. Usually I'm in the back and have to wait and walk a good 2 minutes before the traffic has cleared enough to run. I felt incredibly energized because of the firecrackers and the Lions and the rain. I ran hard even as we started to ascend the first hill. I thought there was only one so I gave it my all. Oh no. There wasn't just one hill. Half the race was a hill. And not just any hill. Elysian Park hill. By Dodger Stadium. Big hill. But I ran it. And I kept running even when I thought I was going to pass out. It's only 3 miles I thought. And just when I thought I couldn't go any more, the down hill would start where I could really race, passing tons to people who were too nervous to go too fast in the rain. I was covered head to toe, so I figured it would be more fun to go fast and who cares if I take a header. But I didn't. And so I raced past the drummers and on to the finish. Just as I approached the finish, the 10k was starting. There was Marlon and James right up front and racing up to the hills, all bright and happy. We waved and shouted and on to the finish I went.

I raced in passing Kathleen Wilhoite.
She spent her time in the chute talking about how disappointed she was with her time. I offered that the hills were really killer and certainly affect your time if you don't train on them. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I was more than happy with my time. Since I didn't train for the race at all and still came out with my best time on a 5k to date: 31:50 on the race timer and 31:33 on my own timer. (Meaning about 20 seconds is how long it took me to pass the start line. This race is not chip timed so everyone has the same start time even though not everyone passes the start line together.) I was pleased.

And so I ate the complimentary banana and pineapple juice, but forgoing the wontons to save room for dim sum. I saw more Disney people and then made my way to the finish line to watch for the boys. James came in at 47:50 and Marlon at 50. Another Disneyite, Taralyn, found us and talked incessantly the rest of the time about her 5k in 45:47 and a brief stint at the Playboy channel. The never ending monologue put a damper on the less than yummy dim sum meal, but all in all it was an incredibly fun time. And that is probably the only time I will ever get into Emperor's Palace without waiting for a table. The trick apparently is to get there at 10am.
I'll definitely do it next year.

Pirate Ship

Yo Ho, a Parking Garage for Me
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Aforementioned photo.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Parking Garage for Me

(Photo to come)
It's not everyday you see a pirate ship on top of the parking garage at work. Pirates 3 apparently has some pick up shots to do this month ( better hurry! The film releases in May!) so the ship was rebuilt on top of the garage. ABC has a tendency to use said garage in a variety of garage-y shows such as Alias. It's not uncommon to see a film crew around. You can tell it's a film crew because it's a huge generator and a bunch of guys sitting around "on union break." But I have to say, I don't recall ever seeing a giant ship on the 5th floor of a garage.

We considered trying to drive all the way up to the ship. Apparently the security isn't all that tight since the principal actors are not involved.

Last summer, the lot was abuzz with young secretaries from all over the company loitering around the commissary and nearby sound stages waiting for a glimpse of Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp. Mr Bloom would occasionally appear, sometimes with his dog, in the commissary. I saw him once on his cell phone smoking. But Mr Depp proved to be a more difficult find. Rare is the person who has actually seen him. I thought I saw him once, but honestly in a crowd of pirates, who can tell?

Rock, Paper, Scissors

divorceye
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Yesterday, we filed the papers. THOSE papers that one files to "dissolve a marriage." Actually, it's dissolution, but I like dissolve better. I think it's more descriptive. When asked by the paralegal which one of us would be the petitioner, we looked at each other and simutaeously said, "Rock, Paper, Scissors??" And so we did. Russ drew scissors and I drew paper. Then we realized that we hadn't established which position the winner would take. But he chose petitioner. Not that it really matters in our case. We laughed and giggles our way through whatever they call that part. And then we left. We left each other standing on Riverside Dr. He turned his MiniCooper to head east and I continued my Subaru heading west. And thus, at sunset on January 20, 2007, we literally went our separate ways.

We went to see Carrie Fisher's one woman show last night. It was of course hilarious. I think my favorite part was the flow chart of her parents and Elizabeth Taylor. Her 14 yr old daughter, Billie, has a crush on Liz's 15 yr old grandson and she speculates whether or not they are actually related. I had no idea how much drama the poor thing had to endure as a child. I also had no idea that Eddie Fisher is still alive. And apparently dating all of Chinatown.

We had the best seats in the house, thanks to Ian, front row center. And Carrie had a cold. no surprise since I had one too over Christmas as did everyone else apparently. She would occasionally cough and she mentioned it a few times.

The lady next to, who I thought by the smell must have been a student, spent the whole time breathing through her sweater. I thought she was cold. But halfway through act one, Carrie (we're on a first name basis since I was close enough to feel her spit) stopped the show to ask if she was OK. Now, if someone stopped their show to ask me how I was doing, I would be horrified. And I would give someone or two word answer and pray that the show would continue.

But not my new neighbor.

She was visibly embarrassed. But she spoke anyway: "I'm sorry. I just had surgery. And I can't be around germs. I'm afraid I'm going to catch something."

That wasn't the response Carrie was counting on. She seemed relieved that the poor girl wasn't dying. And then horrified that she was talking about her surgery during her show. I have a feeling this may turn into Carrie's next show.

And I hope to have front row center seats again.

Tree of Life

Tree of Life
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Maybe because it's New Years, I have this weird feeling of not knowing where I am or what I'm doing. Why can't they make a GPS for life? I had this strange revelation last night that I'm not sure if I'm on the trunk or a small branch of this tree, metaphorically speaking of course. Maybe I'm not even on the tree at all. What's not in this photo is the winery dumpster, just beyond the tree in the parking lot. Maybe that's where I am.

Green, blue it's all the same

Wednesday morning, James and I were lounging around, enjoying not having to be anywhere when the phone rang. It was our co-worker John Ford. He and his wife were on their way up to Solvang and San Luis Obispo for some post holiday cheer. They had invited us a few days prior but I didn't want to make any commitment on account of my certain lack of health. But we were feeling spontaneous and decided to go for the Solvang part. Why not? I've never been before. So we hopped in the car and headed out for a delightful road trip.

Solvang is about 130 miles north of Los Angeles in the Santa Ynez Valley. It's become quite the little wine country. But the town itself is a little bit of Scandinavia in the middle of Southern California. Most places have windmills on them and Dutch names like Skaarsgaard or Van Hooten. Not long after we arrived, we met up with John and Audrey who regaled us with tales of wine tasting and bottles of wine to prove it. We were ordered to drink up and catch up. We did and we did. And then we were off to the Hitching Post for steaks! The restaurant is featured in the film Sideways as the place of employment of the Virginia Madsen character. For some reason, after an appetizer of a tiny, helpless quail, Audrey decided to ask pretty much everyone in the restaurant what color eyes I have. James insists they are blue. I always thought they are green. Most people assume they are blue, as in blond hair/blue eyes. I seem to remember my optometrist telling me they are blue with gold flecks. Audrey has the most amazing bright blue eyes, so next to hers, mine look darker and more gray or green depending on how you see it. I think everyone else may have been as drunk as I was because I don't remember anyone coming up with an answer. After a lot of time quizzing the general population of Solvang, I still don't know what color my eyes really are. But the next day they were most assuredly red.

That didn't stop us from wine-tasting our way back and forth across the Valley, stopping only to pet the ostriches who wanted to eat my sweater. James and I made one more stop before heading back to LA: The Hitching Post for one more steak. And that is where I left my camera. hopefully they will mail it back since I'm not looking forward to making the 3 hour trek back anytime this week. John and Audrey headed up north and the Madonna Inn.

