March 2005 Archives

I'll admit it. I really enjoy Steven Segal movies. Give me "Under Siege" any day... or the follow up, "Under Siege on a Train¹." The Bruce Willis 'sweaty' movies are right up there too.

I would never see these in a theater. These are TV movies, made to be enjoyed after work or on a weekend, when there's nothing to do, or I'm trying to do nothing.

Tonight I stumbled upon another member of this fine movie family, "The Rock."

There is virtually no difference between this and the previously mentioned movies, or dozens more like them. Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage are good, everyone else is bad. Sean and Nick are bulletproof, no one else is. Sean and Nick have unlimited stamina and the moves of a professional stuntman. They have the ability to kill the enemy in a very photogenic way.

Damn it was a great movie.

There is one point I need to make perfectly clear. Though I joke around about the formulaic, predictable nature of these films, I love them dearly.

¹ - This is not the real name of this movie, but it makes no difference. It's the same movie, moved from a ship to a train.

I spoke to Rick Koster at the New London Day yesterday. He was writing a story about weathermen and comments their viewers make, and asked me to participate. I'm always scared I might say something I'll later regret. This one came out very nicely.

I've attached the story to the link below.

Now in my 8th semester at Mississippi State, I have settled into a routine. Two weeks of quizzes, a third week with quizzes and tests. Then, every six weeks a monster midterm or final.

The every three week quiz/test night is the toughest for me. This test is based on homework. You're supposed to have the answers before you take the test. It is the hardest. The questions are the most demanding.

Last night was one of those/quiz test nights - two of each. I had already watched my lectures and done most of the reading before I got home at midnight. My forecasting course is easy. The thermodynamics course is unbelievably hard... the toughest course I've taken in a school career that goes back to 1955 (though not continuously).

I didn't get finished until 6:15 this morning. I was exhausted. I was unsure of how I had done.

Early this afternoon I went online to see my grades. I did pretty well, but I was amazed to see how the class did as a whole. The graph on the left represents our grades. Some of the thermo questions were answered correctly by fewer than half the class. Ouch.

What strikes me as troubling is, this is a class made up of motivated students. I doubt anyone said, "let me take thermo for fun." They're here because they have a specific goal and this course is required. Many of my classmates are adults already working in the field.

There are minimum grades that must be attained, above the normal pass/fail, to get credit for this course in the meteorology certification process. It's a course that's a requirement and not given again until next year.

The midterm is next week. This is not a case of fond anticipation.

Yesterday was a joyous day in the Fox family. Down in Florida, where the sun shines and the snow never falls, my mom was elected to the board of directors for her condo's social club. This is her first try at elected office. There were three members chosen from a slate of six.

This is no small task. The social club is near the center of condo activities. The condo complex itself is some sort of 'Club Med' for seniors. The stop signs don't say "STOP," but instead say "NO EXIT." It's an ironic reminder of the social bargain residents make when they buy in.

I can't tell you how many times my parents have told me about a "show in the clubhouse," featuring a singer, dancer, comedian or multitasking entertainer who could do all three. My father would review the show and then explain it cost $3 (or $5 - whatever it was, it was small) and that "it included coffee¹ and cake."

Last night I asked my mom how they did it? How could they afford to run show-after-show-after-show and charge less than it obviously cost? She didn't know. She will soon, I'm sure. I'm guessing a small portion of the common charges each of the 600+ condo owners pays goes to subsidize the entertainment.

In the meantime, can "Betty Fox for Senate" posters be far away?

¹ - There is a clause in the Florida constitution which prohibits anything but decaf (aka - warm brown water) from being served to condo residents.

Lately, I have become fascinated with the idea of shooting a movie. I'm not talking about some Jerry Bruckheimer explode-o-rama, but a little movie. A little movie done very cheaply and very quickly.

It's a concept best explained by the folks at the 48 Hour Film Project.

The 48 Hour Film Project and other similar groups like Cinemasports¹ seem to attract a crowd of eager filmmakers. Interestingly enough, most of the small teams involved contain at least a few professionals - people who know their way around a camera and editing software. They look at these (mostly) 5-10 minute movies as intellectual challenges.

As it turns out, while I was in the midst of thinking about this while at work, in walked Ray Flynn. At one time Ray was our floor director, but he has gone on to own his own production house. He was interested - and he said he had a friend who would also be interested. This was good.

I called my friend Harold. He was in TV until a few weeks ago. His amazing skill is his attention to detail and organization - two concepts normally foreign to me. Harold was also interested.

Now we have to find a competition to get involved in. There's one in Boston in about a month but it's not a good day for Ray. So, we'll wait until later in the season and hope for something else we can all get behind.

I have read comments from people saying how difficult these 2-day projects are. It doesn't seem it should be that bad. In TV we often shoot, write and edit 1:30-2:00 packages in a few hours.

I'm probably just naive.

¹ - I'm looking for more information on other similar events. If you know of one, would you drop me a line, please?

A few days ago, on my way to work, I pulled my car into someone's driveway to take this photo. It was a really pretty picture in person - the photo only gives you a sense of what was going on.

I live in a place of exceptional beauty. Every day on my way to work I cross a babbling brook¹ as it's emptying into what I assume was once a mill pond.

Sleeping Giant Mountain, a craggy peak left here when the last ice age retreated, stares me in the face as I turn on to the main drag, heading south toward the Interstate and work.

The beauty comes with a price. During the winter it is treacherous. The windy road in the picture is no picnic for the faint of heart and not recommended without 4-wheel drive during its many snow covered days.

I so want spring. I can see signs it's almost here. Look how quickly the snowy trees and lawns gave way to an uncovered road. That's the amazing power of the Sun, now much higher in the sky than it was in December or January.

There is little spring on tap in the next week. If it doesn't come to me, I'll just be forced to go to it. It won't take much to make me.

¹ - Having taken the New York City Subway to high school for four years, I became an expert on the nuances of babbling.

If I hadn't heard it on the radio, I wouldn't believe it's true. There's a company that provides services to homeowners and businesses in New York City. I've heard them advertised on WCBS.

So far, so good. Who cares? Except these people have chosen an unusual way to stand out from the crowd. Their name... their jingle... 1-877-I've Got Gas!

I'm not sure how you dial an apostrophe, but that's the least of it. From the annals of "Eat Here - Get Gas," and "Dial zero and pound on your phone," comes the new standard!

May they flatulate peacefully forever.

