It Was Really Dark In There, So I Couldn't Take Notes: The Dr. Jordan Peterson Tour

YouTube star and political personality Dave Rubin opened for Dr. Jordan Peterson, and the crowd was thrilled.  He congratulated Portland on being the first stop of the tour to garner protests (loud cheers) and applauded the audience for being a part of the "Intellectual Dark Web," as coined by Eric Weinstein. He also wondered aloud how a 5 ft 4 Orthodox Jew (Ben Shapiro, my intellectual dream date) could be such a popular face of this revolutionary thought movement (even louder cheers).  And then he graciously introduced former Harvard and current University of Toronto professor, clinical psychologist, and author Dr. Peterson.

Gutenberg and the Podcast

Dr. Peterson was bemused that so many people were gathered to hear him deliver a lecture on mythos, psychology, Biblical themes, and science; he wondered aloud "what the hell you are doing here," to much laughter. But then he dove into the Gutenberg-like phenomenon of podcasts and YouTube and what they say about our society. TV, he posited, is a much different medium - it has incredibly expensive bandwidth (the production costs of a 1-hour show are prohibitive), it is heavily commercial (it must be a slick and appealing product), and it therefore limits how deep into conversation one can really go.  The maximum time limit on any one topic is about 7 minutes and it is often filtered through the TV host's own views and biases. Print journalism is likewise constrained, but not so narrowly.  But the rise of YouTube, podcasts, and Netflix have ushered in some interesting phenomena. First is the apparent hunger for much greater depth and complexity. Netflix shows in particular layer meaning upon meaning, plot device upon plot device, and the characters are increasingly complex. This is not the TV of the 1980s or 1990s, and people no longer consume this media in half-hour to hour installments.  No, they demand "binge" access.  Second, the average podcast material demanded by the public is 9 hours.  This is amazing. Our attention spans seem to be increasing, despite what we might otherwise think, and our appetite for intellectual content has soared. His previous show would have included a Q & A session, but he had staged a debate between himself and Sam Harris, a liberal neuroscientist and critic of religion, and the audience didn't want their debate to end. The debate itself was what was wanted, and that indicated to Dr. Peterson (along with our puzzling presence tonight) that the public is hungry for more substance and has an increased capacity to consume it. Podcasts and YouTube have also enabled us to consume much more high intellectual content and more easily because each is audio rather than written word. We can and do listen to podcasts (and he mentioned the Joe Rogan Experiment as the most popular) while working, exercising, eating, performing mundane tasks, etc. in ways we could never sit down and read a book, and at no cost, adding almost 2 extra hours to our lives everyday. This media revolution is akin to the sudden emergence of accessible written word made possible by Johannes Gutenberg and his moveable type printing press.  And unlike what we might assume, current media has not made us less intelligent.

Hierarchy and Inequality

Dr. Peterson went on to address the most controversial chapter in his new book, "12 Rules For Life: An Antidote Against Chaos," which is Chapter One: "Stand up straight with your shoulders back." He laughed and said this was not at all the chapter he expected to cause such a ruckus - much more likely would have been Chapter 5: "Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them."  After all, he quipped, everyone knows that children can be dislikable, and especially to their own parents, but we aren't supposed to talk about that. But no, Chapter 1 and its discussion of hierarchies has really upset some of the public.  They think, he said, that he is promoting a strict hierarchy of winners and losers in society and that all good things should only go to the wealthy and privileged, even though that is "a terrible misreading of what I was trying to say."  People also get very upset that it is about lobsters. (Cue much giggling.) And it IS about lobsters - their milennia-old insistence on social hierarchy that has withstood eons of evolution and that mimics itself among humans.  We are evolutionarily designed to recognize hierarchy - it's not a social construct.  And that hierarchy manifests itself in everything. For instance, he said, some plumbers are better than others.  ALL plumbers are better at plumbing than non-plumbers.  (The guy sitting next to me is a pipe-fitter by trade and we had a good laugh at that truism.) Specific skills will always create a hierarchy because some of us have a specific skill, some of us are inevitably better at it than others, and that leaves a whole bunch of people at the bottom who lack those skills entirely.  This creates inequality, which is undesirable. The question is not "How do we get rid of skills so as to get rid of inequality?" but "How much inequality can we tolerate for the greater good?"

