Saturday, November 2, 2013
2013-11-02
Checking out the spread at an Arrested Development art show this past summer: ice cream sandwiches, frozen bananas, and...oh, of course.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
2013-10-27
From earlier this month: checking out the Halloween showrooms at Roger’s Gardens. A half dozen of these would make a pretty sweet dinette set, no?
Thursday, October 24, 2013
2013-10-24
Something from the hiatus: We ended up nixing our trip to the second CommuniCon this past weekend, but we did make it to the first one back in February, which is how I met Yvette Nicole Brown and Gillian Jacobs.
They couldn’t have been lovelier to the fans. And I am one lucky, lucky rabbit.
They couldn’t have been lovelier to the fans. And I am one lucky, lucky rabbit.
Monday, October 21, 2013
2013-10-21
So: blog’s not dead. But I can certainly understand how a lot of people thought it might be, given the unprecedented hiatus; in reality, though, it was just a matter of life’s complications getting in the way. And in fact, Rob and I have been as active as ever, we simply haven’t had time to post at length about it. So we’ve decided to try a slight format change: We’ll still do full entries every now and then, but in the meantime, we’ll be posting single shots every few days or so, a mix of outtakes, stuff from the old blog that never made it over, and things taken during the hiatus—because there were quite a few of those.
To kick things off, here’s an old favorite from 2005, the earliest days of Troubleshooting, back when we used to do these sorts of captioned photos a lot. It was a more innocent time...
To kick things off, here’s an old favorite from 2005, the earliest days of Troubleshooting, back when we used to do these sorts of captioned photos a lot. It was a more innocent time...
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Cardinal virtues
...and we’re back.
During our hiatus, Rob and I found ourselves in NorCal again, this time in Palo Alto. And with an afternoon to kill between engagements, we decided to swing by Stanford University because...well, I actually came here once several years ago, but it was a very brief visit and returning has always felt like unfinished business, basically. So now that I had a bit more time, it seemed like a prime opportunity to tour the home of the Cardinal! (The color, not the bird.)
Around here, there’s an old story that tells of the president of Harvard reluctantly meeting with a couple who were petitioning to donate a building in honor of their recently deceased son and wouldn’t leave until he granted them an audience. The president took one look at the shabby, travel-worn pair and dismissively told them the steep cost of Harvard’s multimillion-dollar real estate...at which point the woman turned to her husband and suggested that for that price, why not simply found their own university? And then the couple—Leland Stanford, Sr., railroad magnate, U.S. Senator, and former governor of California, and his wife Jane—returned to the West Coast and did just that.
The story itself is untrue, but it endures in the folklore because one, it’s a good yarn, and two, the central detail is true. In 1884, the Stanfords’ only son died of typhoid while the family was touring Europe, and in memory of his academic pursuits, his parents resolved to establish a college in his name. Seven years later, the doors opened at Leland Stanford Junior University—usually just Stanford University, sometimes “the Farm”—and while the elder Leland died not long after, Jane took the reins and guided the school through its rocky early phase, ultimately setting it on the path to becoming a world-renowned institution with an impressive list of faculty and alumni and that was named by Forbes as the top school in the country this past summer.
Not a bad legacy for a boy who was two months shy of his 16th birthday. And now to run amok all over it.
As it happens, Stanford is huge: It sprawls over nearly 8,200 acres, making it one of the largest contiguous campuses anywhere. Meaning there was really only time for me to see a few highlights, so why not start at the top of the list? Memorial Church—dedicated by Jane Stanford to her husband after his passing—is the architectural and spiritual anchor to Stanford’s Main Quad, as well as the visual point of focus when you’re coming up Palm Drive. In keeping with the school’s secularity, “MemChu” is actually nondenominational despite the iconography, which Jane Stanford chose for its humanitarian imagery more than anything else. Unfortunately for me, though, the church was closed for an alum wedding that day. Or maybe somebody tipped them off that I was coming, who knows.
