Annoying Republicans

By request of Eva--

When my latest neighbor moved in on my living room wall, I introduced myself. Because I have bad ears, I sometimes have to turn the TV up a bit more than most would and told her to just let me know if it ever was a problem.

Then, one night I was watching the extended version of LOTR:TFOTR and the sound effects are MUCH louder than the dialogue. This was especially true during the battle in the Mines of Moria. I kept adjusting the volume as the sound spiked, but dang it, I wanted to know what they were saying!

The next day I had a note on my door that seemed a little pissy. After I got over sending a pissy note back, I wrote a very nice note of apology and asked her to call me any time it was a problem again, and gave her my number.

Not heard a peep from her since, though she is less than friendly if we do happen to pass in the parking lot.

Even though I had my needs, I was feeling empathetic until I noticed on her small SUV a W sticker.

I am not much for drawing lines in the sand when it comes to politics, but with everything else, she seemed the perfect target for my liberal, independent disdain.

Of course, this Friday, I was pretty sure she was gone and watched the film with full surround sound glory!

Hail to the Cheifs

I know only two or three people read this blog, but I have something that I want to say.

I want to thank the city leaders of the East Texas coast for the absolutely stellar job they did during Hurricance Rita. I know a lot of people are going to start complaining about this and that, especially the traffic problems with evacuation.

Yes, there were problems, but this is the first time that such an evacuation was attemepted. Don't forget that A) there was a plan and B) when things got problematic, the state and cities responded as quickly as possible.

Most important, buses were provided for those with out transportation ahead of the storm, and pets were not treated as chattel, but as part of the family which they are.

Thank you Mayor White and the team in Houston and Harris County. Thank you Lyda Ann Thomas and the team in Gavleston.

I think I love you Lyda Ann ...

I do have gas!

For those of you that might be worried, I do have plenty of gas. I happened to need gas on Monday evening. A full tank will last me 10 - 14 days of normal use. Right now I have about 3/4 of a tank.

What this means is I won't have to wait in long gas lines at one of the few stations that have gas. This also means that no one will wave a gun in my face to make me let them in ahead of everyone else!

And you thought Road Warrior was just a movie!

There's Got to Be a Morning After

It is now just after 8am. Overnight I don't know that I got a lot of rain, but apparently enough wind to blow down a small, decorative, tropical fruit tree. This tree always bothered me a little any way. They have popped up around the property and they seemed to come out of nowhere. The "fruit" is pod like. Almost like real chubby, oversized bananas. Who is to say they aren't alien in origin, waiting to snatch our bodeis and take our places?

I still have power, which you think may be obvious from my posting. Of course, my laptop is fully charged, so I could be using that, but I am not. Tower computer is on.

I had cable until about 7am when it went out just before a local press conference. I pulled out the rabbit ears and now have Channel 11, the CBS affiliate. All affiliates in Houston are dim chicken littles, but 11 is the worst. Oh well ...

Blow High! Blow Low!

Who new Carousel would have such apt song lyrics!

Thankfully, for now, Rita has turned more to the east and the center of Houston is currently not in the cone of probability. I think this means tropical storm conditions, and from the clean side of the storm too. This is good. I pray for the people who now are getting the storm as well as continue to pray that where ever it lands, it lessens before landfall, lessens quickly when it does and keeps moving through. No stalling! Stalling and turnarounds created the conditions where I flooded.

I will spend the day checking on the weather and watching Lost on DVD. I will move on to a LOTR marathon at some point. With the annoying republican who doesn't like loud movies gone, I can enjoy the surround sound!!

Should the winds get bad and scary, I am pretty prepped. I have plenty of water. I have a couple of used bottles refilled and in the freezer as well as stock piling ice.

One radio that plugs in and one radio that has batteries. Flashlights in the living room and bathroom and a yellow flashlight by my bed that was sent to me by the Queen of Florida. I also have candles in each location.

Before I go to bed I will try to fill the tub. There is a worry that if we lose power, water won't flow. I only just learned that the water in the tub was for toilet flushing!

When you walk through a storm hold your head up high!

I can not believe that I just taped my windows. I JUST TAPED MY WINDOWS!

I never thought I would do that.

Another problem of a theological one. How do you pray that the hurricane will continue east with out wishing harm on those who live there? I suppose you can't.

So, I just pray that where ever hurricane Rita goes, anyone in its path is kept safe and that whatever blows over my head, I am kept safe as well.

