Les Mis: From stage to screen

As a huge fan of the stage production of Les Miserables, I’ve been asked by many people for my thoughts on the new movie. I’ve seen the Broadway show at least a dozen times and my husband has probably seen it twice as many times, so we’re quite particular and notice every little detail.

Naturally I had to see Les Miserables as soon as it opened, and I’m relieved to be able to say that I’m generally pleased with the adaptation.

It’s challenging to see the movie when you know the stage version so well. I feared I would be easily distracted by minor changes, and at first I was. Thankfully, we meet Colm Wilkinson very early on and that relaxed me. Wilkinson, who originated the role of Jean Valjean in the West End and on Broadway, played the Bishop of Digne. This is usually a minor role, but somehow it felt more powerful with Wilkinson.

It’s interesting to me that they decided to go with Hollywood stars like Russell Crowe and Anne Hathaway for some of the main roles, yet opted for theater veterans Samantha Barks, Aaron Tveit, and Eddie Redmayne for others. (We’re lucky to get both in one with the amazing Hugh Jackman.) I do think I would have enjoyed the movie better had they gone exclusively with actors who performed on Broadway or the West End.

Jackman is a wonderful Jean Valjean, but Crowe just didn’t do it for me as Javert. He has a nice enough voice and looked the part, but the timbre of his voice was off-putting for me. Hathaway was better than I expected. She is very believable as the hopeless young Fantine, desperate to see that her beloved Cosette is cared for.

The movie makes good use of camera angles to zero in on the actors who are singing. We get a lot of close-ups and that ratchets up the level of emotion. You don’t really see as much of those facial expressions in the stage production, even when you have good seats.

A few of the songs are done out of order, and others are omitted entirely. I didn’t miss the ones that were left out, and while those done out of order still worked well, I still found it disconcerting because I was expecting a certain song at a certain time. The new song, Suddenly, didn't add anything for me.

One of the things I’ve always loved about Les Mis is that I can still notice new things each time I see it. For instance, when I saw the show for the first time on a high school field trip, I didn’t pick up on the reappearance of the candlesticks throughout.

The movie makes it a little easier for someone new to the story. The imagery of the candlesticks features far more prominently. There are also a few bits of dialogue added in to clarify what’s happening. Javert’s suicide is always a powerful scene on stage and was well done in the movie. The sewer scene, also staged beautifully, added an extra level of filth and desperation in the movie version.

I will always prefer the stage version of this and any show, but I still appreciate the movie for what it is. I love that movies like this can bring musical theater to a wider audience and I hope its popularity will encourage more movie musicals. Hey Wicked and In The Heights… I’m waiting.

Mmmm... cake!

I love cake.

Wait, let me repeat that. I love love love love love cake. If allowed, I would gladly subsist on cake and nothing else. But Rich, with his silly theory on balanced diets, has overruled me on that.

But, for our anniversary this year, I got in a little cake love. I signed us up for a cake decorating class.

Let me tell you -- the folks on Ace of Cakes make this cake decorating thing look way too easy. I mean I knew it would be a challenge, considering I have no creativity, skill, or coordination, but I didn't think I'd fret over it as much as I did.

For the last class, we were told to bake our own cake, ice it, and bring it so we could decorate our masterpiece.

So on Sunday Rich and I baked our cake and started the icing process. This did not go well. I'm not sure if the cake was just too moist or if we just didn't give it enough time to cool, but when we starting icing it, chunks starting falling off. I had a cake avalanche on my hands.

I became quite distraught and was ready to trash the whole thing but I just don't have it in me to throw away a cake. Rich suggested that we stick the cake in the fridge and give it a try the next day with a new batch of thinner icing.

The idea worked and I caulks the cake with the new icing, filling in the cracks. By the time I was done, you could hardly tell how bad it looked the day before. Yes, the cake and all its spackle now weighed about 10 lbs., but it looked good.

Our last class happened to be on the eve of my parents' 36th anniversary so we decided to make the cake for them as a gift. I toyed with a few different sayings such "Celebrating 12 years of happiness" or "36 years of wedded adequecy." But, due to my lack of skill in writing on cakes, we opted for a shorter and simpler design.

I have to say that I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. How it tastes, however, is an entirely different issues. I may love cake, but I'm not fighting to try this one.

So, um, enjoy it Mom & Dad. Hope you've stocked up on toilet paper.

Rockin' out middle school style

Please pardon me if I seem a little tired today. Last night we partied like it was 1989.

They say you can't relive your youth, but try telling that to the thousands of screaming women in their late 20s and early 30s who packed the Verizon Center in D.C. last night for the New Kids on the Block reunion concert. It was just like we were 12 again, minus the acne and pre-calculus homework. (Okay, for me maybe just minus the homework.)

We sat in the uppermost section in Row O (as in Oh oh oh oh oh.) We didn't have the worst seats in the house -- that honor went to Row P, the last row of seats in the arena. But the distance didn't matter. We were still there and they were still the same old New Kids. And per instruction, we threw our hands in the air and waved them like we just didn't care.

There was bare-chested Jordan, with his nearly disturbing falsetto, Danny with his breakdancing, Jon with his always sheepish look, and baby-faced Joey, showing off his Dancing With the Stars moves. And of course, we can't ever forget bad boy Donnie, with his Boston cap and same poor command of the English language.

