My Christmas Presents - part one

My friend Matt has been bugging me about my lack of blogging in December. So, to start the new year, I've decided to talk about some of the presents I received for Christmas. This, fortunately, will keep me from the other topic I was briefly considering - assorted items chewed up by new pup in the month of December.

I'm starting with my sign. Some people get a sign from God. I got a sign from Rob. It's an official London traffic sign. I don't know how he did it. But it's mine, all mine, in all its brilliant red, highly reflective splendor.

The sign is used for streets where the city has been mucking about with traffic patterns and want to give drivers a bit of a heads-up. So it means, things ahead are not how you might think they are. For those of us who are planners and love to feel in control, this idea of changed priorities ahead is not always a pleasant thing. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that things ahead are never as they seem and I should just get over the fact that I'd like to know what I'm getting into before I get into it.  When I look back, I never really predicted anything very well to begin with. So I might as well enjoy the element of surprise in my life.

Thank you, Rob.   I mean, God...

I can fly!

photo: New York Times 12/10/07

I don't remember when I first learned I couldn't actually fly. I was so convinced that when I sat in a certain chair in my dad's study I could close my eyes and fly anywhere I wanted, as long as it was inside that room. I never told anyone. It was my secret.

But I guess I must have found out the reality of my lack of superpowers at some point, because I no longer believe I can fly. I imagine it must have been like when I once watched helplessly as one boy in my carpool shouted to another, "Yea? I'll bet you think that Santa Claus is real! Ha!" I looked in my rear view mirror and saw one boy grin with pride of accomplishment and the other slowly and painfully deflate.

Anyway, it was with great interest that I read in the New York Times that there's a (small) movement of individuals who are hoping to someday fly without a parachute, wearing what's called a "wing-suit." Not that I would try it, but I am right beside them in solidarity with their mission. I know what it's like to fly without a parachute and it's wonderful.

The comment that brought me back (again) to reality was from a professor of physics (and skydiver) at St. Louis University. When asked about the possibility of this type of flight, he said that it's totally possible. However, he said, "the thing I'm not sure of is your margins in terms of safety, or likelihood to crash."

Well, I guess I won't be donning a wing-suit soon. I much prefer the safety of flying within the confines of my dad's study...

[Note: My friend, Matt, just sent me a link to video of of the wing-suit in action and it's awesome (if it's for real...): click here for wing-suit video ]

Reasons I like the Academy Foreign Language Committee

I feel privileged every time I accompany Rob to one of the Academy Foreign Language Committee screenings. This year 63 foreign language films were submitted and it's up to the committee to whittle the number down to the five that will receive Academy nominations.   When you wake up early on Saturday morning to drive to Beverly Hills and then hear that you're about to see a two hour twenty minute movie from Korea, you don't exactly jump for joy.  But after said movie, when you feel like you've just seen something profoundly moving and universal (even if too long), then you realized what a special part of movie history you've just participated in.

My top reasons for going are:

1.  No expectations.  No hype.  

2.  No stars (generally).

3.  No big budgets (generally).  

4.  A non-Hollywood peak into a different land and culture

5.  The audience is silent.  Bliss.

My birthday present from Claire

A drawing of Sparky and Molly! Yay! I never realized how seriously deranged Sparky looks until I started seeing her next to Molly. The drawing confirms it.

Thanks, Claire, for my present. I love it!

Rob tries to get some work done...

Here are two pups trying desperately to be of, well, I guess, moral support to Rob as he works on the cable mess under my desk.  I'm happy to report that, in spite of their efforts, the cable mess was fixed. Now I'm working on the paper mess that is on top of said desk. Pups, fortunately, are fast asleep.

What 65 Looks Like - Carole King & James Taylor

The Rob and Anne Hummel Anniversary celebration (26 years!) ramped up several notches last night.  A portion of the night before (which was our actual Anniversary day) was spent sipping Jamba Juices in the church parking lot before we assumed our duties as ushers.  I don't know about Rob, but it left me feeling a little underwhelmed.  

While reading the LA Times the next morning, I saw yet another announcement for the Carole King/James Taylor concert.  I had tried many times to get tickets but it was a very mysterious process and no easy explanations were available.  There were rumors about the concert, then confirmation of concert and rumors about tickets.  Anyway, on the morning of the concert I thought, what if they were waiting until the day of, in order to foil scalpers?  Aha! It wasn't easy to navigate, but I gave them my credit card number and we were set.  Standing Room Only - but that's ok.

