Back to Philly, again

So a lot of people probably didn't realize it, but Rhi and Benner were back in Philadelphia this past weekend. It was a last minute trip, and a whirlwind one at that. We weren't even in town for a full 40 hours, really. But the purpose of our trip was to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of Grandmom and Grandpop Benner. What a remarkable accomplishment! This milestone has us thinking about how you measure 50 years...we'll post more on that later.

Here's a run down of the weekend:
Mike's Aunt Marge picked us up from the airport on Friday and to our delight had a philly soft pretzel and some after dinner candy that Rhi enjoys waiting for us. She is so thoughtful, and man was that pretzel good! Aunt Marge was one of the few people that knew we were coming into town and we tried to keep it a secret as much as possible. From the airport, Will and Aunt Marge took us to the Benner family hang out McShea's where we met up with Ray and Barb (Benner's parents) and brothers Ray and Chris. We enjoyed a gourmet and quite satisfying meal. Mc Shea's is actually owned by a chef who always wanted to open an Irish pub and if you get the chance to hit it up, you should.

We spent the night at Greg and Trish's house-- Greg you will recall was Benner's best man. Tirsh is expecting and it was so exciting for Rhianwen to see her baby bump! (Can you guess who is writing this blog post?) It was so nice to catch up and weren't feeling entirely jet lagged until the next morning when we woke up early to meet Rhi's parents for coffee. It was a brief visit but it was nice to spend time talking face to face. Gwenyth shared about a delightful little 3 year old at her church that she simply adores which was fun to hear about. Rhi had a nice little walk around Borders with her dad and we all got to catch up for a bit before stopping by the Lozano's to say hello. It's amazing how big the kids are getting and we always feel at home at Naylors Run Rd. But it was only a matter of time before they had to run off to celebrate baby Matthew's 2nd birthday.

We got there early and surprised Vince and Janet and got to spend some special time with Matthew while they set up for the party. Then we hid upstairs while everyone trickled in. Few minutes later we emerged and the smile on Benner's grandmom's face (Babe) was priceless. Matthew is such a big little guy and has such hilarious mannerisms that kept us constantly entertained. We can hardly believe that he is already 2 years old and are glad we got to be a part of the celebration.

We left the party to go get ready for the reason we flew in in the first place: To celebrate GM and GP Benner. A party was held at Evviva in Narberth and we had the whole restaurant to ourselves. It has a mix of classic and eclectic art and is really a one of a kind place. All of the immediate family were there and a photographer was busy at work to document it. Rhianwen enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with her three girl cousins: Maddie, Regan and Savannah who are all such sweet, fun and clever girls. The food was excellent and we all got to hear GM and GP's kids reminisce about their childhood. Grandmom and Grandpop Benner have seen a lot in their day. And they've worked tremendously hard-- year after year--in order to build their business and provide for their family. Their work ethic is defined discipline, commitment and perseverance and is to be admired. They have stood by each other through it all, and they are still each other's most precious friend. Grandpop read aloud a sweet poem he wrote for his bride of 50 years and the family showered the couple with gifts. It was a great night.

And no one forgot that the very next day was Savannah's birthday. She was celebrated with a birthday cake of her own, which you'll notice in the pictures. yum.

We work up at 4 am the next morning so that Rhianwen could fly home and spend the day with her friend Christine who was visiting LA. Details to come!




Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Much apologies to our friends that we didn't get to see. We didn't tell you we were in town because there just wasn't enough time. But hey, you can always come out and visit us!

San Francisco treats

I don't care what anyone says, there is nothing more romantic than a Valentine's Day spent with your sister. That's why we headed up to San Francisco a couple weekends ago to hang out with Sarah and Steve, our favorite set of in-laws!

It was an all-around fun weekend. We made sushi for Valentine's dinner, we explored SF all day Sunday and had birthday drinks with some of Steve's co-workers that night. Unfortunately, we didn't take many scenic photographs but here are some choice shots from our indoor times.

So what does it all mean?

BLOTWMWWAFP™ No. 3: Old Stuff

Remember when I started doing something called Benner's List of Things We'll Miss While We're Away From Philadelphia™? Yeah I didn't remember either, which is why I stopped after two entries. However, my Philadelphia nostalgia has recently been rekindled and I am back with a new entry about old stuff.

When we first moved to Los Angeles, it was almost alarming to see how new it all is. Everything from apartment buildings to office buildings to houses have the shininess of something that was built in the past decade or two. Everything is so new, in fact, that the definition of "old" is seriously compromised.