The guys have aged really well. I think they're far more attractive now than back in the day. Of course I also recognize that my tastes may have changed somewhat in the last two decades or so.

I feel pretty confident in saying that the majority of the women there spent the first 30 minutes of the two-hour concert just laughing. It was a very "is this really happening?" kind of mood. I don't think any of us really thought we'd ever see that synchronized, pendulum-like swinging leg dance set to The Right Stuff ever again.

The concert structure did seem a bit disjointed at times. Clearly they planned it so that the guys would have a chance to rest (and do one of their many costume changes) between sets. They alternated between their new songs and old hits. At one point they did an "in memory" tribute to those they've lost, and included Donnie's father and Danny's mother in the same breath as Heath Ledger and Tupac. It seemed very out-of-place and inappropriate.

None of that mattered. The ladies in attendance loved every second of the show. They came decked out in painters caps, denim overalls with one flap hanging down, and big New Kids buttons. They bought $40 t-shirts like water in a desert.

For one evening, we could all remember what it was like to hang tough and live a life without responsibility. That alone was well worth the price of admission.

Totally Wired

We're just about an hour away from the last episode of The Wire and while I'm excited to see how it all wraps up, I'm already mourning a Wire-free existence.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: The Wire is the best television drama of all time. (Sorry West Wing, but Baltimore beats D.C. every time in my book.)

As a recovering journalist, I was more than a little excited when I first learned that The Wire would turn its focus to the Fourth Estate in the final season

And, now that the season is just about over, I feel comfortable in stating that, despite what the Baltimore Sun wants you to believe, the newsroom scenes aren't without their bits of truth.

The newspaper business is just that -- a business. Like any other casualty of budget cuts, journalists are constantly asked to do more with less. So while the Baltimore-based drama shines some light on the Sun, the same stories are playing out in newsrooms of every size across the country.

The line between good and bad isn't always as stark as it is between Gus Haynes and Scott Templeton. But remember -- Jayson Blair did happen. (Incidentally, if you have any interest at all in journalism, I urge you to read Blair's autobiography, Burning Down My Masters' House. It's shocking and fascinating.)

So what does The Wire get right? It does a good job at showing the frustration and excitement of the news business. I know what it's like to be the young reporter who can't wait to see her first front page story. I was her.

I know how it feels to work on a deadline when nobody is talking. And I know what it's like to beat the rest of the pack on a story or get beaten by them. (Thank you David Simon for my favorite moment of the season to date -- when The Daily Record beats the big bad Sun on a story.)

The classic Tommy D'Alessandro "my desk told your desk" story? That stuff is legendary among local journalists. David Simon was there. He may be biased but he knows his stuff.

So does this season of The Wire give a dismal and depressing view of journalism? Sure. But what do you expect from a medium that failed to anticipate that the internet would render it as obsolete as the slide rule or eight-track?

And, even with the show ending, The Sun couldn't help but take one last jab at David Simon. More than 48 hours before The Wire's final episode, The Sun had already posted a review of the episode on its website with the headline "'Wire' finale lacks power of past seasons."

Thanks Sun, but David Simon won this round.

BS scores 14 in rout over JCP*

With a powerful offense, the BS team managed a successful 14-snowglobe haul in its 2007 Black Friday Classic, besting last year's total by one.

The trio came late to the game this year, not starting until 4:30, despite JCPenney's unprecedented 4 a.m. start time. The calculated risk paid off, however, with the team utilizing the crowd to its advantage.

Averaging 4.6 carries each, the team started off slowly with a one-by-one approach, coming up with three on the first drive. They returned for an additional two each, with Matt and Alisa each going hard for the fourth.

JCPenney put up a good defense, again limiting distribution to just one entrance. This year they strengthened the line, using an untested three-man block pattern.

The new strategy proved tough, forcing the BS team into a huddle just before halftime and ultimately resulting in a detour to Boscov's.

Rested again after the half, BS came on strong as it shed hats and glasses in a last-ditch strike. Alisa went back for the extra point and Matt "the vacuum sleever" followed up with a two-fisted grab at a temporarily unguarded table, bringing to total score to 14.

"It was a total team effort," Matt said at the post-game wrap-up at Staples. "We didn't want to run up the score, but I'm really proud of the way our guys hung in there."


*With apologies to my husband, who will undoubtedly criticize my sports analogy. I promise to leave the sports coverage to you in the future.

Only a bagel can fill this hole

On the eve of Thanksgiving, when I should probably be thinking about all the things I'm thankful for, I can't stop thinking about the one thing I've lost.

It's been nearly two months since I've had a decent bagel.

It's been nearly two months since New Town Cafe put up a "closed for renovations" sign. Sadly, in restaurant-speak, that means closed, period. The disconnected phone line and a chat with a local restaurateur later confirmed my fears.

I've yet to find a place that can replicate the quality of bagel produced by the New Town Cafe. No one else seems to get the right mix of the slightly crispy outside with the doughy, chewy inside.

I'm quite the bagel traditionalist. I don't want an everything bagel. Skip the toasting and the cream cheese. Just give me a good hard plain bagel that I can gnaw on like a chew toy and I'm a happy girl.

As a jew, I was born to eat bagels. Back when I was in law school I would stop at the old Joan & Gary's in Pikesville. The man behind the counter always winked at me and tossed an extra chocolate chip bagel in the bag free-of-charge. Life was good.

