IndiaOppen JonesenHeimer: A Tale Of Two Showings

 

The vast majority of the time I will maintain the best way to see a film is on a great big movie screen inside a theater.  It's personal, immersive, grand, sometimes overwhelming and often gratifying.

Of course there are exceptions to almost every rule, however.

One of those exceptions was when I went to see Indiana Jones And The Dial Of Destiny a few weeks ago on its opening weekend.

The venue was our local theater, in and of itself not a bad locale by any stretch of the imagination.  The audience, in this case, "made" the movie I'm sorry to say.  And the theater contributed, too.

The few seats we were able to obtain for the Sunday afternoon showing were in the very back row, high up in a theater that housed maybe a little more than 100 patrons.  Not that I minded sitting that distance from the screen as the screen itself was large and wide, plenty of viewing area with no blockage from anyone from down below us.

Within the films first 20 minutes or so there's lots of action, as was showcased by a woman to my right a few seats down from me.  A surprising sequence elicited a "Whoa!" that practically echoed through the theater ... followed by another in short order.  

And this would continue throughout the movie, more than a half dozen times.  Some of them were short bursts of exclamation, others long and loud and annoying.

Then?  There was the parent who was quickly scooting a small child down the longest path possible through a row of seats in an attempt (I surmised) to get the kid to the bathroom before he exploded from the drink he obviously need to finish 30 minutes into the flick.  And then?  Afterward, here they come back again to reclaim their seats.

But that wasn't all.  

10 minutes later, there they came again, practically running down the aisle.  Mom at the rear urge the kid on as quickly as possible.

This happened no less than 3 times in 45 minutes.  I don't know if the kid genuinely had to go, if he was sick or what.  But it turned just as annoying as the "Whoa!" lady to my right.

Half way through my bag of popcorn, I began to sweat.  Profusely.  I just sat there, trying to concentrate on the film and ignore the beads of moisture forming at my temples, threatening to roll down my face as soon as the accumulated enough moisture to do so.  What the hell?  Why was I sweating?  Was it the damned leather chairs that seemed to be baking my back and backside into a stew of perspiration?  Was I having a reaction to the popcorn?  And then, I realized, it was hotter than hell where we were sitting because we were all the way in the back row, closer to the ceiling than anyone else.  With zero air conditioning supply units anywhere near us.  Dead, hot air going nowhere.  No wonder it felt like the beginnings of a sauna ramping up on its way to the "Hell" setting it was obviously set to.

But wait ... there's more.  All of a sudden I'm blinded by some ditzy woman at my 11:00 o'clock position while she checked her phone and began to text.  I was in no mood for that and began to slowly boil.  But, just as soon as I almost grumbled out loud, she doused her phone.  

30 seconds later, it was back on again.

And then ... off once more.  I waited for a third offense but it didn't come in short order because, if it had, I was going to leap from my seat and give her what for.

Sure enough, she was on her phone once again a minute later.  That did it.  

I actually leapt from my seat (as much as the leather would allow me to leap while attempting in vain to contain me in its sticky confines) and rushed over to her.  I got right down on her shoulder and scared the bejeebers out of her as I said: "Hey!  You're phone is blaring right in my face.  Turn the damned thing off!"  Startled and half out of her seat herself as I griped at her, all she could do was squeak out an "Okay!" meekly and bury her phone in her lap.  I trudged back to my seat and plunked back into it just as the lady a few seats down yelled out yet another "WHOA ... !!!" at something that happened on screen.

It was one of the worst experiences I've had in a movie theater.

 

And then?  Yesterday we headed to Oppenheimer at a larger theater in Folsom.

Incidences during that 3 hour film?  Exactly zero.  Not a one.  

Two different theaters, two different genres, two different clienteles.  One horrible showing, one excellent showing.

Just goes to show you: They can't all be gems.

