Well, this letter is for the dedicated Christmas card reader, who has hung in there for the last twelve years. Only you dear reader, will discover this very late comical year in reveiw. But here's the beginning:
2008 started with the
Las Vegas “Disney Girls” reunion. It was great to catch up with my friends, some of whom I had not seen in several years.
We will have to change our group name though, as only two of us still work at Disney, and most of us are not girls (Unless by GIRLS we mean “Guys In Ridiculously Luxurious Style” – Am I selling it? Probably not. Sigh.).
The highlight of my Las Vegas trip was the amazing water circus “La Reve” (The Dream) at the Wynn resort. I found this name a bit ironic, as “The Dream” is performed around a swimming pool, making it –kmmm-kmmm- “wet.” C’mon people, do I need to draw you a diagram?!! This is funny!!!!
I’ve been petitioning for them to add more audience participation. But the restraining orders say that I’m not allowed to jump in the pool anymore. When will they appreciate my art?!! Back to Florida, I went.
On
January 25th while at work, I received a phone call . . . from my home telephone. That’s strange, I thought. How can I be calling me, when I’m right here? I considered not answering, but it occurred to me that it might be my Mom making an impromptu house call. (She plays this game called, “Can you guess what I’m doing at your house right now.” The correct answer is: “Whatever you want, because I was a breach birth.”)
When I answered, it was the Orange County Sherriff’s department. They informed me that they had just apprehended three juvenile delinquents burglarizing my house. They asked me to verify that the youths, who’d kicked in a gate and shattered a window to enter, were not invited guests (as they claimed). I want to ensure everyone reading this letter, that when you visit my house, the first privilege I grant guests is the use of my front door – you will not have to break out a window to get inside. Pesky!!
I rushed home to find eight squad cars encircling my home (which is strange, because usually there’s only four), three grumpy crazy-haired youths fuming in the back seat of said squad cars, and my home newly renovated in early 21st Century “Beat Yo ***” style (So called, because when you see your house decorated in this manner you want to beat someone’s asterisks).
It was a random break-in foiled by my crafty next door neighbor Darlene, who alerted the authorities at the sound of breaking glass. I have spent the last eleven months replacing windows and pursuing litigation. So far I have received $17.50 in return (seriously).
In March, my friend and professional therapist, Vicki Curea, came to visit me in Florida. Here I must note that while Vicki is a professional therapist, she is not *my* professional therapist. However she is *my* friend (free of charge incidentally – Score!).
I hosted Vicki on a tour through
Miami South Beach and the Florida Keyes, showing her the best of the overseas highway, the Miami Art Deco district, and Sea World (her favorite). Though we had a great time, I could not sublimate my repression impulse to account for the autonomous nature of my unconscious complexes. You’re probably like, “tell me about it!!” In short, it’s too much fun being nuts to give up chasing cars now.
In May, I joined my adventurous gal pal Sonya Sherman in the Cayman Islands. We then flew together to
Cayman Brac and Little Cayman on a teeny tiny airplane over a great expanse of water. This said, I can say that I have set foot on all the major Cayman Islands.
I have been diving for 14 years, and Bloody Bay Wall is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever seen. One can enjoy unparalleled clarity and underwater features, unique in the entire world. In short, imagine swimming in crystal clear blue seas about six feet deep, until reaching a precipice that descends 2000 feet to the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. One’s immediate reaction is vertigo (after all you are floating weightless). Then you are awed by the difference of expansive peripheral vision and the vertical organization of sea life here. Wow! Lovely.
Upon returning to the U.S., my work decided to send me to
Berlin Germany for six weeks! Visions of expense accounts and luxury European travel danced in my head . . . for about eight hours. Upon arrival in Berlin, I found out that my luggage remained in Washington, D.C., and that I had to find my way to a sparsely decorated apartment in West Berlin.I quickly acclimated, and you can read about my summer in Berlin throughout this blog. There are even pictures of the apartment, which turned out to be nicely located near the main boulevard of West Berlin.
Skipping to July . . . After the Love Parade I visited Tim and Marguerite in Belgium:
Upon arriving in
Belgium, I made my way to
Oostende, a beachfront resort west of ornate baroque Brugge. Oostende is laid out in a grid pattern between a broad strand of beach and a working marina. It resonates with Belle Age (late 19th century) Victorian parks, tall sailing ships, a boardwalk, small restaurants, as well as the obligatory Northern European cathedrals, cobblestones and electric trams.In a 24 hour period, I visited with my friends’ family, met their two small children, wandered through the town on a guided tour, enjoyed beachside ice cream, beheld an antique car parade and spent the afternoon photographing kite surfing and seaside picnicking from a strand-shed. Dinner was at Niko’s Greek Restaurant. And then, in a flash I was gone, racing back to Germany, and my work in Mulheim.