For the past several years, just about every weekend morning started with Rich and me stopping off at the bagel shop for an eggwich with cheese or some other variation. I'll admit that the speed and accuracy of my order certainly declined when the place changed hands a few years back, but I'd much rather have a slow bagel than no bagel at all.

Now I'm forced to search for other suppliers. Like any good addict, I'll go where I need to go to get my fix, even if I can't get exactly what I want. The long line at the drive-through at the local Dunkin Donuts shows the utter despair my community is facing. A Dunkin Donut bagel can barely be considered a bagel at all. It's so gooey and mushy that you might as well go for the jelly-filled donut instead.

I used to laugh at the people who went up to New York to bring back a bunch of their favorite bagels. After all, I could get really good New York style bagels in walking distance from my house. But now I understand their plight.

I've tried to find a satisfactory substitute but I'm not quite there. The Bagel Bin up in Reisterstown is okay, but the bagels are too small and the shop definitely suffers from its change in ownership. Joan & Gary packed up and sailed off to the Virgin Islands. I hear good things about Goldberg's in Pikesville, but I'd rather choke down a frozen Lender's than attempt to park there.

I do enjoy the occasional trip Habib's Kabobs and Bagels in Eldersburg, if for nothing else than the name. Still, it's not the most convenient location for me so I can't make it a daily part of my routine.

Nothing matches the quality and convenience of my good old familiar bagel shop. I can only hope that some smart entrepreneur sees the void left in the community and picks up where New Town Cafe left off. I would be ever so thankful.

I'm just a girl who can't say no

If life really is what happens while you're making other plans, I must have one heck of a life. Because let me just tell you -- all I've been doing lately is scheduling more and more things.

My newest toy, my Palm Z22, is partly to blame. In the two months that I've had it, I've managed to over schedule my life beyond belief.

Of course this whole jam-packed life is hardly a new thing. It wasn't any better when I was a low-tech Day-Timer devotee.

There are two ways to look at this. You could say there's just so much I want to do in life. More accurately, though, I'd have to admit that I'm an obsessive person who has some sort of irrational need to be in on everything.

I blame my parents for doing this to me. My mom always had to be the class parent on president of the PTA. My dad always had to coach every softball and soccer team or be the president of the community association. I guess I was pretty much destined to be like this.

They're the reason I volunteered to co-chair the 2008 Relay For Life of Northwest Baltimore County, why I'm on the board of my homeowners association, and why I decided to serve as an election judge again. Likewise, they're why I intend to help out with the new neighborhood citizens on patrol and why I'm also obsessed with doing a good job at work.

I always have to have a trip or vacation scheduled. I always need to plan out the perfect birthday present for my husband. I'm not capable of just sitting back and enjoying life.

Genetics have forced me to do all of this, even though it means stressing myself out in the process. I'm simply incapable of saying no to things and I still want to do more.

So thanks, Mom and Dad. I'll remember to think about you two at some point while I lay awake all night worrying about all of the things I have to get done.

Wet dogs = cute pictures

With Buddy still recovering from his flesh-eating virus and Snoopy with a double ear infection, I had to go dog-less to this year's Doggie Paddle.

As I've detailed in the past, the Doggie Paddle is the annual puppy pool party held to benefit the Baltimore County Humane Society. It's heaven for dog lovers like myself.

My darling-yet-allergic husband agreed to accompany me so I didn't have to go stag. Still, it's somewhat awkward to attend a canine function when you're sans dog. I felt like one of those creepy child predators who goes to the playground to look at the little kids. Here, I was just some crazy dog-less woman ogling the cute, wet puppy dogs.

This year marks my third year of attendance at the Doggie Paddle and I'm starting to notice some themes emerging. In some ways, this doggy gathering is not unlike high school with its cliques.

First you have the labs, doodles, weinmariners, and other larger dogs. They're the jocks of the crowd. They like attention and will do whatever they have to do to get it, especially if that means shaking their wetness all over you, taking a dump in the pool, or humping anything that moves. Always up for a game, it's rare to find one of these guys without a Frisbee or tennis ball around.

Next you have the golden retrievers who are clearly the coolest kids in town. They stick together and don't really associate much with the other dogs. They look good, they're athletic, and they know it. They're the first ones in the pool and the last ones out. It's not easy to break into this group. Hell, they're even blonde.

The smaller dogs like the pugs and poodles are the freshmen of the crowd. Some are more outgoing than others, but most look to the bigger dogs for their cues. They're just testing the waters, literally, and not so sure they're ready for the big pool. Some of them have realized they they can jump right in and play with the big boys while others remain scared that they'll sink, not swim.

No matter what group the dogs fall into, they're completely adorable. I relish this event every year and have yet to find a better stress reliever anywhere. So here, for your viewing enjoyment, please check out the bathing beauties of 2007, otherwise known as wet, smelly dogs.

A touch of Baltimore on the side

For the second time in less than a week I got to enjoy a slice of Hollywood while not straying too far from home. This time it was the Baltimore premiere of the new Hairspray movie, where I took my husband as part of his birthday week extravaganza.

The big highlight of the evening for me was the chance to meet John Waters, thus bringing to two the number of celebrities I’ve met who have made guest appearances on The Simpsons. (The first, in case you’re wondering, is Ron “Opie” Howard. His daughter went to my high school.)