I can't wait to get my camera/pictures back. And to hear all about the crazy pink rooms at the Madonna.

Ooops she did it again

So, we were coming back from lunch and we saw this girl in the lobby with a tiny little shirt tied up at her chest Daisy Duke style. Her tanned midriff was exposed all the way down to her low-rise jeans. She was talking to a guy in a trucker hat. We giggled as we passed thinking "who's that trashy girl who thinks she's Brittney Spears?" Then we saw a producer and the head of Music approach her and welcome her to Disney. They whisked her away to the recording studio.

And so it was Brittney Spears who thought she was Brittney Spears. Strange.

Blood Bath

It was brutal. Really brutal. We each waited for a phone call, all 800 of us. When I got there at 9:30 it had already started. We had heard 20% would be cut, but it seems closer to 40%. Entire departments fell. Still, each person got a call. One by one. By 10:30 they had started on our department. David got a call...he was out. We were discussing when Eric got a call. They told him to go upstairs, which was generally the indication that you were made redundant. They will only tell you that in person. He was gone for a few minites when James came in to tell me he had been cast. He was so relieved. After days of stress, and being sick on top of it, it was all over. I heard Eric come back and pack up his stuff to leave. Yup, he's gone. Artists gathered in the hallway to discuss who is gone and why. Out of about 20 people in our group, they cut 9. A lot more than 20%. People were cut who are brilliant and quite gifted. As the morning passed, I grew more and more concerned. I clomped around the hall trying to burn off nervous energy, but people mistook that for my being happy and assumed I got The Call. Finally, at 12:30, the phone rang.

I have a Bat Phone (a phone with caller id on it) at work, so I can always tell who is bothering me. I saw the name - Tanja Knoblich (which James tells me means garlic in German.) Tanja is a wonderful, sweet person whom I have worked with for years. We worked quite closely together back in the Resources Days and I always counted on her for the best gossip. And on this day, I knew she was fortunate enough to be passing out the good calls. My heart lept and I answered. "Dara, my friend, you've been cast on the next project!"

I was giddier than I expected I would be. We were all allowed to leave for the day and I had a hair appointment. Which was great. Hair stylists are always the best people to vent to. She got an earfull from me.

Today I'm dealing with the survivor's guilt. I feel as if I have a dying Tom Hanks saying to my Private Ryan, "Earn this...."

Earn this.

Reindeer Pooper

Reindeer Pooper
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Behold the booty from the gift exchange.

Last Day of Silence

Tomorrow, everything changes.

Today, we had our annual efx department Holiday Lunch and gift exchange. We went to Mori's teppan grill, which is always fun to watch the Japanese (or Latino) chefs set a bunch of stuff on fire right in front of your very eyes! James is home sick with strep or something like it.

Finally, we started the gift exchange. Each person chooses a gift or you can choose to steal a gift from someone who already has chosen one. I drew third and opted not to take the dart board from Chyuan because I knew that gift would make it's way around the whole department like a bad rumor. So, I chose a new gift. Turned out to be a collection of Horror B-Movie Action Figures. Cool! But then Peter stole it from me in the next turn. Oh well. So I got to draw again. This time it was scotch. Timely. I was going to buy a bottle for tomorrow to share with whoever needed it. But Simon ended up with it. Actually, he probably needs it more than any of us since he had to put his dog to sleep this morning. Poor guy. And so I drew again and got a reindeer that poops jelly beans.

And so the day will drift along with most of us sleepy from Sapporo or Saki. And into the night where most of us will drift into some other ether from some other ethereal liquid. And then it will be tomorrow.

Tomorrow, we will find out, each of the 800 of us here at Feature, who will have a job and who will not. It's a crap shoot. Good thing I've got Reindeer poop.

TaDa

TaDa
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

After all that (see previous post) we still managed to get all spiffy and head out to Ruth's Chris Steak House for a birthday dinner. We had decided to wait until after the race to have the big dinner, when our appetites were sure to be exaggerated. It was painful to walk in high heels, but a steak has never tasted so good.

Half Marathon!

PICT0002.JPG
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

4:30am. Oatmeal. Lots of pink. That's pretty much all I remember from Sunday morning. Until we got to the meet up place downtown. Me and four other Disney folk decided to meet up and shuttle to the race start at Griffith Park. It was COLD! Reeaallly cold! How did I ever survive in Chicago? No one was really awake when we parked the car. That proved to be a problem later.

Upon arrival at the park, there was a crew of Native Americans onstage. The Chief was introducing a series of ancient and customary dances. One represented a Butterfly. The shawl represents Butterfly wings. The flapping of the shawl represents flapping of the butterfly wings. I had hoped there would be something more profound in the dance, but sometimes the dance represents the dance. The Chief talked about the old times and old dances and the way things used to be. "Then everything changed," he said. It's 6:30am, it's freezing cold, I'm about to run a race I'm not prepared for and now I am ladened with White Man Guilt. Superlative.

The lines for the outhouses were long and stinky, though I ran into an old friend, Brooks, there. As I waited in an impossibly long line, a lady with a radio tried to gather everyone for the race start. She urged us to get to the start line, but the 100 or so people in line just looked at her with inquisitive faces and full bladders.

From the line we heard the National Anthem (something I've never heard at a race before) and something that sounded like "Go!" and we could see the crowd slowly moving. James and I checked in our bags and wandered over to the start. Since we are chip timed, it doesn't really matter when you start. Your chip registers exactly when you cross the start and finish. I started to go and James held back. He wanted to wait until The Pack had cleared up a bit so he could run straight through. I started running and looked back to see James alone at the start.

Somewhere in the park, he ran up behind me. Not sure how far in we were, but Mr Blue Sky by ELO was on my running playlist at the time. I found it cute because that was at one time the ringtone I assigned to him.

On the back side of the park, it started. The pain. Twinges at the knee. And the hips. It was far too early for the pain. This was not going to end well. I considered running back to my car at Disney which was only about 4 miles away, but realized my keys were in Tracy's car downtown. Not an option. So I decided to walk. And then run and walk some more. That worked for a few miles. But by mile 9 I couldn't even take advantage of the downhills. It just hurt too much. I was left only able to run when I approached a camera or a crowd of children who were cheering me on to run. Couldn't let the kids down.

As I was running down Silver Lake Blvd, I realized that Russ lives somewhere right in that area. I probably ran right by his place, but I don't really know where it is. And as I ran through the cute neighborhood I felt this strange isolation. I was seeing his new life as a tourist. Watching it from the street and seeing it's cuteness as an objective passerby. I wondered when I passed the Walgreens if that is where he buys drugstore stuff. Is that the Ralphs he goes to? Is that cafe where he gets coffee and bagels? It was nice to see it from the street, to get the overview. I cried. My knees hurt, I should have trained harder, I let myself down and...I was sad.

And then I turned a corner. Downtown beckoned. My friends were there. James was there. And I tried to run as much as I could to get there faster. Drums were playing at mile 12 and 13. A lady on stilts danced (as much as you can in stilts.) And I ran to the finish.

James had a fantastic time of 1:42. Let's just say mine was an hour greater. I did walk most of it, remember. And today, it still hurts. It all hurts.