Oh ... and the films themselves?  The Dial Of Destiny was miles above Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull but seriously ... how is anything expected to beat the grandeur, awe and excitement of Raiders Of The Lost Ark?  It was reasonably enjoyable with some typical Indiana Jones-type action and some satisfying acknowledgements to past events ... but greatly lacking in one particular casting situation.

Oppenheimer was exactly what I expected ... long, somewhat convoluted, intriguing and a great testament to Nolan's writing and directing chops.  (And, oh ... what a cast!)  Downside?  Problematic for those who are easily distracted or aren't paying attention. 

But a nifty film nevertheless ...  

 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Decapitation By Guacamole

 

 

 

I pulled the frozen guacamole out of the freezer to lop off a chunk to go with the omelet I was making.

I have a small cleaver and a cutting board. I place the guac on the board and I stick an end of the cleaver into it to begin working a piece of the rock hard stuff free.  I'm successful from the get to and continue to do so until I get several pieces released from their confines, enough that I'm satisfied I have enough for my recipe.

From behind me I hear Missy state: "You know ... you should use something else before you decapitate yourself."

Now ... I've done plenty of kitchen prep work over the course of my life.  I mean ... I like to cook, so there have been countless times I've had the opportunity to chop and slice and pare and skin and drain and peel and separate and grind and more.  

But never, ever, ever (and, yes ... I used the word "never" there, something I rarely, rarely use) positioned my neck between a knife and what I'm cutting when I've prepped food previously ...  using your neck as a cutting board, for Pete's sake.

 

 .......... Ruprecht ( STOP using your neck as a cutting board, dammit)

 

Glory Fade

 

 

 

So, yeah ... it's finally be time.  Time for the old Faded Glory shoes to give up the ghost.

They've been a faithful companion for far more than 20 years.  They've gone through thick and thin, been glued together at the sole, at the heel and elsewhere at least a couple dozen times over their lifetime.  They've weathered mud and rain and all sorts of weather.  Each gouge and scuff mark tells a story.  There are places where they're threadbare, the anterior heels are worn down to a nub. The material lining the insides of them (what little of it is left) has long since frayed and given way to almost nothingness.

 

Surprisingly, the soles of the shoes themselves are not that worse for wear. 

 

 
Regardless, one more gluing, one more repair, one more modification to keep them wear-worthy just isn't in the cards.  You can see the repairs I've made to them everywhere, all sorts of different glues oozing out the heals.  The rubber of them is has actually begun rejecting mending and restoration.  I'm pretty certain that time last year when I chased an escaped dog for a mile and more was truly the start of their ultimate demise.

 

They've housed many different feet, hundreds of thousands of steps, an extended life that should have seen them tossed many moons ago. 

 

So long, old friends.  You've been faithful and true ...

 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

A Lusty Tale Of That Scallywag Blackbeard The Pirate ... or not ...

 

 

It wasn't too long after coming down with Covid I decided to go free for all rogue.

With my beard, that is.  Yep ... shaving be damned.

Now here's the thing: Missy doesn't like me bearded.  As a man of a certain age, it comes in way more gray than salt and pepper.  She says it makes me look older. 

But I don't care if it made me look older.  I just wanted to have the beard again.  Because I could.

So ... razors?  Trimmers?  Begone.  I've no need for you for a few months while the growing commences.

Now, this time, as my beard got thicker and thicker, I saw a transformation in Missy.  She didn't complain about it as she had in the past.  "I hate that thing."  "When is that coming off?"  "You know it makes you look way older than you are."  All were commonalities I heard daily, little asides I think she'd hoped would bury in a crook of my mind and nurture there into some form of common sense. 

And yet she knows one of my superpowers is stubbornness, so I really didn't get the barely audible gripes and what purpose they were meant to serve. 

Realizing her complaints were going in one ear and out the other, she formulated a new tactic.  As things proceeded along, I was given an ultimatum.  One where the beard would come to its end of days.  I decided to prolong that date a bit longer and made a deal with Missy:

"Look ... even I get tired of it after a while.  Tell you what: Give me until the end of April, one more month, and I promised it will be gone."