Getting to see the movie with John Waters sitting just a few feet away was quite the thrill. I particularly enjoyed his brief, yet poignant, cameo in the opening sequence of the film. That scene alone is worth the price of admission.

Speaking of the price of admission, it wasn't cheap. At $150 a person, I was surprised to see quite the large number of children in attendance. Growing up, my father wouldn’t fork over the $4.50 it cost to see a regular movie, let alone pop for something like this.

But now that I'm a pseudo-adult, I can spend my money with reckless abandon if I so choose. Realizing that here in Baltimore we don't exactly have many chances like this, I absolutely had to indulge.

And it was that Baltimore atmosphere that really made the evening for us. Baltimore is not Hollywood and that's why I love it. People dressed in everything from t-shirts to tuxes. We even got to hang out with local baker-turned-celebrity Chef Duff and his Charm City Cakes crew, complete with their Hairspray-inspired cake pictured above. (Note the roaches included for authenticity.)

Now the film itself, interestingly enough, eliminated some of the Balto-centric details that made me fall in love the original story in the first place. Gone were the references to Essex Community College and the dangers of North Avenue. But I suppose that’s to be expected when putting together a movie meant to have such broad appeal. And one that's filmed in Toronto.

The movie's cast more than made up for any of the missing homages. In addition to adorable newcomer Nikki Blonsky as Tracy Turnblad and long-time star John Travolta appearing as her mom, I loved seeing the likes of Jerry Stiller, Allison Janney, and Christopher Walken in the film.

And while I personally never thought of John Waters and kids in the same sentence, I must admit that what the studio did by casting teen favorites like Zac Efron and Amanda Bynes is nothing short of genius. You already had the Broadway fans, John Waters devotees, and all of Baltimore on board, but this really sures up the 16-and-under crowd. Of course star power like John Travolta, Queen Latifah, and Michele Pfeiffer doesn’t exactly hurt things. (Is it bad, by the way, that I find John Travolta far more attractive than Zac Efron? I’m really showing my age, huh?)

I'll likely see the movie again in the near future. It won't be the same as watching it in the same theater with John Waters, Nikki Blonsky, Zac Efron, etc., but I know I'll be entertained just the same. Too bad there won't be free popcorn next time around.

Who needs the Kwik E Mart? I do!

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that my husband and I are Simpsons fans.

We walked down the aisle to a version of the Simpsons theme.

Our closest friends held a Simpsons-themed bridal shower for us, complete with Duff Beer and a Homer cake.

For his birthday last year, I commissioned a former Simpsons animator to Simpsonize us in a piece of artwork.

And I've long said that I would never camp out for tickets to anything... unless it was a Simpsons movie.

To appease fans like us (and promote the upcoming release of the Simpsons movie on July 27, of course), Matt Groening and company converted a dozen 7-Eleven convenience stores in the U.S. and Canada into Kwik E Marts.

Thankfully for us, one of the chosen locations is in Bladensburg, MD, less than an hour away.

We visited our own little Mecca over the weekend and embraced our inner geeks like never before. We drank blue squishees and ate pink donuts and had a sugar high that lasted for hours.

While I was thrilled to see several other camera-toting fans scoping out our own little piece of Springfield, I did get the feeling that not everyone was quite as excited. I overheard one young man in the parking lot commenting that he's "never seen white people go this crazy over anything." Some of the people waiting in the long line to buy their morning coffee were similarly nonplussed.

So recognizing that not everyone is as obsessed as I am, rather than going into great detail about the Kwik E Mart, I'll just share a few pictures.

BART: Milhouse, my friend, you and I are going on a spending spree.
MILHOUSE: My doctor says I'm not supposed to go on sprees.
BART: What about jags?
MILHOUSE: Jags are fine.
BART: Wonderful!



APU: Our wide variety of gum comes in both stick and ball.
BART: I'm not really about gum, but I like the whole chewing thing.
APU: Are you averse to crispy centers, sir?
BART: Not at all.
APU: Then we have much to discuss.

Thank you. Come again!

If you're going to San Francisco...

Forget about the stupid flowers in your hair. If you're going to be in San Francisco for any reason, the one absolute must-do is the Taste of San Francisco food tour.

I can't say enough positive things about this incredible, edible journey through the North Beach neighborhood. (But watch me try anyway.) To put things in perspective, I honestly don't think there's ever been a time that I've opted for bread over chocolate. Heck, our guide almost made me think about cooking a meal for once. But just almost.

We started out at Caffe Roma Coffee Roasting Co. where we sipped cappuccino and learned about what makes for good coffee. As someone who generally dislikes warm beverages, specifically coffee drinks, I was actually very interested in the roasting process.

I must say I enjoyed my very first cappuccino ever far more than I thought I would. I had no idea that roasting is what actually releases the aroma and flavor from the coffee bean, nor that the longer a bean goes between roasting and brewing, the more acidic it becomes. This accounts for the bitter taste that I dislike in the first place. But because Caffe Roma roasts its beans daily, there isn't that same acidity.

From coffee we moved onto chocolate -- specifically truffles. We ventured into XOX Truffles which is recognized by USA Today as one of the top three chocolatiers and by Chocolatier Magazine as one of its top ten favorite artisan chocolatiers. (Note to self: How is it possible that there is a magazine focusing on chocolate and I don't have a subscription?)