The gang decided to go out for dim sum, and everyone was kind enough to wait for me. Fortunately the race offered oranges and cookies and other treats to keep everyone's blood sugar happy. So off we went to Chinatown. But no one remembered exactly where the car was. We knew the garage, but which level? And so we walked an extra half-marathon around the garage looking for Tracy's car. I finally had to stop and lean on a pillar, telling everyone else to go one without me. It was like that last scene in Last of the Mohicans. Somewhere between levels 4 and 5, Marlon realized his phone was missing from his bag he had picked up from the bag-drop-off. Now we have a missing car, missing phone and bad knees. Finally, Marlon found the car. We phoned his phone hoping the lost and found people would pick up so we could FIND the lost and found. They did. We did. And finally we were off to dim sum. Between the hot tea and hot bath later, I found a comfortable position for my legs. It involves not moving at all.

Introducing...

This is James. In previous posts I have mentioned New Boyfriend. And today I thought I would post a grand unveiling seeing as today is James' birthday. Happy Bithday James!!! Welcome to my blog! Everyone, say "hi" to James.....

glow.JPG

glow.JPG
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Michael had a bunch of glow sticks. Most people wore them around their necks. I chose something else.

I'm dreaming of a Pink Christmas

I'm dreaming of a Pink Christmas
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Behold, the pink-trimmed tree.

My nemisis

My nemisis
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

I have not had a good mail order day.

This is my bath caddy that I have waited for. It fell apart in the box before it even got to my tub. The glue that held the small wooden pieces in place came loose. Or the overworked Chinese child that assembled it didn't put enough glue on it. The holes that were pre-drilled to accomodate the candle and wine holders weren't big enough. Then there are the issues wth my tub.

The far edge is too shallow to properly hold that side. The sink vanity doesn't allow the caddy to be pushed to the drain side of the tub, which means the caddy has to sit in the middle. I had to "swim" to the far side to get my shampoo. I came up too early and hit my head on the caddy. It reminded me of learning to swim under the waves this summer. Scary.

This was after a long day, the worst of which was realizing that the pink camera case I bought for my camera won't arrive today becaue FedEx won't deliver it unless I am there to receive it. But I am at work. They tell me that I can go to the FedEx port to pick it up. But if I had time to do that, I would go to Office Depot ( from whence it came) and just buy it. I convinved the FedEx lady to send it to my work, but it will be x-rayed and checked for bombs first at the studio mail center, so there will be a delay.

Mail order is supposed to make things easier.

Thanksgiving

Before...
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Everyone wore their paper hat that came with the Christmas Crackers. I know, it's not Christmas, but no one has Christmas dinner anymore. It's all about Thanksgiving. And the jokes were actually kinda funny this year:

"What type of sweet swings through the jungle?"
"Tarzipan!"

They must have hired joke writers at the cracker factory this year.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

O Tannenbaum

As has been custom for the last few years, at least the ones in which I was in this country for the end of November, I have put up Christmas decorations right after Thanksgiving. This year, I was determined to keep that tradition even though everything else in my life is on a brand new schedule.

On Sunday, I set up the aluminum tree I purchased off ebay just before they became fashionable. The original box is really showing signs of wear and tear and I wonder how many more Chirstmases it will hold up. The tree itself is in no better shape, some branches are saggy and some of the aluminum "needles" are so bent out of shape, it looks more sad than festive. But once the tree was up, it looked fine.

Last night, I decorated the tree with newly purchased PINK clear ornaments. I couldn't have been happier to find a large selection of baubles in my favorite color. I mulled some wine and enlisted the help of New Boyfriend. I was enthralled with what his artistic contributions might be to my delightfully pink confection. I was not disappointed. His eye for composition resulted in a beautifully decorated tree that I am quite proud of. As Let It Snow played in the background for the eighth time by the fourth singer, it occurred to me that there are only about a dozen Christmas songs that play in heavy rotation at my house each year. Sure there are different variations by different singers from different eras, but there hasn't really been any decent additions to the Christmas collection since the 50's, Chipmunks notwithstanding.

I'm also disregarding Country Music, since I tend to disregard it altogether. That genre seems to find a way to make Christmas sappy and maudlin every year with some new addition to the cache involving dying children, dying parents and not enough money for a last Christmas present before he/she dies.

My New Boyfriend was raised in Switzerland, which I assume makes him privy to all sorts of Christmas music I never learned at Park Avenue Baptist Church. I should have him sing O Tannenbaum to me. In German. There must be some other songs from EuroChristmas. St Nick? Father Christmas? Isn't there some type of an anti-Santa that threatens children when they are bad? Doesn't he have a theme song?

It's November 28th and I can't get Sleigh Ride out of my head.

Purgatory

Last Saturday, a bunch of work friends went to Bar Sinister, a local Goth bar for the weekend warrior type of Goth, not the lifestyle Goth. I had my photo taken. You can view it with a lot of other interesting works here.

All in all it was a fun night. I'll never wear the 6" boots again. I didn't get to dance at all. I barely was even to stand at the end of the evening. Good thing there are lots of places to sit!!!!!

Pictures from the bar will be here.

Look for Nov 4.

I have a real date.

I have been asked out on a proper date.

What makes this so unique is that I cannot remember the last time I was asked on a date. I have always done the asking. When I was in High School, a girls Catholic school...insert fantasy here, we had to ask boys since they weren't around. We had to go and find them. Find them we did at the boys school. I prefered MBA, Montgomery Bell Academy, supposed inspiration for Dead Poets Society. Some prefered Father Ryan, but I found the persistant chewing tobacco and brass knuckles to be off putting. I fell in love with Ed Brown at MBA. I did a play with Ed at MBA, went to concerts with him and was even in a band with him. And I did ask him out, but as he put it, "My girlfriend wouldn't be too happy about that." Much later, years later, I finally caught him between girlfriends. I lived in Chicago at the time. I traveled down to visit him in Nashville and stayed in his beautiful turn of the century house. It was magical. I instigated everything on that trip, as I remember. What I didn't instigate was his complete denial that anything ever happened. Ah well.

I asked Russ out on our first date. I asked him out again. I asked him to move to a new town. I asked him to marry me. I always do the asking because I don't like to wait. And I have no shame.

And so I have been asked. I said yes. I think I like being asked.

hjlafdbjnm

I worked todat from 9am to 9:30pm. Then I had to pick up some groceries. For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to get a home waxing kit. As if I would proceed home and do a quick Brazilian. I got home and there were dishes stacked in the sink, the garbage bins needed to be pulled from the street and I hauled in the iMac from whence I type, with a newly restored power module. At this point, I'm halucinating. I think the cat has an attitude (he does) and that there are children in the back yard (there aren't.) I just finished my list of things I want to keep that I have to take into therpay tomorrow, or rather collective bargining. My list has 5 items, most of which came from my mom and live in the kitchen. Things are things and therefore replaceable. I don't think I'm going to run tomorrow. I'm exhausted. But I'm here typing and waiting to hear a certain voice.........

Cha Cha Cha Changes

"Turn and face the strange..."

And so here I am. Alone.

There may have been an absence of information about Russ lately. Or perhaps ever in the history of this blog. Perhaps that was on purpose, I don't really know. But it was. And there has been an absece of blog all together for quite a few weeks. And I can now report to you that there was a pattern.

After Duncan died, there was no longer any reason for the McGarrys to maintain the niceties that had filled up our daily existance. I came to the conclusion after weeks of soul searching that I was no longer in love with Russ. That we had in fact fallen into some fairly toxic patterns and that we needed help. We went to therapy.

Jose Cohen turned out to be a dream of a therapist. We are both still seeing him weekly. And with his guidence, we decided to separate. Russ moved out. He now lives in Silver Lake near all his friends. He seems very happy and I am happy for him. He even has a date Saturday!