Still, I took a moment to pause and take in the view from the Quad’s central rosette. The Full Moon on the Quad tradition holds that freshmen aren’t full-fledged Stanford students until they kiss a senior under the light of the first full moon of the school year here, although that doesn’t stop other classes from partaking as well. It wasn’t gonna happen for me, obviously—it was broad daylight, there were no girl rabbits in sight, and I’m not a student anyway. And, I suppose, never will be. I mean, you’d think a progressive school with an endowment in the billions would make at least some kind of token outreach to the woodland community, but no.
In any case, a short hop from the Quad is the Farm’s other most iconic building: Hoover Tower, named for President Herbert Hoover, who was not only an alum but part of that very first graduating class of 1895. The Hoover Institution Library is housed here, but for the casual visitor, the main attractions are the collection of Hoover-related artifacts in the lobby and the fourteenth-floor observation deck above. So: Everybody cram into the express elevator!
Yeah, not a bad view from any angle—this is the side facing east. Hellooooo, Silicon Valley! Apparently with the right visibility, you can actually see San Francisco from up here, but on this day I don’t think we could see much farther north than, like, San Carlos. Not the same. Plus we had to clear out before the carillon sounded the hour—someone with ears like mine can’t very well afford to be at close range when that sort of thing goes off.
Time for a quick lunch break! Tresidder Student Union has a regular food court, but I opted to duck out the back for the mood lighting and low-key vibe of the CoHo instead. Even if I can’t have the full student experience, at least I can get something a little homier than mall food, right?
And while I was in the vicinity, I decided to swing by the bookstore. The thing about a campus this large is that if you don’t have a car—and a lot of students don’t, especially those from out of state—then you’re essentially landlocked, with only your bike to get you to University Avenue or the Stanford Shopping Center. So it helps to have a bookstore with a more extensive inventory than your average JC until you can catch a ride from somebody who does have a car. How extensive an inventory? Look—just my size!
Rob and I still had some time left, so next we stopped by the Rodin Sculpture Garden attached to the Cantor Center for Visual Arts. Rodin’s Burghers of Calais reside in the Quad—and good luck taking a photo of those without tourists constantly getting in the way—but the heart of the bronze collection is here, including ye olde show-stopper, The Gates of Hell, as well as the companion Adam and Eve statues flanking it and a life-size version of the Three Shades you see at the top of the gate and who, up close, really just look like the dourest doo-wop group ever.
Should I knock or just go straight in?
Actually, I did neither—I just went around it to see what was on the other side and...nada. Well, that’s an eschatological letdown!
Nice day that it was, it was sort of tempting go fountain hopping—another school tradition—especially since the Claw in White Plaza and the Red Hoop here in front of the Cecil H. Green Library were right along our tour path. But that being a bad idea for someone with fur, I settled for investigating Green itself, the largest of Stanford’s libraries. A visitor can sign up for seven library day passes per year, and far be it from me not to take advantage of that!
All right, so—Green alone houses some four million volumes in its two wings, but I can narrow that field quite a bit with the keywords “rabbit studies” at a search terminal. So I get my list of results, head off to the stacks, and...
...erm. Well, good thing I can come back six more times, because I’m clearly gonna need a dedicated return trip. And a step stool.
But no matter—I still wanted to make two other stops anyhow, both a bit more out of the way. Maybe if I’d had another day or three, I could’ve gotten up to the Dish, Jasper Ridge, and the linear accelerator as well, but it just wasn’t in the cards this time. Also, uh, I couldn’t get clearance for that last one.
Instead, if you’re wondering where the “Farm” nickname came from, it’s because the land that was used for the campus was originally just that—the Stanfords’ horse farm. And one of the remnants of that past is the Red Barn, just outside the residential core and between the tennis courts and golf course—you’ll know it by the statue of Electioneer, Governor Stanford’s champion stud, out front. And, well, the big red barn.
In fact, even before the school was founded, the farm had some significance, since it’s where Eadweard Muybridge conducted his famous Sallie Gardner at a Gallop photographic experiment. The Red Barn’s no museum, however—it serves as the Stanford Equestrian Center, plus locals can stable their horses here, seeing as Palo Alto’s not really known for its wide open spaces. I took a bit of a stroll around, but I didn’t get too close to any of the residents—carrots on my breath doesn’t automatically mean carrots in my possession, and I didn’t want anybody getting any ideas. Especially the bite-y kind.