I thought we would get to taste one or two truffles at XOX but instead, they handed each of a us a bag with one of every flavor they serve. I think the franboise/raspberry was my favorite. I have no idea what franboise is but I love it.

We made a quick stop at the church which refused to marry Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe, and then it was off to what I can only describe as heaven on earth -- Liguria Bakery.

Liguria Bakery is family-run and has been around since 1911, making only focaccia. The sons come in overnight and start baking and then go home when the mom opens the shop at 8 a.m. When everything is gone, which is usually by 11 a.m. at the very latest, they close for the day.

By the time we got to the bakery around 10:30, they only had three varieties left: onion, raisin, and pizza. We sampled each of them and every single bite was magical. This wasn't some of that crappy focaccia you find on sandwiches at Ruby Tuesday or some other chain restaurant. This was real, melt-in-your-mouth, savor-every-bite goodness. They say a lot of it has to do with the water in San Francisco so it can't be replicated elsewhere. Just my luck.

We polished off the focaccia before heading to another bakery. The Italian French Baking Co. of San Francisco has everything from sourdough bread to some of the softest biscotti I've ever had. (Incidentally, if anyone can explain to me the difference between mondel bread and biscotti, I would really like to hear it.) I particularly enjoyed the chocolate-dipped macaroon, a far cry from the canned variety served at Passover.

This stop also included a tour of the back of the bakery with two huge brick ovens that have been in use for 80 years. Several San Francisco restaurants get their bread from this bakery and it's pretty clear why they do.

With sourdough in hand, we ventured over to the Palermo Deli for olive oil and salami. I don't really like or eat either of them so I was a bit lost during the discussions. Plus, it was really chilly and I had my thoughts set on the next stop on the tour.

By the time we reached theVictoria Pastry Co., the last tasting on the tour, I was pretty much stuffed. I was so stuffed that I only ate one cream-filled pastry. I actually turned down a second one. This is very possibly a first.

We wrapped up at the Purple Onion, the club where the likes of Robin Williams and the Smothers Brothers got their starts. We didn't eat anything here but our guide was kind enough to give us recommendations for anything at all food related in the Bay Area.

At this point we went back to our hotel room, polished off our doggie bags from the tour, and set out in search of more of that glorious San Francisco food.

Looks like a visit to Weight Watchers better be my next stop.

Tony vs. Tony

On the evening of Sunday, June 10, there are two very important television events – The last episode of The Sopranos and the 2007 Tony Awards presentation. Both shows air simultaneously and I can’t decide which one deserves my live attention. It all comes down to Tony vs. Tony.

The Sopranos finale is a long time coming and I desperately need resolution to all of the issues that have been building up over the years. This is the first season we actually have HBO and I can watch the show in real-time, as opposed to catching up on Netflix. This episode is certainly something everyone is talking about the next morning.

But as much as I love the Sopranos, when you’re a huge Broadway fan like I am, you can’t just skip the Tonys. This year is especially interesting for me because I’ve seen more of the eligible shows than I have in any other year.

So let's discuss, starting with The Sopranos:

The writers have done a wonderful job so far in wrapping up this, the last season. I lost interest a bit last season but all of the imagery and symbolism is back. In the pilot we saw Tony out in the backyard at the grill. This season, we see Christopher out in his backyard doing the grilling for the family. Of course Tony still had plenty of advice for Christopher. And looking back on last night's episode, maybe Christopher would have been better off listening to Tony a bit more often.

Rich and I have been fans of the show since the first season. We even took a Sopranos tour a few years ago when we were up in the New York/Northern Jersey area. The tour took us around to the Soprano hotspots like Satriales and the Bada Bing. (The Bing is actually a strip club called Satin Dolls. Fun fact: The ATM inside dispenses $1 bills.)

But it's just a short drive up 95 from Sopranoland where we find Broadway -- such a magical place.

While the Tony nominations don’t come out until tomorrow morning, there’s a very good chance that Spring Awakening, a new coming-of-age musical based on the controversial 1891 Frank Wedekind play, could do very well. We saw this a few weeks ago and were completely enthralled.

Our seats for Spring Awakening could not have been better -- we were on the stage itself. The actors actually sat among us. We could see every bead of sweat and glob of saliva. When the cast took its final bow, we were right there on stage looking out over the standing ovation. There is no more amazing feeling for a theater fan than that.

In addition to Spring Awakening, we were also lucky enough to have great seats for the new musical, Legally Blonde, while it was still in previews. This show is so fun and I predict will make it big on Broadway. I’m counting down the days until the original cast recording is released in July.

And then there’s Les Miserables – the show Rich and I both adore. Between us, we’ve seen it at least 30 times. The revival opened in November and we’ve been to see it twice already.
Assuming these shows are nominated, the Tonys will feature performances from each of them.

I can't watch both shows live. I'm going to have to pick one and TiVo the other. It's just a matter of which one wins out.

To quote Avenue Q, which won the 2004 Tony Award for best musical: "Why does life have to be so hard?"

I miss my Alex

I was so happy to see that an English Springer Spaniel won Best In Show at this year's Westminster Kennel Club. Springers will always have a special place in my heart.

Four years ago this week we lost Alex, just days shy of his 15th birthday. But Alex wasn't just a dog to me -- he was my best friend.

I still think about my darling Alex all the time. I was lucky enough to have him in my life from elementary school all the way through my last year of law school. He's the best study buddy a girl could ever ask for.