The last time we had gone to a James Taylor concert, it was at the Universal Amphitheater and we spent the whole evening listening to some guy in the audience yell, "Fire and Rain!" every time there was a slight break in the music, and sometimes when there wasn't.  That really ruined the large venue thing for me.

This was the 50th Anniversary of the Troubadour which is pretty incredible in and of itself.  (A little less than twice the Rob & Anne Hummel anniversary...)  The Troubadour was the place where the careers were launched of JT and CK, along with Eagles, Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, etc.  I had only been there twice - once to see Gordon Lightfoot and once to see Judy Collins.

Our tickets were for the 10 pm show.  We arrived at 8:40 and were immediately surprised by our friends, Theo and Cindy Gluck, who were almost at the front of the line.  (If they weren't our friends before, they sure were now that we saw their line placement!)  We joined them and stared at all the people in line who looked just like us.  These were our people.  Then the early show let out and everyone (more people who looked like us) streamed by with huge grins on their faces.  They would say, "You're in for a wonderful time."  "You have a real treat ahead of you."  "That was unbelievable!"  "I've never experienced anything like that."  One woman came back and whispered into Cindy's ear, "Stand near the piano."  We decided to stand near the piano.

It was the perfect bit of advice.  We ended up being strategically centered between where Carol would be on piano and James on guitar.  No more than five feet from either one.  Five feet! 

A friend of Theo and Cindy's came over to talk.  Turns out that it was Larry Goldings, who is James Taylor's accompianist on his latest cd, "One Man Band."  (You would think that would make it a two man band, but Taylor says that it's Larry who's the one man band.)  He is a well-known jazz musician and has been accompanying James for several years.  Larry and his wife went to sit in the VIP section, which was in the balcony and much further back so we felt happy that we were so close.

We could see the twinkle in their eyes.  We could see every expression on their face.  And there was a lot of expression going on.  They clearly loved being/playing together, and the crowd definitely caught the significance of what we were witnessing.

Both of them played the songs that got them their start in the music business.  For Carole, it was "Will you still love me tomorrow?" and for James it was "Something in the Way She Moves."  Carole's song was first made a hit by the Shirelles in 1961, when she was only 19. James took his song to Peter Asher (who was there Thursday night) who took it to Paul McCartney and George Harrison who both loved it and convince Asher to produce it.  

I think the best part was hearing the two singing together.  Each doing the harmony for the other.  And improvising off of each other.  Sometimes they would close their eyes and listen to the other.  I'm not sure if it gets any more beautiful than that.

James said that the first time he heard "You've Got a Friend" was listening to Carole from the balcony at the Troubadour.  He said that Carole offered him the song to record before she recorded it.  Then he smiled and said, "Little did I know I'd be singing that song every week... for the rest of my life!"

Also in attendance was Joni Mitchell (though we didn't see her), Mickey Dolenz, Al Pacino, Jimmy Kimmel, and John C. McGinley (Perry from Scrubs) - it was an eclectic group.  After seeing what must have looked like 16 year old yearning in my eyes, Rob tried desperately to take a photo of me with Mickey.   But, alas, it didn't turn out, so we had to settle for a photo with me in the foreground and blurry Mickey (you can see his hat) in the background. Let's just say that for a brief moment that evening, Mickey had his arm around my shoulder. My mom was SO wrong about the Monkees when she said they'd never last...     

At one point, Carole said, after singing her heart out, "This is what 65 looks like!" Wow. 65 never looked so good.  We walked out with big smiles, just like the people in the concert before us.  I'm still smiling.

It seemed like a good idea at the time...

At Thanksgiving dinner, I was reminded by Emily of one of my (occasional) parenting blunders. Several years ago, Rob and I had the idea to spend Christmas with Emily and Claire at Dalhousie Castle in Scotland. It was not an inexpensive trip, and trying to make up for that fact, plus an honest attempt at trying to simplify Christmas, we told the girls that the trip would be their Christmas gift that year. (Get that, girls? We said that Christmas in the castle would be our gift.) This was a case of two relatively bright parents blissfully going through Christmas week without a care in the world, thinking we've given the girls the best Christmas ever, having not a single clue that things were amiss within the thick-walled fortress. And two wonderfully bright girls, ecstatic to be in a Scottish castle to be sure, but, none-the-less, certain that we were bluffing. The more we reminded them of the deal, the more they thought we were trying to fool them.

