It’s a funny thing, life.
I was thinking today about Saturdays early in Jen’s and my marriage. We’d sleep in until nine or later, lazily make breakfast while watching TV, usually something silly like the Croc Hunter or Looney Tunes, and then mozy through the day. Even before Lily came those lazy Saturdays passed us by as our social calendars expanded and our acerage increased. Of course after Lily we’re lucky to stay in bed until seven and if there isn’t some part of the house that’s demanding attention we have shopping to do, or a social engagement to rush off to, or a car that needs an oil change.
But it’s a funny thing, because even though I miss those lazy no alarm Saturdays, with their pancakes and cartoons, and wouldn’t trade them for anything, I wouldn’t want to go back there. A lot of that of course is Lily and I wouldn’t trade her for anything (obviously), not even for two whole extra hours of sleep. It just struck me as interesting today that the different stages in life can be equally appreciated and yet as we continually move forward we don’t necessarily want to go back. As great as it was to spend uninterupted hours of general laziness with my wife (and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that one of those hours here or there would be nice now) and as much as I thought I loved her then, I had no idea how much I would now. As inconsequential as those Saturdays may seem at first glance, they were the building blocks for the foundation of our lasting relationship. I’m not trying to imply that those who end up with honeymoon babies have a less than solid foundation, I just know that for me the way things worked out was just about perfect. If someone had told me five or six years ago that my Saturdays would start before McDonald’s stopped serving breakfast and that I wouldn’t mind it, I would’ve said they were smoking. And not Lucky Strikes. A kid can do strange things to a man. It’s a funny thing.
This past three-day weekend I watched three pretty good movies. They don’t really have anything in common, except the obvious. One starred Tom Cruise and one starred Kevin Bacon, who once starred together in A Few Good Men, and Tom Cruise also stars in the Mission: Impossible movies, which are based on the late 60’s early 70’s TV series which starred Leonard Nimoy (1969-1971) who also starred in the original Star Trek television series and the new Star Trek movie which was directed by J.J. Abrams, who also directed Tom Cruise in the third Mission: Impossible movie, which also starred Lawerence Fishburne, who was in Mystic River with Kevin Bacon. But that’s so obvious its barely even worth mentioning.
On Sunday afternoon Jen and I went to your our local movie house to see Star Trek. Gotta say, not a Trekkie. In fact of all the 57 Star Trek related movies that have been made, I’d have to say my favorite is Trekkies, which more or less makes fun of Trekkies, in a friendly my-big-brother-is-teasing-me sort of way. I wasn’t too hip to see this new treatment at first, but heard some good things via word of mouth and Jen wanted to see it, mostly due to hunky Chris Pine as James T. Kirk I suspect, so I went for it. Besides, I’m a fan of J.J. Abrams work. I dug Cloverfield, was a late but now devoted Lost convert, and I even liked Alias. And the aforementioned MI: 3, which felt a lot like a souped up episode of Alias except with Tom Cruise in the role of Sydney Bristow instead of Jennifer Garner, which seemed oddly appropriate. I gotta say, I was impressed with this latest foray into the final frontier. The action was great, the story was pretty good, and the characters and the actors who played them I thought were a good mix homage and originality. I was just familiar enough with the Star Trek culture to catch most of the inside and self-referential gags. It didn’t take itself too seriously, which in my estimation has always been a negative hallmark of the Star Trek world, but seriously enough not to be a parody. All in all, well worth the time and money spent at the theater. So if you’re a non-Trekkie (or Trekker, as I understand they prefer to be called) go without fear. You will probably enjoy it. If you are a Trekker, check out this review from Kludge for that perspective.
Monday morning, Memorial Day, I watched a timely and appropriate film called Taking Chance. Made for HBO and based on a true story, Taking Chance stars Kevin Bacon as Marine lieutenant colonel Mike Strobl, who co-wrote the movie, who escorts the body of a Marine killed in Iraq back to his hometown. That’s really it. Its a simple and moving tale, not dressed up with phony emotion or preachiness, about a man stung by guilt for what he feels is his not doing enough. His task is both simple and difficult, in a way merely tagging along with the remains as they pass from plane to plane to hearse, but burdensome in dealing with the emotions of what he is doing, both his own and those of the people he meets along the way, including the family of the deceased. A perfect movie for Memorial Day, to remember those who have fallen and appreciate those who honor them by watching over them as they make the final trip home.
The movie weekend wrapped up Monday night with Valkyrie, the story of the attempt on Adolph Hitler’s life during WWII that nearly worked. Being a WWII aficionado, I was aware of the story and thought it was definitely fodder for a thrilling motion picture. And it still will. Not to be too hard on it, I did enjoy it, but it wasn’t as thrilling as I had hoped. Much has been said about Tom Cruise in the roll as Lt. Col. Karl Stauffenberg and his being the only character without an accent of some kind, but it wasn’t quite as distracting as I thought it’d be. The movie is pretty accurate historically, as historical dramas go, which is a plus, and it is a fascinating story, but I don’t think it reached its full potential. Worth watching, especially if you’re a WWII buff, but a better renter than go-to-theaterer. Which is good, because it hasn’t been in the theater in months.
