Pirate Dog PDX

Silent Night

It's been a long, busy, merry holiday season.

Jesus 2007: Still hot, a little shorter than I thought.

Last night, I saw Ted Neeley play the role of Jesus Christ in the Andrew Lloyd Weber production of Jesus Christ Superstar at the Schnitzer Theater. Ted is the best known Jesus Christ in musical theater, first playing the son of god on stage in 1969, then in the 1973 film adaptation--and he's been questioning his faith and sleeping fitfully ever since.

For you history buffs and (yuck) theater people, Neeley has been Jesus for 38 years -- four years longer than the original Jesus did the gig. It's amazing that one guy could play god for virtually his entire career -- also, just like the first Jesus. Okay, technically, "original" Jesus had two careers, having started out as a carpenter, but I'll bet Neeley had to wait tables for a while. In any case, both rocked their houses. I'm a fan of the original Jesus's message of peace and I do love his screaming celebrity impersonator.

I wonder if the original Jesus was short. Neeley is, like, Tom Cruise tiny, but it only makes his gentle shepherd-schtick that much more believable. And, as I said in the headline, he is one HOT diety. 38 years later. Yummy.

There are those fans of JCS who would suggest that Judas Iscariot has all the good lines. Last night, Corey Glover (as in Living Colour lead singer Corey Glover) played Judas . My dad and I saw Glover and his band open for the Rolling Stones in 1989. At the Stones' show, Glover rocked Cult of Personality before the second Stones opening act Guns-n-Roses played and Axl Rose fell off the stage during Mr. Brownstone (GNR's little ditty about drugs)... rendering both songs ironic. 

Back to Glover's current gig: What I love about this production is that it not only highlights Jesus's humanity, it also supports Judas as a flawed, but forgivable human. Too often, in renaissance paintings and liturgical pulpits, Judas is a one-dimensional, well, jerk. In JC Superstar, Judas struggles with Jesus's celebrity: "You've begun to matter more than the things that you say." Later, he resents/repents his unalterable role in helping Jesus become immortal. Plus, he gets the big closing number (in which he descends from heaven, which I think upset some Christians).

There's alot of sadness and suffering in Jesus's last days on earth, even with the kick-ass dance numbers and sparkly costumes. Where's the levity? In the movie and the play, Herod is a hilarious man of excess, without humanity. Haven't we all known this guy? If you're from LA, the answer is yes. Funny. Great parties. Humanity-free. Herod's best line: "Prove to me that you're no fool. Walk across my swimming pool." Fun fact: In the movie, slimy porn star Ron Jeremy is in Herod's posse. He's by the pianist. Naturally.

If I may wax theatrical for a moment, this play was FAB-u-lous. And, generally, I hate musical theater. It's too much with the jazz hands and over-expressive enthusiasm.Unless you are Macauly Culkin or Beyonce, over-the-top facial movements do not work on you. Don't try. You're making jazz hands with a big open-mouthed smile right now, aren't you? Stop that. Plus, organized religion makes me want to scream, ironically, in a Macauly Culkin way.

But, woof. This play. These guys. That music. It's religion, as god intended it.

Tu-ba! Tu-ba! Tu-ba!

Nearly 200 tubas and their brassy cousins, the euphonium and baritone horn, gathered in Pioneer Courthouse Square this Saturday. I went down to participate in all that is holiday-esque in Portland. The lovely Leslie and her handsome hubby Ken were there, but truly, it was Tube-a-palooza madness on the square, with more of a crowd than I had expected. Being Portland, there were plenty of dogs in Santa suits, and for whatever reason, a guy wearing a hubcap on his face. Festive. I'm glad I went, but unless I go earlier to get a better seat next year, I'm done.

Interestingly, it ain't just Portland, baby. All across the country in December, tuba players join in a national Tuba Christmas celebration. In Portland, retired Oregon Symphony principal tubist Dr. John Richards leads the charge. He's been at it for more than 50 years. This March, he'll celebrate his 90th birthday. We, the crowd, sang "Happy Birthday," and it was my favorite part. I cried.

Could I be more of a girl?

If "Santa Claus goes straight to the ghetto," it will just depress him.

"Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa" Christmas

With the holidays upon us and the prospect of dating again looming in the future, my mind naturally wanders to fruitcakes. With thanks to Eric T. and Jimmy Buffett, here's some cheery fruitcake-related entertainment. Jimmy, music please ...

You have to know the song, I guess, for that post title to make sense. In case you don't have patience for YouTube, Jimmy's basic message is this: "There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everone of us. That's right! You too! Spread those crumbs around!"

Single. Again. It's a wallow-fest! Bring the kids!

As we careen uncontrolled into the triumvirate of couple-happy holidays (Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day), we find ourselves single. Again.

For the record, god invented the "royal we" so that single gals and gay men could avoid feeling lonely enough to descend into sad-love-songs-of-the-'70s evenings, consuming entire pumpkin cheesecakes and Schnapps straight from the bottle. Amen? Just me?  Damn.