I am quietly trying to fluff up the house to my liking while spending some quality time with my new friend, whom you will meet in a future episode. I am both terrified and elated. What a wild ride.

Duncan is gone

Brave Sir Duncan, Knight of Three Legs, slipped peacefully away today around noon. We couldn't have asked for a better passing.

Dr Liz was running a bit late, which timed out OK since Richard, the mortuary guy, was running early. They know each other and were able to chat via cell phone to let the other know the appropriate timing. Dr Liz was so understanding and loving. She agreed that it was time. She said Duncan looked tired. He did. He'd lost about 4 pounds and his fur was dull as were his eyes. Although today he was looking directly at us, I think to say goodbye.

He sat in my lap on the wicker chair on the back porch. He was ready I think. He slowly went under the anethstesia, but quickly responded to the barbituate. It was less than a minute after she administered the barbituate. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. I felt a rush of energy, something like when you drink a caffinated beverage. And then right after that I felt a profound happiness. It made me smile. It was then that Dr Liz said that his heart had stopped. After she left, I mentioned it to Russ and he felt the exact same thing at the same time. It really felt as if Duncan's spirit was released from a cage, expanding and rejoicing. We know without a doubt that it was the right thing and that Duncan is happy.

Richard came when we were ready and put Duncan in a box. At that point we had sort of detached ourselves a bit from his body and it wasn't as hard as I expected to let him go. We let Paxton in to understand. He came in, sniffed, walked away then stopped in his tracks and turned around and came back with a suspicious look on his face. He sniffed closer, then turned away slowly. He's been sitting in Duncan's favorite spots ever since.

We have spent the rest of the day crying a cleaning the house. I wanted to remove all traces of sick Duncan, the blood, the barf, the baby food stains. We replaced all that with pictures of happy Duncan. That's how we want to remember him.

I miss him so much already.

I bet he's happy to have his leg back.

Hanging with the Dude

We're sitting in the big round chair right now. Duncan's tail is wagging, as it has been constantly for the past 10 days. He seems really uncomfortable and has a sad look in his eyes. He sat for a while in his sunbeam, which he loves so much. But generally, he won't stay in one place long. he's restless. His mouth is covered in evaporated milk, sweet potatoes and catsip. I put the evaporated milk in my coffee as a way of sharing something.

Russ decided to dress up and shower for the occasion, in respect to our dear friend. I will follow suit. I think maybe a gray and white outfit in honor of my beloved knight.

I took Duncan around the yard to look at stuff, grass, plants, roses, mint. Paxton killed all the catnip, but he wouldn't have liked it today anyway. He has such a strange look in his eyes. Not vacant like it was a few days ago. It seems a little delusional, as if he's trying to remember who I am. I think he's just a little nutty from not eating or maybe the cancer. He tried to eat litter a couple of times. But I stare into those little green eyes and know how much I will miss them. I love those eyes.

2:13 am

I'm awake. Duncan's awake. It's our last night together. He's been out of it for most of the evening, but sudden;y seemed awake. He didn't want to eat, but now I can't get back to sleep so here I am.

The outpouring of love has been wondeful. I think we've aligned ourselves with a good group of pet friendly friends.

I was just thinking of Duncan's little ears. His left ear, especially after the amputation has been so dirty. I suppose he can't clean it as well, although he has never cleaned his own ears. Apparently, it's a trait of dominant cats. They expect other cats to clean it for them.

Ah. Sir Duncan was thirsty. His official title is Brave Sir Duncan of Donuts, Knight of Three Legs. But around here, we just call him The Dude. And no matter what, The Dude abides.

Duncan update

He's so distant. He stares into space, sometimes looking through me. Sometimes he looks at me, into my soul it feels like. There was a point last night in which he stared so deeply into my eyes, I felt a connection that I rarely feel even in humans. It was very intense and brough tears to my eyes. He was reaching out to me I think to make me feel better. That seems to be his only concern lately is to make us feel better. He's given up on himself.

He drinks water like crazy and sometimes eats a little baby food. But he's gone. The cat I know is gone. So why is it so hard to make that final decision? I strongly believe that life should be fun and spontaneous. Having a pet euthanized is neither. And I always believed death should be spontaneous as well.

I bought a stone heart on Sunday at the garden center. It says "giggle" on it. When I picked it up today, it broke. I am consistantly disappointed in how much my life is filled with such literal metaphors. Maybe disappointment is a strong word. Amused perhaps.

And still, life goes on.

Duncan and End of Days

Duncan is really, really sick. He barely eats, and only baby food at that. He has that distant look in his eyes most of the time. Here he is with Paxton who has taken to protecting him even though Duncan has kicked his ass for 15 years.

This is my post to the Yahoo feline cancer group:

Sir Duncan of Donuts is having a slightly better day. We discovered
the miracle of baby food. Turns out he doesn't want to chew. He may
have fallen on his jaw perhaps or his teeth hurt. the vet didn't see
anythign wrong on tuesday, but it wasn't his normal vet. Regardless,
baby food is the only thing I can get him to eat. Ham, turkey and
sweet potatoes. He always liked orange food, except oranges. He's
been very alert today which is really nice. But he still depends on
Taxi Mom and Taxi dad to cart him around. He has so much trouble
walking. I know there isn't much time left, so I cherish this happy
day so much.

Vast Ocean

Yesterday morning, Russ and I woke up early and drove to Santa Monica for our very first ocean swim. We were so excited and I was actually VERY nervous about the water being cold. That to me would be pain and you fear pain. It's the same as going to get a root canal. You are not afraid that something is going to happen during the procedure, just that you know you are subjecting yourself to pain and a generally unpleasant experience.

To my surprise, the water was a balmy 67. In the wetsuit, it was quite nice. My beginning group of 3 with our leader Conrad marched into the water to practice getting in and out. We learned to duck dive under waves, which I thought were scary and big. Conrad agreed that the conditions were not favorable to a beginner. I actually had a great time going under the waves and was doing very well. And then I panicked. We were to swim past the waves to the calm. And I went in to try to swim and the ocean, the big waves, the salt water it all literally came crashing down on me. I tried to get into my swimming rhythm, but couldn't seem to breathe. I needed to stop and try to center myself but we were right in the middle of the waves parts. There was no resting. You had to swim under the waves and I couldn't put my head under anymore. I remembered a time when I got stuck in the middle of a lake because Edward wanted me to swim back to the boat so he could windsurf alone. The boat wasn't anchored. i found myself right in the boat path, alone and helpless. And I remembered the time when I was 4 at a swimming lesson. The teacher was away at the moment so I decided to show off for my mom who was watching from the side. The pool was too deep, I couldn't swim yet and I panicked. My mom just sat and watched. She later told me she thought I'd learn faster if she didn't try to help. I was alone and helpless. Swimming back in was almost impossible. If it weren't for that annoying little girl cheering me on, I don't think I would have made it. And actually, it also made me think that I don't know if I could cheer on the annoying little girl, as a side note. She was just too annoying.

I don't know if I can do the swim.......

Rhiannon rings like a bell in the night...

Rhiannon, besides being a song about a Welsh witch, is a dear Welsh friend. Well, she's a friend who happens to be Welsh I suppose it more accurate. And she's married to another dear friend Michael. Here we are eating at French 75. It was a wonderful dinner to celebrate their birthdays and the impending birthday of their daughter. Russ said when the chocolate souffle came out, I made an O face. I think he was jealous of the dessert.