Missy countered something like this:

"Well, since you put it that way, I'll make you a deal.  I'll give you the extra month ... but you have to Grecian Formula your beard at the end of the month so I can see what it looks like. Deal?"

We shook on it.  

And then?  The end of the month loomed.

As it happened, we were scheduled for an outing with The NorCal6 on the final weekend of April to the Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival.  (You can revisit that tale here.)  So I told Missy I would Grecian up that Saturday morning before we left for the Fest.

Let's just say the results were, well ... interesting.  Here's the beard before coloring ...

 ... and afterward ...

Zoinks!

Just gotta say: I don't know whose idea it was to get BLACK Grecian Formula to wash into my beard ... but, well ... WowZah!

When Missy saw me I couldn't help but notice her mentally take a step backward.  Admittedly, it is a bit shocking.  "You know you weren't supposed to go so heavy on the stuff.  You should have just sprinkled it in here and there so there was more of a salt and pepper effect ..."

"But it wasn't doing anything that way" I offered.  "It just sat there like gunmetal grey goop, doing nothing.  Besides ... I've never done this shit before so how was I supposed to know ... ?!?"

And, if you look closely (actually you don't have to look that closely) you can see where the dye leached onto my skin, around my mouth and outside my beardline ... SO THAT IT DYED MY SKIN ... !!!

 

GAAAAAAHHHHHH ... !!!  

Was this stuff gonna come off??!?  Or had I inadvertently (possibly permanently) tattooed myself ... ?!???!!?

I immediately began scrubbing the areas.  After applying more than just a bit of elbow grease (and about 25 minutes later), the majority of my dyed skin was free of blackface and, luckily, only slightly irritated and red from sandpapering the stuff off.  *whew*

Missy convinced me to powder up my newly-colored facial hair with some grey-covering concoction to lighten up the garishness of it all and it seemed to do the trick.  But I found out in short order the cover-up wasn't all it was cracked up to be; it seemed to be reacting with the dye itself and appeared to be melting off my beard!  (It was simply the grey-covering goop sloughing off, not the dye itself.)

Well ... I was in for a penny, in for a pound at this point so, like it or not, it was onward to the Grilled Cheese Festival, newly colored facial monkey business in tow. 

See?  It doesn't look THAT bad ...

But I'm not of 100% certainty Laurie isn't laughing at me ...

And while friends Grant and Peter chuckled at my new and comical appearance, it didn't look all that bad in the outdoors ... despite the fact I kinda sorta looked like a G.I.Joe Land Adventurer with Life-Like Hair & Beard ...

 

 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP growing and dyeing your damned beard already )

 

The NorCal6 Roll Into Placerville For May … Literally!

 

(Editor's Note: I've passed the writing duties for this blog entry over to My Better Half, Missy. Please enjoy her take on May's monthly get-together ...)

Since one of us is a huge lover of party games (yes, it's definitely me), it was decided the event for this adventurous group (okay, some more than others), would be a Bunco night party hosted at our house.

Of course, we couldn't have just The NorCal6 of us for this event so our numbers expanded to 17 including family members, coworkers and other friends. The guests trickled in and when all were in attendance, I gathered everyone around for the obligatory reading of the rules and we went our separate ways to grab a spot at a lucky table.  Grant was definitely not happy we were not eating prior to the games and gave me some serious stinkeye! Admittedly, I can be a little OCD when it comes to planning events and keeping things on schedule in my mind. In years past, I have been referred to as "Julie The Cruise Director" because of it!

 

Missy played the role of Lauren Tewes this particular evening ...

 

Normally we start with a nice loud cowbell ("More cowbell!") to get us going but somebody (Kelly, Grant) forgot to bring the bell. Now I really can't give them that hard of a time because, as we all know, the typical decibel level of Michael's voice is definitely loud enough to get the dogs next door howling. So he was our own version of the cowbell.

