The barometer is rising
Back in the dark ages, when I was directing on Friday nights, we would often have 40 tables–2 open sections and a 199er game. No computer, either, we scored on blackboards by hand.
The world has changed, we’re all much older than we were then, and the Friday night game is often pretty small. This week, though, was more like old times.
Starting with a pot-luck dinner and segueing into a Barometer game, we had 16 and a half tables tonight. The new dealing machine makes a barometer a relatively easy event to arrange. It’s still a lot of work, but reasonably doable.
The food, as usual, was great. I was particularly fond of Sheryl Nagy’s salad and Marj Russel’s polenta pie. Next time I may have to bake a cake to ensure that there is one, but I managed with the cookies and the cream puffs.
Grant Vance and Jessica Lai were the big winners; Chuck Manning and Tom Franklin were 1st East/West.
Friday nights at the club were always as much fun for the social part as for the bridge, and can be again. Some places have a barometer every week, but I expect that we’ll at least start out monthly or quarterly. There are other events we can hold, too. Sheryl reminded me about an event where people brought appetizers then voted on which was the best one (she remembers because she won). If you have ideas for special Friday nights, leave a comment. (But we’re not bring back Don Harrison’s mayonnaise toast after the game!)
Marianne Faithful at Yoshi’s
I had to sneak the photo. Famous bloggers get to step right up and shoot.
We live a pretty spontaneous life. Got an invitation at 6:45 tonight to go see Marianne Faithful at Yoshi’s. Bought the tickets online, changed my shirt and off we went.
We all remember her from her one big hit, As Tears Go By, back in the early 60’s. She was the ultimate party girl, admitting she set out to get a Rolling Stone, slept with three of them and settled on Mick Jagger. Years of drug addiction followed, with highly publicized arrests (clad only in a fur rug, once), rehab stints and multiple comebacks.
Now 63, the rightful Baroness von Sacher-Masoch (her Uncle Leopold gave his name to masochism) still has to make a living, and touring is the way to do it.
Yoshi’s was sold out last night–I got our seats at 6:38, and there were people out front trying to buy tickets at 7:30. The show nominally started at 8:00, and by 8:10 she was onstage and things were rolling.
Faithful comes onstage with just a guitar player for backup. His name is Doug Pettibone, and I was impressed by his ability to use the guitar to provide a strong bass line as well as the melody.
Too many years of hard living have taken a toll on Faithful’s voice–what was once high and clear and sweet is now deep, rich, whisky-soaked and dark. It is a voice custom made for songs of pain and hurt, so that’s what she sings. No happy puppy love songs here.
The repertoire is varied–songs by Jagger and Richards, of course. Then her own writing, Then Dolly Parton, Merle Haggard, Cole Porter and Tom Waits, among others. The themes of pain and loss remain, but the genre varies all over the map.
The show lasted about an hour and a half, with the obligatory encore. Solid professionalism kept the pace steady and the evening moved along nicely.
Forty-five years is a long time to be singing As Tears Go By, but Marianne Faithful sells the song better today than she did at 19. She has grown into the depth of her own words, and the show was a delight.
They still don’t get it
Not a self-portrait
So our esteemed Unit Board met again a couple of weeks ago. The minutes are posted on the bulletin board, and way down at item 11 we find this one:
11. BOARD OF DIRECTORS’ ROSTER ON THE WEBSITE: Bill George wantedapproval to post the board of directors’ roster to the website. He also wantedpermission to include e-mail addresses and a link to Chris Pisarra’s blog. Sincethe blog contains personal non-unit-related information, the unit members wantmore time to consider whether it was something the unit should do.
I wonder which “unit members” want more time to consider–one presumes that this just a euphemism to cover up the Board members not-so-hidden animosity. Oh heavens, I write about things other than what the Board is thinking and doing and how great they are. How dare I have a life outside their purview? How dare I write something without their prior permission?
