kellementology

Poor RT. Not only is he a member of the Young Republicans at L-T-DHS, but he was almost late for school today. We were all groggy, slogging in bed late this morning from a busy weekend and his alarm neglected to go off. Well, that’s actually not accurate, because one has to set one’s alarm for it to “go off.” So at quarter to seven — 15 minutes before the Princess leg of the L-T-D carpool arrives, I barrel out of bed to run down to get his lunch, and grab some cold cinnamon Pop Tarts for his breakfast. Mmmm… cold Pop Tarts… Cinnamon… The MoH trudges upstairs to get the RT out of bed — not an easy feat because the MoH is quite less than a morning type of guy. Ever.

But the RT is quite the flexible adolescent human and arrives downstairs with a pleasant, albeit dazed look on his still boyish face and commences with the shoving of Pop Tarts into his mouth while I check that he’s got his back pack and swim stuff for P.E. He’s set, but as I reach into the bag crammed with swim stuff, I immediately know that the damp items have been in this bag lost in his room since last used on Friday and they’re, well….stinky. Sour gross and stinky. A quick change of towel, a nudge to get him back upstairs for a cold water face splashing, teeth brushing, shirt changing — because I recognize that the one he’s currently wearing has been on for a couple of days — and then he’s back downstairs with a few minutes to catch his breath and read Garfield in the morning paper. Whew! We did it. He’s out the door at seven on the nose, and actually has to wait for 5 minutes because the Prince-ass is late again. You gotta like the RT. I do. I’m thinking I wouldn’t be a very good Princess mother. I’d be snapping her up one side and down the other every minute of the day, or digging around for a needle to pop her self-inflated bubble-type existence here in L-T-D Mc Neighborhood Land.

Yes, it was quite the weekend for the Slug Family, and for less than sunny Paradise in So Cal in general. Cocktails on the Green — Ahem — for MoH and I on Friday evening followed by dinner and a casino night; baseball coaching and golf; the RT’s cousin sleep over and birthday get together; dinner with friends Saturday night; and Art Walk on Sunday downtown. The home team Pads (no, not like Kotex, say Pods, and no, not like Invasion of the Body Snatchers) were playing the rotten Dodgers in town, and OMG…

…The Dems were here, too. But the news is out — they weren’t really into smoochin’ babies — well, except one. Like I said — quite the weekend.

Yes, the Dems were finally here in Paradise, because someone was able to scrape up enough union member staffed hotels to house the delegates. Give me a break. Evidently, this is the very first time Paradise has hosted a convention of the CA Dem Party. They’ve even held one in San Jose before. Give me another break. Have you ever been there? It’s all spiffed up because Silicon Valley is a hop skip and a jump away, but you can wander around down town in the morning right before lunch and it’s a big yawner. Seriously. I’m thinking Paradise always gets nailed because everyone figures the sun shines all year (not), and that there are palm trees and beaches, so nothing else matters. But hold onto your shorts — or your livestock. The next one may be in Fresno. Uh…Fresno?

It was interesting reading the local paper form of news Sunday morning and trying to get my head around the whole “Why are the Dems here Now?” thing. Well — CA has, over the last many years, moved its primary up from June to March to February. So everybody’s hopping — including the candidates. Otherwise, they’d never give our palm trees a glance. They didn’t anyway. There was generally no glad-handing, or baby smooching, or anything other than giving a face to the talk for the delegates who attended the convention. Has anyone figured out this is an arcane practice at this point? Can anyone say In-ter-net? And how much does it cost for all this nonsense, anyway? According to the paper, Barack Obama “blew in”, “belted out,” and then “high-tailed” himself to L.A.

Hilary Clinton “parachuted” in, “delivered”, “shook” hands, kissed one baby and then “jetted” out. I did notice that the red suit she wore resembled some kind of futuristic flight suit. Sweet! But Al Gore was no where to be found even though a reported group of “dream-team” followers were promoting the idea of a Gore/Obama ticket. Hmmm…

Of course, you can always depend on someone like Ron Nehring, the CA Rep Party Chairman to throw in his 2 cents over the weekend’s event, letting us know that — just in case we didn’t have ears or a brain with ability to process information — the Dems are not focusing on issues that “really matter to regular people,” but instead “obscure issues” for the “extremists.” I guess those might be serious lefties, right? Palm tree huggers, vegetarians, and surf bums? Those of us crippled by the sunshine tax?
The other five of the eight considered serious con-ten-daz supposedly “hung around,” but interestingly enough, Republican Dennis Kucinich attended a fund raiser in O.B. That’s Ocean Beach for those of you unfamiliar with Paradise. It’s a serious beach town that protested a Starbucks on the corner almost as much as the Vietnam War, loves Dog Beach, its pier, hamburger joints, surfing, and everything left over from the late 60’s. You know, like head shops. Huh?

What’s a Republican doing in a place like this? Widening his horizons. Expanding his mind. With a bunch of stoners? Well, I’m sure he drew an interesting crowd, because at only 20 bucks per attendee, I can guarantee that everyone else was either at the Padres game (which lasted 17 innings and they lost to the rotten Dodgers anyway) or at Art Walk in Little Italy, where all the tasteful folks were. Like us.

Art Walk is in its third year and is a pleasant diversion for house slugs who forget that we live in a nice city and there are things to do occasionally besides taxes or sit in front of a computer. We purchased a Grant Pecoff giclee here a couple of years ago, and this year discovered many new artists whose work caught our attention:

• Like photographer & Fire Escapes -- Xavier Nuez" target="_blank">Xavier Nuez who captures stunning energy-filled images of abandoned urban buildings and alleys, and
• Robert Holton from Anaheim who has an interesting take on Pop Icons, or
• Stephanie Clair who is has a gallery nearby and whose paintings convey soothing memories of soft moments in life — with a contemporary look.

Little Italy is a little bit of old and quaint mixed with trendy, sometimes edgy looking buildings that house shops, restaurants, and homes. It’s fun to look at the art, enjoy the setting, and take a load off in the middle of it all to get something to eat and drink.

Italian food? Well, maybe since you’d expect to enjoy that in Little Italy — and we have before, but we’re still waxing over our trip to England and Wales last summer so squeezed into a pub instead for some bangers and mash, a roast beef sandwich with pub chips, and Boddington’s, Old Speckled Hen, and Belhaven Scottish Ale to help wash it all down.

Absolutely no calories there… What Phoodplan? Ciao Bella…