AUTUMN LEAVES

San Francisco's version of the Fall Colors, as seen yesterday on 15th Street.

FILM THEORY 101: THE SOUND OF MUSIC

I'm not sure why I avoided it for so long. Maybe I thought I would agree with legendary film critic (and Petaluma native) Pauline Kael's assessment of The Sound of Music as "a sugarcoated lie that people seem to want to eat."

Ouch.

Anyway, I took fellow choir nerd and birthday girl Kim to the sing-a-long version of the beloved classic last Saturday evening. She had seen it many times but this was a virgin viewing for me. I was very surprised at how much I enjoyed the movie, although I could have done without those damn kids going on and on (and on) about "tea with toast and jam and tea with toast and jam and toast and jam and toast and jam."

DAMAGE CONTROL

" . . . Where was I?"

"The police," I reminded her.

"Oh yes -- now, dear, I need you and Pinky (my mother's hairdresser's name was - naturally - Pinky) - I need you to get to the house before the police to let them in, but also I need you to go through the house and hide all the guns and bullets and - what else . . . Oh yes! I need you to flush your brother's marijuana down the toilet."

That's MGM legend Debbie Reynolds, instructing her daughter (via telephone) while her son, Todd Fisher, was in surgery after accidentally shooting himself in the leg.

(excerpt from Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher. A brilliant and quick afternoon read).

FEED ME, SEYMOUR

The Squash Soup and Fish Pie (smoked steelehead trout and pureed potatoes) from Hog and Rocks.

Mmmmm, so good.

UPSKIRT

The Christmas tree at Neiman-Marcus

MUG SHOTS

Photo booths are such fun, and the one at the Union Square Holiday Ice Rink emails AND posts them to your Facebook page.

IT SUITS ME

You'll have to excuse the slightly narcissistic tone here, but I LOVE my new suit.

The Versace peaked-lapel suit.

(photo courtesy of Cookie)

THAT DEAR OLD DIRTY TOWN

As much as I loved living there when I did (1995-2004), there is something (disturbingly) romantic about New York City in the 70's.

THE NEW MATH REDUX

Cary Grant + New York City = Sublime.

PAT THIS DOWN

Fellow choir nerd and Facebook friend Heidi gets a HUGE Pooper-Scooper shout-out for this little gem.

It's a metallic ink-printed shirt you can wear the next time you get scanned at the airport. While double-checking that you have NOTHING hidden under your clothes, your TSA agent will also get a quick lesson on the Constitution. They're available at Cargo Collective.

Me want this!