I really wish I knew what they are called... these spotted plums. They show up at the supermarket once a year, flown in from Chile.

They are the best!

As much as one can have a favorite fruit, mine is plums. There are so many varieties from red to deep purple, each with its own distinctive taste. These spotted ones have very juicy sweet fruit, but it's the sour tang next to the sweetness that makes them just right.

I am somewhat strange in my taste in fruit. I like them hard - hard peaches, hard plums, barely ripe bananas.

It's possible, before the advent of air shipping fruit from thousands of miles away, that this variety wasn't even available here in the states. As it is they will be here and gone in a matter weeks. I'll miss them.

They're back. It seems that the information flowing from ChoicePoint has been limited, parsed and maybe not totally revealing.

MSNBC had been out in front on this story. Today their website only carried an AP article. In case you're interested in reading more, here's a link to the New York Times coverage and an excellent article on how this was uncovered from the Washington Post.

There also seems to be some discrepancy over when they were allowed to tell consumers. Though ChoicePoint waited until February, the authorities say it could have been done much sooner.

I have an office here at home. I'm not sure of the official definition of office. Its got a desk and computers and crap... lots of crap.

I'm not from a family that threw things out. In our little apartment in Queens, the walls were closing in because of all the things pushed up against them.

I particularly share my father's obsession of never throwing out a wire or cable. You just never know. Someday, somewhere, someone will need that power cable from a Commodore 64 or the adapter you use so you can hook up cable TV instead of rabbit ears - and I'll be ready!

The same goes for computer components. Need an ISA¹ modem? How about an AT keyboard? Here's a motherboard for a computer 1/50 the speed of today's state-of-the-art.

My bigger problem is creating 5 pieces of trash from one. An envelope will arrive. I open it and remove the paperwork inside. Now each piece of paper and the envelope find a space. Each is on its own never to be reunited.

Cleaning my room is reminiscent of an archaeological dig. You start near the present, but as you work your way down through the piles you go further and further back in time.

Here's what I learned in today's straightening. I need to do a major reconstruction. Otherwise, this clutter problem will reappear before the week is out.

¹ - ISA and AT describe standards which in turn specifies the pin spacing on these components. They are incompatible with everything anyone is still using as a computer.

Every week, on Friday, our trash goes to the curb. Every other week it's supposed to be accompanied by recycling. It doesn't work that way in our household.

Whether it's our distance from the curb or the amount of recycled newspapers we have (we subscribe to both the New Haven Register or New York Times) or maybe all the boxes we get because of online shopping, going to the curb bi-weekly doesn't work. So all of this recyclable material piles up in the garage. A few times a year we stuff it into the SUV and I drive it to the transfer station.

Transfer station, what a lovely phrase. It's so much more genteel than town dump.

I drove up to the transfer station this morning only to find the new policy - no newspapers. I had an SUV full of recyclables, and of course, the supermarket bags of newspapers were on top!

I unloaded the 20 or so bags of newspapers to get to the cardboard and other material underneath. At this point the transfer station folks took pity on me and found a place... a transfer station loophole if you will... that allowed me to drop the papers off. From now on it's newspapers to the street, I suppose.

I want to be a good citizen, but it is increasingly difficult to follow the rules. In fact, it would be much easier to hide the newspapers and cardboard and bottles with our weekly trash. I'm sure a lot of people do just that. It also always strikes me as a little ironic that the two most talked about recycled products are made from sand (glass) or grow on trees (paper).

I know this is supposed to be good for the environment, and I'm for that. But, is it really? Is this just a feel good exercise with no payoff... or negative payoff?

From "Recycling Is Garbage" - New York Times Magazine, June 30, 1996:

I don't know what to think. I want to do what's right, but I am really not sure. Until I know otherwise, I will follow the rules.

In the meantime, part of our recycling life at home will have to change. Newspapers to the curb. I can hardly wait for the first really big rain on a Thursday night.

Sometimes Barry Bonds strikes out... Donovan McNabb under performs at the Super Bowl... Ford builds an Edsel. Stuff happens. Today was my day.

It started innocently enough. I had worked through the forecast and got my numbers together. A wicked storm was coming. It would rain then snow and radically change the temperature. The wind would howl. Temps in the 50s Monday would slide to the teens by late Tuesday.

Hey - I got it right... except one little thing.

After looking at the numbers, I decided (and this was definitely a personal, not machine made, call) the ground would be too warm and most of the snow would melt. Already in this late winter season I had seen snow under perform because of strong insolation (the heat of the Sun). The blacktop had been bathing in sunshine all of Monday and the temperature stayed in the 40s overnight.

I said it on the air Monday, and said it again, and again, and again. Most of the snow would turn to slush. I must have made a strong impression because when the emails started flowing this afternoon I was quoted almost perfectly.

Long story short, before the rain ended, cold air moved in at ground level. The snow was falling on a small coating of ice and it was sticking. Worse, it was incredibly slippery!

We never got that much snow, but it didn't matter. The damage was done right away. The state entered panic mode. People left work early. Schools were dismissed before their unusual times. Everyone was on the road all at once. Half hour trips took three or four hours... or more.

I am shell shocked. This is a tough one to take. I know some people were hurt or disappointed. I'm right there with them. It is my responsibility. This was a call I made, on my own. I feel awful.

Tonight, on the air, and in emails, I apologized. I hope people understand. I think they will. I hope they will.

Sometimes weathercasters are accused of hyping the forecast, blowing it out of proportion to increase their importance. I suppose there might be some who do that. Believe me, this is the kind of day that makes me understand why it's good I don't unduly hype.

There is no upside to a bad forecast.

Eleven days. That's it. Eleven days and spring will be here.

As I look out my office window, it's sunny. The color temperature... the actual shade of sunlight has add some blue tone (I think - I'm willing to be corrected on this one) now that it's higher in the afternoon sky. But it's sunshine without warmth.

So, it's only nice from this side of the glass. When I go out in it, as I will in an hour or so, it will still feel like a full fledged winter's day. I'm getting sick of this.

Is there an inoculation to ward off cabin fever?

I don't want this to become the privacy blog, but I'm going to post one more story of data aggregators gone bad. Another revelation that those who have all our personal data... stuff you'd never willingly give out to strangers, have a somewhat cavalier attitude in how they protect it.

Originally I said I didn't think legislation would follow. If these companies keep playing like the Keystone Cops, they may create an uproar from the public that will be tough not to follow.