It doesn’t really matter. I don’t think a link from the Unit web site will make the tiniest whit of difference in any case. I do this for fun. My fun, not theirs. I just find myself continually stunned by the pettiness the board feels compelled to express at every turn. Can’t they find something better to do with their time, like getting more people to play bridge? Maybe if someone was writing an interesting blog and talking about bridge that would help……..
Honesty Pays
Mike Bandler writes:
“Hi Chris: Something very interesting happened at today’s Bridge Center game, playing with Betty. After checking the scores I found a mistake in our favor. We got a two-tie for top on a Board with a +110, but really should have gotten a +50. Before the change we were in 3rd. Well lo and behold when Ron made the correction we wound up in 2nd. I guess that can only happen in a Howell.”
Mother was right after all.
You think you’ve got troubles
Hard though it may be to believe, there is more to life than bridge. Tuesday, Gail and I went on a day trip with the Oakland Museum of California Art Guild. This is that big museum in downtown Oakland that you probably never visit, which is in the midst of a major renovation, re-opening in early May. They have an extraordinarily active Art Guild which supports the Museum and makes many trips local, national and international visiting museums, artists and hidden collections.
So off we went. Heavy rain on the way to Oakland in the morning, we were only 14 minutes late getting to the bus, which would only have waited 15 minutes so we lucked out. This particular trip wasn’t too full–about 25 of us.
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Sandy Walker in front of one of his large pieces
Our first stop was at the Oakland studio of Sandy Walker. Sandy’s path to becoming an artist is almost perfect: Harvard BA in Art History, MFA from NYU, a lifetime of drawing and creating. As with any artist, his art has evolved over time, and much of it is now abstract impressionism relating to environmental issues and images. He has another area of interest where he is doing abstract figurative work in ink and wood cuts. I think one of the wood cuts is coming to live with us; we were pretty impressed with the entire series.
Well, that was nice, but now we get into the strange stuff. You’d think anyone who could manage a Harvard education could be a success, what about the others? There is a place in Oakland called the Creative Growth Art Center where people with developmental disabilities spend their time creating art and learning to live as independently as possible. These people didn’t get to Harvard, or even the 5th grade. Participants here have Down’s syndrome, autism, retardation, cerebral palsy, problems I don’t want to know about.
More sculpture
The art work we saw was just stunning–and proof that just because life hasn’t handed you a bright mind and a wealthy family doesn’t mean you can’t succeed. True, not everyone was a prodigy or idiot savant. I saw one man who just seemed to like coloring his paper blue. Lots of blue. But there was talent there, too.
Meet Dan Miller. He is autistic, and wears a helmet to keep him from getting hurt. He walks around the room and shakes hands with people, although he thinks that all the men are named Jim and all the women are Judy.
Dan Miller, artist. Gail Giffen, collector
Dan used to create his art by writing a few words on a page, then writing them over and over and over until a pattern appeared. Sometimes just in pen, sometimes in paint, sometimes both. His work has a haunting effect, as you study the words and try to find the meaning. He has become well-known enough that the Museum of Modern Art in New York has purchased it.
What are you doing Friday night?
Not this kind of barometer
Are you playing in the Barometer game Friday night at The Bridge Center? Why not?
Now that we have a dealing machine, we have the ability to have Barometer games with no problem. All the tables play the same boards at the same time. The boards are then scored right after each round, and the results posted. You know each round how you did and how you stand.
This is a fun variation on the game–and it can get a little wild on the last round or two as people who are close to the top start to take anti-field positions to pull ahead.
Prior to the game, at 6:00, is a pot luck dinner. I know of one great entree, for certain. That’s the lamb curry I’m bringing. What will you bring?
Let Ron know at 676-4414 so he can make enough sets of boards for the evening.
Learning by doing
Carey Mulligan learns a hard lesson
Writing a movie review is easy if you love the movie, and even easier if you hate it. Figuring out what to say when you do neither is harder. Yesterday we went to see An Education, which is supposed to be this really great film (scoring an impressive 95 on the tomatometer). There were 4 of us, and nobody loved it. Or hated it. It isn’t a bad movie, I’m glad I saw it, it just isn’t great.