 

And … off we went. With the game underway, some rude person had to get a Bunco on her second roll! Amy was very happy with her accomplishment but jeers were flying her way from all directions! (Good natured ones, of course.)

The rules of the game, at least at our house, is that winners wait (stay at the table) and losers leave (move to the next table). In other words, those losing that round had to get up and walk to another table. Kelly and Laurie were the unfortunate two who got to enjoy the pleasure of getting their steps in for the evening, if you catch my drift. 

After two rounds, it was time to line up at the Mexican-themed potluck taco bar. I'm not quite sure but I think Grant may have tackled someone to be first in line! Two kinds of meats were on order along with chile rellanos and all the fixins … but wait a minute … we had a mystery brewing! (We’ll get to the mystery in just a moment …)

Now, most of us in attendance are of a certain generation who remember a particular commercial with a catchy tagline for Wendy's restaurants, a cranky Clara Peller asking "Where's the beef … ?!?"  

 

 

"Where's the beef ... ?!?" 

So … our big mystery of the evening?  “Where's the beans … ?!?" It’s a taco bar with tacos and rice and beans and margaritas … so … where were the beans?

You know that wonderful situation we’ve all experienced as couples, that thing called “miscommunication"?  Well, it seems Pete - when given the choice to bring rice or beans to the potluck party - told Michael at their work he and Laurie would bring beans.  Now, to be fair, it is a very long commute from the workplace of Michael and Pete to Pete and Laurie's house (maybe 9 miles), so maybe jet lag or a time difference is to blame for the brain fart, but Pete informed Laurie they were to bring rice to the party, not beans. Michael, never one to let an opportunity to give someone crap pass by ("Hey ... where’s the beans?!? Did someone already eat all the beans?!?”) decided Laurie would hear the big question of the evening multiple times!

Now, as a good hostess, I naturally joined the back of the line when it came my turn for food. With the party at our house, Michael and I had been very busy getting the house, yard, tables, patio area, etc. ready for guests … and it felt fantastic to sit down and enjoy some great food. So much so I decided to go back for a second helping. About two bites into it though, there was Mr. Stinkeye (the one who was first in line for food, about 15 people ahead of me) wanting to get back to the game. Really, Grant did me a favor by curbing my overeating since I will be donning a wedding dress in the near future.

So we continued our second and final round of play. By the end, we had 5 people in the running for most Buncos: Laurie, Sandy, Josh, Dale and myself. I know everybody plays with slightly different rules but I love having that extra little jolt of competition so we had a roll-off with the 5 of us; first to score 30 points or a Bunco would be the big winner. My sister used to accuse me of cheating at Monopoly and always winning because I was the banker (which I never did!). Yes, I was the scorekeeper for the roll-off (yes, possible conflict of interest there) but, with everyone gathered around, there would be no way to cheat even if I wanted to (which I did not!). You may have guessed by now, yes, I was the big Bunco winner. (In all seriousness, I was the big winner anyway, having family and friends join us for a wonderful evening of games and food.)

Next up, a roll-off for Most Wins between my sister Sandy and Whisper, the wife of one of my co-workers. (Sandy won that decision.)

The final roll-off of the evening - Most Losses - came down to Kelly and Laurie.  It was a tight battle but Laurie (Miss “I Never Win”) was the winner … or loser as the case may be.

Next up, some fantastic cookies courtesy of Kenny and Whisper plus a tray of oh-so-yummy margarita cupcakes baked lovingly by Kelly (the master chef of our group). Gathered around the table, we all enjoyed the sweets and recounted the events of the evening while quaffing beers, horchata and margaritas. 

 

Left to right: 

Kenny, Mena Rose, Whisper, Sandy, Dale, Dave, Grant (Mr. Stinkeye), 

Amy, Alma, Karen, Laurie (Miss "I Never Win" above Karen), Jose,

Carla, Pete (above Carla), Baby Josh, Missy and Kelly

 
We did have some uninvited guests crash the party who seemed to be hell bent on trying to extract every last drop of blood from my body - yes, the dreaded mosquitos made an unwelcome appearance, grinding the party to a quick end.