The Five Personality Traits and Politics

Dr. Peterson went on to tell us that there are 5 major personality traits that motivate us and modulate our behavior, and that each of the five is a scale of high to low:

• Extroversion - How social we are/are not. High extraversion can be seen as attention-seeking, while low extroversion can be seen as reserved, reflective.
• Agreeableness - High: compassionate, friendly vs low: detached, challenging, or competitive.
• Conscientiousness - High: dutiful, organized, self-disciplined (even controlling/rigid). Low: flexible, spontaneous (can be seen as sloppy/careless).
• Openness - How open we are to new experiences. High: Creative, artistic, curious, open to a variety of experiences (can be considered unpredictable, unfocused, or prone to risky behavior). Low: cautious,  pragmatic, data-driven (can be considered dogmatic or close-minded).
• Neuroticism: How we deal with stress and worry. High: moody, self-critical, jealous, and depressed. Low: confident, even-tempered, low stress.

Dr. Peterson said that liberals tend to score high on Openness while conservatives tend to score high on Conscientiousness. Therefore, liberals tend to be our artists, our writers, and our entrepreneurs, while conservatives tend to be managers and administrators.  And thus we see how much we need one another. We need liberals to create new businesses, and create art; meanwhile, we need conservatives to manage and administer those new businesses and ideas. Liberals tend to ignore the rules in favor of creativity, and sometimes that is necessary because if we do what we have always done, nothing new will ever come about.  Conservatives tend to insist upon the rules, and those rules are there for good reasons. The question becomes, when is it appropriate to change our structure, and when is it better to stick with what we have? After all (and this really struck me as something I hadn't quite considered in this way, too much order leads to tyranny, and too much chaos leads to nihilism. We cannot ever know for sure when it is the best time to change and when it is better to maintain order because our environment is always changing. We may become ill, our spouse might die, we might find out our boss is a psychopath, our marriage might end, etc. Things are always changing.  That is why it is so important to continue talking with one another. We need constant dialogue and to be truthful for that balancing act between order and chaos, tyranny or nihilism to continue to be successful. That is one reason why freedom of speech is so crucial - we need to be able to tell the truth and live out our words for balance to be maintained.

Osiris, Isis, Set, and Horace

Dr. Peterson noted that the Egyptian cosmology was an incredible insight into our need to shoulder the world and take responsibility for our own lives. This is why such a civilization lasted for thousands of years - it got to the heart of the matter.  He told us how Osiris was the god of order and power, and that he was undermined by his jealous older brother, Set. This is the classic story told in "The Lion King," of brother undermining brother and stealing his throne. Osiris, blind to his brother's treachery, is cut up in pieces by Set and scattered around the kingdom. Isis, goddess of chaos and the underworld, impregnates herself with the phallus of her husband and births Horace. Horace is pictured as both an all-seeing eye and a falcon, (birds of prey are the only animals to have keener eyesight than man).  He is the god of sight. His blessing and curse is to fly above the kingdom and witness all that is done by men - including things he does not want to see. He navigates the narrow space between Order (Osiris) and Chaos (Isis) and observes all things, including those things he least wishes to behold.  He represents us and our need to walk the thin line of Being between order and chaos and see both good and evil. We must learn to coexist with malevolence in order to overcome it - and we must be able to look inside ourselves and accept that we are capable of both great good and great evil.  "You all know that you are capable of mayhem," Dr. Peterson told us. "Just see what kind of tragedies people cause themselves, and then their family, and then their society if they refuse to take responsibility for themselves.  And yet, that also means that you are capable of equal good.  Just think of what kind of good one person can bring to themselves, and then to their family, and then to their society if they accept responsibility and take the burden of the world onto their shoulders."

Question and Answer Session

The best question that came out of the Q&A was the following: "How do I know when to get rid of a toxic friend?"

Dr. Peterson shared some truly useful advice here. First, highly agreeable people will want to help those who are struggling. It's in their nature to reach out and try to help. But this also means that highly agreeable people can become resentful.  Recognize when you become resentful, and ask yourself, "Is this because I am whiny and immature?" If so, deal with it and grow up. Quit whining.  However, if you are mature and can handle regular demands, then ask yourself, "Am I being taken advantage of?" Agreeable people can be taken advantage of, and they need to stop it. We have the ability to recognize this and put a stop to it by saying "No." If this is an "intransigent family member," it's likely that they have come to you whining and complaining about their situation. You have likely given them advice and suggestions on how to improve their lives.  Have they ignored you?  Then it's time to make a change.  Ask them to make you a deal - "Hey, let's make a deal. I will stop giving you unwanted advice, and in return, I need you to stop telling me about your problem." And then hold them to it, because they will come back and continue to take advantage of you if you let them. Do not cast your pearls before swine.  Yes, this is a harsh statement, but it is true.  If you are telling someone how to improve their life and they are ignoring you, you need to stop. If you are speaking and they are not listening, you are not where you thought you were. You need to leave that situation. And there may be a moment where you have to tell a friend, "It is no longer okay to take advantage of me." But it only really works if you have three examples.  They will ignore one and rationalize two, but they will have to listen to three.  Be specific.  If someone takes advantage of you once, let it go. Twice? Make a note of it.  Three times, and it is time to say "No" and stand up for yourself.