I am riding the storm out. Some neighbors are here as well. I had an offer to go to my brother's and ride it out with them as well as to College Stataion, which is farther inland.

I don't think I get to College Station any time soon. Plus, I really do feel safer in Houston right now. All my needs, assuming availability, are in walking distance. Hospital, food stores and pharmacies. Plus, if I do have to make a run for it, I know how to get out from here. I would be totally lost at my brother's.

Wish me luck and safety as we go!

What sign are you?

Everyone knows their sun sign, but what is your rising sign?

Your Rising Sign is Cancer

You are compassionate and kind - and the one who gives security. And while you sometimes tire of it, people always turn to you for advice. Emotions are your domain, and you use tend to use them for good. But you've also been know to be very manipulative when you need to be. You're quite loyal to those you love most - friends and family. For everyone else, you tend take time to build up trust.

What is Your Rising Sign?

This might explain some things about the relationship with my best friend the Queen Mother.

Over Eating

An Empty Plate will leave you satisfied
By Lee Williams

Published: Thursday, September 15, 2005

Michael Hollinger's An Empty Plate in the Café du Grand Boeuf, now running at Main Street Theater, is a most unusual comedy. Wildly ambitious, this play, set in Paris in 1961, invokes some of American literature's most familiar images. Ernest Hemingway, a Parisian cafe, a lonely suicide, a bloody bullfight, impotence and existential angst all play a part in this 100-minute one-act about a man who wrestles his psychological demons during one long and lonely night in Paris. But revered as they may be, many of the motifs running throughout this script feel oddly out of place. They come off as over-the-top melodrama, seeming almost quaint against the backdrop of our current consumer-driven world. On the other hand, there's so much wonderful clowning by this story's collection of quirky characters -- who come to dazzlingly hysterical life with the help of director Rebecca Greene Udden's wonderfully capable cast -- that it's hard not to come away from this peculiar play feeling strangely satisfied.

The premise spins around an expatriate American newspaperman named Victor (Charles Tanner), who shows up at a cafe one night with a most unusual request. He wants simply to tell his life story while he slowly starves himself to death. "I've lost my appetite," he announces. "I've decided to not eat till I die." Over time, we learn that he actually owns the cafe and that he bought it with his inherited millions so that he can be its sole patron. There is no menu, as the cafe is always ready to serve its only customer whenever and whatever his heart desires. To that end, Victor has employed a staff of clowns who live to serve him. They are deeply disturbed by their patron's last desire.

There's Gaston (Robert Leeds), the chef, whose genius in the kitchen is surpassed by only his knowledge of the ghastly effects of starving oneself to death: "It makes your eyes start to jiggle in your head!" Lovely Mimi (Celeste Roberts), dressed in black-and-white waitress attire, thrills when she gets near "Monsieur" and gushes over his stories about his travels. Mimi flusters about trying to make Monsieur change his mind about starving, only to be enraged by her husband, Claude (played with fabulously scene-stealing gusto by James Belcher), the cafe's manager, who barks orders to everyone in the place. While insisting that Monsieur must eat, Claude is trying to teach a young and bumbling trainee named Antoine (Andrew Ruthven) Table Waiting 101. But Victor ignores Claude and instead turns to Antoine, who fails at everything until he starts taking down Victor's story in careful dictation on his waiter's pad.

It's unclear exactly what has gone wrong in Victor's life, what has gotten him so down that he wants nothing more than to end it all. But we do know that he's got an unhealthy attachment to the suicidal Hemingway. Victor is constantly quoting the granddaddy of modern American literature. And we know that "Mademoiselle," a mysterious woman who always accompanies Victor, is strangely absent this night.

Nothing his staff says will change Victor's mind about not eating. But he does acquiesce to one strange request: He'll let them tempt him with a make-believe dinner. They bring out empty plate after empty plate, describing the dishes they wish they were serving in so succulent a verbiage, it's impossible not to come out of this show hungry as a bear. It's "a feast of adjectives and adverbs," as one character says. From soup to salad (eaten last in this cafe), the dinner of rabbit soup, vodka-tomato sorbet and roasted pheasant is talked about in deliciously sensuous poetry. The tomatoes are "buxom," the oil "virginal."