Carey Mulligan is a 24 year-old actress you never heard of, who does a smashing job portraying a 17 year-old schoolgirl being pushed by her phenomenally bourgeois father (the excellent Alfred Molina) to study hard and gain entrance to Oxford. Then she meets a handsome, dashing, smooth older man (played by Peter Sarsgaard) who proceeds to sweep her off her feet, charm her parents and turn her world upside down.
Of course he has flaws, which turn up slowly. But his virtues!! He’s charming, attentive, apparently rich, cultured, smooth and the perfect gentleman. He even proposes.
Then, of course, the other shoe drops. The world collapses. And the price of education just went up dramatically. It isn’t just fun and games anymore, real damage has been done to her life.
But the usual trite ending wraps up the loose ends. Goodness prevails, badness is punished. Parental love conquers all.
Occurring in England in 1961, the set decoration is lush, the cars and clothes are beautiful. The acting, especially that of Miss Mulligan, is wonderful. If only the plot were a trifle less predictable, and the characters a trifle less overdrawn. Or more of both. Then I’d either love or hate this movie. But it’s pretty much down the middle here–good enough to enjoy, not quite great. Sort of like my bridge game.
The Best Mexican food north of Mexico City
It's a pretty warm and friendly place
That’s what Mike Rippey thinks. The best Mexican food north of Mexico City. And he’s a major Mexican food fan, and lived in Argentina when he was a kid so he knows his way around this stuff.
So tonight we went there, with Mike and his main squeeze, Gretchen. Deep in the heart of downtown Oakland, where all the “revitalization” and “renaissance” are happening. Oakland is a much nicer place these days than you probably think it is, and all the nice new restaurants are either the cause or the effect of the change. Or both.
Tamarindo is a small restaurant on 8th Street, just 1/2 block north of Broadway. There is a large parking lot right next door, but we got there right after 6 p.m. and were able to snag a spot in a loading zone (legal after 6). Oakland has hurt their reputation a bit lately with overzealous ticketing and a disastrous attempt to extend the time the meters operate to 8 p.m. so it pays to be careful.
Mike and Gretchen were already waiting for us–there was no problem getting a table that early, but the place doesn’t take reservations, and if you come later in the evening you will have to wait to get a seat.
Waiting is apparently made easier if you are in a place with fancy-dancy Margaritas; Mike didn’t seem to mind at all. Me, I’m just a country boy and don’t understand a margarita that doesn’t come out of a blender. Gail stuck to the Spanish wine, and says it was the good stuff. I had one margarita and switched to iced tea–they need to start stocking the blue or yellow sweetener: the pink stuff is just hideous.
The menu has both small plates and full entrees, but we opted to just order a passel of small plates. I liked the Botana de Pico de Gallo, slices of pineapple, mango and cucumber dressed with lime and spice. The Empanadas de Hongos Y Queso didn’t move me, but then that word hongos means mushrooms, so there’s no surprise that it wasn’t for me. Tamal Oaxaqueño is just a really good tamale with a fancy name. The Sopas were perfect little ovals of delight, and the main dish we ordered, Pork and rice, was spectacular.
Prices were reasonable for a hip, hot, upscale place, but not what you’d expect to pay in the local Taqueria. The best things in life are not free.
Eventually we managed to eat one of almost all of their small plates. There was a mob waiting for our table,starting to murmur about taking our table by force. It was time to leave. Rippey got the check. Our car was still there, without a ticket. Another successful dinner.
Tamarindo Antojeria Mexicana. 464 8th St. Oakland. 510-444-1944
Paolo Costa is a great guy!
I lost my wallet last week at Miami airport, just before I left for a week in Cuba. My driver’s license. Credit cards. Money. A phone number I got from a cute girl 15 years ago I’m keeping just in case. All the stuff we carry around that we think we need.
We didn’t have any phone service in Havana, but when I got back I had a phone message from a man named Paolo. He had found my wallet and was trying to find me to return it. Sadly, he didn’t leave a return number for me to call. His phone number didn’t come up on my voicemail caller ID. He didn’t call again. Just one enigmatic message and no way to reach him.