I assume most people were away from television sets as the court in Santa Maria waited for Michael Jackson. Here's one little thing you missed. CNN put a countdown clock on the screen!

It was as if Michael Jackson's appearance was a sporting event. Would Michael get that three point shot off before the buzzer?

In a trial centered around a very unusual person, this was a very unusual effect.

Reminder - Next time I'm arrested, don't wear pajamas to court.

With snow on the way for tomorrow and chilly temperatures still in the forecast, we are excited about our upcoming vacation to California. We'll be spending time in Los Angeles and then Palm Springs (someplace we've never been).

Many times, I have heard people talk about going on vacation and not wanting to do touristy things. Not us - the tackier and more touristy, the better!

We'll be going to Universal and walking the beach behind the beautiful homes in Malibu. I'll take my camera and shoot thousands of shots. We had hoped to see three TV shows but it looks like we'll be 0 for 3 in that regard.

The OC, which is a show that doesn't have a studio audience is shooting in Miami. So, no matter how much help I had from highly placed friends, that isn't happening. Same thing with Jay Leno. Here's a guy who's a workaholic... probably does the show 50 weeks a year. Gone. The show will be dark. Bad timing on our part.

We had also hoped for Ellen Degeneres, but again, circumstances got in the way. Actually, Helaine tried months ago, hoping that our out-of-town address would get us in. We never heard from them. Today a well placed friend tried on our behalf, only to be told there were no VIP seats (he requested VIP treatment - not me). Oh well.

We do have reservations for dinner at some 'happening' restaurants, and I'll write more about them while we're there.

One of the fun things about a California vacation is the chance to see friends who live there and aren't at close range too often. One of the friends I'll be seeing is someone I've known for nearly 50 years (that was sobering just to write). We're having lunch our first full day in. The other two have been friends with each other, and me, for nearly 40 years.

My Cousin Michael lives in Southern California with his family and we're looking forward to spending time with them in Orange County. Stef wants to go to Laguna and other beach communities. Me too. Helaine three.

I would like to live in Los Angeles. I've felt that way for a long time. In my business, I'm probably too old... too 'not hunky.' I know a lot of people say LA's phony... and that's probably true. It also represents the pinnacle in the entertainment industry. For TV, Sinatra would have sung "LA, LA."

For us, the California lifestyle is very foreign... which makes it fun to play in it for a while. Whether it would lose its luster if I had to deal with it every day is another story.

The trick to California living is realizing it's not a place to be unless you're well to do. Southern California is not a good place to be in the middle class - even the upper middle class. Los Angeles is meant to be lived properly with a lot of money. It is definitely a classist society.

For ten days we'll make believe we belong and hope no one catches on.

It's snowing here. California is looking better by the minute. Except - - - the forecast!

Could it be? After this weeks 70s and 80s it looks like we might get to Southern California for temps in the 50s and 60s!

Oh, the humanity.

I've been reading the bulletin board for my thermodynamics class. You can 'hear' the angst as my fellow students write about their midterm grades. Another brutal test.

Though I've been doing very well, I commiserate. The course is difficult. The tests are worse.

This is pretty representative of what's been posted:

As it stands now, at least half the class is in jeopardy of flunking or not getting a sufficient grade to receive certification. It's tough to watch that happen after 7.5 semesters of a 9 semester course. We really are approaching the home stretch.

Meteorologists, graduates of on-site meteorology schools, often complain about the MSU online curriculum - how it's not up to par. Nothing could be farther from the truth. This is a very trying course of study. As prep for on-camera weather people (which is its primary purpose) it is so far beyond what is necessary as to be laughable.

I'm glad I'm taking it. I'll do well. Unfortunately, the certificate I'll get when I'm done, and the AMS seal I'll try and get after that, really don't answer the questions they claim to ask.

The AMS used to give a seal to broadcasters solely based on their on-air performance. Is it scientifically correct? Does it properly serve the public?

That has changed. The seal now is just a way to lessen the competition by those who already have it. It's really the Meteorologists Full Employment Act of 1980.

There has been a lot of talk about Walter Cronkite's CNN interview and his answer to questions about Dan Rather.

You might expect Cronkite, still a member of the CBS board, to be a little more charitable... be more of a team player. I didn't. In fact, I am surprised this kind of talk didn't happen earlier.

Thinking back, my recollection is Dan Rather putting on the pressure and forcing CBS to move Cronkite out. Roger Mudd, who was passed over in this bloodless coup, bolted and went to NBC.

From Mike Straka on foxnews.com

What's the old line? Be nice to the people you meet on the way up. They're the same people you'll meet on the way down.

How do you describe a blog to someone who hasn't read one? It's like a diary¹.

Forget all this political mumbo jumbo and the (false) promise of blogs as the new journalism. Blogs are diaries. Some might be political, but many more concentrate on Britney Spears or the emotional traumas associated with high school.

This is my blog. It concentrates on what's important to me, without the controversial stuff that would prompt my boss to ask me to stop.

Here's where a blog differs from a diary. Diaries are private or only read by a select few. Blogs, on the other hand, are available to anyone, and once indexed by Google, Yahoo, MSN and the rest, become a contextual part of the Internet.

That indexing is very important. Stupid, insipid things written by me and others... relatively unimportant people, can gain weight when they concern an esoteric subject which isn't often discussed.

Take Junior High School 218 Queens, aka - Harold G. Campbell Junior High School. On the Internet, I'm considered a source for JHS 218Q. But how many people care, or more importantly search for Campbell Junior High? So it was a surprise to read the email I got this morning

Here's that Google link. My website is the second citation.

The shocked man is my former 8th grade teacher, Harold Friend. He was Mr. Friend then, he is Dr. Friend now. The academic elevation doesn't surprise me. He was very smart.

Dr. Friend was mentioned when I wrote about the Kennedy assassination. It was his classroom I was in when we got the word from Dallas.

How cool to get this email. How strange for him to search the Internet and find someone talking about him. The indexing power of search engines is a luxury of our times that never existed, or was even contemplated, as recently as 15 years ago.

After reading the email, Helaine said Dr. Friend must be old now. If he was 30 in 1963, that would put him in his early 70s now. Of course he could have been 25, or 45. To me, in the early 1960s, he was old. I was a kid. But, being in his 70s now doesn't seem to make him as old as it once would have.

The fact that his story begins in his gym means, however old he is, he's really younger.