Those were the main elements of Dr. Peterson's talk, and they were fantastic. I also really recommend his book, "12 Rules For Life: An Antidote To Chaos." I just finished Chapter 5. 

I'm exhausted, so I am going to bed. Enjoy!

Wilsonville Road In The Bleak Midwinter

One of my favorite things to do now that I live in Newberg is drive to Costco.  No longer the hop-skip-jump drive that it once was from our home in Tualatin (a pretty drive south on Boones Ferry past TuHS and winding through undeveloped farmland until you hit the I-5 South onramp), it is now a bit of a trek. But the out-of-the-way aspect of not living near the interstate is richly rewarded by my new drive down Wilsonville Road to get to I-5 north and then another quick jaunt up to Costco from the south.

Wilsonville Road is like driving through a dream.  Winding through farms, forests, orchards, and skirting the Willamette River, the road is both a scenic delight and great practice for "looking through the curve," as I was taught in Motorcycle Class this summer.  The backcountry reminds me a little bit of Ken's home in upstate New York for its hilly landscape and the farmhouses, red painted barns, and stretches of tranquil cow pasture that make me feel like a metropolis is hours away.  The craggy background of fir and pine give away the decidedly Northwestern locale, though, so I know we aren't in Rip Van Winkle territory, though the twisting limbs of oaks and maples arching over the road belie the fact.  My special drive to Costco is a faerie land, and I wish often that I could have taken my best friend and twin sister Megan on a drive down Wilsonville Road when she was visiting in the summer.  In every season, this road beckons with its enchantments and beauty.

Tonight as I was heading home from a Costco errand, I had to bemoan the absence of my best friend once again with particular force, as the sunset was casting a particularly magical glow over Wilsonville Road.  The clouds were a soft purply gray like a kitten's fur and the sky was shot with a fiery peach, a gentle pink, and a robin's egg blue so delicate it was almost green.  As I approached the first turn, I gasped out loud.  A light fog had risen as I was shopping and now filled the hollows and spaces between patches of forest.  I had never seen fog here at sunset before and wished more than ever that Megan could be here to see it, too.  (Utah does not have fog - it has "fug.")

Mist coated the ground in orchards, making the sinewy trees appear like maidens bending and twisting graceful limbs.  I glanced toward the Willamette River on the left and saw the mist rising on the river, meshing with the cold air in a soft pink halo.  As I swooped up the curves of the road, horse farms gave way to forests and back to fields, pearly white in the sunset.  The Scots say that the dead come down with the fog.  Wondering if ancient battlefields look similar to my spooky road, I breathed in deeply and caught a distinct eau de rotty skunk.  Ugh.  Something must have climbed out of the nearest neighbor's septic tank and was now wandering free in the failing light.  Happily, the scent died away as I drove on.  Further afield, the fog had climbed nearly to the telephone poles on one property; on another, the low clouds had not quite covered the expanse of earth and were reaching out with phantom fingers toward the edge of the road.  In some areas, the fog spilled into the road and sight was only clear directly around me.  I wished I could keep driving Wilsonville Road forever.

But I arrived home like I usually do, in plenty of time and looking back wistfully.  Someday maybe we can move.

Here are some pics I took of an orchard and sheep on a hill on Wilsonville Road this year, just to tide you over until I can take more pictures of my favorite place!

Autumn Adventure

I love fall in Oregon.  Well, to be honest, I love fall anywhere!  The crisp feeling in the air, the gem-hued trees, the tang of woodsmoke and leaf mold, the brilliant but gentler blue of the sky, and the feeling of harvest and gathering in safe make me thrill in a way that no other season does.  I could spend every day outside hunting for trees to photograph as their leaves turn from an energetic green to a fiery, furious red or a contemplative gold.  Others seem to glow from within like a burning candle, with a yellow underside that shines like a lit lantern, leading to crimson tips like the rind of a jack-o-lantern. These are particular finds, and I spend minutes at a time wondering at what time of day or evening these trees are their most incandescent.  (I try not to focus on this too much while navigating through traffic, though.)