As head waiter, Belcher enjoys every minute he spends curving his lips around syllables as though each were a bite of manna. He leads the terrific cast of foppish staff members as it comes to light that they're every bit as troubled as Victor. Love has run amok in this place. Everyone is in the throes of unrequited lust. One has thought long and hard about his own suicide. A gun appears, as do other means of death. And it all crescendos into a re-enactment of a bloody bullfight, red cape and all.

Frankly, Victor and his troubles sound narcissistic when held up next to those of his sadder and funnier staff, which undermines some of the possibilities of Hollinger's tale. It's hard to feel much sympathy for a man who's so rich he can pay four people to do nothing but listen to him whine about his sorry life all night long. And Tanner's slow and measured line delivery doesn't add much urgency to Victor's conflict. But to be fair, Tanner doesn't have much to work with, even at the bitter end, when Victor finds out that things aren't what he thinks.

It's the staff who has the real problems. Happily, their struggles get as much time on stage as Victor's, and they make for a sinfully tasty treat.

Empty Plate a bountiful feast

Empty Plate a bountiful feast
By EVERETT EVANS
Copyright 2005 Houston Chronicle

The empty plates dictated by its intriguing premise notwithstanding, An Empty Plate in the Café du Grand Boeuf serves up a feast of fine theater.

In Main Street Theater's well-done Houston premiere of Michael Hollinger's "tragic comedy in seven courses," director Rebecca Greene Udden and her able cast savor the delicate flavors of Hollinger's literate, witty and ingeniously plotted script, with its rich undertones of ironic humor and rueful philosophizing.

Set in Paris on a summer evening in 1961, Empty Plate takes place at an unusual restaurant. The owner, a wealthy expatriate American publishing magnate, is the sole customer. The establishment is always open, the staff ever ready to prepare for "Monsieur" (as they've been directed to call their boss) anything he desires.

Yet on this night, Monsieur arrives from the bullfights in Madrid disheveled and morose. He demands the one thing the staff never anticipated — that he be allowed to starve to death at his table. Despite his promise that he has provided for them in his will, they are distraught. Serving him has become their sole purpose. The headwaiter proposes that they prepare a seven-course dinner — but leave the food in the kitchen, serving only the empty plates and descriptions of the dishes. Monsieur agrees to just that, though the staff members clearly hope they can ultimately tempt him into accepting more than just descriptions.

As the "dinner" progresses, Monsieur reveals the circumstances both long-past and recent that robbed him of his appetite for food (and life). One factor is the suicide of Ernest Hemingway, whom Monsieur idolized and regularly quotes. Another is the absence of Monsieur's mistress, who usually accompanies him. But what has happened to her? That is just one of the mysteries tantalizing the staff.

Hollinger balances his key ingredients of nonchalant absurdism, zany comedy and serious reflection on desire and apathy. He seasons his plot with the often volatile interplay of the staff, particularly the marital hostilities of headwaiter Claude and his dissatisfied wife, Mimi. He injects much clever wordplay, despite one or two moments when he strains a bit for effect.

Naturally, he has fun with the culinary descriptions, the "winsome shallots" and "buxom tomatoes." But there's ample food for thought, as well. The ending is satisfying, hinging on a surprise worthy of Guy de Maupassant or O. Henry.

Besides bringing a light touch to the material, Udden has cast the play felicitously. As Monsieur, MST veteran Charles Tanner exudes world weariness and the ashen gentility of burnt-out passions. Yet he remains aptly enigmatic.

James Belcher manages the neat trick of making headwaiter Claude aggressively servile with Monsieur, and just overbearingly bossy with everyone else. Celeste Roberts is even better than usual here — bringing an ideal blend of poise and passion to the fiery, frustrated Mimi, with islands of understanding amid her seas of tempestuousness. And she looks great in her "I'm leaving you" suit.

Bob Leeds likewise rises to the occasion as eccentric chef Gaston, amusingly miffed at being squelched by Claude, beaming with pride at his culinary creations, with a peculiar way of making bizarre non sequiturs sound reasonable.

As Antoine, the stammering new waiter, Andrew Ruthven is innocent and docile as a lamb. Leslie Maness brings grace and warmth to a role best left undescribed; she's part of the set of surprises that end the play so effectively.

If you're hungry for fresh, sophisticated theater, this Empty Plate delivers.

AN EMPTY PLATE IN THE CAFÉ DU GRAND BOEUF

• When: 7:30 p.m. Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays, through Oct. 16. Additional show at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday. No show on Sept. 16

• Where: Main Street Theater, 2540 Times Blvd.

