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Today in My History

2001:  If I Had a Cause
2002:  The Torch is Passed

2003:  Greasing My Palm
2004:  I'm Not Ready for Technology
2005From the Nursery

2006:  Off to the Spa
2007I Think I'll Skip the Corn Flakes

2008:  @#$% Facebook

2009:  Mr Toad's Wild Ride
2010:  Reunions

Bitter Hack
Twelfth Night

Books Read in 2011
Updated: 1/16
"Listening to Van Gogh"

Recipes for Cousins Day Drinks
(updated 3/17/10)


Christmas 2010 (Part 1) from Bev Sykes on Vimeo.

and on YouTube

Most Recent on My flickr_logo.gif (801 bytes)

Christmas 2010

Mirror Site for RSS Feed
Airy Persiflage

My Compassion Kids

Postcrossing Postcards

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21 January 2011

When we first moved to Davis and the kids began getting involved with various organization, my job became publicist for just about every organization with which I became involved, from PTA to Little League.  I discovered I was sort of good at it.  One of my more successful campaigns was getting a television sports guy to bring a camera crew to the swimming pool to cover the Davis Diving Team's preparation for an upcoming meet.

As the kids got older, our activities seemed to center more around theater than anything else.  I was publicist for the Sunshine Children's Theatre, and for other (now defunct) theatrical organizations, including the Davis Comic Opera Company.

The long-time entertainment editor of the paper retired and a new woman was hired to take her place.  As I recall, she was recruited from out of town.  I spoke with her a couple of times and decided that I would curry favor by taking her to lunch, to meet her and so that we could each get an idea of how we worked, and how we could best help each other.

Our lunch seemed to go well.  We got a long well during her brief time here and she was always willing to go the extra mile for me, if she could do it. For my part, I tried never to need the extra mile by being pepared and turning all of my information in in a timely manner, and when she had done something good for me, I always wrote to thank her. We had a good working relationship.

Oddly (and disappointingly) enough, nobody has ever thought to invite me to lunch to figure out how I like to get information and how we can help each other (or, for that matter, to thank me for going the extra mile).  It's not that I expected it, but it made me realize what a damn good publicist I was!   I meet once a year with the publicity person for the university to plan out the productions throughout the school year, but we meet at a coffee shop and we each buy our own coffee.

Today, I got treated to lunch by the guy who has taken over Derrick's responsibilities.  It was kind of cool.  This fellow (who is the husband of the newspaper's editor and who has been a newsman for more than 30 years, though took a break for several years to do other things) is a sports guy.  His taking over entertainment news is like me taking over the sports desk.  The things that Derrick knows intuitively, Bruce needs to learn, though he's mostly doing well.

We had a delightful lunch, getting caught up on old times.   I was being witty, sincere, a delightful luncheon companion.

Until one point where Bruce said "oh-oh" and pointed in the general direction of my body.  I looked down and there was a piece of pad thai on my shirt, which I picked up in my fingers and put into my mouth, realizing as I did it what a bad thing that was to do.

But I didn't have time to concentrate on that social faux pas because as I raised my hand, napkin still clutched in it, a long silvery strand of pad thai noodle glistened in the air, looking like a flat worm with garbage all over it.  

No chance to maintain much dignity after that.  I was just grateful that I was dining with someone I knew, that I already had the job, that he seems to think I do a good job, and that this is a small town and we weren't dining in some fancy schmancy restaurant in San Francisco!

Peggy once tried to explain to me why I am such a slob when I eat.  It's really amazing how much food escapes between the plate and my mouth, how much of it falls on my chest or rolls down onto the floor.  It's easy to understand why the dogs like to sit under my place at the table, hoping for some of those stray bits to land on the floor.  I'm as good a source of treats as a baby in a high chair.

Mostly it doesn't matter.  It's only people who love me who have to watch how disgusting I am when I eat.  I really do try not to talk with food in my mouth, to keep my mouth closed when I chew, and to lean over the plate as I pick up a forkful of food, but somehow that doesn't seem to help. I really should carry a bib around with me, if I were serious about keeping clean during mealtimes!

It's probably good that I never had a career in the business world.  If I had tried to become a successful business woman, my cleaning bill would be a whopper, and I would be a constant embarrassment to my co-workers.


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The god in the window of Ket Mo Ree
is looking out on the Davis Enterprise building



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