Ken and I took the rare opportunity to enjoy a late-afternoon motorcycle ride through the country after Saturday afternoon's General Conference broadcast this last weekend and basked in the glories of Oregon's autumn.  It was exactly the kind of day that makes me regret going indoors - the low-hanging sun cast foliage in sharp relief against a sky swept free of the foreboding clouds of the week, outlining each leaf sharply.  The smells of gleaning, gathering, and burning mingled with the brisk fresh air rinsed clean of smog (we'd been deluged by rain a week before) and the sundry sensations of farm animals and the river.  Kenny headed in the direction of a tree farm he passed every day on the way to work, knowing that the rainbow hues of the foliage were something I'd been longing to see.  I spotted the farm right on the edge of the LDS Church's St. Paul cannery land - the bright stripes of color were easy to notice among the tawny browns, tans, and greens of the fields.  We pulled up in the field across the road and Ken rested while I snapped pictures.

Arrived!

A blaze of color:

Dorky photographer on the left, but a great vantage point nonetheless:

Looking back toward St. Paul and Newberg:

Shy orange and gold trees peeping out behind the tall oaks.  Kenny didn't want me to miss taking a shot or two of these!

Kenny livin' the dream!

On the way home we tended to Mom and Jim's cats - who had behaved themselves remarkably this week while left to their own wiles - and then headed back home to Newberg via Highway 99 to grab some dinner and get Ken to work on time. I love the drive from Tualatin to Newberg. As we head through Sherwood, the road rises toward the Chehalem Mountains, farms fall away to woods, and we are enveloped in forests of fir, pine, and even deciduous trees scattered through the hills. The pass from Sherwood to Newberg is mostly this forestland, although some homes are visible through the trees farther back from the road or up above us. There is even a landscaping and nursery business perched on the edge of the steep slope. As we drove home on Saturday in the early evening, I wished we could stay still in the moment - just as the slopes closed around us, I could see woodsmoke weaving a delicate scarf of fog in between the treetops in the purpling light. The sharp scent of fireplaces and outdoor burning tickled my nose. As we made our way toward home, the bright orange streaks of sunset pierced through the pines and the city of Newberg peeped out from the Chehalem Valley below, surprising me as it always does with a cheerful little wave. The fog was no longer a scarf, but a cobwebby blanket over the town. We arrived safely home and ready for dinner, but I regretted closing the door on such a blissful scene of tender fall twilight. Another day might beckon with similar delights, but each fragile moment spent in fall is bittersweet, knowing as I do of the inexorable march of winter ahead - and bleary, sodden rain. I think perhaps that is why I love fall so ardently - its fleetingness, as prone to fading as the brilliant color of the trees or the glimmer of a jack-o-lantern, makes it all the more worthy of savoring.

Oh, well - if I get nostalgic, I can go outside and look at the awful stain on the concrete last year's rotting pumpkin corpse left after I forgot about it and it molded to a juicy puddle just outside the front door. That lasts.

Happy birthday!

Happy birthday to my best friend!  It's awesome that we get to be best pals AND share a birthday.  Not too many people get to do that, so I'm lucky.  The guy next to me at the restaurant Mom and I ate at today was also having birthday tiramisu, compliments of the house, and he wished me a good day and me him, so I was a little less lonely for my birthday buddy, but still - I wish I had my twin sister Megan Aileen Moore Taylor to celebrate with today.

So I am posting a few incriminating charming snapshots of us together to say "Hey, you!  Happy and best thirty-first birthday ever!!!"  And since my scanner works only some of the time, and all other times exists only to thwart me, most of these pics are pictures of pictures.  Like a meta-picture.  Yay!

I'm with Grandma (my mom's mom).  Megan is with Grandpa.  We're irresistibly cute.

I found this picture of right before our final sixth grade choir and band concert in Megan's room.  I couldn't resist!  It perfectly captures sixth grade, our attitudes toward being photographed, and our thoughts about performing publicly in front of our parents.

The first day of freshman year in high school.  Something possessed me to dye my hair the color of my polo the night before.  Why Megan didn't stop me, I'll never know.  Why she's wearing a shirt I should never have purchased from the Eddie Bauer Men's section, I don't know either.  We had such lovely, girlish figures.  I guess it is better that we opted for the 1990s "grunge" look while still listening to Whitney Houston, than the 1990s bare-midriff look while rocking out to NIИ.

Grandma Mickey and Grandpa Bud had us come visit in Southern Utah after our 1999 EFY (Especially For Youth) church summer camp at BYU, and as part of the trip, took us to an unforgettable night at Tuacahn Theater to see "Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." Grandpa didn't bat an eye when we begged to ride the camel!  (That's me up front with unfortunate bangs, Megan on the back with long legs and a great tan.)

Grad night, June 2000: We'd both studied so much we'd earned scholarships to BYU... and would be attending Fall semester without a tan!

BYU 2001 - 2002 Hinckley Hall girls!  We had some of our greatest and most wonderful memories from this year, with these friends, in this dorm.