As for the other stop, well, that was a little more somber. Tucked away in a shady grove not far from the Stanford Hospital is the mausoleum where the three Stanfords rest. It’s also where the campus Halloween party is held every year, but I thought it’d be good to pay my respects in a quieter moment.
It’s a lovely campus, guys. Hope the kids aren’t too out of control this yea...ah, you’re used to it.
And that was it for this visit to LSJU, as Rob and I were meeting friends for dinner. There was no shortage of old-school joints to choose from, from Applewood and the Oasis to Max’s Opera Café and Jing Jing. But the only thing I really insisted on was a trip to Kepler’s afterward, followed by a frosted mocha or four at Café Borrone. After which I was so hopped up that I was almost able to drive us back to L.A. on my own.
Until next time, Stanford...even if it probably won’t be because I’m enrolling there. I can dream, though. Hey, I could be the first rabbit in SLE! Ha, no, I kid—college is supposed to be fun, after all. Die Luft der Freiheit weht!
During our hiatus, Rob and I found ourselves in NorCal again, this time in Palo Alto. And with an afternoon to kill between engagements, we decided to swing by Stanford University because...well, I actually came here once several years ago, but it was a very brief visit and returning has always felt like unfinished business, basically. So now that I had a bit more time, it seemed like a prime opportunity to tour the home of the Cardinal! (The color, not the bird.)
Around here, there’s an old story that tells of the president of Harvard reluctantly meeting with a couple who were petitioning to donate a building in honor of their recently deceased son and wouldn’t leave until he granted them an audience. The president took one look at the shabby, travel-worn pair and dismissively told them the steep cost of Harvard’s multimillion-dollar real estate...at which point the woman turned to her husband and suggested that for that price, why not simply found their own university? And then the couple—Leland Stanford, Sr., railroad magnate, U.S. Senator, and former governor of California, and his wife Jane—returned to the West Coast and did just that.
The story itself is untrue, but it endures in the folklore because one, it’s a good yarn, and two, the central detail is true. In 1884, the Stanfords’ only son died of typhoid while the family was touring Europe, and in memory of his academic pursuits, his parents resolved to establish a college in his name. Seven years later, the doors opened at Leland Stanford Junior University—usually just Stanford University, sometimes “the Farm”—and while the elder Leland died not long after, Jane took the reins and guided the school through its rocky early phase, ultimately setting it on the path to becoming a world-renowned institution with an impressive list of faculty and alumni and that was named by Forbes as the top school in the country this past summer.
Not a bad legacy for a boy who was two months shy of his 16th birthday. And now to run amok all over it.
As it happens, Stanford is huge: It sprawls over nearly 8,200 acres, making it one of the largest contiguous campuses anywhere. Meaning there was really only time for me to see a few highlights, so why not start at the top of the list? Memorial Church—dedicated by Jane Stanford to her husband after his passing—is the architectural and spiritual anchor to Stanford’s Main Quad, as well as the visual point of focus when you’re coming up Palm Drive. In keeping with the school’s secularity, “MemChu” is actually nondenominational despite the iconography, which Jane Stanford chose for its humanitarian imagery more than anything else. Unfortunately for me, though, the church was closed for an alum wedding that day. Or maybe somebody tipped them off that I was coming, who knows.
Still, I took a moment to pause and take in the view from the Quad’s central rosette. The Full Moon on the Quad tradition holds that freshmen aren’t full-fledged Stanford students until they kiss a senior under the light of the first full moon of the school year here, although that doesn’t stop other classes from partaking as well. It wasn’t gonna happen for me, obviously—it was broad daylight, there were no girl rabbits in sight, and I’m not a student anyway. And, I suppose, never will be. I mean, you’d think a progressive school with an endowment in the billions would make at least some kind of token outreach to the woodland community, but no.