I clearly remember the day we drove up to Pennsylvania to pick him up. Alex was the last pup left in the litter. We saw his mother in the backyard of the house and then saw Alex, still not entirely steady on his rapidly growing legs, wobble out next to her.

At first my brothers and I weren't convinced this huge liver and white thing would be our new family member. We were still mourning the loss of Chad, the Cocker Spaniel, who even at full size was a little smaller than Alex at just 12 weeks.

My parents, smart enough to realize that the three of us kids were still growing ourselves, knew Alex would make the perfect-sized companion for us.

Puppyhood was quite the challenge. Alex soon took over half of the kitchen as we erected wooden barriers to keep him from wandering the house. Not happy to be confined, he registered his discontent by removing the moulding from along the wall, chewing up the kitchen table and chairs, and knocking over the television set.

As he grew, so did his curiosity. Alex loved the backyard, especially climbing atop the green turtle-shaped sandbox, where he could survey his territory. We also soon learned how springers came to be known as springers as Alex somehow managed to get himself perched inside the fence we put up to block him from chewing on the air conditioning cords. Silly boy got in easily enough but couldn't figure out how to extricate himself.

Always the charmer, when Alex was 3-years-old he fell in love with a stunning 2-year-old Springer Spaniel up the street. Alex and Roxy were a pair made in heaven. Whenever he let himself out of the house (he was particularly adept at opening the screen door) he would make a bee-line for Roxy's house. Roxy's family moved away a few years later and you could tell Alex still thought about her and their romps in the yard.

I think the one thing that made Alex so special was that he had the innate ability to make each member of the family feel we were the only one who really mattered. Alex was fiercely noble to my father, obeying his every command as long as he felt like it. Alex slept in bed with my parents, always cautious to make sure he afforded my dad enough space, all the while shoving my mom off the side.

But Alex loved mom too. He knew she was a sucker for his cute face and enormous ears. While he wasn't one for toys, Alex never turned down a treat. Alex plied many a treat from my mom.

Alex also had a special relationship with my twin brothers. One of only a few who could actually tell them apart from one another, he knew exactly how much he could manipulate each of them. He knew subtlety was lost on Danny and that he'd have to bark right in his face if he wanted something. Matt was generally a little quicker to respond to Alex's whims but unfortunately Alex only repaid him by leaving 'presents' on the floor of his bedroom. (The carpet has never been the same.)

Finally there was Alex and me. Always protective of me, as I got older and started spending more time away from home, Alex positioned himself between the front door and my bedroom so he knew when I came home. He wouldn't come upstairs and climb into bed until he knew I was home safe and sound.

The years passed and we all grew up and Alex outgrew his puppy exuberance. I went away to college and my parents brought Alex down to visit me at St. Mary's. Leave it to Alex to wander out of my dorm room into the hallway just as the assistant director of residence life came through. A new rule prohibiting "visiting pets" in the dorms appeared in the following year's student handbook.

When I returned home for law school, Alex was ready and waiting to help me study. With my brothers away at college, I had Alex all to myself.

But as Alex aged, we often wondered how much longer he would be around. His arthritis could usually be kept under control with the wonder drug Rimadyl, but his hearing and eyesight were not what they used to be.

As senile as he was, Alex still managed to put a scare into the mailman. One day I heard some barking coming from the front porch. The mail truck was already up the block but my poor old dog was covered in pepper spray. We tracked down the mailman who swore than Alex lunged at him but considering Alex's condition, I find that hard to believe.

The subsequent visit to the vet revealed the need for surgery, as Alex needed to have a fatty tumor and a toe removed. The weeks that followed were touch-and-go and we really didn't think Alex would last much longer. Somehow he recovered and made it another two years.

Like his life, Alex's death became a legendary story in itself. Alex chose to die right in the middle of the President's Day Blizzard of 2003. We had no way of getting out of the house so we had a few extra days to spend with him. The vet advised us to put him outside in the snow until we could dig our way out.

The local pet cemetery said that because the ground was frozen, they wouldn't be able to bury him until spring. We didn't want to let our best friend sit around in a freezer somewhere all that time so we ultimately decided on cremation.

This turned out to be a very good choice. David Mason of Beloved Pet Cremation and Burial Service was an amazing help. He came to our house with his doggy hearse to pick up Alex's body. He sat down and talked with us for a while about Alex's life and what he meant to us.

It's such a comfort to have Alex in the living room at my parents' house. We still talk to him all the time. It's such a fitting final resting place considering he spent so much of his time trying to convince us that he should be allowed in the living room anyway.

It's never easy to know when it's the right time to put a pet down. Alex was kind enough to take that decision out of our hands. It's just one more reason that we love him so much and will never forget him.

It's my birthday... still

I've recently been chastised for not providing a timely account of my birthday for readers of my blog. Please note that the reason I have not yet given such a summary is that I don't actually consider my birthday to be over yet.

Still, to appease the masses, I hereby present a quick run-down of how my birthday season has gone so far.

The birthday season has thus far included three Broadway shows (Les Miserables, RENT, and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels) as well as the great Baltimore area gastro-entertainment tour, featuring Sotto Sopra, Copra, Cazbar, Baldwin's Station (for both brunch and dinner), Artful Gourmet Bistro, Liberatore's, Don Pablo's, and Fuddruckers.