Reuniting and about to part ways - Megan has just returned from Paris (and would very much like to go back), and I am about to go to NYC on a mission (and would very much like to stay in Provo, UT):

Megan and her three charming/talented/beautiful daughters came to visit for ten days through August 2nd, and one of the best memories we made was going to the Enchanted Forest, a magical little wonderland that had once been an elementary-school field-trip destination for mommies and aunties. While wandering through Alice's tea party, crawling down rabbit holes, and wending our way through crooked houses and Indian caves, Megan and I joked that we had never "lived the dream" of going on the alpine ride or the log flume that we were too scared to try as fifth graders.  I was determined to do what I hadn't dared to at age 10 - Megan was not so cavalier.  But something about being away from home on vacation, knee-deep in memories, and showing her babies "what Mom used to do" made my sister decide to show her husband a different side of herself.  That, and I cajoled and begged.  "C'mon, it'll be fun!  You don't want to come here and sit out on all the excitement again, do you?  No way!  Let's go!"

And so we went.

Megan loved the Alpine ride - she was super nervous and told me "not to talk to her," then screamed and cheered the whole way.  It was so much fun to finally ride the darn thing after shaking our heads and shaking in our little boots the whole time as just about all the other kids went on the ride during our field trip twenty years before.  We got off feeling triumphant.  "Log flume next!" I chirped, and Megan dug her heels in.  But I coaxed and actually got her in line, "just to see it."  

Assessing the danger.

Innocence enleafed.

Ready for anything!

As we were propelled up precipitous cliffs and then rocked gently and oh-so-slowly toward the various plunges of doom, I was instructed to "shut up" and "leave her alone."  I responded by giggling to myself.  

And then came the moment I'd be waiting for and she'd been dreading.  Ha!

Afterwards, breathless and splashed, Megan gasped, "I've had two children, and I wasn't as scared before either of them as I was on THAT ride!"

I frowned.  "Um, you've had three children."

"Yeah, well, shut up!" Megan responded, scrambling to get out of the Log Flume of Torture.  But she bought the picture above and looked proud of herself, if terrified.  Camryn could tell it was a blast and asked if she, too, could go on the Log Flume.  And who did she select to go with her?  Auntie Katie!  I was so thrilled.  (Megan was relieved, I'm sure.)

Megan and I had raced each other on the "Old Woman In The Shoe" slide, conquered Alpine heights, and rushed down raging rapids in a flume, and I felt like my twin sister and I were school kids again, best friends ready to conquer anything together.  What a fantastic feeling!

Enchanted Forest, a truly magical place:

And here is a dorky self-portrait to mark the day.  Happy birthday to you, Megan!!!

Real Simple - Really?!

I was perusing the articles in the June edition of my mom's copy of Real Simple magazine when I came across an article of interest, "50 Great Books That Will Change Your Life." I love books and love reading suggestions - this sounded like a fantastic article written just for me!

That is, until I started into the list. Most of it was boring and pretentious and my eyes started to glaze over. Well, the books themselves might be great, but the descriptions came across as so self-important and "Look at me, look at me" that I turned up my nose. Yeah, I think I'll stick with the reading list my husband has assigned me (Vince Flynn and the newest Brad Thor) and the books my mom suggested, as well as a few others I've been longing to check out. Then I read the description of one book that had my hair standing on end in indignation:

A Much Younger Man, by Dianne Highbridge.

“This book—about a 35-year-old woman who falls for the 15-year-old son of her best friend—changed the way I read newsreports about ‘pedophiles’ who have scandalous affairs with the underage. This is a headlong heartbreaker, tender but never schlocky. It deepened my sympathy for many people under the spotlight whose real stories are so much richer and more morally nuanced than the headlines suggest.” 

Um, excuse me? "Morally nuanced"? "Tender, [...] never schlocky" writing that "deepen[s] [the] sympathy" of a reader for a woman who has a sexual affair with a child? The reviewer, author Lionel Shriver (We Need To Talk About Kevin) gets one thing right when he uses the word "pedophile," but amazingly, he redefines the word in almost the same breath as nearly synonymous with "victim." Many pedophiles, he asserts, have "real stories" that are "so much richer and more morally nuanced than the headlines suggest."

Ahhhh!!! As a conservative in favor of traditional marriage and family, I have been accused of being a bigot, a religious fanatic, and the creator of straw-man arguments because I believe that the government forcing a redefinition of marriage will lead to the undermining of the strong moral foundation that protects and nurtures children. What, though, can be said to an article in an extremely popular mainstream magazine that promotes pedophilia? I checked out the book on Amazon.com and found similar reviews. None of the professional reviews made mention that the relationship was immoral or even illegal.