Blech. We hate singleness. More than singleness, I hate the alternatives.

Dating? No. Too early. Though next time, seriously, I'm not going to date a guy who comes pre-equipped with a stalker. Whether it's ex-wives or crazy pen pals, I'd like to be someone's first crazy person for a change. 

How do you even check for that? Nearly everyone comes with an ex-wife anymore, and even if the ex-wives would have liked us (of course), they probably aren't friends with their ex-husbands, a.k.a. our future boyfriends. Oh, and crazy pen pals? Well, there ain't nobody sees that coming.

With my slightly chubby, persistent singleness, I could be Bridget Jones. Bridget Jones got two movies and two hot boyfriends out of the deal--though one of them was a jerk (in the movies and real life) and the other one had horrible taste in sweaters. I can't have that.

I could be a crazy cat lady...with some work. I'll need a starter cat, natch. I'll need an ugly, pink housecoat. Wait. I have an ugly, pink housecoat. Finally, I'll need a smell. I'll bet that comes with the cats.

Actually, my friend LB knows fo'real crazy cat ladies. Apparently, real crazy cat ladies don't leave their homes and sometimes, they pee in pails. Ew. I don't want that. For now, anyway.

On the other hand, I think I could be a pretty successful crazy dog lady. I'm one tiny dog, one extensive doggie wardrobe, and one blog on my way to building a solidly crazy dog lady future. Plus, Portland is filled with crazy dog ladies. And I think crazy dog ladies get to pee in the potty and sometimes, we get to go outside. Not to pee, we go with our dogs. Stay tuned.

Gypsy's Holiday

When my dad sent out his holiday letter this year, his headline about me referred to my moving ... "again."

I can't help it. I was raised by gypsies. Between the ages of 10 and 20 years old, our family lived in six states. As an "ad guy," my dad was transferred again and again, anytime a new client came along. In 10 years, we went from California to Washington DC, to Pittsburgh, to Dayton, to New York, to Boston ... with trips back to California in between. Even within the state, I've lived in Topanga, the San Fernando Valley (like totally), Malibu, West Hollywood (down the street from Fabio, thank you), wine country in Sonoma, San Francisco, Marin (near the "Church of the Holy Hot Tub"), Monterey, Moss Landing, and Santa Cruz. I missed San Diego, but maybe someday. Somewhere in there, I lived in New Hampshire, which I'd actually forgotten about. Each city has had something special to offer, and I was lucky to see as much our country as I did.

How. So. Ever. Though California was always my "home," the urge to seek new ports never left me. So, when I needed a change of scenery, and David was kind enough to show me Portland, I couldn't think of a better new adventure than to come here.

I didn't expect I'd ever come this far north. It's dark a full half hour earlier than it ever was in California, and during these winter nights, I can feel it. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything ... but tonight, I'm missing my pirate friends on the Central Coast. My friend Susan just sent photos and a video of a holiday luncheon I missed with Peter, Tree, and Linda. My friend Eric sent an email that he had lunch with his son at the restaurant we always went to. He sat at our regular table. Wendy called to say I missed a great lunch with our friends, and that our pal Jules submitted her film to Sundance Film Festival. Lynn announced Christmas could come because she had purchased her tree and retained handsome Joe's services to hang the lights on her house. Roy called Sunday to talk me down from my Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan bender. And, David's not coming back to Portland.

Ouch. Sometimes, gypsies miss their pirates. During the holidays, we long for past ports and our mutinous crews.

PDX-mas (with Rico, the cranky reindeer)

That's right. I do stuff like this to my dog. I must be celebrating PDX-mas.

To kick off the holiday on Thanksgiving weekend, Rico, David and I visited Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. Timberline Lodge, movie fans, is the haunted hotel from The Shining. Yeek. Christmas creeps.

When my mom and I got back from Aunt Mary's memorial service, we needed some lightness, so we visited Zoo Lights. Unfortunately, she had to leave before she saw Portland's Lighted Boat Parade and the "Cinnamon Bear" Boat Tour, complete with elf-clad teenage crew. I live across the street from both events, so I got some great photos. I'm also walking distance from the "Festival of the Last Minute" at Portland's Saturday Market and the lighted tree at Winterland Square.

Also, because I've made friends with the lovely Leslie, I was priviledged to partake of the Portland Garden Club's annual sale. I bought 25 feet of cedar garland and lots of plants from society ladies who served up their plants with hot cider and cookies. It reminded me of my garden clubs in Monterey--in a good way. The gals all wore reindeer antlers, and looked as adorable as Rico does. And, they were way less cranky about havng their pictures taken than Rico was. It was great fun.

That said, the best thing about PDX-mas is that it snowed today. Therefore, finally, it was cold enough to dress Rico in his new reindeer outfit. Which MAKES my holiday and pisses him off, as you can tell. He is never going to get into the Portland Garden Club with that attitude.

Know this. Portland clearly knows how get its Christmas on. Click here for a slide show of the aforementioned holiday fabulousness.