In any case, a short hop from the Quad is the Farm’s other most iconic building: Hoover Tower, named for President Herbert Hoover, who was not only an alum but part of that very first graduating class of 1895. The Hoover Institution Library is housed here, but for the casual visitor, the main attractions are the collection of Hoover-related artifacts in the lobby and the fourteenth-floor observation deck above. So: Everybody cram into the express elevator!
Yeah, not a bad view from any angle—this is the side facing east. Hellooooo, Silicon Valley! Apparently with the right visibility, you can actually see San Francisco from up here, but on this day I don’t think we could see much farther north than, like, San Carlos. Not the same. Plus we had to clear out before the carillon sounded the hour—someone with ears like mine can’t very well afford to be at close range when that sort of thing goes off.
Time for a quick lunch break! Tresidder Student Union has a regular food court, but I opted to duck out the back for the mood lighting and low-key vibe of the CoHo instead. Even if I can’t have the full student experience, at least I can get something a little homier than mall food, right?
And while I was in the vicinity, I decided to swing by the bookstore. The thing about a campus this large is that if you don’t have a car—and a lot of students don’t, especially those from out of state—then you’re essentially landlocked, with only your bike to get you to University Avenue or the Stanford Shopping Center. So it helps to have a bookstore with a more extensive inventory than your average JC until you can catch a ride from somebody who does have a car. How extensive an inventory? Look—just my size!
Rob and I still had some time left, so next we stopped by the Rodin Sculpture Garden attached to the Cantor Center for Visual Arts. Rodin’s Burghers of Calais reside in the Quad—and good luck taking a photo of those without tourists constantly getting in the way—but the heart of the bronze collection is here, including ye olde show-stopper, The Gates of Hell, as well as the companion Adam and Eve statues flanking it and a life-size version of the Three Shades you see at the top of the gate and who, up close, really just look like the dourest doo-wop group ever.
Should I knock or just go straight in?
Actually, I did neither—I just went around it to see what was on the other side and...nada. Well, that’s an eschatological letdown!
Nice day that it was, it was sort of tempting go fountain hopping—another school tradition—especially since the Claw in White Plaza and the Red Hoop here in front of the Cecil H. Green Library were right along our tour path. But that being a bad idea for someone with fur, I settled for investigating Green itself, the largest of Stanford’s libraries. A visitor can sign up for seven library day passes per year, and far be it from me not to take advantage of that!
All right, so—Green alone houses some four million volumes in its two wings, but I can narrow that field quite a bit with the keywords “rabbit studies” at a search terminal. So I get my list of results, head off to the stacks, and...
...erm. Well, good thing I can come back six more times, because I’m clearly gonna need a dedicated return trip. And a step stool.
But no matter—I still wanted to make two other stops anyhow, both a bit more out of the way. Maybe if I’d had another day or three, I could’ve gotten up to the Dish, Jasper Ridge, and the linear accelerator as well, but it just wasn’t in the cards this time. Also, uh, I couldn’t get clearance for that last one.
Instead, if you’re wondering where the “Farm” nickname came from, it’s because the land that was used for the campus was originally just that—the Stanfords’ horse farm. And one of the remnants of that past is the Red Barn, just outside the residential core and between the tennis courts and golf course—you’ll know it by the statue of Electioneer, Governor Stanford’s champion stud, out front. And, well, the big red barn.
In fact, even before the school was founded, the farm had some significance, since it’s where Eadweard Muybridge conducted his famous Sallie Gardner at a Gallop photographic experiment. The Red Barn’s no museum, however—it serves as the Stanford Equestrian Center, plus locals can stable their horses here, seeing as Palo Alto’s not really known for its wide open spaces. I took a bit of a stroll around, but I didn’t get too close to any of the residents—carrots on my breath doesn’t automatically mean carrots in my possession, and I didn’t want anybody getting any ideas. Especially the bite-y kind.
As for the other stop, well, that was a little more somber. Tucked away in a shady grove not far from the Stanford Hospital is the mausoleum where the three Stanfords rest. It’s also where the campus Halloween party is held every year, but I thought it’d be good to pay my respects in a quieter moment.