A practice I learned in college in both my literature and language courses was to examine the meaning of words. Words are but symbols, after all, capturing as best they can both the concrete and ephemeralities. The tricky part is to recognize what words actually mean and what words do not - like the word "marriage," words are not without their own history, weight, and connotation.

Getting a rigorous use of my college education, I deduced the following from the review:

35-year-old woman = adult.

15-year-old son = child (in Australia, home of the author and location of the story, too young for sex).

Teacher = someone in authority who should know much, much better (the 35-year-old is a teacher and has no excuse).

Best friend = someone in a position of trust, so raping a best friend's son is all the more shocking.

Pedophile = an adult who preys sexually on children and should be removed from their society permanently.

Tender = generally sweet and gentle; in this case, perverted and manipulative.

Sympathy = collusion.

Real Stories = excuses we are supposed to accept because "the law doesn't apply to them."

Richer = see "Real Stories."

Morally Nuanced = morally relativistic. "What is right for you isn't necessarily right for me." Bad is Good, Good is Bad.

I wrote to Real Simple magazine and let them know how disappointed I was that they promoted a book about pedophilia. I noted that the school district just up the road from my home is facing a $5.1 million lawsuit because a 38-year-old teacher indulged in a sexual relationship with two students, and now she and her husband - the school's police resource officer - are experiencing the consequences of that "morally nuanced" decision. Not all books are created equal, and it is totally okay to refuse to read a novel that promotes women preying on children; 15 years of age is still a child, despite how different that age is now than it was when I was fifteen. Our children deserve our protection, I told Real Simple. Please don't violate their trust in us through a salacious summer read.

I doubt they will print my "Letter to the Editor," but at least I took a stand.

California Vacation, Part 2 - Jay Leno!

We were so excited to travel back into downtown LA and then up into the hills of Burbank to see Jay Leno tape his "Tonight Show" at his very own studio.  Traffic was terrible (of course) and the lines were super long when we checked in, but we managed to find a friend in the libertarian Californian couple behind us.  (Libertarians in California?  Who knew?)  The guy was a gunsmith and a professional blogger in the firearms world and had traveled all over Europe with his girlfriend, who was a "foodie."  They were so friendly and engaging and made waiting in the sunny but windy afternoon line totally bearable.  I was sad that I didn't get their information before we left.

I always want to pronounce the name of the town "Buh-bank."

I was so busy chatting and comparing notes with the fellow that I was jolted when none other than Jay Leno himself bounded out onto the stage in jeans and a button-up shirt to welcome us and get things started before his taping.  This guy didn't use a crew of hired hands to warm up the crowd - he did it himself!  Jay was so relaxed and cheerful and even had people come up and take pictures with him.  It was a very different feeling than at Conan's show, more chill and goofy and self-effacing.  That's the word I was looking for - Jay Leno is very "self-effacing."  We were sitting on the first row of the non-on-the-floor rows to stage right, just in front of where the guest band would be playing and right where the guest interviewees would be sitting.  Jay's band kicked into some seriously great music and my favorite song they played was Miranda Lambert's "Gunpowder and Lead."  (I ran right home and downloaded it!)

Not to be left out on this taping, I kept alert while Jay interviewed Whitney Cummings, an adorable actress, and when she mentioned her show "Whitney," I applauded.  Everyone else was zoning out or was too shy, because she looked out into the audience toward me and said, "Oh!  One person.  Thank you!"  Heh heh.  Yeah, that was ME!

The actress who played the mom on "Silver Linings Playbook" was also interviewed and Aaron Neville and his band played.  It was all pretty interesting just to be on set. Afterwards, Jay Leno went over his lines again quite a few times, much to the delight of the audience (he kept joking with us, "My job is hard!"), so his audio guys could capture him annunciating parts of his monologue more clearly.  He also did some shorts over and over for the promos with the featured guests.  It was fascinating watching some "behind-the-scenes work" that we didn't get to see on Conan O'Brien's show, and Jay came across as so much more down-to-earth and friendly.  By the end we were ravenous and headed out into the twilight (still warm, ahhhhh) to grab some food.  We were favorably impressed with the Tonight Show!

P.S. I snagged the best parking ever since we got there so early - right outside the studio next to where we entered the lot.

Right next to where we parked!

Here's where we parked.  And no kidding - right under the huge radio tower on the other side of this mountain is the Hollywood sign!  This is as close as we ever got!

California Vacation, Part 1 - LA

Flip!  It's like the end of May already, and there is no excuse.  Well, here is a photo essay of our vacation we took at the end of January and the beginning of February to SoCal.  Kenny's work dictated that he take vacation then and not at Christmas right before, and Knott's Berry Farm was having a law enforcement appreciation week with discounts, so he interpreted that to mean it was a sign from above that we were supposed to go there.  And I said, "Well, okay!"  Who wants to hang around rainy, dreary Oregon when fun can be had in sunny places?