So there’s my first Wednesday review in quite a while. What? It’s Friday? Fine, disregard everything I just wrote.
Things have been pretty quiet here on the Life of Ando for the past few months. I don’t know if there isn’t much to say or I just lack the energy to say it. But there are some life happenings that require mention. Things that so alter the course of ones perspective on the world that all hinderances to expressing it must be hurtled. Last night was one of these events. I went to Espetus.
The name alone conjures an imagined world of exotic wonder and exotic and wonderful it was. Seven of us were brought to this enchanted bounty by our resident gentle giant, Leo. A native of Brazil, he wanted to share with us a taste of his homeland, though to describe it as a mere taste is like saying Noah’s flood was a cloudburst. From the moment we entered the restaurant in the heart of San Francisco the food was upon us like a flash flood. There’s no ordering, you have only two choices: “Keep the meat parade rolling” or “Meat is clouding my vision, I better stop.” You indicate your current status by a two-colored wheel on your table, green for go, red for stop.
The selections are amazing, all delivered to you on skewers. A server in Brazilian gaucho garb brings the skewer to your table laden with any of the following: parmesan-roasted pork, pork tenrloin, ribs, herb chicken, pork sausage, various cuts of beef preapared in a variety of ways, lamb, jumbo prawns, and chicken hearts. The server then either slides off a cube or slices off a piece which you grab with your special tongs (provided). The flood of slaughtered animal begins as a trickle, fooling you into thinking you can keep up without a problem. However, the trickle soons becomes a torrent. Not wanting to miss out on anything, you always take what they’re offering, even as the queue on your plate begins to pile ever higher. There are other options besides meat, a salad bar offering a number of lesser foods, but this is a mere sideshow. Not that they weren’t very good as well, because they were, but they aren’t the star of this show and they know it and are content to stay in the background.
Among the eight of us, I think was the fifth to throw in the towel, eating to the point of light-headedness. Considering the company I was in, I’d say that was a pretty stout accomplishment. After my plate was removed and I began the process of digestion in earnest while attempting to make coherent conversation, I kept reflexively taking sips of my water, which couldn’t have had too much room to manuever down my gullet. I’m pretty sure it was just pooling up on top of everything else somewhere just above my collar bone. We crowned Matt the king as he not only went back for salad after the meat spigut was finally turned off, but he then asked for a desert menu! A true man among boys.
Without a doubt it was the most amazing dining experience of my 31 years. It’s not something you can do every week. Not only is it pricey, about $60 a head including tax and tip and only drinking water, but to eat this way on a regular basis would either cause you to be crushed beneath your own morbid obesity or your heart would explode. However, once or twice a year would certainly do no permanent damage and I think we all agreed that at the very least an annual trip to this magical eatery was more than warranted.
Other high praise for Espetus.
A couple years ago a movie came out starring legendary oldsters Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman as old, dying codgers from opposite ends of the socio-economic spectrum who spend their remaining days on earth living out their bucket lists; all the things they wished they could’ve done before they kick the bucket. When they first met, they didn’t care much for each other and had not a thing in common, but by the end they realized that despite their differing status and skin tone, they were more alike they ever realized. Sentamentalism flowed and platitudes abounded. At least, this is what I gather from the trailer. I haven’t actually seen the movie.
For some reason as I was driving home from work today this notion of a bucket list crossed my mind. Maybe driving on a slippery freeway in the rain had me thinking of my own mortality, but whatever the reason I got to thinking about what things I’d like to do before I join that great chorus in the sky.
First a couple ground rules:
1. No listing things that go without saying. Of course I want to be able to walk my daughter down the aisle at her wedding. Duh.
2. It has to be at least somewhat plausable. Saying I want to walk the rings of Saturn or sing Pagliacci at Carnegie Hall push the bucket list into the fantasy realm. They don’t have to be likely, but at least believeably doable.
I think that should do it for the rules. This will be an ongoing list that I will continue to add to as I think of more things. Now, on to the list.
Before I die, I want to:
Drive the length of Route 66
Walk on Omaha Beach
Go to Wrigley Field and Fenway Park
Hike the John Muir Trail from Yosemite to Mt. Whitney
Watch all six Star Wars movies in one day
Make a documentary
Go skydiving/bungee jumping
Publish a book of some kind
Visit Cooperstown
Eat a bratwurst…in Germany
That’s it for now. What’s on your list? Add it in the comments.
This is a picture of my aunt. In Mexico. A month ago. I’m not even kidding.
She’s fine, by the way.