I am also pleased to once again share my birthday month with Hanukkah and Christmas, which generally serve to increase the dessert available. Over the weekend we dined on latkes at Rich's dad and stepmom's place and then glorious rainbow cake at my aunt and uncle's house.

Starting this year, I now share my birthday month with my cousin's son, Gabriel, who was born last Sunday. As long as the little guy doesn't try to move in on my birthday turf, I think things should be okay. Due to the birth of the aforementioned child, we also attended a bris with spectacular bris food. If you haven't had bris food, you don't know what you're missing. I would highly recommend befriending a nearby pregnant Jewish woman in the immediate future so as to increase your chances of a bris invite. If you cannot locate one on your own, just head over to Park Heights Avenue and you're sure to find one ready to pop. Happy bagels, lox, and whitefish!

The rest of my birthday month shall showcase a trip to Hershey, PA and a short jaunt to Atlantic City, with the month culminating in a New Year's Eve celebration that will certainly include multiple forms of dessert.

By the time I finally awake from my food-induced coma we'll be safely into January and that can only mean one thing -- it's Weight Watchers time baby!

One entrance, 13 snowglobes: Black Friday 2006

It's almost as if JCPenney doesn't trust us.

Every year the store gives out free snowglobes (formerly ornaments) to the shoppers willing to brave Black Friday. And every year, we're right there front and center, ready to stake our claim.

(If you're new to this blog or the AlisaBS family, please see my Black Friday 2005 entry to better understand the significance of this annual event.)

But rather than distribute the snowglobes at each of the store's four entrances, this year the Owings Mills Mall location only gave them out at one. It's almost like they were afraid people would try to get more than one by going in another entrance. Silly retailer. It takes a lot more than limiting the point of distribution to stop my family.

Or at least it takes more than that for most of my family. My husband shirked his duties this year, managing only one snowglobe for the greater good. He whined about there only being one entrance and tried to rest on his previous year's success. Not good enough. I expect a better showing next year, mister.

Thankfully my father and one brother (Matt, the good twin) stepped up this year, nabbing four each. I yoinked four as well. So 13 in total isn't bad, especially considering the roadblock thrown up at us.

I was also pleased with our shopping haul on the holiest of shopping days, despite the lackluster bargains across-the-board. As we poured over the ads, nothing really jumped out at us as a must-have. I have no need or desire for a PlayStation 3 (not that there are any to be had anyway) and I wouldn't know what to do with a TMX Elmo if I tripped over it and squeezed out its very last annoying giggle.

I did, however, get some $8 iPod speakers (quality, I'm sure) as well as a good deal on Apples to Apples and the Scene It TV edition at Boscov's. I also bought an all-in-one printer and Rich got a bargain on some new luggage. I get all tingly thinking about the dollars whose lives were spared by extra percentage-off coupons!

Here's wishing you a season of price cuts, clearance merchandise, and closeouts!

I've become one of them

I took a step this week in joining the 21st century. I finally bought an Ipod.

I figured it was time. I mean hell, even the Luddite Society made mock of me in its most recent podcast.

And in addition to that (which didn't really happen), I have a five-hour plane ride to Las Vegas this weekend aboard Southwest Air, where they offer cheerful flight attendants in lieu of in-flight entertainment. You all know I don't do cheerful.

(Side note: Don't even think of robbing my house while I'm gone this week. We have a top-notch security system complete with sensors and alarms and crap. Even more threatening is that my dad will be there, in his underwear, trying to figure out how to work the Tivo.)

Anyway, Apple recently released its new generation of Ipods so I decided I'd finally cave. They claim there are all kinds of new and improved features on this generation of Ipods. I opted to keep it simple and went for the 4GB Ipod Nano. It's silver and very cute.

As much as I'd like to write more right now, I need to go load more music onto my Ipod. So far I just have a bunch of Barenaked Ladies stuff and several Broadway musical soundtracks and I will not have Billy Joel feeling left out.

I'm such a bad political science major

On Election Day 1996, I officially declared myself as a political science major and boy was I excited. I guess I wanted it be to some sort of symbolic move to submit the paperwork that day.

A decade later, as we approach Election Day 2006, I'm not feeling quite so symbolic. I am, however, a bit more jaded.

It's not that I've lost interest in politics or have stopped following the mud-slinging, gossip, and in-fighting; I love that stuff. I'm just ready for the election to be over. Or, in the alternative, I would accept some form of outrageous scandal or development. Either way is fine with me.

This year I'm just bored. I'm bored by all candidate commercials that say nothing. I'm tired of all the huge signs littering the streets near where I live. I would put up my own big and obnoxious sign up saying "End clutter: Vote out the incumbents" but then I'd just be adding to the mess.

I'm particularly fed up with the candidates who stand with a group of supporters at busy intersections waving to drivers as if they're in touch with the common man. Listen, if they truly believe that their visibility is more important than me getting to work on time, they're probably not the best candidate for me.

Of course every once in a while a candidate will do something that makes me enjoy the election season. Michael Steele has kept things interesting with his little off-the-record or maybe not interview. I also got a little charge when Ben Cardin promised to cure cancer within ten years. (While I too find myself firmly in the anti-cancer camp, I'm thinking Ben might want to leave the disease curing to the experts.) Every once in a while non-entities like Parris Glendenning will throw an endorsement out there to see if someone is watching. (We're not. I only turned to that page to read the second-in-a-series profile on Attorney General candidates.)