Looking back, Rob and I apparently had no idea that they were still anticipating even one little gift. Right up to the last moments of Christmas day, they thought their parents would lean gracefully out of a turret while gazing at said daughters upon the lawn below at a falconry demonstration, and shout, "Merry Christmas! Come up and see what Santa must have brought!"

We didn't find out the truth until years later.

They both say that it didn't detract from a week in such glorious surroundings (surroundings where Claire was heard to say whilst dining in the dungeon, "Mmmm... that's delicious boar!").  For me it was peace on earth. I suspect Rob thought the same. But it's funny to imagine how they were busy trying to interpret every nuance that week, all for naught. Lesson learned. Become like the Wise Men. Bear a gift.

Christmas Kitsch

Ah... nothing brings out the true meaning of Christmas like really bad nativities, right? I have to admit that I was delighted to learn that Sara at goingjesus.com is going to continue her "Cavalcade of Bad Nativities" this year. She searches thrift shops and the internet for examples of extremely questionable nativity choices and shares them with the world. Well... at least with people like me who are easily amused by such things. She will start the cavalcade soon and I'll keep you posted in case you, like me, can't resist. Fortunately, both Emily and Claire have become cavalcade addicts as well so I have someone (or two) to giggle with. Above and below are some fine entries, I think. Squid, penguins, and Joseph just home from Little League tryouts.





Here's the link to past cavalcades (pages 1-3): http://www.goingjesus.com/cavalcade.shtml 
The descriptions are even funnier than the nativities themselves.

I just found a photo of a Hummel figurine of baby Jesus, which I believe is a pretty accurate portrayal of him. (That halo looks comfortable and surprisingly delicious!)

Wash the Rice

There's a new documentary called "How to Cook Your Life" about Zen priest and chef, Edward Espe Brown.  The advice given to him by his Zen teacher, Suzuki Roshi, was, "When you wash the rice, wash the rice."  That is, "...don't go through the motions, don't have stuff on your mind."

As an experiment, I'm trying it right now.   I'm writing my blog.  I'm not going over the things to do before I get on a plane for DC.  I'm not worrying about what the new pup is chewing on.  I'm not planning Christmas lists.  I'm not wondering how I can get the house cleaned before the cleaning ladies arrive.  I'm not concerned about not having completely moved into the house after almost a year.  No.  I'm writing the blog.

The most interesting part of this experiment is that it leaves little room for:

worry

analysis

concern

regret

anxiety

criticism  

If you're washing the rice, the whole experience is rice and water and your hands and, I guess, some method of drainage.  If you find yourself beyond those few items, you're not washing the rice (at least not in a Zen way).  

Not really being in the mood for rice, I tried my "washing the rice" experiment by washing the dishes instead, but there's something about running water that makes my mind wander.  So, I'm forced to practice on non-aqueous tasks.  Like blogging.   

[I haven't seen the movie yet, but it got a decent rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I like the quote from the review in Variety: "Tasteful in more ways than one, mischievous and charming docu How to Cook Your Life serves up a heapin' helping of Zen."  And I'm not sure I can resist any movie that has "a heapin' helping of Zen."] 

Who says 3D glasses aren't cool?

Here are a couple of photos from Rob's 3D presentation. The first proves that all men look cute in 3D glasses. Am I right? The power point diagram shows a picture (times two) of the top of my head, a completely useless bit of information known to very few - except you, dear blog reader.

Not a chew toy!

I won't say that Rob's been in Toronto a lot lately, but the Canadian customs agents are starting to recognize him. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, new pup is caught gnawing on things that new pup shouldn't be gnawing on. I guess I should be happy that new pup now seems more interested in Rob's computer cables than my undergarments...

Full Expression

An article in the Wall St Journal talks about pianist Izumi Tateno. Five years ago, in the midst of performing, he had a stroke. He was 65 years old. He said, "In an instant, I lost all the music that I had accumulated inside me for over 60 years." He thought that with some rehab, he would be back to performing in a few months. But his right hand did not cooperate.