It’s a lovely campus, guys. Hope the kids aren’t too out of control this yea...ah, you’re used to it.
And that was it for this visit to LSJU, as Rob and I were meeting friends for dinner. There was no shortage of old-school joints to choose from, from Applewood and the Oasis to Max’s Opera Café and Jing Jing. But the only thing I really insisted on was a trip to Kepler’s afterward, followed by a frosted mocha or four at Café Borrone. After which I was so hopped up that I was almost able to drive us back to L.A. on my own.
Until next time, Stanford...even if it probably won’t be because I’m enrolling there. I can dream, though. Hey, I could be the first rabbit in SLE! Ha, no, I kid—college is supposed to be fun, after all. Die Luft der Freiheit weht!
Monday, December 31, 2012
The year that was
2012 proved to be a somewhat quiet year for Rob and me, but that doesn’t mean we were completely idle between entries. Some of the time was simply spent revisiting places like the Norton Simon Museum, which we hadn’t been to since ’06.
What can I say, we’ve been busy.
Still, it remains one of our favorite SoCal museums, in part because it’s manageable—you can see everything in a single afternoon even at a very leisurely pace, which isn’t the case for some of the bigger, more famous art joints in town that require you to hustle the entire time if you want to glimpse everything. But we also love the collection, which has an emphasis on European art from the 14th century to the present day. Not only is Degas’ Little Dancer one of the first things you can see upon entering, it’s backed up by several of his paintings directly behind it.
And, in fact, that’s exactly why we went—Rob wanted to see some of the impressionists he studied as a kid, and in this town, Norton Simon is the place to go for those. The place is lousy with Degas in particular, but it’s got a number of the other big guns as well—Renoir, Pissarro, even a Morisot, which are hard to come by around here. Plus a few Monets, like his Artist’s Garden at Vétheuil. Ooh, summery!
But then there’s the modern stuff as well, like Picasso’s classic Woman Reading a Book...
...and Sam Francis’ enormous Basel Mural I, with its brash eruptions of color. To the side, you see one of the surviving fragments from Basel Mural III, but Basel II is in Amsterdam, so...it might be a while before we get to that one.
But in the meantime, I could go on and on about the other favorites we have here—Rob’s partial to Franz Snyders’ still life, and I’ve always loved Maurice-Quentin de La Tour’s self-portrait here. Sure, he’s wearing a powdered wig, but the smirk adds a modern character that I like. He looks...snarky. Also, it’s impressive on a technical level since it’s a pastel, not a painting, yet look at the refinement and the subtlety of the colors.
And let’s not overlook the basement level, where all the Asian art is! No way were we passing up another of Rob’s favorites, this chlorite statue of Narasimha, one of Vishnu’s, erm, more specialized avatars. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you—he’s disemboweling the asura Hiranyakashipu there. Though to be fair, Hiranyakashipu really did have it coming.
To top it all off, the museum still hands out free souvenir prints to visitors as they leave. Color me surprised—I’d’ve thought those would be the first thing to go in a shaky economy. And what do you know, it’s a Degas!
Another stop: the Natural History Museum, last visited at the start of 2010. So, not that long ago, but long enough for them to have completed the new Dinosaur Hall since then.
Triceratops. Again we cross paths.
Most of my prior experience with fossils has been at the Tar Pits, which doesn’t do dinosaurs, so this is the first real chance I’ve had to get an extensive look at the scale of these behemoths. The gallery breaks it down and then some, showcasing everything from a variety of giant skulls and teeth to tailbones and, uh, coprolites.
Case in point: Check out this triceratops horn, which would’ve been enough to run the average human through with inches to spare. Ditto the item in front, which is a cast of a thagomizer spike.
But then to show the other end of the spectrum, you also have these models of wee Fruitadens, one of the smallest known dinos. Even someone my size could take one of these things out readily...with, like, a sneeze.
My favorite specimen, however? Corythosaurus here. It’s hard to imagine an entire herd of these things fleeing predators, though, when they’re basically built like the urRu Mystics from The Dark Crystal. Those guys? Not fast.