We got to California and gawked at an airport where baggage claim is outdoors (and this time, unlike in the San Diego airport during our honeymoon, our bags didn't get stuffed into the lost-and-found): 

Plus, I dug the palm trees, the fiery sunset, and the airport that totally reminded me of the 1930s and also Megan's favorite movie, "Pearl Harbor."  There was a sexy sports car in the car rental area, and Ken and I eyed it greedily and then looked at each other.  "Next time," Ken promised, and then we made our way to our lovely and reasonably-priced Ford sedan.  And, unlike on our honeymoon (which was really quite nice, but unnerving too because Mommy and Daddy weren't there to shepherd us), none of the cars looked hot and I could consult a map while still in the parking lot and not fear for my life!

We texted our friends Jenny and Favio, whom I haven't seen since I was 17 years old, and coordinated a trip to the ultra-swanky "Pink Taco" restaurant right off Santa Monica Boulevard in Westwood, LA.  "Coordinated" might be a poor word to use right here - Ken and I got so lost driving from our hotel in Placentia out to the city due to crazy road construction and hard-to-read exit signs and ended up in the San Gabriel Mountains in the moonlight with Ken swearing and doing u-turns in construction zones and me panicking and texting Jenny like mad.  It was an absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking area and would have been soothing and magical had we not been over an hour late for dinner with friends I hadn't seen in forever and on a school night (their poor daughter!).  Favio was asking Jenny, "Who's driving?  Stevie Wonder?" and making her laugh, and I was freaking out over making everyone wait.  We finally got to Santa Monica Boulevard and I had no idea the Los Angeles LDS Temple was on the same street as the restaurant.  For just a moment I forgot my frustration and just stared out the window at the massive, gorgeous 1930s structure illuminated against the black sky.  Then it was back to the map and getting a good parking spot.  We raced to the Pink Taco and stumbled inside, freezing, to greet our friends and get ribbed big time for being late.  But what a fantastic reunion with people I've loved my whole life!!!  Plus, the tacos and the atmosphere were incredible.  I was just horribly embarrassed that Kenny and I ordered dessert and then Favio insisted that he pay our tab.  (The atmosphere is indeed amazing - the week after we left, Jenny and her daughter Gabriella went back to the Pink Taco for a birthday party and Adam Sandler was there with his kids!  He took a pic with Gabby and wished the birthday girl a very happy day.)

Here we are!  Jenny and Favio's beautiful daughter Gabriella was so cute to tell me, "I'm glad to meet you!"  She doesn't remember me from thirteen years ago, but I loved playing with her when she was just a tiny girl and have enjoyed each and every picture Jenny has sent to us of Gabby over the years:

On our way back to our hotel, we stopped at the LDS temple to take some pictures.  It was just so incredibly beautiful.  Here are a few:

On Monday we explored Knott's Berry Farm first thing.  Kenny's family are big roller coaster folks, so his idea of going to an amusement park is to hit every big ride as quickly as you can so you can get an idea of what the park is like.  This is, I have realized, completely different from my amusement park experience, which has been limited to two types of ride types - "Disneyland" and "Other".  "Disneyland" is exciting yet safe, so it is not only appropriate but necessary to linger and savor the nuance of each ride, area, and aspect of the park to imbibe the spirit of the experience.  "Other" is not and thus should not be trusted.  In fact, I have been to Knott's Berry Farm before while on a band trip my junior year in high school and was so scared of the rides I didn't go on a single one.  So being with Kenny was both frustrating (NO lingering) and thrilling (NO stalling).  The first ride we hit made us so dizzy that we could barely get down the stairs safely!

Woah!

And that's the ride:

After shaking the equilibrium back into our heads, we stumbled onto the next adventures.  Since it was early on a Monday morning and not spring break for anyone, we had almost no one in front of us at all.  At one ride, we had to wait for more people to show up in order to get on!

For some bizarre reason - I think something shook loose in my brain - I wanted to go on this ride:  

Kenny wasn't super keen, but wouldn't refuse to go because the Baldwins never ignore a big ride at an amusement park.  It just isn't done!  I was terrified after I saw how fast the ride took off - 82 mph in 2.3 seconds! - but it was going to happen.  In fact, I was so scared that I shut my eyes as we hit the top and shrieked some not-so-kosher words, which Ken took the opportunity to remind me of when we got back to the ground: "Wow, you said that word and a little girl was sitting right in front of you.  And she heard the Mormon lady say it!"  Whatever I might have screamed in terror at the top of the ride, as we hurtled back to the ground I was laughing my head off and begging for more.  It was that cool!