Once again I have to ask myself, who reads this... and why. I can tell from my logs that most of my traffic isn't to my home page, but people going to inside pages - archived material I had written about earlier which is pointed at by the search engines. It just boggles my mind that anything I write has any impact on anyone.

I'm just a guy who likes to write. Like all bloggers, all I bring are my own experiences and insights. It can be read, but that doesn't make it special.

¹ - Be careful on the spelling, because it's certainly not like a dairy.

Blogger's addendum - It has been established, in further communication, that he doesn't remember me.

There was a time, back in the unenlightened days, when I could throw a few t-shirts and shorts in a bag and go away for a week. I didn't care what I wore. I packed for only myself.

I'm sure I was less 'GQ-like' in my appearance. But, it was a casual time for me and, as I said, I didn't care.

That was then, this is now.

Traveling with Helaine and Stef is an entirely different adventure in packing. Not only do we have to take what is necessary to be stylish - we need options!

I am told the suitcase to the left is by no means full. However, last night, Stef got on the scale in the bathroom to weigh it... and at that time we were 49 pounds into the 50 pound allowance. Of course with three bags per passenger, we can split the load into other suitcases.

Think about it for a second. Three bags per person at 50 pounds per bag, plus any carry ons we take. That about ¼ ton! Maybe I should have waited until after the trip to write that.

I will gladly admit to dressing much better on the road than the jeans and t-shirt days. On the other hand, I am the chief lugger of this luggage and feel each and every pound.

When I kvetch, and I have, Helaine offers me the option of packing myself. That, in a nutshell, is why I'll tote and carry and be quiet about it... and, I'll look damned stylish on vacation.

Blogger's note: This entry first ran in 2005. It gets found again each winter. In February 2008, I updated the snowfall link to CT DOT which seems to change on a yearly basis.

This seems to be a question of general interest. How much snow did Connecticut get? The Weather Service, since their switch to automated readings, has become less helpful in this regard. However, the Connecticut Department of Transportation does keep good records of each snow storm.

Here's the only problem: DOT clears the recording area and starts fresh for each reading. That gives higher totals than standard readings because there is much less settling in the DOT method. However, it's the best, most consistent source.

Any port in a storm, I suppose.

As vacation approaches there are always loose ends that need to be tied up. Stef got her hair cut. Helaine had errands to run. I went to see why we were getting a tax bill for a car that we got rid of in late 2003.

First a word to the out-of-staters reading this. Connecticut is unusual in what gets taxed and how. When I moved here in 1984, there was no income tax. Connecticut was a tax haven. Trust me - no more.

Along with the normal property taxes a homeowner pays, Connecticut goes one step further. You pay property tax on your car. Like real property taxes, it's assessed at a 'fair market value' and then a percentage is lopped off that.

Why? I don't know. It's ridiculous because the next step is to apply the 'mill rate', making any adjustments somewhat arbitrary.

Here's what I learned today. The Assessor's Office is different that the Tax Collector's Office. They're both involved in the process, but sort of like opposite arms on a dysfunctional body.

This is not to say the people in both offices weren't very nice. They were. Nor am I implying they weren't very helpful. They were. It's the system that's somewhat out of whack.

It took a nice man in the Assessor's Office the better part of twenty minutes to explain what this bill was about. Then we went through it step by step with a calculator. It was correct. It just didn't make sense the first ten times he explained it, and I was really trying to understand.

You may ask, as I did (to myself, under my breath) why these calculations weren't spelled out on the bill? How come an explicit explanation of what was being billed wasn't included? Why did the bill imply it was all about a car I don't have, when that's a very small part of the whole story.

It's not like my time with these town officers was free. Every moment I spend with them is time they can't do something more important.

Anyway, tax bill under control. Check in the mail.

Back home we're nearly ready for tomorrow's getaway. The suitcases, each weighed for maximum stuffosity, line the upstairs hallway. If I can borrow one of those harnesses all the folks at Home Depot wear, I'll run them down the stairs and into Helaine's car for the trip to the airport.

I still have to take a quiz for my Thermodynamics class (I am doing anything I can to put this off... like writing this blog entry) and pack my electronics.

By the time my carry-on bag goes through security, the x-rays will imply I'm someone who just pulled off a huge heist at Circuit City. Taking off my shoes will be the least of my problems.

Current Connecticut temperature: 33°
Current Los Angeles temperature: 63°

It's interesting to read something in the New York Times when the Times is a little squeamish about the content. This is not a rag that will publish salacious stuff just for the titillation factor. Sometimes, however, a story requires explicit sexual content.

Take the case of the two celebrity hawks that live on the edge of Central Park:

If you can suffer through the rest of this hard core activity, the full story can be found here.

I'm writing from 30 some odd thousand feet. I have no idea where we are, sitting in the aisle seat with the window shades to my left pulled down.

Stef saw what I wrote and pulled up the shade. We're over mountains - probably the Rockies... possibly the Bullwinkles¹.

Our exit from Connecticut was uneventful. Well, nearly uneventful. Over the past few days a low, throaty whir has been coming from somewhere in the rear of the Explorer. I drove it to Steve at the Exxon station. What an ear! Twenty seconds of driving to hear, "Wheel bearing. Left rear wheel. It could last another 50,000 miles." But, would it last to Bradley Airport and back? "Yes."

We headed to the airport... heading to the long term lot where we've parked for better than 15 years. AAA gives discount coupons, and it's a really good deal.

When we got there a man with a walkie talkie was standing out front and the entrance was blocked. Full! We'd never seen that before. We went to their self park lot in the back. This would mean a cold car, covered in snow if it snows, on pickup. Life goes on.

I think we're really close to the quarter ton goal with baggage. We checked 6, rolled 2 as carry ons and had a few random shoulder bags. The driver of the van to the terminal felt it necessary to ask how long we were staying.

I tipped him anyway.

Though the parking lot was full, the Southwest portion on the terminal was empty. Three people were behind the counter and we were the only ones needing help. I had printed pour boarding passes just after midnight, getting us "A" passes which got us on the plane in the first wave. Helaine handed them to the agent and got our baggage tags. Then it was time for me to drag, roll and push them to the TSA agents.

Even with a large load like this it no longer makes sense to use a skycap. There are too many steps, and the bags are yours to push far too soon for his help to be worthwhile.

We moved on to security screening. As we got there a sweet, white haired woman was having her sneakers removed by a rubber gloved officer. I'm not law enforcement savvy, but she didn't seem like much of a threat to me.