He began to play a score that was written only for the left hand. Many such scores were composed for soldiers injured in wars. And when he played, he forgot that he was playing with only one hand. Since then, other composers have written pieces for him and he has returned to performing, using only his left hand.

What impressed me most about his story was his response when someone asked him if he was frustrated that he could no longer play most of the music he had known. Mr. Tateno replied, "How can I be dissatisfied when I can express myself fully through music?"

Is music complete when played with two hands? Apparently not. Apparently music doesn't depend on the number of hands doing the expressing. I love the idea of completeness being something different than what we think it is. How much of the music of our lives is already whole, as we continue along unaware and, possibly, dissatisfied?

Guilty!

Which one of these pups looks like it would wait until I was safely out of the house to raid my dirty clothes, steal my favorite bra, drag it into the living room, and chew it to pieces? Then finish up with nibbling off the cute little bow on my slippers? I'm not complaining, mind you, since I'm in my days of no complaints. I'm just pointing out the facts. Right, MOLLY?

A new Thomas Kemp!

As far as I'm concerned, the more Thomas Kemps in the world, the better. So happy to hear that the latest edition, Thomas Barrett Kemp, made his appearance on Friday. Congratulations to Gina, Jon, and Maddie. And a grand welcome to the Kemp family, Thomas!

From the sacred to the profane... and back

I spent Saturday at a "Higher Ground" Bible seminar. (That would be the sacred bit.) What I loved about it was a.) the fellowship, b.) the scholarship, and c.) the idea of Bible study as transformative, more than informative. There's no reason to accumulate Bible facts if you aren't going to allow your relationship with the Bible to unsettle some of your incorrect assumptions and convictions. That we can't settle for "mining" the Bible, pulling out bits and pieces merely to scaffold our worldview. Instead, we should be expecting to be challenged and stirred and confused and surprised. I have honestly never ever thought of it this way, which might explain why I have never ever been very interested in Bible study. I guess I've been transformed. A little, anyway.

Saturday night was a different story. Rob and I had tickets for "What About Dick?" which is a new radio play being performed in a test run at the former home of the "Lux Radio Theater" in Hollywood. The play was by Eric Idle, of Monty Python fame, and had an amazing cast: Billy Connolly, Tim Curry, Eddie Izzard, Jane Leeves (from Frazier), Emily Mortimer (from Lars and the Real Girl), Jim Piddock (from Best in Show), Tracy Ullman, and Eric Idle. We were in the last row of the balcony. I was seated behind a very sweaty man who was continually wiping his head and neck with his handkerchief. Because I am in my complaint-free days, I refrained from whacking him upside the head and shouting that my hot flashes were more powerful than anything he was dealing with, and, no, I would not be seen bothering people with my handkerchief...

The play was about as raunchy as one would expect (the title says it all). It starts out with a typical Python comment - "This takes place between 1910... and 8:30" and then launches into the subject of the play (this would be the profane bit), the primary "cure" for female hysteria at the beginning of the twentieth century which is... uh... vibrators. The best part was seeing the actors laughing at each other so hard that they couldn't read their own lines, and watching the sound effects man do the sounds.



Outside the theater we saw the lead actress from our favorite TV show, Pushing Daisies, so that was a nice way to cap off a great evening.








Today, Sunday, more Bible seminar. How jarring to go from Bible, to (a play about)... well...you-know-what, and back to the Bible, all in one weekend. But then again, the Bible is filled up full with more than its share of shock. Stories more profoundly disturbing than what anyone could dream up today (especially during a writers' strike). If I'm going to spend more quality time with the Bible, as I think I am, I probably better get used to being jolted out of established patterns, used to the unknown as well as the known, with struggle as well as peace. I had better get cozy with being jarred. As was said in the seminar, the Bible can't be domesticated. It can only be inhabited.

Dalsa News for Trekkies

Dalsa makes news! Below is a link to today's Hollywood Reporter article about the first feature film shot in 4K. They used - cue the brass section - the Dalsa Origin II camera. It's a film directed by LeVar Burton (more commonly known in the Hummel house as Lt. Cmdr. Geordi La Forge), and stars LeVar, Alfre Woodard, and Seymour Cassel. No word as to whether or not Rob has revealed to LeVar his inner Trekkie...

