Off Again

After my big stinking move, I'm heading down to San Diego this morning for the marathon. I'll be performing various coachly duties for Team in Training and otherwise relaxing after a most stress-filled week. More upon my return.

Really digging the new place. Leaf blowers sound outside and I don't have to think about paying the admirable Mr. Kim.

Phantom Home

Nerve endings curl so that amputees often "feel" sensations from ex-limbs. Tonight, as dusk fell on the condo, I felt the need to rise and turn on the outside lights. A few minutes later, a sprinkler hissed and I listened closely for gurgles or other signs that the rain bird needed replacing. Adjustments are occurring.

Yesterday afternoon, my gardener waited in his truck for me to return from errands so that he could say good-bye. Twice a week for eleven years, Mr. Kim managed my big wild yard: reseeding the lawn, loping back sumac, growing ice plants, as well as replacing busted sprinkler valves out of his own pocket. Every Christmas, I left him an envelope with a little cash bonus. In return, he'd leave me potted palms and orchids, in addition to traditional poinsettias. When we met, I was still unmarried and he was not yet a grandfather. Over the years we talked about insects that killed Monterey Pines, the joys and sorrows of his children, and the uncertain nature of my line of work. He had designed a hot-looking bonsai garden that faced the street and still got compliments from passers-by.

And so we stood in my driveway in the warm sun and wished each other the best. We had shaken hands when we had first met. Now we shook hands again in parting. (His were like sand paper.) Grey hair sticking out from under his baseball cap, Mr. Kim shuffled back to his Ford pick-up, bed bristling with lawn mowers and leaf blowers, and drove off around the curve.

As Dorothy said to the Scarecrow, "I think I'll miss you most of all."

And the Move Goes On

On top of it all, I have a slight hamstring pull. But onward we go. I can't tell you how wonderful it was to go online and read next to my mortage: PAID IN FULL. Sweet. Now if I can only avoid serious injury for the next 48 hours I'll be swell.

Downpour Near Devil's Gate

. . . the weather man gets it right. I'd packed all day yesterday, hauled a bunch of stuff to storage, then went running. The sky was overcast and the weather report foretold thunderstorms, but, really, this is southern California in May. Parking at the Rose Bowl, I saw a few drops disturb the dust on my hood. Big deal. I started running.

Nearing mile one, the rain fell steadily. By mile two, hail had kicked in. Reaching a freeway overpass, I took shelter as the sky unloaded like the wet season in Phnom Penh. Rain fell in wavy sheets. Run-off water poured from a big, corrugated pipe into a nearby arroyo, splashing down boulders and splitting into twin waterfalls. Thunder rocked the sky overhead. Sheet lightning flared like a giant flashbulb while a lightning bolt performed an eerie shimmy. A huge branch from an oak tree cracked and fell down a hill side. More hail. This storm was a bit too Midwestern-nostalgic for my taste. Tornado, anyone?

Finally as the thunder grew fainter and the rain slacked, I finished my run, getting only slightly wetter than I already was.

Last Saturday, we had to call practice early because of the heat. Then there was heavy wind on Wednesday, usually a fall/winter occurrence, now a stinking cloudburst. I don't pay high taxes for this. I feel I'm owed sunny and clear with temperatures in the low 70s. Luckily, our legal system is so screwed up I'll have no trouble filing suit against California for unlawful atmospherics. A nice settlement would help pay for the paint job in the condo.

Home Sale and Comic Con Invite

Sometime around 1:05 PM the buyers' loan went through. Sale! We lease our former home for another week. Meanwhile, MDW deals with contractors at the new place while I pack on.

Tiny Toons and Freakazoid DVDs are due to release July 29. In preparation, Warner Bros. has invited a number of the old crew, including Tom Ruegger, Paul Rugg and I, to attend a panel at Comic Con on July 24 between 10:30 and 11:30 AM.

I hemmed and hawed and finally agreed. -:)

Tick-Tick-Tick

Only a matter of hours until we sign the papers that sell our house and buy a condo. There is so much STUFF to still pack-lose-store.

Yesterday evening was our team's final track practice. As a farewell surprise, Coach Katie divided us up for a 200 meter relay race. We used her daughter's dolls as batons. (Bizarre, even by Los Angeles' standards.) Off we ran with the lead swinging back and forth. When my turn came, I had a 15-yard cushion as I bolted with maximum effort. This blazing start flooded my system with lactic acid (by-product of sudden strenuous exercise). Like an old watch, I wound down as my opponent gained. He caught me just as we handed off. Fortunately, our anchor was the fastest guy on either team. After trailing briefly, he kicked in the jets and won, thus saving me from being the oaf who blew a lead and lost it for our side.

Having already logged three miles at practice, I was sagging. That was the fastest I'd run in many years, recalling high school memories of my brief track career as a 400 meter fellow. Nostalgia aside, I'll be glad to resume less-speedy marathon training.

Pitching Movies with Paul Rugg

Paul Rugg and I shall once again craft a feature film idea and go a'pitching. We've done this twice. Back in 2002 we worked up a live-action idea about a group of actors undergoing military training in preparation for an upcoming war film. However, they are accidentally dropped off in a jungle and mistaken for real American troops by guerrillas. As I was preparing to leave for Cambodia at the time, we conducted a sales blitz, hitting nine production companies and studios in a little under three days — a blur of smiling faces, couches and bottled water.

In 2003 we prepared an idea about two tornado-chasing geeks sucked up by a twister and deposited in an Oz-like world where they blunder into a quest that changes their lives. A live-action idea, we pitched it around, here and there. (Eventually, I wrote it into a script.) Retooling our tale as animation for a 2005 Dreamworks meeting, we finished the pitch only to have the executive suggest we take it around as live-action.

Now we have an animated concept about dogs and honor and doing what is right, regardless of circumstances. We'll start building a story as soon as I get back from the San Diego Marathon. I have a most excellent feeling about this one, as it is just silly enough to warrant a sale.

UPDATE: Someone else had the same idea around the same time re. actors mistaken for real soldiers. In 2008, someone else's idea became a film called Tropic Thunder. Such are the cards of Fate.