My camera bag got the twice over and, of course, Helaine got the thrice over. I'm not sure what she's done to upset the powers that be, but she is nearly always singled out for additional scrutiny.

While Helaine's inspection continued, I noticed a Connecticut State Trooper on a Segway. I think it's a good idea... but then I saw another trooper on a bike. Even in the terminal, I suspect the bike is faster... and the trooper gets more fit.

The flight from Hartford to Las Vegas was 5:50. That is too long to be in an airplane without entertainment. It was, by far, the noisiest flight I've ever been on. Not the plane - the passengers. I guess that's part and parcel of going to Vegas. You get in that party mood as early as possible.

Our layover in Las Vegas was around an hour. Helaine and Steffie went to Burger King and brought a Whopper back for me. There is free Internet access at McCarren Airport, but my battery was down to a few minutes, so I checked my mail, sent some cryptic responses and ate my burger.

Las Vegas to Burbank is a much easier trip - about an hour gate to gate.

Bob Hope Airport in Burbank is like a throwback to an older time. That's not to say it's quaint and pretty, because it isn't. It's an airport that's bursting at the seams. It's also the first time in years that I deplaned using air stairs! Southwest unloaded the passengers through both the front and rear stairs of the 737.

We chose Burbank because we had heard it was much smaller and easier to get around in than LAX. That was absolutely true. The baggage claim is in a covered, though open air area. Thank heavens the heavy winter rains are over! Aren't they?

Because we're bringing enough baggage to stay permanently, should we choose, we rented an SUV. We got a white Chevy Trail Blazer from Alamo. Nice deal. Nice car. It feels bigger and heavier than our Explorer.

The drive to our hotel was uneventful... and now as Helaine and Stef unpack, I'm typing this. I guess I'd better stop and help. More tomorrow from Southern California.

Meanwhile, a little look off our west facing balcony. I believe that's Santa Monica in the distance.

¹ - Sorry. Unavoidable.

We're up!

Stef was sent to the balcony (the sign on the sliding glass door says it's a lanai... but it's a balcony). Once our pupils adjusted, we all smiled. The Sun is shining, and though it's still cool this morning, it is beautiful.

The weather will not be perfect for the whole trip, but it's nice today for our first full day in Los Angeles. I'm happy.

While Helaine and Stef were getting dressed I had the opportunity to do a little more snooping from the balcony. Though it's 20 miles or so away, I can clearly see the planes landing at LAX. Yes, there's a little haze, but considering the distance, it's not bad at all.

Over to our left is the 20th Century Fox studio. Back in the day, the land this hotel stands on was part of the Fox 'back lot'. That's, I suppose, how it got the name "Century City," from 20th Century Fox.

I really can't see much inside their property, but there is one interesting site. On the side of what I think is a sound stage is a huge poster of Marilyn Monroe and Tom Ewell for the movie "The Seven Year Itch."

I'm not sure why it's there, but from this vantage it is definitely larger than life.

I had a 'date' for lunch, so I drove Stef and Helaine to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. There was a time when I had to explain Rodeo Drive to people who had never been to L.A., but it has become larger than life and universally known.

I wasn't there, so I don't know much of what went on (and since it was primarily shopping, I don't want to know). There is one story the girls shared with me.

As they walked down the street they passed a trash can with smoke pouring from it. A man walked out of a store, poured a bottle of water in¹ and left. But the smoke continue to waft out.

Within a few minutes, the sound of sirens. Then a Beverly Hills fire truck, police cars and traffic agents showed up. The street was blocked off and firefighters, direct from central casting, put out the smoldering trash receptacle.

Meanwhile, back in Century City, I was pulling onto the 20th Century Fox lot for lunch. Originally I drove in from the main entrance on Pico. The security guard there re-directed me to the parking garage off Galaxy.

Though I was farther from my destination, that was a good thing. I got a chance to walk through the Fox lot.

Make no mistake about it, this is a movie factory - which is very cool. Everywhere you walk are signs you're in "Hollywood." Though I saw no production in progress, it was obvious there was a lot going on.

There is no strange thing I saw at Fox. There were at least two vending boxes selling the NY Post. Granted, it is owned by Rupert Murdoch who also owns Fox, but it's just a strange place to see the Post on sale.

Lunch was with someone I first met in 2nd grade! He is now a highly placed executive at Fox Television... and that's why I'll preserve his anonymity.

He's a very nice guy, was very bright back then, and hasn't changed. He is in a business where each and every decision has dollars attached to it. It's a lot of pressure, a lot of accountability and I think he enjoys it.

We talked about people we knew from school and our families. In some ways our lives have run parallel. We both started families, having children, later in life.

It was really a great lunch and fun talking with someone who has insight into a part of my business that I normally have little contact with. As we said goodbye, the Robert Blake verdict came in.

Wow. No one more surprised than me. Well, maybe Robert.

I left Fox and headed to Beverly Hills to pick up Helaine and Stef. There had been a whole lot of looking and a little bit of buying.

We headed back to the hotel so I could pick up my camera. When we got there I noticed the satellite trucks and microwave vans lining up on Avenue of the Stars, in front of the hotel. "Arnold" was coming to speak at the Century Plaza tonight and protesters were expected! Coverage was assured.

After a quick break we headed back to the Valley. We wanted to take a look at a house. It was 4:30 and traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard was awful. The 405 was worse!

In the car, the subject turned to driving on California freeways. The 405, for instance, is 5 lanes in each direction. If you're used to driving on 2 or 3 lane Interstates, 5 lanes can be unnerving.

Steffie's theory is the right line on a 5 lane highway isn't the breakdown lane, it's the crying lane! People who are flustered, or otherwise unable to handle the highway pull to the side and cry. She might be right.

We cruised through Encino and Sherman Oaks, stopping at "Belle Gray," a boutique owned by Lisa Rinna. Though Stef bought a shirt, she said the folks in the store weren't particularly friendly or helpful.

After stopping at Ralph's to pick up bottled water and fruit for the room, we headed to the Sherman Oaks Galleria and dinner at the Cheesecake Factory.

The Galleria was the mall setting for the movie "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." Of course nearly every place in the Los Angeles area has been the setting for something. A few years ago, after falling on hard times, the mall was closed, gutted and rebuilt. What is there now is smaller and open air.

In fact for dinner, we sat under a propane heater on an open air patio. The night was beautiful. The portions immense. We ate an left.