Last to leave, Dale and Dave as we discussed the planning of our upcoming October and November nuptials.

It was a great night … great company and great food. Big bonus, the dog was so worn out he slept most of the next day.

Next month … The Melt at the Palladio in Folsom ...

 

To Date, I Still Haven't Seen Love And Rockets Live ...

 

Well, I can't say I'm exactly happy at this particular moment.

As I begin to compose this, it's 12:50 p.m. Sunday, May 21st 2023.

Instead of not being happy right now I should be jumping in the shower in preparation of leaving for Oakland California's Fox Theater to catch a concert this evening by a band I've never before seen live: Love And Rockets.

But there are some challenges.  I'll break it down for you ...

First, I purchased tickets from Ticketmaster back in the early part of March for this show. Decent seats, not cheap, not too expensive, because I jumped at grabbing them the morning they went on sale.  I got an e-mail confirmation saying "You Got The Tickets!" for L&R along with an order number and all the particulars on the show.  I also accessed my Ticketmaster account and verified the show was on upcoming concert schedule.  Things were looking good and proper.

A few days later tickets went on sale for Tears For Fears. Ended up getting tickets for that concert as well and, again, received confirmation I had tickets for same. An e-mail confirmation of that show was on my account.

A couple concerts within a few months of each other. Places to go, performers to see.  And I was especially pumped for the L&R show as I've never seen the band live previously.

And then somebody came along and slapped me upside the head and back into reality.  I tried accessing my tickets this morning online so I could print them out or at least have them available on my phone; they didn't show up in my account.  So I started doing some digging.

I have my verifications.  They say I've got tickets for the show.  I've got an order number.  I've got a date, a time, a location, even my seat numbers.  I've got confirmation of payment.  I've got a transaction number, got a payment ID number, a number for this, a number for that, a verification over here, a confirmation over there.  I got the whole shebang.  But I still can't access my tickets and the receipt I have showing the majority of this information states:

"This is not a ticket. This cannot be used for entry."

 

No QR code to access, no barcode to scan.  Nada, nil, zilch.  So what to do?

Well, after 45 minutes of fruitless research and another 10 minutes or so speaking with Ticketmaster who couldn't locate my information I discovered it wasn't Ticketmaster after all I was talking to.  It was some third party ticket service. 

Another venture online with Ticketmaster (verifying it was indeed Ticketmaster I was actually volleying with this time) resulted in a query asking about my account to try and resolve the issue.  As noted previously, the problem was the Love And Rockets show wasn't on my account.  So I had to shimmy around Ticketmaster's system of e-mail queries to explaining what was going on.  The response I got back was that it would be 24 to 48 hours (possibly less) before I got a response. Well, that really isn't going to cut the mustard when the concert starts in 8 hours.

So what to do?  Well I had the foresight to purchase insurance on the tickets.  But, reading over the rules and regulations of the insurance, my situation isn't exactly covered.  Speaking to a live person, however, gave me hope that that doesn't mean I can't file a claim in light of the circumstances.

 

 

So ... the question is do I take my chances drive 2 1/2 hours to Oakland and show up the at the theater with all my verifications in tow hoping I can get in?  Because with all the rigamarole I've gone through thus far it doesn't look like I'd have much luck on that front.  Throw in a 5+ hour round trip, parking and incidentals and that's gonna aggravate me exponentially if I can't step foot in the theater. Or do I just throw up my hands admit to myself I'm not attending the concert this evening and save myself the grief? 

Also, do I risk not going to the show and finally getting some kind of response from Ticketmaster to which they very well could reply "Well, you really didn't make an effort to try to get into the show, did you?"  And my answer would have to be to agree with that sentiment.  But that doesn't discount the information I have backing me up my decision.

When it comes right down to it? I'm going to take my chances, save myself the wear and tear and probably engage in a little contest about getting my money back.

Stay tuned ...   
 