I can only hope things get more interesting. I need a big scandal or some hint of impropriety to keep me interested. C'mon guys, you know it's out there. We just don't know about it yet. You want something that an apathetic populace? Make it happen.

We have a history of some wild politics in Maryland. Don't let go so easily. The citizens of the state who gave the nation Spiro Agnew deserve better.

Will you be my bureau?

Weird and quirky obsessions are nothing new for me. After all, I did have a subscription to the Limbaugh Letter at one point in time. But in the past few weeks I've developed a somewhat new addiction and I just can't seem to shake it. I'm addicted to Craigslist.com, particularly the furniture for sale section.

I am on the search for the perfect dresser.

It all started when my brothers were looking for stuff for their house, otherwise known as the dorm room that threw up. I kept finding things I like (and therefore, think they should like) and I e-mailed them the listings. Now that I'm looking for a new dresser for our bedroom I check the stupid thing a thousand times a day.

It's gotten so bad that I don't just limit myself to the Baltimore Craigslist. No, now when I'm checking for new listings, I'm looking at the ones for D.C., Lancaster, Harrisburg, and Delaware. When Craigslist can't fulfill my addiction, I turn to Postaroo.com. It's a sickness.

My husband has been as patient as he can with my quest. He patiently looks at all of the pictures I e-mail him, and then reminds me that no, Northern Virginia isn't really that close and didn't I want to spend less than that anyway?

So let's talk dressers -- or more accurately, chests of drawers. You see, in this search I've learned that chest of drawers is the appropriate term for the tall, narrow piece of furniture I desire. The term dresser is better reserved for the shorter, longer pieces of bedroom delight. Bureau, I believe, can be applied to either.

Anyway, I want something older and of good quality. It needs to match the French Country dresser/mirror that we already have in our bedroom. And it needs to be cheap. Let me repeat that. It needs to be cheap.

I've checked antique stores, sought out furniture auctions, and browsed my grandparents' basement. But no luck.

Througout this process I'm learning words like dovetail joints and highboy. I know to avoid any posting that includes works like Malm or Aspelund other dreaded Ikea styles. (Please note that I'm not anti-Ikea. It serves a good place in life and I even own a few Ikea pieces that I like, including a great shelving unit in my den. I'm just ready to move beyond the world of assemble-it-yourself laminate and have something made a real wood.)

And it's finally possible that my search is coming to an end. Today I located a nice looking chest of drawers near the Maryland-Delaware line. If all goes well, I'll have it in my house this weekend. (It could take another several weeks to actually move it up to our fourth floor bedroom.)

I shouldn't get too excited yet. I've been here before. Two weeks ago I loved and lost. I thought I found the perfect piece, only to find that someone else grabbed it first. I hope he and his new dresser are happy because frankly, I'm still hurting.

Once I finally have my beloved dresser, I suppose I will have to turn to a new hobby to round out my obsessive compulsive, anal retentive, perfectionist-type personality. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Otherwise I'll be forced to shop for furniture for you. Just ask my brothers.

Sign, signs, everywhere signs (but not for long)

My father has always had a lot of causes, but chief among them would be the annoying roadside signs that pop up all over the community. By default, this is one of my pet peeves as well.

These annoying signs started littering the area in the late 80s and early 90s when there was a lot of new home construction. Each developer tried to outdo the next with a larger, more fluorescent sign, leading potential buyers toward its development and promises of a free bonus room.

More recently, it's not the developer signs that have become an issue but rather the "work at home," "meet singles in your area," and "need a mortgage" signs that proliferate every corner. Oh, and of course the "100 signs for $100" sign is all over the place.

Over the years my father has made it his personal mission to remove these signs at any opportunity. They're not just an eyesore, you see, but also a traffic hazard. In addition to making it distracting and difficult to see around busy intersections, the signs also fall into disrepair and cars can pop a tire by accidentally hitting a warped wood post or metal insert laying in the street. (Yes, I've actually done this.)

The signs themselves, located in the public right-of-way, have actually been illegal for quite a while. By county code, each sign is subject to a $500 per day fine. The problem is that the code only allowed a county inspector to remove the signs and as you might have guessed, they didn't exactly do that.

It's this long history of fighting the illegally-placed signs that makes a recent action by the Baltimore County Council all the more sweet. Finally, the council has taken a non-developer oriented stance and will allow citizens to legally remove these illegally placed signs.

So watch out illegal signs: Your days are numbered. And I can see the back of my father's van filling up very quickly these days.

Barenaked fun

Rich and I went to see the Barenaked Ladies in concert at the Meyerhoff tonight. As always, they were amazing! Best of all, we had wonderful (aisle) seats just a few rows back from the stage, enabling me to take a few pictures that actually turned out. (That is, a few good pictures when the 8-foot tall hulk of a man three rows ahead didn't block everybody's field of vision.)

Steve Page and Ed Robertson, the lead singers, even hung out in the lobby before the concert to sign autographs. I love those guys. This was my seventh BNL concert and I can't wait for the next one. Good thing they've been working on a new album... they'll need to tour to properly pimp it.

A new group called the Leevees opened for BNL. The Leevees played some of their original Chanukah music. It's about time Chanukah gets it act together and has some real music. Check out their cd, Hanukkah Rocks. You heard it here first folks.