So, here it is 9:39 PM, as I type. Helaine and Stef are in bed and asleep. I won't be far behind.

Tomorrow we're planning on heading to the Pacific Coast Highway and driving through Malibu. Later, we've got dinner reservations with some friends. More tomorrow.

¹ - This being Beverly Hills, I assume it was Evian.

I just went out on the deck and it's cloudy. Not only that, there's the feel of ocean air - the humidity's up. It makes no difference. We're going to Malibu to walk and look.

Tonight, dinner on Melrose with my friend Howard and his wife.

Today, let me start before the beginning. We are in a beautiful hotel. Our room in it is very nice as well. But, there has been this one nagging problem.

Last night Helaine complained that at the top of every hour, the room's alarm clock chirped a tone. Ever the electronics wiz I looked, but could find no way to turn it off. I called housekeeping.

This being a very good hotel, without skipping a beat they offered to swap our clock for another.

While we were out today they did just that. We knew it, because when we returned the clock was a different color. Sitting next to the clock was a Casio "G" Shock watch... not ours.

Coincidently, as I walked over to pick it up and look at it, it chirped. It was the top of the hour! It hadn't been our alarm clock making the noise but a watch, left by a prior guest. Oops.

This evening Helaine brought it to the front desk to, hopefully, be reunited with its owner.

On to our day.

The plan of attack was to head to Malibu and take in the sights. Quite honestly, the weather could have been nicer. We have overcast skies with a bit of humidity. Not a perfect California day.

Malibu is a very easy drive from 'headquarters' in Century City. We took a left on Santa Monica, cut up Beverly Glen to Sunset, and then west past UCLA, OJ's old neighborhood, Pacific Palisades and down to Pacific Coast Highway at the water's edge. From there it's a right turn and you're traveling north toward Ventura County.

We were all hungry, so we looked for a nice place and lucked out when we found Marmalade Cafe in a small Malibu shopping center. Luckily, there was also a Radio Shack as Helaine can't stand the touch pad on this laptop and was desperate for a mouse.

I had blueberry pancakes (excellent) and coffee (fair).

Let me become petty for a second. Coffee is lightened with cream, not milk. When restaurants bring out that tiny pitcher with white liquid, it should be cream. It was not at Marmalade Cafe.

We got back in the car and continued our trip north. As we approached Zuma Beach I could see some surfers, so we pulled over and I got out to shoot some pictures.

It was chilly and sandy and I suppose this qualified as a Geoff thing... a photo op. Helaine and Steffie stayed in the car.

A few months ago I had seen some surfing shots on a website, and I wanted to try my luck. I believe these surfers had about the same skill level surfing as I have with photography, but I got a few good shots anyway.

This was an opportunity to throw on the 'long' lens, my Sigma 75-300 mm. It's not a bad lens, though it's sort of slow¹. My surfers weren't up enough to get a lot of shots, but I caught a few that were actually in focus, with the surfer atop his board.

I'd like to try this again some time on a sunny day, and a little closer to the action.

Part of the reason for this trip was to go to the Malibu Beach Colony. The Beach Colony is a very exclusive, very expensive neighborhood of homes. This is a community of the well known, well connected and powerful. The homes are behind a guard house on private roads. The backs of the houses are right on the beach.

If it were up to the people who live there, the beach behind these homes would be private - but California's laws are pretty explicit in this regard. The land from the mean high tide line down to the ocean is public right-of-way.

We pulled into a public beach parking lot and then, while Helaine and Stef sat on the sand, I walked under a chain link fence and headed down the beach.

The homes in the Malibu Beach Colony are ridiculously expensive. Of that, there is no doubt. They are also squeezed as tightly together as can be. Yes, you can paint your neighbor's kitchen while standing in yours!

The homes are mostly small, mostly two stories and all with incredible Pacific Ocean views. There is no Malibu architectural style. The homes are eclectic and totally different.

As I walked, there were no residents to be seen. There were, however, a lot of workers - all seemingly Hispanic men. A group of four or five were repairing and painting some steps, others were cleaning and sprucing up homes.

Actually there were some residents around - two dogs who barked at me as I passed their deck.

Peoplewise, except for me, this beach was empty.

It is a really beautiful place. Unlike the East Coast where most of the shoreline is on a coastal plain, there are cliffs and palisades along the immediate beach here. Not far to the east are steep hills separated by deeply etched canyons.

It is there, on the hills, where the really big houses sit. Some are spectacular. Others, like this 'castle' are just weird. More proof that money doesn't necessarily buy taste.

When we left Connecticut there was still snow covering the grassy surfaces. Here it is definitely spring, with colors poking out as the rain fed ground gives life to flowers and plants.

Later, this summer, months after the last rain, these plants will die and set the scene for the brush fires which will surely follow. It's the natural cycle of California. The beauty is so great - the climate so friendly - that people build here knowing full well it could all go up in a puff of smoke... or wash away in a heavy rain.

It does every single year, without fail.

We headed back toward Century City. Unlike our trip west, this time there was traffic. We crawled back up Sunset, retracing our steps to the Century Plaza. We'd need some time because we were going out to dinner tonight with my friend Howard and his wife Maria.

I've known Howard since our first day of college when he was (as I realized tonight) exactly Steffie's age. We've been friends for over 35 years... and we've been friends through a lot.

Howard and Maria live here. Howard's been in the L.A. area for close to 20 years. He is a show biz manager - a profession I still don't understand 100%. Ido know Howard's a great manager, especially based on some of the work his clients have had.

Tonight's choice for dinner spot came from Steffie. We went to "Dolce" on Melrose Avenue. Melrose is very trendy, and "Dolce" fits in nicely, with celebs as the owners.

The restaurant is dark with loud (though very good) music, mostly from the 70s and 80s. The five of us sat in a banquet type booth. It is not the optimal table for conversation.

Though food was secondary in Steffie's decision process, this was to be a meal. "Dolce" features Italian cuisine, and it was delicious. I had a pasta dish with Italian sausage. Helaine and Steffie had pasta with lobster. The portions, though not large, were decent. The food came out piping hot. Or waiter was attentive.

For desert we all had chocolate souffles which were rich and tasty. Unfortunately, it was milk and not cream (again) for my coffee! I know, I'm getting obsessive about this.

Considering this restaurant was picked more for its back story than it's food, we were very pleasantly surprised. And, all things considered, the meals were reasonably priced.