The NorCal6: Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival, 4.29.23

 

You know ... it's a wonder The NorCal6 even made it to the Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival at all last month.  (What with my accidental cancellation of the original tickets purchased and their re-acquisition.  What a cluster ...)

But we made it.  And, for the most part, a terrific time was had by all.

The Fest, an annual gathering of all things grilled cheese, was strung out over the course of a weekend.  Saturday featured UNLIMITED samples of specialty grilled cheese sandwiches, craft beers, regional wines, desserts and more for those 21 and older while Sunday was the family friendly day where the food samples and drink were available for individual charge, not the free-for-all of the day prior.

 

No ... I don't know why Grant feels the need to announce
he's #1 in many of these photos ...

Grant, Kelly, Missy and I got in an hour early courtesy of V.I.P. passes and Pete and Laurie joined us shortly thereafter.  Street parking was relatively easy when we got there.  I can only imagine how strained the parking situation got as the event got close to go time.

Held at Southside Park in downtown Sacramento, you couldn't have asked for a better location.  It was pleasant, sunny and never got too hot over the course of the thing.

And, oh ... the comestibles they had coming out the booths!  Let's highlight a few, shall we?

There was a BBBJ, a blackberry bacon brie & jalapeño grilled cheese concoction from Bella Art Works that was surprisingly tasty.  Additionally, this same joint featured the Mother Clucker, breaded chicken, provolone, cheddar and honey mayo.  Damned good stuff.  Two particular sandwiches from Rancho Rio Bravo Catering - the Cowboy Up (smokehouse brisket, smokey cheese, TexiCali blackberryy red wine & cracked pepper) and the Wranglers Roundup (smoked pulled pork and cheese with duck plum cranberry sauce) - were exceptional.  

I didn't get the chance to grab two specific sandwiches I was looking forward to from Sacramento Pop Up Truck: The Crustacean (a lobster and Gruyère grilled cheese) and The Surf And Turf (a brisket, lobster and Gruyère creation).  There was only so much you could get to as the day wore on and the crowds increased in size.

But one of my favorites was a French onion grilled cheese sandwich that came with a side of French onion soup.  There were two vendors featuring French onion grilled cheese so I'm not sure which one I got from who but, whichever one I got my hands on, was the right pick.  It was outstanding.  And I wish I would have gone back for seconds.

But, you have to understand, there wasn't just grilled cheese on the menu.  There was beer tasting as well, raising this little get together to an entirely different level of affair.  It was a grilled cheese festival and brewfest, too!

Yes, my beard is black. That's an entirely different post ...

At Ease Brewing Company, Great Notion Brewing, Morgan Territory Brewing, Track 7 Brewing Co., Boring Rose Brewing Co., Sierra Nevada Brewing Company - Chico were some of the breweries present along with a few more I don't recall.

And, if that wasn't enough of a good time, there were distilleries in attendance as well handing out tiny sample shots and signature cocktails as well!  Humboldt Distillery, J.J. Pfister Distilling Co, River City Brands, South Fork Vodka to name a few.  It was J.J. Pfister Distilling which had a very, very tasty rye whiskey sample I gravitated to a a time or several.  I even got Grant to give it a try.  And he didn't dislike it, a bit of a surprise there.  (Grant? Not a rye guy.) And once Pete and Laurie got there, Pete was drug here and there to give the various samples a try, too.  The girls were drinking some foo-foo sweet pink grapefruit vodka punch refresher from South Fork Vodka that wasn't too shabby.  Even Missy was digging on it ... and she doesn't like grapefruit. 

Needless to say, with all the food being munched on and all the liquids swigged, we had a pretty damned good time ... enough so we all concluded we'll be headed back next year. 

In conclusion, I may have had a little bit too good a time at the festival.  But what's a little frivolity among friends?  Even loud ones like me? 

As the saying goes (a recent one I've come to embrace):

Next up?  Our house ... were there's gonna be a Bunko Party with a Mexican food theme ...