• Tickets: $20-$30; 713-524-6706

When idiots have a point

A friend of mine sent me this article with along with the copy of the tirade she sent him. Article

With all due respect to my New Orleans Resident friend, this man does make one or two points and
asks one or two good questions. Then he follows each one with the most
moronic jaw dropping comments.

First of all, if you are writing this article now, you are not pitching in
and helping.

Second, you can't compare New Orleans and Katrina to 9/11, NYC and
Washington. I would be horribly shocked if people in say, Washington
Heights started looting after the Towers feel. Or Houston for that matter.

If Katrina blew through and ONLY took out the Superdome turned shelter, then
you might be able to compare.

Those of us outside of these events may feel the same shock and sadness, but
the person who lived through the dust storm of the collapsed towers and the
person who lived through the flooding of New Orleans after Katrina blew
through are feeling things very differently. They are not the same thing.
You can't even compare Pataki and Blanco's reactions. It's just not the
same thing.

And his comment about building below sea level is laughable. I suppose from
now on, all cities should be built on a hill, all buildings should be one
story and all communities should be self reliant. That would be utopia I
suppose. But then Bush would live in that city on the hill. I will live in
the unsafe, pestilent valley thank you.

The levees were "century-old". That is bad? Then most of this country
should be raiazed and rebuilt. How old should they be? Well, the Towers
were only a few decades old, so let's start there. Rebuild NYC, Boston and
Washington DC. Hey, aren't parts of these cities' subway systems below sea
level? Who's idea was that? My abode is more than 15 years old. Maybe
they should tear that down and build the new crap they are building now all
over Houston.

All right. I am now madder than when I started what was supposed to be a
short note of valid points lost in a morass of idiocy.

Take care and God bless New Orleans.

After all, tomorrow is another day ...

So, an electrician was able to come and asses the damage today. He was positive and said he thought we could be up and running by the end of the week. That maybe wishful thinking, but even if he is overly optimistic, it must mean that we aren't looking at lots of lost time!

Keep those lovely thoughts a comin'!

The Show Must Go On!

It is Saturday night and An Empty Plate in the Café du Grand Boeuf is beginning its first preview for the first show of Main Street Theater's 30th Anniversary Season!

The show is sold out, happy patrons are sitting in the audience amusing themselves with trying to pronouncee the name.

Finally, the lights go down, cell phones are dutifully turned off and the play begins. After a few baubles with lines, the cast gets into a groove. I, having taken up the Baritone Horn for the role, get through my first playing of Lady of Spain respectably. The first big dramatic moment in the play happens, and then it all goes to pot.

Lights start flashing, horrible popping and zapping noises can be heard from the booth. "Oh, great!", I think, "One of the light circuits is shorting out."

The director comes out on stage, stops the show and asks every to step outside. The actors all progress to the dressing room. The audience applaudes.

I, thinking shutting off the dimmer pack will arrest the situation, go into the booth to do so. While completing this feat, I see that it is not the dimmers or circuits that are sparking and smoking, but the meter box where the power enters the building!

SNAP! I shut off power to the stage lights. Still sparks and noise. BEAT IT! I turn and exit the back of the building.

That is when you hear that the horrible noise has also joined you outside the theater. You see over the roof of the one story building, flashes, hear snaps and pops and booms as one transformer blows. The people at the front of the building in the lobby are all of a sudden at the back of the building. Then another transformer blows.

No one is panicked. All is calm. I turn into the Company Manager and great people as the come out, warning then of the step off as they reach the property line and enter the parking lot for Buffalo Wild Wings.

"We are so disappointed!", they say.
"Me too!" I say.

"You were doing a great job!"
"Thank you so much!"

"We hope we can come back and see the rest of it!"
"So do I!"

In due time, firemen and power company personnel show up and do their jobs. The theater is cleared of smoke, the building is disconnected from the power grid, and a dark lonely theater is locked up. Everyone got out safely. No real damage other than the electrical juntion occurred that could be seen that night. We don't live in the Astrodome. These are blessings.

The fate of the theater and show are unsure. Today's preview is cancelled. An electircian was called and hopefully will asses the situation today. We have some room to push the show back. We also can possibly move the show to our other location, and perform on a disguised version of the set for Alexander Who's Not, Not, Not, Not, Not, Not Going to Move. Not my first choice, but you do what you have to do.

Keep Main Street Theater, Houston Texas in your happy, positive, thoughts today!