Tomorrow, it's dinner out with friends again! I'll be 400 pounds by the time I get home.

¹ - The relative speed of a lens refers to its ability to capture light. A slow lens captures less than a fast lens, forcing you to slow down the shutter speed. The faster the lens the better... and of course the more expensive.

One thing I do while on vacation is shoot pictures. Sometimes, as I'm told by Helaine and Stef, I shoot too many.

I have posted the first 100+ from this trip to my online gallery.

This is a work in progress as these photos haven't really been run through Photoshop yet. There is a little dust on the sensor to my camera (or there was - I blew it out yesterday evening).

If you know any of the surfers I've shot (what random luck that would be), let me know and I'll be glad to get them higher resolution copies of their shots.

Later I will reorder the photos. Right now, the link here brings you in on the second page, past some of the more pedestrian shots.

Let me set the stage. Los Angeles has had a ridiculously rainy winter. If people haven't been directly affected, they know someone who has, or are worried they might be the injured party the next time.

I'm not just talking about houses sliding down hills. There are lesser, nagging problems that come out when the winter is very rainy. Roofs leak. Poorly sealed doors and windows let in water. Trees and branches tumble. Drivers panic, because they're not sure how to handle their cars on wet roads. It's a mess.

The truth is, Los Angeles is not built for bad weather. Too much is outside. Too much is exposed to the elements.

So today, when the rain returned, you could see everyone clenching their teeth just a little. No one was anxious to repeat the hell of earlier this winter. Only 1/3" more rain and this would go down as the 2nd rainiest ever!

We thought we'd take it in stride.

We started the morning with breakfast at the hotel. I had an omelet, which was stuffed full, but only OK for taste. On the other hand, the place we ate itself, Breezes, was excellent. It is tastefully underdone and expansive... and expensive. That's a given here.

We headed out to a Disney'ish upscale, outdoor mall called The Grove. It is adjacent to The Farmer's Market (which I remember Jack Benny talking about when I was a little kid) and CBS¹.

The stores at The Grove are similar to those you'd see at a nice mall. While Steffie and Helaine looked around, I headed to Barnes and Noble. This is an especially nice B&N with a large collection of books on all matters show business, plus how-to's on writing screenplays, teleplays and books.

As the showers continued, the Grove became less of a fun place to be. There's little cover, so there's no avoiding getting wet.

We ducked into the Farmer's Market, where Steffie proceeded to by a t-shirt. The Farmer's Market is the antithesis of The Grove.

Here all the stores are one of a kind. There are lots of food stands, plus produce and meats, and clothing. It's an eclectic mix.

We tired of the Farmer's Market quickly, especially since we had eaten already. Back to the car, we headed to the Beverly Center, not far down Beverly Blvd.

The Beverly Center is a huge mall. The parking is on the lower levels with the mall running on levels 6,7 and 8. The mall seemed too open and cold. Maybe that's not a fair judgment for a mall. Something was missing.

I found the Sony and Bose stores interesting in that I wondered why things were so expensive? Sony espcially computers that seemingly doubled as works of domestic art. Call me crazy, but I really look at computers as commodities today... even though this blog entry is being written on my Sony laptop.

Dinner tonight was another notable restaurant, Spago, picked by Steffie. She had heard about it, and its appeal. Helaine and I had eaten there a long time ago. Back then, a busboy had spilled a carafe of coffee all over her white suit. No need to go on.

My friend Paul joined us for dinner. I met Paul back when I met Howard, at Emerson College. Paul is a producer, mostly concentrating of DVD compilations right now.

Back when we went the first time, Spago was a 2nd floor walkup, right on Sunset. Now it's on Canõn, near Wilshire, in Beverly Hills.

It's a large, dark restaurant. At the end of the dining room is the kitchen, behind a large expanse of glass. It is a very busy kitchen.

We all shared a smoked salmon pizza as an appetizer. For dinner I had a lamb dish. The lamb itself was excellent, but the sauce was a bit overwhelming and the potatoes were puny. My chocolate desert was very tasty.

We were told the menu was printed daily, meaning there was no reason to read specials. They were already on the menu.

If you're reading this in the East, there is a West Coast practice that is somewhat unusual. All restaurants have valet parking - and the pricier the meal, the more expensive the parking. In the case of a meal like this, they're really nickel and diming you to death!

We had been told not to expect any celebrities at Spago, and we heard right. It looks like an older crowd, mostly expense accounts , not at all Hollywood and splashy - at least not tonight.

We are going to one more LA restaurant Sunday, which does have a celeb reputation and where we've seen big time stars in the past.

Tomorrow, we head into the OC to see Cousin Michael and his family in Irvine. Rain is expected. California is much more fun in the sun.

¹ - The CBS complex is usually identified by these words, "From Television City in Hollywood." It is not in Hollywood.

We're about ready to leave for Orange County. A look out the window, and at the radar, shows more showers. It's not as bad as it was yesterday - but there's no sunshine to be seen.

Albert Hammond sang "It Never Rains in California." Today, he should be glad he has a non-published number.

We woke up today to clouds and showers. It was in the sky. It was in the forecast. In fact, the forecast was for rain through the day and into Sunday.

It's depressing.

This was our day to head south to Irvine and visit my cousins. We got the car, turned right on Avenue of the Stars¹ and headed toward I-10.

Before we left Connecticut, I went to Google and got maps and directions. Directions are not like horseshoes. Close doesn't make it. Google's directions were close, but not totally correct. Somehow, we muddled along and found our way to Orange County and the Foxes of Southern California. Google's got to do a better job if they're going to be serious mapmakers.

We visited Michael, Melissa and Max, noshed a little, and tried to decide where to go. There was a temporary break in the weather action, so we decided on Laguna Beach.

On our way, we passed by six year old Cousin Max's school and decided to turn in and take a look.

None of us have ever seen a school like this. I'm not sure how to describe it except to say the school is a collection of small German fairytale style buildings. There are dozens of animals from pigs to goats to chickens to rabbits... even a llama.

He's in the first grade, learning French and German. He loves the school, and I can see why. It is one of a kind. In many ways it fits Laguna Beach.

Laguna Beach is known as an artist's colony. All along Pacific Coast Highway and the surrounding streets are boutiques, galleries and restaurants. It's a browser's paradise and, for the shoe-addicted like Steffie, a place to buy another pair of shoes.