Luck of the Irish

The Irish have never been really lucky in any way. Generally, that island has been invaded and subjugated over the past 2000 years. I think the phrase is meant ot be ironic. But then there is Guinness. I have always had good luck when it comes to Guinness. Friday night was indeed a lovely time surrounded by friends and Guinness. In fact, besides our dear Disney friends, we stumbled upon Pete, an old stand-up friend from Chicago. And by stand-up friend, I mean we all did stand-up. Pete is one of the most sweet, talented people I know. He wrote, directed and starred in a movie, which actually was really funny. The triple threat is usually a buzz kill, but this one truly did not suck. But Pete is jobless, taking writing gigs from time to time and playing father to his young son Joseph. Sometimes I miss being on that end of the business. But rarely. Surrounded by friends and Guinness, I feel really lucky.

Angie Lafontaine

Friday, I drove down to E! in the Mid-Wilshire district or Miracle Mile or whatever it's called and shot a few more installments of The 7 deadly Sins of Hollywood. I think they changed the title to somethign less logical like The 7 Hollywood Sins Deadly. Russ oh so kindly brought me in to play one of the talking head characters. It's really fun. Angie is an OC tabloid subscriber. She KNOWS celebrities like she knows sculptured nails. Note the fake eyelashes. I kept the make-up on all day, just for fun. I got so many compliments, I'm considering making this my new look.

On the way back to Disney, I stopped for petrol. Geez. I'm going broke driving in LA. Note the bilboard of a little girl crying. It's some photo exhibit about End Times, which is weird, but I find it ultimately ironic that it is posted by a gas station. The tank cost over $46. I don't even drive an SUV. And instead of shutting off as pumps normally do, this one lept out of the tank and squirted all over the ground. I probably lost a good $5 right there on the pavement.

Whatever happened to Full Serve???

Waxy

Oh, the pain!

I had my very first bikini waxing yesterday. All my friends rave about it, so it seemed like the thing to do. My first question is, what man invented this? Oh, my dear jesus, the pain was unreal. And, hey! It lasts for HOURS. I'm still a little stingy today.

When I made the appointment, I was very clear that this was my first waxing and I was afraid of it. The suggestion was for me to take an advil before hand. I did, but what effect that had I have no idea. I showed up on time and waited. Then my waxer, Noelle, greeted me. She's a cute little goth girl from Indiana. All of 25 maybe. I kept convincing myself that she would be very good, even if she wan't remotely Russian. I told her this was my first time. She remarked that everything would be just fine. I'm blonde after all - tiny little hairs that come out easily. She started explaining everything she was doing. I tried to take the curious, scientific approach thinking that would distract me. No go. It really hurt. Noelle kept the chatter going, trying to keep me focused. At this point, I was assuming there would be about 5 strips to rip off. There were lots! I had no idea they do little sections. Oh, the pain, the pain. Not quite as bad as getting a piercing. Possibly close to getting a tatoo. Which by the way, this has sealed it for me that I'm not going to sport the ink.

After leaving, I went to the coffee house next door to recover over a sandwich and a latte. The shock was wearing off and I was feeling pretty good. Somewhere in the mid-afternoon however, I started really feeling nauseas. I think I was running a fever. This can't be good for you. I finally had the courage to peek and see Noelle's handywork. She missed a few spots. I shuddered to think that there could have been more. So did she stop because I looked as if I was going to pass out? Or is it that spots get missed? Or is she just not that great a waxer?

After all that, I know deep in my heart that I will be back in that table in six weeks.

Night Running

I went fo ran evenin run. Had to as it was 100 degrees in various parts of the valley today. I love running at the end if the day. You get to see so much. I met about 5 dogs, three were just puppies. One cat. Quite a few families on a post meal walk. I smelled BBQ, hamburgers, and I think chef Boy-r-dee ravioli. usually it's tater-tots, but that was missing. Maybe Tater-tots are not a Sunday night offering. There is something so binding about meeting people in your neighborhood in a Sunday.

Jason's birthday

This is Jason. He had a birthday party last night.

I found myself on the roof of the Standard Hotel on the Sunset strip speaking in Hollywoodese. It's a dialect that one picks up when around these types. Funny thing is these types are my friends. I gave Jason some Hands Off! Anti-masturbation creme and a book of 1950's pin-ups. Seemed appropriate. I usually give him some sort of underwear, but I couldn't find anything this year that I haven't already given him. Besides, it's really hard to beat that one time in 1999....

Our friend Michael had a party at his house. There was already a running joke centered around the fact that I prefer thong underwear. I had jokingly promised I would donate a pair to Jason. Russ and I devised a plan. So, being his birthday and all, I gave him a little black pair in the kitchen, right in front of everyone. Everyone laughed and Russ stormed off in a pretend huff, but we played it up to Jason, telling him that Russ was so mad he had locked himself in the bathroom. So Jason went to find Russ and "talk him down" when Russ appeared, handing his own boxer-briefs to Jason, not to be outdone. And that was the night the McGarrys gave Jason their undergarments.

Father and Son Pizza

Back in Chicago, I lived right behind Father and Son Pizza on Milwaukee Ave, just past Fullerton. Even though it was a few steps away, I always had baked ziti delivered in the winter. One summer day, I was there noshing and sipping stale iced tea (it was never good there) and I realized that right behind me was legendary film critic Roger Ebert. He was waxing poetic about Sean Penn being the greatest American actor of our time. It was a valid argument in 1989. Father and Son was a favorite of his, so I wasn't surprised by his presence but star struck nonetheless. Famous people rarely came out in Chicago.

Years later in LA, I was walking up to the Vanity Fair party after the 1999 Oscars when I spotted Gene Siskel, the other half of the famous film critic duo. I lived in the neighborhood and it was an annual trek to walk up Robertson Ave and watch stars do the red carpet thing. This year, due to a traffic snafu, the stars ALSO had to walk up Robertson Ave much to our delight. As our comic friend Pardo was on the phone to another comic, Pat, Gene passed by. Jimmy held out the phone to Gene and said, "Gene Siskel, say hello to Pat in Chicago!" And he did. Without a beat he said, "Hello, Pat, " and kept walking up Robertson. Being Chicagoans, we were awed by not only the presence but the vocal acuity of dear old Gene. And those were the last words we heard him say. He died weeks later.

What's in your fridge?

A banger. And some mash. I guess. I am not brave enough to open the container. This is what happens when you open up your fridge for use by others. The cottage cheese is mine. The beer (belgian) is not.

Giggles

I'm waiting to get a new computer at work. My current one is apparently experiencing disk failure. I got to choose the name, only because I used to run that department. Giggles was available so I chose that one. Giggles was the name of my very first unix (SGI) back in the day, back in Dinosaur. I thought it would be a good omen. I loved that computer and I loved that I had one named giggles. I would have opted for the single malt scotch, I know because I named those computers, but one wasn't available.

So, here I am, fresh out of python class, holding a houdini book and waiting for my new linux. How did I get here?

Strange as it ever was, stange as it ever was.

Baby Bird

I just held a baby bird in my hand. I felt his tiny, soft feathers against my cheek. He didn't seem too terrified, but that mybe because he's tired. First of all, there is the distinct possibility that it is a she. i don't know why I assume. I'm not that great at sexing birds. Secondly, I don't know how long he has been in the house. I got home around 8 or so. I found him at 9:45. And birds don't do much after dark. So has he been here all day??? I only found him because Paxton was riveted to the mirror on the dresser, which he has never fancied before. Low and behold there was the bird. I was easily able to pick him up and take him outside. I considered feeding him, which I got schooled at in chicago when I bird-sat a baby Robin. Just as I was about to go in and get the cat food to feed him (yes, cat food) he flew to the empty house next door. I think he was aiming for the tree, but flew just shy of it. I heard a thud which I assume was him landing on the tin shed. I hope. Well, good news is that there is nothing next door and he can clearly fly to his next destination. I only hope he is able to feed himself since he may have not eaten all day. Poor kid. I wish I had been able to feed him first.