As a bonus, we were there when the museum’s Butterfly Pavilion was open. If you don’t exactly get caught in a flurry of colorful wings when you walk in...
...it’s still not every day that you’re surrounded by such a variety of butterflies and can just stand in one spot to see what alights within paw’s reach. Don’t think I need the chart to recognize a swallowtail and a mourning cloak when they’re this close!
Then for a change of pace, we also made an appearance at the “Six Seasons and a Movie” art show at PixelDrip Gallery. Community fans being a highly dedicated lot, it was probably inevitable that somebody finally decided to gather some of the endlessly creative fan art in one place—and being the niche-sitcom obsessives that we are, it was just as inevitable that Rob and I crashed it!
The bulk of the art was illustration, but there was pretty much some of everything, from handmade dolls and Hawthorne Wipes mockups to a computer set up for the homebrew video game adaptation of the “Digital Estate Planning” episode. (Downloadable updates posted periodically, and check out Dean Pelton's closet!)
Fittingly—considering the show in question—there was just about every kind of genre exercise on display, so it was impossible to name a favorite. Though I do applaud the matryoshka set for working in Annie’s Boobs (AKA Crystal the Monkey) as the last doll.
Oh, Britta’s in this?
And going back to Arrested Development for a moment, turns out there was an art show for that at Gallery 1988 as well. Sadly, we only got there at the last minute, by which point a lot of the prints we would’ve liked were sold out. There’s no other way to put it: I’ve made a huge mistake.
Whoever slapped blue handprints all over the gallery is a bloody genius.
And what other little things have we been up to...well, hanging out at Dylan’s Candy Bar, which finally opened an L.A. store. It’s not nearly as big as the flagship—there’s no ice cream counter, for one thing—but with this kind of sensory overload, that seems like quibbling. Yay, sugar!
And really, as long as there’s a Pucker Powder station, I don’t particularly care how big the rest of the store is. I’ll just top ’er off with a little grape there.
I also did a little wand-shopping at Whimsic Alley...
...checked out a pawful of Hobbit props, like Bilbo’s contract here...
...and made the annual rounds at the Sawdust Festival. I stayed out of the soap-bubble snow, though—that stuff gets sticky on the fur.
And there were a few other things besides, but you get the idea. Can’t make a blog out of every little mundane errand, can I?
That said, I’m already looking forward to spring. Maintaining the winter coat is a pain; I always end up tipping someone double just to keep that under control. And you thought I’m excited about the end of March just because it’s Easter?
What can I say, we’ve been busy.
Still, it remains one of our favorite SoCal museums, in part because it’s manageable—you can see everything in a single afternoon even at a very leisurely pace, which isn’t the case for some of the bigger, more famous art joints in town that require you to hustle the entire time if you want to glimpse everything. But we also love the collection, which has an emphasis on European art from the 14th century to the present day. Not only is Degas’ Little Dancer one of the first things you can see upon entering, it’s backed up by several of his paintings directly behind it.
And, in fact, that’s exactly why we went—Rob wanted to see some of the impressionists he studied as a kid, and in this town, Norton Simon is the place to go for those. The place is lousy with Degas in particular, but it’s got a number of the other big guns as well—Renoir, Pissarro, even a Morisot, which are hard to come by around here. Plus a few Monets, like his Artist’s Garden at Vétheuil. Ooh, summery!
But then there’s the modern stuff as well, like Picasso’s classic Woman Reading a Book...
...and Sam Francis’ enormous Basel Mural I, with its brash eruptions of color. To the side, you see one of the surviving fragments from Basel Mural III, but Basel II is in Amsterdam, so...it might be a while before we get to that one.
But in the meantime, I could go on and on about the other favorites we have here—Rob’s partial to Franz Snyders’ still life, and I’ve always loved Maurice-Quentin de La Tour’s self-portrait here. Sure, he’s wearing a powdered wig, but the smirk adds a modern character that I like. He looks...snarky. Also, it’s impressive on a technical level since it’s a pastel, not a painting, yet look at the refinement and the subtlety of the colors.