Like when we took our first look at the apartment building we now call home. The landlord showed us our modern unit, complete with central air and heating and a fairly new kitchen, and he said, "It's a pretty old building, built in 1973."

"Huh," we said, thinking about what we called home in Philly: an old inn with a rich legacy that was converted into apartments. There were no modern amenities, no central air or heat, just classic architecture, a storied history involving the underground railroad and blankets to keep us warm at night. "Our last apartment building was built in 1797. But 1973 is pretty old, too."

It is my theory that newness isn't really so much a matter of historical context out here in LA, as it is a state of mind. Compare Philadelphia City Hall (completed 1901) to Los Angeles City Hall (completed 1928) for instance. There's only a difference of 27 years, but look at the difference of style:

Los Angeles City Hall, very modern looking

Philadelphia City Hall, looking like it was built in 1200 AD

People out here just like their stuff new. And even though our tastes trend towards modern architecture, I think it's fair to say that we miss the inherent history in our surroundings. Back in Philly, just having a pint in a bar meant that you were probably in a building that was at least 100 years old and played some part in Philadelphia's history. If you're in a bar in LA, chances are it was torn down and rebuilt sometime in the past five or ten years.

But I guess that's just part of the collective LA brain: if it's not new, it's not great. Which is nice at times, since things are cleaner and more cutting edge. There's a lot more interesting and risky architecture, and more of an emphasis on artistry than you'll find back east.

But sometimes you kind of just want to go somewhere that was designed and built by people who lived long ago and be a part of that history. And Philadelphia, we miss you for that.

BLOTWMWWAFP™ so far:
1. Phillies Games
2. Action News Theme Song
3. Old Stuff

Just another Sunday morning hike

We value exercise here at Rhi & Benner, Inc. Well, the idea of it anyways. In terms of actually being consistent with exercise, we try but are often swayed by laziness to watch TV instead. But one thing we do fairly regularly is go for hikes at Fryman Canyon on the weekend, like we did this morning. And we consistently see celebrities there.

A few weeks ago, you'll remember, we spotted Ray Romano and Billy Idol there. This morning, we saw Kevin Spacey.

He was wearing a similar hat to Rhi's (ha) and he was walking with a woman, muttering something about his "enemies." Seriously. He also maybe-sort-of-kinda checked out Rhianwen, who was wearing her spandex jogging pants.

On the Lot

Back in mid-January, Sarah came down from San Francisco for a big fancy engineering event. While she was here, Rhianwen took us on the WB lot for a nice lunch and informal tour. We stuffed ourselves with delicious Mexican food, and then walked around the lot, marveling at the movie magic happening before our very eyes.

What you don't know is that Sarah actually threw a rock at that sign, which is why it fell to the ground. She's quite the vandal.

Here, you'll see a photo snapped by Sarah of "ER" shooting a scene on WB's fake city street.

That guy in the foreground is the security guard who kept telling Sarah to not take photos. But you see, Sarah is a rebel without with a cause: she wanted to see John Stamos.

And hey, just for fun, here is George Clooney's parking space.

That's right friends, if you come visit us in LA, you too may have a chance to see the portion of concrete on which George Clooney parks his expensive automobiles. (For all we know, this is some guy named Gary Clooney, or a lady named Geraldine Clooney. But whatever.)

And now, because there is no other way to end this post, here is a photo of Rhianwen wearing my shoes.

That's all folks!

That's it, we're getting one.

We here at Rhi & Benner love dogs, it's true. Every couple of weeks, we go through a cycle of being obsessed with getting one. We do research to figure out what are the best breeds for our lifestyle, what dogs are up for adoption where, if we could fit a pup into our budget. There is even a dog adoption fair that happens almost every Sunday at the park near us and if we're feeling particularly masochistic, we'll go look around and play with the puppies. Every time, it ends with a near-adoption.

But we haven't adopted a dog yet because we can't justify owning a dog at the moment, at least using commonly accepted logic and reason. But that doesn't stop us from dog-sitting, which we did a couple weekends ago for our friends Tommy and Lucy!

Say hello to Mr. Bojangles, or just Bo for short. This sweet guy is seen here lounging next to our bed, putting his paw on top of Green Monkey's paw. Cute, huh?

Yeah, super cute. (He's eight years old, but doesn't he look like a puppy with his haircut?) Unfortunately, we don't have any other pictures documenting our weekend with Bo. We sometimes forget that we have a camera. But look at this guy! He's one of the sweetest, nicest dogs in the world, and he actually likes jazz. (At least we think that's what got him to warm up to us while he was still sad about his parents leaving.) This was the first time we had an animal in our apartment, and it was nice having Bo around to play with, or just to sit at your feet while you read or eat dinner.