Minnie's Moonlit Monster

Tonight, I'm supposed to be running around Disneyland, tethered to 3 of my co-workers as we race through the park solving impossible quizzes and puzzles. But one of our intrepid team, Ross, seems to have disappeared. Not as intrepid as once thought. And since we cannot play with only 3 on the team, we will be forced to sip cocktails and talk about Disney trivia instead. Seeing as I have a difficult software class at 9am tomorrow, I'm really not heartbroken. Perhaps we'll wait until next year to race to the 5 corners of the Park and do calculus with the addresses on the shops in New Orleans Square.

Or, one of the co-workers will frighten someone into being a forth and I'll be up til 2am anyway. Geesh. I should have stayed hime sick today.

Lumpy Dunc again

Since last Monday, Duncan has been fine but his tumor seems to have grown quite a bit. you could see the changes by hte hour. Finally today, it burst. We had a vet appointment anyway. Turns out it had gotten infected, as tumors do. Necrosis. Who knew? The vet cleaned it up n- it was NASTY. I mean beyond your imagination nasty. But now he's pretty much resting and oozing. We're outside. I'm on the new hammock we purchased this weekend as part of the make Duncan feel better parade. He does love the hammock. But now he's on the love seat. A hummingbird keeps buzzing my head, and a young finch is learning to sing I suppose as he keeps doing it. His dad stays close by, observing and giving pointers. I've come to realize this spring that many baby birds sound the same.

We had a baby mockingbird in the jasmine. He flys now, but I still hear him and his Peter Brady style bird cry. Poor kid. He'll get through puberty soon I hope. What an awkward phase for a bird.

Run, Forest, Run

I'm just now understanding the importance of the brunch venue from Sunday. James, Marlon, Dale, Russ and I had just run the first ever Carpe Diem 10k in Santa Monica, ending at the pier. It was so much fun. And of course later we were hungry. So we ate at the restaurant on the pier which happened to be Bubba Gump's Shrimp Co, named after the reference in the movie Forest Gump. Everything in the restaurant refered back to the movie or to running. I suppose I was in such a daze after running 6.2 miles, I didn't really notice at the time.

It was a really fun race, mostly along the shore looking out over the foggy ocean. I also enjoyed running past lots of nice boutiques with handmade jewelry in the window. Maybe that's why my time was a little slow. The last 2 miles were slightly downhill so I enjoyed picking up the pace quite a bit. I came in at a cool 1:10, which is great for me. I have never been fast (on my feet) - ever. And that race was no exception. BUT I had so much fun, I am sure I will do it again soon. There is the Mud Run coming up in June......

Mr Show

Our show Friday night was...interesting. A study in why I am not comfortable in charging people money to watch improv. The night was a train wreck. Most scenes went on too long, there was a lot of negation. It was generally a nightmare. but we did OK considering we only had 3 people. I ended up being patient zero with the uncommon cold, who had 2 spines and got sold to the circus as Mdme. Chernobyl. It was fun and we got some good laughs. Poor Mark. I dragged him to go see it and he was very, very nice about it. But I mean come on - the show was crap. He paid to see crap. Oh well - it's all a crap shoot. Ha! Pun.

Why are Creative Executives in existance?

They are not creative. They are executives. Usually minus a tie, but they own several. Even the women. It's a left-over from an ill-timed Annie Hall wardrobe phase. They thought they would look more powerful, but realized they just look frumpy. There are currently 3 levels of mandatory notes levels here at the Studio. Those 3 levels are being whisked out the door as I speak. But that they ever existed is a mystery. Who were these strange and mysterious Creative Execs? And why were they there? Some day, we'll all look back on this and laugh. Like the Edsel.

MiniSpa

If you're a boy, you don't know this. Many womens' restrooms have neat, fluffy things. Things suchs as hand or body lotion. Perfume samples. Air freshener. Most of these items are of a pastel hue. I hear that mens' restrooms are loud and smelly. Like an alley. It must suck to be a guy.

Hunt the Grunt

Somewhere in our den, there lies an undetected poo.

Duncan braved his third and probably final radiation treatment. He's doing great! Dr Cretin said he looks good and his weight is OK. We thought he was constipated, but Dr Chretin says he's empty. Either he's not eating or, "you'll find it eventually." Guess what we're doing tonight????

Meowstrong, Duncan!

102

Today is Sidney's birthday. He was born in 1904.

Sidney lives across the street in a house he bought in 1950. His daughter, Iona, lives there too. She's a retired nurse who takes care of Sidney. We see her from time to time, having a cigarette on the porch, or through the kitchen window. When we woke up Monday morning, the paramedic truck was outside. A police car was down the street. No one was moving very quickly. We've seen the trucks there before. A couple of times, Sidney's heart had stopped, but the paramedics revived him and he went on to enjoy his 100th birthday celebration and the year I grew extra tasty tomatoes.

This time was different. A police officer stepped out to the porch to make a phone call. She scribbled notes on her clipboard. She looked down at the ground. A slight drizzle started to fall. The west horizon was dark and cloudy, a sign of a dreary day ahead. The paramedics drove off slowly, quietly. The police eventually left. Iona stood on the porch and light a cigarette, staring at the ground.

I walked over in the drizzle and gave her a hug. "He didn't wake up," she said. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

It's never easy. Never.

Good night, Sidney. And happy birthday.

Fat any other day...

Today, being Mardi Gras, I think back to all those years I gave up something for lent. Usually cheese. I thought it was a wonderful testiment to my incredible will power. But as time creeps by, I notice that I am both less willing to give up something for lent and less likely to have incredible anything. Although I apparently came up with a brilliant idea. I was asking Chris the Director of the Dog movie hoe hw planned on decorating the new office. He was explaining his plans for little areas that look like shacks (like in the movie) with tiny doors that people have to crawl through. "Like doggie doors," I said. Apparently, he hadn't made that connection before. His eyes grew wide as he gasped. "A doggie door!!!" He told me I could have free drinks forever in the pod. I reminded him that he doesn't charge for drinks. I'm still hoping to get a decent job offer out of it......

Farewell, Fussy

Last week, I learned of the sad passing of one of our dear feline friends, Fuschia. Even though he had been sick for some time, it was still not easy to take. He was in my mind a fixture - in his house, in his relationship with his humans. And he left a void, which most assuredly will be filled with memories. I try to remember that life goes on, the world keeps turning. But beginnings always mean endings somewhere along the way. And endings are rarely easy. Peace out, dear Fuss-Fuss.

It made it all the harder to drop off Duncan for his first radiation treatment on Thursday. ut our little boy did great! He now has a big X on his tumor. I like that it looks like a target. The oncologist said that he was a dream under anesthesia, meaning his vitals were good and strong. Only 2 more treatments to go then a possible debulking surgery. It is a really big tumor. I hope they can take some of it out safely. Even though I know it will grow back. But I'd just like to see it be smaller. And Duncan is getting very light. I'm trying to get him to eat more, which he will do. But not on his own. Odd that. He used to eat everything in sight. And it's not his appetite. I think he just gets tired of eating. I have those days sometimes......