The article is pretty technical, but I promise - no quizzes from me about 2K, 4K, terabytes, Codex recorders, Ciprico disk packs, or digital color grading. (I'm still recovering from Rob's 3-D presentation...)

CLICK HERE FOR DALSA HOLLYWOOD REPORTER ARTICLE

"Uncle" Cliff (a.k.a. the Strawberry)

Photo: Price Waterhouse circa mid 1950's.
Tom Kemp Sr. - front left. Cliff Hey - front center.

Dad's longtime friend, Cliff Hey, passed away last week. We went to his service on Saturday and were reminded of all the fun times we had with the Hey family. Tom Hey said he didn't realize what a thing his dad had for hats until looking at the photos they'd assembled of him. Emily and Claire remember him when he came to Laguna dressed as a strawberry. That apparently is the first time Jenny met him as well. One of the photos showed him dressed as a bunch of grapes and his eighty year old mother by his side, dressed in the strawberry costume.

Katie Hey told of how her dad would invite 18 people over for dinner at the last moment and Cliff would polish the silver and arrange the flowers and Nancy did everything else. We were reminded of his exquisite yet sometimes bizarre taste in antiques and collectibles, which led him to start Mountain Treasures Antiques with mom, and yet also prompted him to have a giant chicken in his backyard, a collection of "best bitch" trophies, and a silver plated oreo which, of late, he kept in the basket of his walker. And who could forget Cliff's comment about my sister Nancy, "She'd make a wonderful wife... for a deaf man."

Dad and Cliff used to compete to be the first to call each other on Ash Wednesday. It started when they were at Price Waterhouse and one day dad commented on someone having a dark spot on their forehead. Cliff explained that it was Ash Wednesday and the spot would be, well, ashes. From then on, for almost fifty years, they would call on that day. Paula and Katie have made a pact to continue the Ash Wednesday phone calls, which is about as fitting a tribute to Cliff (and dad) as I can imagine.

Here is the letter Cliff sent to the CPA Board in 1958 recommending dad for membership. It's vintage Cliff... Double click to make it larger.

Cover Girl Sparky

Claire did another cover for Neopets Magazine, plus several pages inside, including a lesson on how to draw the cover art. The best part of all is seeing Sparky (aka "Spardel" as she's called in Neopets land... Claire created the character several years ago) on the front, hanging on the Neopets logo. I might be risking arrest for scanning copyrighted material, but I've included a slide show of Claire's images from the magazine. If you want to see a larger version of the slide show, double-click on it.

And, on a related note, I forgot to mention that Neopets had just invaded Amsterdam when we were there in September. Everywhere we went there were big ads. The local CVS equivalent was having a Neopets promotion. We loaded up on lots of deoderant so we could get a little Neopets plush. Not sure the logic of their marketing techniques... Something for everybody, I guess.

Molly likes Rob and likes to play tug-of-war with Sparky...

I promise to keep a reasonable limit on cute photos of the new pup. But I love the way she snuggles up against Rob. And I love the way she and Sparky are caught in a perpetual tug-of-war, both pulling on the new toy that her cousins Reilly and Maggie bought her. Don't think said toy will last long at this rate....

No complaints

A few friends and I are going to give this a try. To go 21 days without complaining. (Some friends are stretching it to 35 days, but I'm sticking with 21 - the number of days it takes to start a habit.)

And that means I can do none the following: kvetch, hen-peck, nag, bother, backbite, bitch, grizzle, yammer, whine, gnarl, grumble, murmur, mutter, grouch, scold, protest, bellyache, gripe, grouse, squawk, holler, inveigh, rail, bemoan, bewail, deplore, lament. (Don't you LOVE a good thesaurus???)

I don't think I would undertake this all on my own. There's safety (and laughs) in numbers. On my own, I would be curled up in a corner, complaining about how hard it is to not complain. But now that I've announced it to the world (or at least to a tiny circle of family and friends), then I probably better give it my best shot. Stay tuned.

(I guess I can't mention that the new puppy is not quite as housebroken as was indicated by her foster mother...)

Click here for link to the book, A Complaint-Free World, on Amazon