"Look, sweetie!" I said as we went on the ride again a few days later.  "They grow the grass extra thick at the bottom to make a soft landing for the people who fall off."  Ken looked ill.  Heh heh heh.  Turnabout is fair play!

There was one ride we went on that did a boomerang sort of thing that was terrifying and awful and both of us vowed never again, and another that twisted and spun when it hit corners - dizzying but exciting.  I got us to go on this ride because it looked spooky and I couldn't see any of what was happening inside of it, and it was very tame.  But still fun-looking on the outside!

And then there was this one.  

I love sharp drops, yes, but mind you - I am terrified of heights.  I wouldn't go up into the cupola of St. Peter's at the Vatican (big mistake) because I was so afraid of the high ceilings.  In fact, I had to leave the building and stand outside.  I managed to make it up to the top of the Duomo in Florence, but only through tears and while holding my professor's hand.  When I was little, I used to fantasize about being slowly sucked up to the ceiling of an immense church, pinned with my back to the ceiling in fright, and then suddenly, horribly dropped to the floor below.  (Yeah, that's kind of sick, but that's what sitting through too many long masses will do to a kid with too many nervous habits.)  That is this ride!!!  You are slowly, horrifyingly, agonizingly drawn to the top of a 254-foot tower and then sit there until - oh, God, save me! - a soul-sucking air-brake noise signals your doom.  You are then plunged down to the ground at 50 mph with only your harness to hold you in your seat.  I'm quite sure there is daylight between the seat and your bum.

Do you know what the worst part of all this was?  I thought it was going to be the moment where I could no longer tear from the ride, screaming "I take it back!  I take it baaaaack!!!"  Nope.  It was the part where, all the way up with my lip trembling in terror and regret, my @$$ of a husband gleefully prodded me with, "Wow!  We're really high up!  Goodness - just look at how tiny everything is!  And we're getting higher still!  Up, up, up!"  I limped away from that ride weak with spent fear, hoarse from screaming, and grouchy, yet secretly proud of myself for going on that ride at all.  Also, for not wetting my pants.  Small victories!

Kenny gave the signal and we headed out of the park to make our taping of the Conan O'Brien show up in LA.  I hadn't been to a live taping of a show since Mom and Jim snuck us into a taping of "News Radio" when we were 13 (and not technically 16 like was required).  We drove up through downtown LA and into the hills behind the Hollywood sign to the Warner Bros. Studio in Burbank where we waited in the cool sunshine, checked out the other lines ("'Mike & Molly'?!  Oh, wow, Mom would love that!  'The Big Bang Theory'?  Could you imagine?!?!") and I chatted with a security guard before it was time to be ushered into the studio.  It was smaller than I expected and it was so fun to see the huge moon that hangs over Conan's desk.  A guy came out and began warming up the crowd.  He introduced us to a hot fire marshall guy (I whistled) with some fire safety rules and then asked folks in the crowd where they were from.  After teasing some guys in the front row (man, how did they luck out???) about not remembering their wives' names or how long they'd been married, he asked "through a show of applause" how many of us were from out of town.  I got so excited I raised my hand, and of course the guy zeroed in on me.  Kenny was totally embarrassed, but I played it off and got the warm-up guy laughing and teasing me mercilessly.  The show was about to start, so finally he moved on to some other folks and then reminded us all of the house rules, and the lights were dimmed.  Ken gave me a look which said in so many words that it would be super nice to have a wife he could take out who would not humiliate him loudly wherever she went, but I knew that it's the squeaky wheel that gets all the attention on the comedian's set, so I sat back in my chair pretty pleased with myself.

Conan did a great show with some really funny gags and interviewed James Franco's little brother Dave Franco (who promoted his new movie "Warm Bodies" that we saw later with Mom and Jim, and it was really cute) and Emmy Rossum, who I recognized as "Christine" from the film version of "Phantom of the Opera."  She was way more confident and upbeat (dare I say stuck up?) than I thought she would be and was promoting her new cd.  Kenny and I weren't super interested in the celebrities but really enjoyed the jokes and side shows that Conan does so well.

I also got so excited whenever I'd see something "noteworthy" about California.  Hey, give me a break - I don't live here and the last time I was in CA, I had just gotten married!  So yes, the camera was out a lot, and probably for some very inconsequential things:

Oooh, look!  Famous names!  

A really artsy building we drove by while in downtown LA:

The Hollywood Bowl is near here!  (Well, of course it is.  We are in LA, after all.)

And no trip to California would be complete without a stop at this delicious establishment!  But unlike on our honeymoon, this time we only went there once.  Such restraint!

More to follow!