Here We Are Again

I took Duncan to the vet yesterday. He's generally fine except for the enormous tumor on his neck. But we're once again faced with the dilemma of making choices. I'm not really sure what to do. We can just let the cancer run it's course, or perhaps do a little radiation and a de-bulking surgery in hopes of reducing the tumor. At this point, it will become very large and ruin his quality of life. That's the end we're looking at. And it's not pretty. He'd probably take surgery well, he did last time, but who's to say? What should we do?

Dixar

My Dad called at 11pm his time tonight to ask me how the Pixar Disney merger will effect me. We don't really know yet. But I know this conversation will change:

INT. Chili's Restaurant, any suburb, USA. Bad lighting surrounds the sights and sounds of 1998. Two women chat under fluorescent lights.

Heather: So, how's your job at Pixar?

Me: Disney.

Heather: What?

Me: I work at Disney. not Pixar. Different companies. Pixar is in the Bay area. Disney is in Burbank.

Heather: Oh. Ok. But you worked on (last Pixar film), right?

Me: No, that's Pixar. I worked on (last Disney film.)

Heather: I never heard of it.

JUMP CUT: INT. Chili's, any suburb, USA, 1999 and each sequential year. Same conversation, same fluorescent lighting every year.

CUT TO: EXT. Waterfalls, rainbow, beautiful landscape. Same two women talking in 2006.

Heather: So how's your job at Pixar?

Me: Great, thanks.

Highlights!

Tweeked

So I tweeked my back last night. Normally it's something you do and you go "ow" and you recover and then you don’t think about it anymore. But this is different. This is one of those injuries you have for the rest of your life. In my later years, I'll think back to that time in the “oughts” when I tweeked my back – that started it all. That’s what this is! And it was so silly I was just lowering Duncan to his food bowl in the middle of the night. As you do. And it’s so strange. That’s going to be it – one big back injury And that’s the beginning of the old, decrepit, body breaking down. Or it will be like that scar I have on my shoulder from Beasley, my cat who scratched me as I picked him off the street after being hit by a car. It will be the one I remember. That will make me remember the time I was taking Duncan to his food. So what will it be, a memory or a handicap?

Little Duncan had a great day. He's had his fluids and his medicine. He's been running around today like crazy, rubbing his face on the driveway and chewing catnip. I'm so glad I was able to give him a garden with catnip. He loves it. He hit the litter box with a vengence then fell over on the rug - exhausted. It was a good day for Duncan.

No More Chemo

We took Duncan in today for his 3rd chemo treatment. But the vet called just after 10:30. He said Duncan is very spry, BUT...

I knew that wasn't a good but.

The tumor is definitely bigger. 30% bigger. In just 3 weeks. That's 10% a week. The oncologist did not want to continue with chemo since it would be a waste of time. I decided to go straight for the Peroxicam and see what happens with that. The meloxicam seemed to reduce at least the swelling of the tumor, but we had the constipation to deal with. But looks like this is the only course we have left, besides herbs and maybe some voodoo.

And little Duncan is just as happy as ever. Meowstrong little Duncan!!!

Bye Bye Hey-Zeus

It's a sad day at the McGarry household. Our Jesus at the Last Supper clock finally went south. I think the guys that put in the new windows bumped it or dropped it or something. It just hasn't been the same. As in it stopped working altogether. So we're going to take it down and give it a proper send off before we trash it. I'll miss the way it would play Handel at each hour. No clock will ever be able to take it's place.

My Fair Lady

I am in hell. Not the sort of hell I ever imagined. The sort in which you are a captive audience to the antics of a young, pretty, ambitious person who only makes eye contact with those who might be of service to you. Either physically or career-ly. Additionally, she is incredibly stupid. I know, I know, that will get you EVERYWHERE in LA. Here's a snipit of what I just heard:

“Oh my god, I was like, signing, like, remember? Like, singing? Like running down the hall, singing, like, running??? And I was like singing that like song from that movie where they sing...what is it? Oh yeah, like My Fair Lady. (singing) I feel pretty...oh so pretty! Yeah, like that, and everyone was like laughing 'cause I was running and like singing.”
This is what is wrong with humanity.

Not so much that every single guy came out to the hallway to watch the pretty-stupid girl talk, but that I had to listen to it happen right outside my cube and there is not one damn thing I can do about it. And I have to pee. But I can't get to the bathroom without getting roped into this conversation, as it were. No, that's not the bad part. The BAD part is the fact that this girl spews the word "like" like a frat boy vomits at Mardi Gras. Notice the correct use of the word.

And so here is my homage to pretty-stupid girl:
"I was like listening to you like sort of like talking and I decided that you like sort of in a way like suck."

The End.

Last Day of this pathetic year

I hate 2005. And I'm quite sure it hates me back. Not long after New Year's Day 2005, I discovered the first of Duncan's tumors. His front left leg was amputated February 21. We cancelled our Ireland trip to run the Connemarathon since we felt we couldn't leave Duncan alone quite so soon. Russ was in the hospital for 2 days with a still unknown malady. I spent most of the summer trying to get an unwelcome person out of my life and just as soon as that was over, Duncan's cancer returned. Yay! What an excellent year! Let's do it again.

As I stand on the brink of a brand new year with new possibilities, I shudder to think that things could actually be worse. We will most likely lose Duncan this year. Russ will run a 50k in two weeks and will hopefully survive. My job on Wilbur will come to a close, and hopefully I will get picked up on the next movie, but at any rate I will be facing yet another ending this year. Maybe this year is just going to be about endings. And thus beginnings.

Speaking of beginnings, check out the new Ricky Gervais podcast. It just started this month. Hilarious. On your local iTunes.

My other beginning, will be a big cleanse fest starting tomorrow. Who doesn't begin each new year with some diet or exercise fad. Russ and I independantly decided to go with super foods, juices, no fried foods, no alcohol, lots of water for 2 weeks. He's doing it for his race, I'm doing it because I feel crappy.

Last day of 2005 - rain in LA.

Ready, set...2006!!

Extreme!

I have been Extremed! I was on extreme Homemakover last night.
I didn’t see it, but Russ did. On Halloween, they were here taping Ty Pennington running around the second floor of our building at Disney. I was up there and was trying to hide by the staircase because I didn’t want to be on camera. It was Halloween and I was in my Kirby the alien costume – head to toe in Maroon fur. But because I was in costume, Ty came running over to me and started asking me questions on camera. And apparently I’m the only one they kept out of the all the stuff they shot at Feature Animation. It’s just me saying “The Big Guy?” in response to his asking where the big guy is. How weird is that?


And Duncan came through with flying colors in his chemo!!! YAY! And the tumor is smaller. YAY!! Good boy Duncan!

The Me I used to Be

I remember once when I did stand up comedy, someone told me I would be much funnier if I were uglier. He told me, "You should get in a car crash or something. You know, smash you face up or something." Sage advice from some tubby, drunken loser of a standup. I wonder where he is now? Which bar is he slumped over? Years later, I did a series of sketch comedy shows at ACME theatre in LA. Those were the golden years. My favorite and best received show was called "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Sunday Show" with TV's Wil Wheaton.

Looking back on Wil's blog and the linked blogs to Shane Nickerson and Annie Sertich, it's inspired me to write like I used to: for the funny. Sure introspection is fun, but comedy is MORE fun. If I can just remember how to write it.....and photograph it. Pictures = funny!