Laguna Beach is also a beautiful and expensive place to live. Not far from the ocean are steeply rising hills. Somehow, huge houses have been placed on these hills. From the ground it looks like the ground is steep enough to cause a goat to reconsider where he's walking. The houses are there none the less.

When you hear about California houses sliding down mountains, they're talking about houses like these.

As we walked down one street, Helaine pointed out what looked like a TV crew. Though I didn't see the camera, I did see a guy with a pack filled with wireless microphone receivers. Near him a woman held a clipboard. My zoom lens let me read what was on her papers. They were from MTV, probably taping another season of Laguna Beach.

That show was one of the main reasons Steffie was so anxious to go to Laguna Beach in the first place!

As we kept walking, the sky kept brightening. Before long, the Sun began to poke out and, though by no means warm, it got warm enough to be comfortable.

We headed down to the beach.

Like so much of the California coastline, the area around Laguna Beach is a coast with character. Here the beach is broad. Offshore, there are some rocks visible above the sea's surface, allowing birds to rest... and poop. From time-to-time the waves break on the rocks, throwing white spray up in the air.

This is a friendly beach. Yes, there are people in the water (though, this being the Pacific, it's awfully cold), but the real action is at the water's edge. There's a beach volleyball net, a playground and a small boardwalk with benches.

I was amazed, and pleased, to see dogs welcome on this beach.

Actually, Laguna Beach seems to be a very dog-friendly town. Many of the shops and stores had water bowls right outside their front doors. Others had signs saying dogs were welcome. I even saw one woman with a novel way of bringing her dog into a restaurant... without bringing the dog into the restaurant!

This is probably as good a time as any to mention something that really worked today. Obviously, what was fun for the adults and Steffie at Laguna Beach was not Max's first choice. Luckily, he had his Game Boy Advance with him. Every time we stopped, he found a place to sit, pulled out the Game Boy and played Shrek II. He was content pretty much all day.

We continued to walk and browse, but dinner time was approaching so we headed south on the Pacific Coast Highway to South Laguna Beach and "Montage."

None of us in the East Coast Fox family had ever heard of Montage. Michael and Melissa, the West Coast contingent, had only heard of it through friends, but had never been. What a find.

Excellent description for a property that originally housed a trailer park! It really is beautiful.

We were early for our dinner reservation, so we sat down for drinks in the main area in front of a picture window, looking down on the pool and the ocean. On the other side of the window is a balcony with the same spectacular view. I took my camera and started shooting away, only to be told my camera was "too professional looking" and I wouldn't be allowed to take any more pictures.

I'm not quite sure why.

Dinner was at The Loft Restaurant, one floor down, but with an equally stunning view. This restaurant was equivalent to anything we had been to in Los Angeles... maybe nicer.

The service was excellent... though any place that refolds your napkin when you get up from the table tends to give me the heebee jeebees. The food was even better. Helaine compared it favorably to Spago, and I agree.

With dinner over, we said goodbye to Michael, Melissa and Max and headed north. We have been very lucky on the Southern California freeways, meeting hardly any traffic. By 8:30 we were back at the Century Plaza - exhausted.

What a great day. Everything we thought we'd do exceeded our expectations. The surprise spur of the moment things, or things Melissa and Michael had planned, were even better.

¹ - Shoot me - I just like typing that. It's the world's most pretentious street name!

I've just added more pictures from yesterday in Laguna Beach to my gallery.

There's no doubt. When this vacation is over, I'll have to reorganize and possibly cull the pictures. For now, they're nice to look at.

It's not quite 60°, but the Sun is shining. That's enough for me.

The plan for today is to have a light breakfast, go to Melrose for its funky shops, then dinner tonight at a hip and happening restaurant.

When I went on Instant Messenger tonight, my friend Bob jumped in from Florida:

He is so right. Helaine, Steffie and I find this lifestyle and this place very appealing. I would go in a second.

Whoa! What am I doing? People at work read this blog. Don't worry. Southern California is an obsession I've had forever.

Be quiet for a second. What do you hear? Nothing. No phone ringing. No offer. I came close with KCAL years ago, but I don't think it's meant to be.

So, we'll continue to come out every year or two... continue to be teased by California... and life will go on happily in Connecticut.

As nice as California seems, my Connecticut life isn't too shabby. After all, it affords me these trips to California!

Where were we?

We have stuffed ourselves like pigs on this trip. Every night has featured a spectacular dinner with appetizer and desert. There comes a point where enough is enough. That came this morning.

Instead of going someplace nice for breakfast, we decided to go to Starbucks and eat light. I had a bagel and coffee. Helaine and Steffie were similarly pedestrian in their meal.

We sat outside. It wasn't long before Cleo, the dog, came and made friends with us. As we learned, her owner, now working on a movie in production, needed to give Cleo away. She was living in a place with no dogs allowed. Very sad, but we couldn't bring Cleo back on the plane with us.

This was to be a shopping day. Before the trip Steffie had decided on some stores and some areas she wanted to visit.

I will admit it. She travels in a totally different world from me, especially when it comes to style and fashion. As I have learned during this trip, there are trendy stores, 'celebrity' stores, written up in People and US Weekly, featured on "E" and VH-1.

The names of these stores mean nothing to me, but to Steffie, this is a big deal.

We went to two or three of these 'name' shops on Robertson Blvd. in West Hollywood. While Steffie and Helaine browsed stores like Kitson, I walked the streets.

Actually, there's a lot to learn.

For instance, just before the corner of Robertson and Beverly, there's a sign warning that the intersection is "Photo Enforced." Adjacent to a few of the traffic lights in the intersection are boxes with strobe lights and cameras.

Run the intersection, and you get a moving violation with photo showing you, the red light you're running and other pertinent details! I saw it in action. Very sobering.

A block away from the shopping is Cedars-Sinai Hospital. There's the Max Factor Pavilion, a center with Steven Spielberg's name on it, and (just outside the hospital) the intersection of George Burns Road and Gracie Allen Drive!

This is Los Angeles, a factory town for TV and the movies. Getting your name out is everything.

Next stop for shopping was Melrose. I'm not sure why, but I gently begged off. I just didn't want to walk into store-after-store-after-store.

Trust me. This is great sport for Helaine and especially Steffie. And I'd be right there with them if these were computer or camera stores. I dropped them off and decided to go on a search for the Hollywood sign.

I had done this before. There are places where the Hollywood sign is very visible, and then a block or two away, it's gone. And, if you