And so, based on that fact, that it is nice having a dog around, I am going to demand to Rhianwen that we defy all logic and reason and get a dog. This plan is sure to work out without a hitch...

How's the weather?

Today is February 3, 2009.

In Philadelphia, it is 32 degrees and snowing.

Here in Southern California, home of the Rhi & Benner, it is 74 and sunny.

We've got a couch you can sleep on, people. Just saying.

RIP John Updike, 1932-2009

I was a freshman in high school the first time I encountered the words of John Updike. I had a bad habit of reading in class rather than pay attention to what the teacher was saying, and so it went one day in English as I stumbled upon Updike's classic short story "A&P". I was transfixed from the beginning:

In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits. I’m in the third check-out slot, with my back to the door, so I don’t see them until they’re over by the bread. The one that caught my eye first was the one in the plaid green two-piece. She was a chunky kid, with a good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it, where the sun never seems to hit, at the top of the backs of her legs. I stood there with my hand on a box of HiHo crackers trying to remember if I rang it up or not. I ring it up again and the customer starts giving me hell. She’s one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I knowit made her day to trip me up. She’d been watching cash registers forty years and probably never seen a mistake before.

As the young teenager me read on, he recognized so much in the story: The passion and urgency of being a kid. The disserviceable desire to buck responsibilities in favor of looking cool. Standing up for something even if you're never sure what it is you're standing up for, even if you're standing up just to stand up. When Sammy makes his fatal heroic gesture, quitting his job to impress a girl only to find she didn't stick around to witness it, that she never shared the false intimacy he had invested so much in over a breif period of time, my heart sank and my brain applauded. Updike drew a picture of the complications of logic in the youthful mind unlike any author I'd previously read. I knew of Fitzgerald and Steinbeck and Salinger from middle school English, and I loved them all, but this Updike guy was something else.

I went out and tried to find more Updike. To my dismay, "A&P" was an outlier of sorts for the man; he seemed more interested in crumbling marriages and societal pressures on middle class adults than he was in teenage angst. And here I was, an angsty teenager craving literature that would affirm my station in life, trying to wrap my head around Updike's rather heady prose about people like my parents. Not quite what I was expecting.

Still, I forced myself to read the man's work. I read "Rabbit, Run" and the rest of the "Rabbit" books. I read his short stories, and had a particular fondness for his "Bech" series. Eventually, I got deeper into his repoirtoire (and it is a deep repoirtoire indeed: Updike had a committment to publishing one book a year for his entire professional career, a challenge he nearly defeated), and found that maybe I could absorb a lot more than I thought. For in many stories, those same youthful passions Updike wrote about in "A&P" were still lingering in the minds of his adult characters.

He did reach outside the boundaries of Northeast suburbanite drama from time to time, though. In fact, I noticed he seemed to just write about what interested him at the time, almost as a lark. He wrote sci-fi and comedy if he felt so moved, and a book about a coven of divorcee witches that became a Jack Nicholson film. In his spare time, he crammed in respectable careers as an art critic and poet. And for that reason, John Updike is a hero to me. Not simply because he was prolific, or because he could write whatever he wanted and succeed wildly. He is my hero because he could do all of that, but also remain authentic and true to who he was while doing it. No matter what he was writing about, you knew it was Updike writing, because he was so precise and so telling. He had an unmistakeable voice. You trusted what he wrote, because you knew him, he put it all out on the page and you felt indebted to him for sharing things so revealing, even in his fiction. I felt so indebted, in fact, that after reading "Rabbit, Run" for the first time I had an urge to confess my sins to Updike, to let him know who I am truly and deeply the way he had spilled his soul to me.

(And there is an interesting dichotomy to think about: In my mind, Updike bled on the page, used his heart as an inkwell, confessing to us everything, and yet his words tended to be so spare, so precise, so perfectly chosen. He gave the reader everything using very little. He is a master.)

As a writer myself, I am tempted to align myself with the man. I want to see things we have in common, similarities between myself and the two-time Pulitzer winner. But I know I am not fit to share a professional field with Updike; I feel guilty knowing our names share common letters. He is a giant in my mind, one that cannot be toppled or even approached. Though I have yet to amass a body of work that can be compared numerably with Updike's, I know I will look back and compare myself to the man and wonder how I could have written more like him. And I think I'm OK with that, because coming in second or third or millionth behind Updike is an honor unto itself. I'm just happy I was ever running the same race as him.

Rest in peace, sir. You will be missed.