My subsequent visits to Karlovy Vary, Czesky Krumlov, and Prague are documented in detail throughout this blog.
Due to the constraints of my work-related airline ticket, I was required to return home from an airport in Germany. The nearest German nternational airport to Prague is Dresden. As one of my screenplays is set in Dresden, I decided this was my chance to see it! I was off to wander streets, where I'd previously set characters and scenarios.
Dresden did not disappoint. Despite being entirely recreated from rubble in the last 70 years, the city still resonates with charming Saxon architecture, Elbe riverbanks and famously wide avenues. I took time out to review pre-war historical film footage, demonstrating what Dresden was before obliteration: beautiful, cultured, wealthy, central and celebrated. And then gone forever.
The new Frauenkirche church is a soft yellow limestone wedding cake, especially inside. The Zwinger galleries and gardens, though not pristine, are still lovely to pass through. Famous mosaics, squares, cathedrals and palaces fringed a broad colonade embankment at a bend in the river. 1000 years of history vibrated from the gaslights in the cool summer night.
Early the next morning, Mom and I discovered that a Lufthansa air strike had stranded us in Dresden. If we were going to catch our United flight back to the states, we were going to have to Beeline to Frankfurt by train . . . with two large suitcases with the wheels popping off. Wondertwin powers activated, we beamed across German for a sweet flight home to our own little beds!
Shortly after returning home, my boss asked me to research activities in Hamilton, Ontario. As a result I was obliged to fly to Buffalo, New York, and drive across Niagara Falls to Ontario. The good news is that they have built a bridge, and one no longer has to try to drive across the falls. This adventure is also blogged separately.
With the completion of my work in Ontario, I joined my family at
Raquet Lake, New York, in the Adirondack National Park. Big thanks go out to my Uncle Bob and Aunt Dorothy, for allowing me to join their family's vacation. My father also brought his newly completed "Pelican" sailboat, and we christened the boat with much fanfare and ceremony. The following day, we commuted to Pearl Cottage in
Lake George, and spent several days swimming and canoeing in the sun.
In October, I visited Joy and Dave in
New Hampshire . . . got some excercise and photographed autumn color (blogged separately).
October 22, 2008 was the last day that I and my mutated meta-tarsal shared competing space in my left foot. I went toe to toe in this battle for polydactyl dominance, and I'm proud to report that my little piggy went wee wee wee all the way to the chrematorium (largely because I have health insurance, credit cards, and pre-hensile thumbs. My mutated meta-tarsal on the other hand had a boney horn which wasn't good for much except poking through the top of my foot). Piggy struck first, attempting to rupture my skin after a summer of pedestrian traffic in European capitals. I retaliated with a visit to my Podiatrist and eventually a
piggy-ectomy. It sounds as much fun as it was. Here's a recap:
Basically, you wait through several visits for a podiatrist to get good and ready . . . then you show up to an outpatient surgery center. They put you in a shower cap, drug your #@^ up, and then go at you with a power saw. Piggy never had a chance. I should have armed him. How'd you like to see the face of that podiatrist, saw in hand, when a horny tarsal gets the draw on him with a teeny tiny howitzer!
My boss gave me two days off work . . . and then I was back at the grindstone . . .
Before I knew it, it was December and my book was being delivered by the printer to my publishing empire. Picture: The Debut of East of Pouring at Urban Think! bookstore in Downtown Orlando:
And as the year closed, I enjoyed a relaxing Christmas holiday with my blind cousin Jenny from Staten Island and her autistic son, Justin. I kid about the relaxing . . . as someone who lives alone and can do whatever I want whenever I want . . . subordinating myself to an autistic child was a shock to the system. Kudos go out to Jenny for being a mom 24-7-365 and doing a great job! And kudos go out to Justin for revealing his intelligence and normalcy, through the veneer of autism. I connected, and I now know I can handle kids. The confidence that came from coping, was my gift. Thanksgiving for all the things I take for granted was another gift. So many gifts were delivered to me through the fountain of coping . . . throughout the year. Merry Christmas, and Happy Drew Year ma peeps!