And let’s not overlook the basement level, where all the Asian art is! No way were we passing up another of Rob’s favorites, this chlorite statue of Narasimha, one of Vishnu’s, erm, more specialized avatars. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you—he’s disemboweling the asura Hiranyakashipu there. Though to be fair, Hiranyakashipu really did have it coming.
To top it all off, the museum still hands out free souvenir prints to visitors as they leave. Color me surprised—I’d’ve thought those would be the first thing to go in a shaky economy. And what do you know, it’s a Degas!
Another stop: the Natural History Museum, last visited at the start of 2010. So, not that long ago, but long enough for them to have completed the new Dinosaur Hall since then.
Triceratops. Again we cross paths.
Most of my prior experience with fossils has been at the Tar Pits, which doesn’t do dinosaurs, so this is the first real chance I’ve had to get an extensive look at the scale of these behemoths. The gallery breaks it down and then some, showcasing everything from a variety of giant skulls and teeth to tailbones and, uh, coprolites.
Case in point: Check out this triceratops horn, which would’ve been enough to run the average human through with inches to spare. Ditto the item in front, which is a cast of a thagomizer spike.
But then to show the other end of the spectrum, you also have these models of wee Fruitadens, one of the smallest known dinos. Even someone my size could take one of these things out readily...with, like, a sneeze.
My favorite specimen, however? Corythosaurus here. It’s hard to imagine an entire herd of these things fleeing predators, though, when they’re basically built like the urRu Mystics from The Dark Crystal. Those guys? Not fast.
As a bonus, we were there when the museum’s Butterfly Pavilion was open. If you don’t exactly get caught in a flurry of colorful wings when you walk in...
...it’s still not every day that you’re surrounded by such a variety of butterflies and can just stand in one spot to see what alights within paw’s reach. Don’t think I need the chart to recognize a swallowtail and a mourning cloak when they’re this close!
Then for a change of pace, we also made an appearance at the “Six Seasons and a Movie” art show at PixelDrip Gallery. Community fans being a highly dedicated lot, it was probably inevitable that somebody finally decided to gather some of the endlessly creative fan art in one place—and being the niche-sitcom obsessives that we are, it was just as inevitable that Rob and I crashed it!
The bulk of the art was illustration, but there was pretty much some of everything, from handmade dolls and Hawthorne Wipes mockups to a computer set up for the homebrew video game adaptation of the “Digital Estate Planning” episode. (Downloadable updates posted periodically, and check out Dean Pelton's closet!)
Fittingly—considering the show in question—there was just about every kind of genre exercise on display, so it was impossible to name a favorite. Though I do applaud the matryoshka set for working in Annie’s Boobs (AKA Crystal the Monkey) as the last doll.
Oh, Britta’s in this?
And going back to Arrested Development for a moment, turns out there was an art show for that at Gallery 1988 as well. Sadly, we only got there at the last minute, by which point a lot of the prints we would’ve liked were sold out. There’s no other way to put it: I’ve made a huge mistake.
Whoever slapped blue handprints all over the gallery is a bloody genius.
And what other little things have we been up to...well, hanging out at Dylan’s Candy Bar, which finally opened an L.A. store. It’s not nearly as big as the flagship—there’s no ice cream counter, for one thing—but with this kind of sensory overload, that seems like quibbling. Yay, sugar!
And really, as long as there’s a Pucker Powder station, I don’t particularly care how big the rest of the store is. I’ll just top ’er off with a little grape there.
I also did a little wand-shopping at Whimsic Alley...
...checked out a pawful of Hobbit props, like Bilbo’s contract here...
...and made the annual rounds at the Sawdust Festival. I stayed out of the soap-bubble snow, though—that stuff gets sticky on the fur.
And there were a few other things besides, but you get the idea. Can’t make a blog out of every little mundane errand, can I?
That said, I’m already looking forward to spring. Maintaining the winter coat is a pain; I always end up tipping someone double just to keep that under control. And you thought I’m excited about the end of March just because it’s Easter?
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