Last Day of Shiva

As the sun sets on LA, I am reminded that it is the last moments of shiva for Caryn. I knew her from dance class. She was an incredibly emotional dancer who often talked about her various acting projects. Last week, I heard she had died suddenly from some type of infection. In the mail was her website. I had never really checked it out before, even though I had discussed it with her and received several emails about it. But now, I look at it often. I never knew how much Caryn liked gardening or that she had written many recipes for a variety of vegetarian meals. I wish I had looked. I wish I had known that part of her. I wish I could ask her questions. Such as why didn't I get to know her better when I had the chance.

http://www.caryn.com

Up Chuck

So, maybe Meloxicam is not such a good idea. Dang. I felt like the tumor was getting smaller. Or at least the tissue surrounding it. But Duncan was definitely getting constipated. And he had 2 bouts, one severe, with vomiting. After looking Meloxicam up on the WORLD WIDE WEB I discovered a list of things:

1. Meloxicam is not approved for feline use
2. Cats are sensitive to NSAIDS in general
3. Meloxicam is renotoxic - Dunan has chronic kidney failure

So, maybe Meloxicam is not for him. Will any of the NSAIDS family? The steriodal type of anti-inflammatory would not even be a consideration, which leaves us with out a viable option for anti-inflammatory, specifically a COX-1 blocker.

Meloxicam

Today we started Duncan on Meloxicam, which is like asprin for pets. In one case, it shrunk a tumor. At the very least it will relieve any inflamation from the cancer. At best, it will slow the growth.

Today it's very sunny and warm. Duncan was enjoying laying out in a sunbeam on the porch. That's his favorite. I seeded the lawn. And why not? Although most people add steer manure. I think that would really mess up the cats. Could be fun! Maybe they'll think we adopted a bull.

Meowstrong

I talked to the oncologist tonight. I asked him what he would do and he said he
would do
radiation and surgery, but then he would always do the most radical treatment
because he
is an oncologist. And I think that's what makes him a very good oncologist.
But I still
don't think that is the way I want to go with Duncan. I am really interetsed in
the
interlesionary chemo. It's a pretty easy treatment adn I guess it is somewhat
effective. It's
just that it's not curative. And I've already come to terms with that. I am
not expecting a
cure. I did that with surgery and it didn't work, so I have no expaectations
for a cure for
Duncan at all. Just something to slow it all down a bit. And interlesionary
chemo seems
to be the best solution. And Meloxicam.

Duncan is so cuddly. He's very happy right now. I just want to keep it that
way.

I ordered wrinstbands like the Live Strong ones except mine say MEOWSTRONG. They're gray and white like Duncan. I just got them in last week. Russ gave Dr Nunez one today and he almost cried. It's so nice to know so many people will be united for one kitty by a little wristband.

Sword of Damocles

Duncan went to see Dr Johnny Chretin at VCA today to see what choices
we had. He was very, very dismayed that the cancer had returned. We
had HUGE clean margins. He went through all the possible choices with
the caveat that Duncan might not qualify for some of these if further
tests reveal more kidney disease or metastasis. The choices in order are:
1. 20 days of radiation followed by surgery, which would be very
difficult given the location of the tumors.
2. just surgery, which we know won't get clean margins
3. just radiation, which would be harder on him than surgery, so it
was recommended that if we do radiation, surgery would be a cake walk.
4. full body chemo, which seems to have limited success
5. localized chemo which would be difficult to do on a tumor his size
6. anti-inflammatories and the like

I was amazed that the radiation and surgery would run $8,000. Wow.
Radiation alone is $6,000.

It's so hard to make a decision. We can't figure out why the cancer
came back. And Dr Chretin had never personally seen a cat with
liposarcoma. It's just not that common. There is a chance that the
sub-Q fluids are what he's having a reaction to, which kills me
because in essence, WE gave him cancer. Of course, he can't survive
without the fluids either. Poor guy is resting right under the Sword
of Damocles.

That said, I'm not completely convinced that an expensive, radical,
painful proceedure is in order simply because it didn't work last
time. Meaning, the cancer came back. What if we do the surgery with
radiation, put the little guy through hell and it comes back in 6
months again? We're going to sleep on it and try to figure it out. I
feel like a deer in headlights. I probably look like one too.

LipoSirDuncan

Well, our worst fears have been realized. Sir Duncan's liposarcoma has returned. I'm not sure, as I mentioned before, that we have many treatment options. Wow. I really thought going through the amputation would have given us much more time. I was counting on a year. I suppose I should have the vet contact the oncologist, although I have a feeling his response will be that we could do radiation if we want to, and frankly I don't really want to. I think it will be way too hard on his kidneys. I know I should be more willing to fight, but I feel drawn to resignation. I suppose that's the depression. And knowing that we did so much last time and it didn't help much.

We're going to see if the homeopathic stuff keeps the tumor growth in check. I forgot what it's called. Don't you wish there was a magic creme that would dissolve tumors? Like Compound W for cancer?

Do cats get night sweats? Duncan seems very hot at night. Not like a fever, because his ears are cool. It just seems like he's generating a lot of heat.

Hope all you Floridians are OK......

Dr Bamford, the holistic vet, did a FNA yesterday as she was concerned about one of the lumps. The one closest to the scar she is not worried about. But one on his right shoulder gave her pause. It's a little big and she couldn't feel all the way around it. It seems to be attached to his scapula. That worried her. So, we'll wait until we hear back. She is also in agreement that surgery would not be recommended because there would be no way to get clean margins. But she also agreed that Duncan seems not to be bothered at all by it. We'll continue to hug him as much as possible.

Meantime, Russ tells me the character I voice in Chicken Little, Hollywood Abby, is featured in the new ads for the film. Yay. At least it keeps me distracted.

Mr Lumpy

Russ is taking Duncan to our holistic vet today. His lumps (there are 4 now) are getting a little bigger. I want to get Dr Bamford's opinion on the consistancy of the lumps. They feel squishy to me, which is inconsistant with liposarcoma.

I feel strangely calm about all this, not like the first round. I chalk this up to:
1. Complete Denial
2. Acceptance of the Inevitable
OR
3. An Instictive Notion that It's Not Cancer.

At any rate, I feel our treatment options are narrow. Surgery is not a possibility. And given Duncan's kidneys, I'm not sure chemo or radiation would be good for him. The most curious thing is that the tumors came back about 2 inches or more distal to the surgery. Given that he had remarkably clean, wide margins, it just seems odd.

I had the vet reread the X-rays from August. He verified that there was absolutely no sign of cancer as of August 23. My regular vet has been very hands off, not really recommending treatment probably because he's reading that I'm not receptive to it.

Well, I'll let you know what Dr Bamford says.

My Lumpy Cat

Poor little Duncan. He now has 4 lumps. I found one over the weekend, again the size of a pea, on the left of his spine in the area of his amputation. This makes me think it is in fact a return of the cancer. The other 3 lumps were well on the right side of his spine, not that close to the scar. But they all have the same behavior of starting out like a pea shaped thing and then flattening out to teh size of a dime. Meantime, he acts like nothing is wrong. He did go through a weird thing with his diet. He just decided he didn't like his food and snubbed most all of it. He's really into Cluck-a-Doodle-Doo. It's a fish flavor - go figure.

Speaking of cluck, we went to the Chicken Little wrap party on Saturday and had the most fabulous time. The party was huge and the bars were plentiful. There was karaoke, so needless to say, there was Russ and Dara singing karaoke. Photo to follow.

The movie turned out well; rather cute actually. But my thoughts turn to Duncan.