In the airport, I tried lost and found–nothing. I thought I had lost it in the men’s room, so I tried the janitorial company. No Paolos there. I had run out of things to try.
We got home to California last night, and I was contemplating the hassles of replacing all my credit cards, my driver’s license, phone numbers for back-up girls. I bought a $6 wallet in Cuba to carry my pesos, but it was no match for the elegant Dunhill that had been a Christmas present and I treasured.
This morning,we stopped at the post office to pick up our mail—and there, on top of the pile, was an envelope from Miami, with my wallet enclosed!!! Inside was a note from the redoubtable Paolo, telling me that he had taken out $2.46 for the postage—and the 44¢ change was enclosed with the wallet. The hundreds of dollars I was taking on vacation were perfectly intact. How incredible.
It turns out that Paolo is works for TAM airlines, a Brazilian firm I have never heard of. How fortunate they must be to have an employee of his character. Yes, I’ve written to the airline, telling them of my happy experience and asking for a mailing address to send him a proper reward. I wonder if he’d like a job in the pizza industry?
Home, Toto, we’re going home
A whole museum full of work this nice--and you'd never know it
Writing from a hotel in Miami, where Gail and I are watching the Olympics and snacking. Yes, after a week of complaining about the chicken, we are having cool ranch wings.
We were originally supposed to be on a 1 pm flight out of Havana, but the airline changed it to 4:15. You’d think the tour agency might have found something for us to do with our suddenly free time, but you’d think wrong. They got their money, they don’t much care beyond that.
So Gail and I walked out today, headed for one of the big houses up the street that belonged to the very rich 50 years ago where I had seen a sculpture garden as we drove past. I was under the impression it was now an embassy.
Peering through the fence at the sculpture, I asked the guard if we could enter. He pointed to the front gate, and we found to our great surprise that the place wasn’t an embassy, it was a museum, the former home of Servando Cabrera Moreno, a Cuban artist who lived from 1923-81. The entry price was 3 pesos apiece, but I only had 5 left, since we were on our way out of the country. Amazingly, I thought, they had no interest at all in a $1 bill. We turned to leave, but sanity prevailed and they took the 5 pesos. I think I got in on a child’s ticket.
The house was fantastic, full of emotive, engrossing art using a vibrant pallette. Then we went into the sculpture garden, and Gail made a new best friend of the guard, who had taught himself English and wanted to use it as much as possible.
Our morning stroll a raging success, we hoofed it back to the hotel, packed our goodies and prepared for the long process of getting home.
Having a government guide is a great thing–you cut most of the lines and get the good, exit row seats on the plane, which was completely full. We still had 2 1/2 hours to sit in the waiting room, which was jammed because two earlier flights (on another airline, thankfully) had not show up–and were currently 3 and 5 hours late, leaving a waiting room full of people ready to fill the planes if/when they arrived.
And the waiting room was dingy and dark and miserable, because we gringos use the old terminal, not the new, shiny efficient (in the Cuban sense) terminal we passed on the way. I felt like Arlo Guthrie on the group W bench. My computer battery died, and there were precisely ZERO electrical outlets to be found.
The plane we were going home on arrived on time. Unloading wasn’t quite what we’re used to–instead of a tram with 6 trailers to hold luggage, there were 2 small pickup trucks shuttling bags back and forth. It worked, just slowly. Our flight was called, everyone jumped up and got in line, and there we stood for 30 minutes. Eventually, we made it out to the plane, wedged ourselves in, and headed for Miami.
Immigration was a snap. Customs was a snap. Our travel agent had changed our flights home, because of the delay, but had forgotten to get us a hotel–one phone call, and that was fixed. A short cab ride, a good dinner in the hotel restaurant, and an evening of bridge and Olympics. Even an hour playing against Billy Miller while he gave a lesson to a student.
Pretty great day. Up early in the morning and home for dinner. Life is good
Totally Unauthorized 