David and Maddie: Why I Love Moonlighting (at least, the first three seasons)

Once in a blue moon, a television series comes along that gives me a thrilling satisfaction, that meets and exceeds not only my expectations, but my hopes and dreams. In fall of 1996, it was "Blue's Clues," arriving just in the nick of time to reassure me that my infant daughter would be watching the show I would have created.

But eleven years earlier, back when getting coffee still meant from a pot, it was "Moonlighting."

In an era when nighttime television was dominated by soap operas and buddy detective shows, comedy was consigned to family sitcoms and romance replaced by sex and dysfunction. That is, until the premiere of "Moonlighting."

So what do I love about Moonlighting? I love that, in the 1980s, a show was allowed to be intelligent, funny, irreverent, and original. That it gave us two characters who were so right for each other that the fans went berserk every time there was a hint of another romantic interest. (Let's face it -- it takes a lot to not like Mark Harmon!)

It is filled with literary and contemporary cultural references. It seemed like it was written by my contemporaries (it was). In its own wacky way, it was more real life in its realm of fantasy than the night time soaps. The office staff looked like real people. It's quick, witty, and always acknowledges the audience, whether by breaking the 4th wall, or David reminding Maddie they're on television. ("Get serious? Maddie, I just touched your rear end. If I get any more serious, they're gonna move us to cable!")

I love "Moonlighting" because I fell desperately in love with David Addison, but desperately wanted to see him with Maddie. I love it because I couldn't predict what David and Maddie would say. I love it because, for three years, I could sit down and watch Hawksian comedy. I love it because, from the first episode, Maddie was David's and David was Maddie's, and Cybill Shepherd and Bruce Willis played them that way. I love it because I thought it was a niche show written just for me, and I'm not the only one.

But mostly, I love "Moonlighting because, when I saw it, I slapped my forehead and cried, "Why didn't I think of this?"

Lisa was robbed!

Friday night when Lisa Rinna was eliminated from "Dancing With The Stars" my girls sobbed. I had tried to prepare them for the possibility, but she danced so beautifully on Thursday night that they just couldn't believe it.

My older daughter was so distraught that the only way I could get her to calm down was to suggest she write a letter to Lisa. She asked if she could send her an email instead. I found an email contact for Lisa at the website of her talk show on Soapnet, and she happily typed away at a heartfelt note. Like most talk shows, the communication is one way. But I think the mere act of writing was enough to help her resolve her disappointment.

Still, Lisa Rinner has worked so hard, and danced so well, that it is a shame we won't get to see her dance one more time. There is no question that Jerry Rice has improved enormously, but there is a difference. Everyone knows that he is not on par with Stacy & Tony, or Drew & Cheryl, but Lisa had the potential for 10s.

The finals, without Lisa, just won't be the same.

Plumbing & frozen pipes in thePacific Northwest

I live in the Seattle area, and, for the past couple of days we have had an arctic air front hovering around, creating colder than normal temperatures. Lows in some places have even gone as low as the teens, although the lowest I've seen at our house is 21F.

Late this morning, I happened to glance out the front window of my house, and saw a river of water running down the driveway on a sunny, clear day. What the -- I went to check to see if the spigot for the outside hose had burst. When I opened the door to the garage, I discovered a small waterfall from the ceiling. The water was running under the garage door, and out.

Fortunately for us (at least, this time, the floor is slightly slanted, and the door doesn't seal shut completely, or the garage would have been ankle deep in water. Instead, there was just a little pooling. I turned off the main water valve (which, coincidentally, we had replaced last year after it sprung a leak and caused all kinds of damage inside our home, since it is, ineplicably, in the hall closet) and called my husband, who was in Canada for the weekend. He happened to be driving, and turned around and headed home.

After digging fruitlessly for the business card for the plumber we'd used before (who had someone at our house in 90 minutes on an evening phone call), we finally figured out the name, and I called. They have been busy with emergencies for cold complications (mostly burst pipes), but he was able to promise someone in four hours. Then I called the drying people, who had done an amazing job preserving our hardwood floors.

Turns out it was -- you guessed it -- a burst pipe. And, surprise! it was plastic (well, pvc), even though the exposed pipes in the garage were copper. So they will replace a majority of the pipe. The good news is, we were able to turn back on the main water valve, because there is a shutoff valve in the garage for the exterior water fixtures, so we can use the toilet. And the sink. And the tub.

Of course, this doesn't happen very often in other parts of the country where the weather is sub-freezing for most of the winter, and people insulate their pipes and bury them. But it's an added cost most people (and builders) think isn't necessary here.

So, thank God for plumbers! And for people who specialize in drying out saturated wood so preserve the integrity of a house. Because, otherwise, we would all have to rely on our own ability, or lack thereof, to fix our own leaks.

Why Alberto Gonzales Won't Recuse Himself

By now it seems pretty apparent that lobbyist Jack Abramoff's influence with the Republican Party was widespread. A photo recently released from the White House, shows Abramoff with President Bush.

A group of Democratic senators wrote a letter to Alberto Gonzales, the Attorney General of the United States, that he resign. Remember, Gonzales was Chief White House Counsel before he became Attorney General.

In spite of that, which, it seems to me, as well as others, presents at least the appearance of conflict of interest, if not in reality. But Alberto Gonzales doesn't think it is necessary.

Not necessary? Why would someone who is a member of the Republican Party, the party of the Religious Right and, one would therefore surmise, one of ethics, not care about a conflict of interest? Aren't fundamental Christians the most ethical of all people?

The reality is, scandals like Abramoff's influence in the party may embarrass them, but it doesn't concern them.

The only thing that is important to the Republicans, including George Bush, is making abortion illegal, and prohibiting marital rights for gays.

So how does this relate to Alberto Gonzales? Gonzales doesn't think there is a conflict of interest. Why? Because he doesn't care about this investigation. He cares about ensuring the "culture of life" becomes the standard.

The reality is this: Jack Abramoff got what he wanted, when he wanted. That should scare the heck out of the Republicans, and they should be scurrying to distance themselves from him and anyone in the administration he dealt with, and try to salvage their own careers. But they won't. Because they know that their supporters are only interested in two things -- banning abortion and banning gay marriage. And, I suppose, disintigrating the Democratic Party. Alberto Gonzales won't recuse himself -- he doesn't have to.

Just when the joke gets good

Today, sadly, Harry Whittington, the man caught in Dick Cheney's birdshot fire, suffered a heart attack as a result of a piece of birdshot that lodged in his heart. Obviously, it is not appropriate to joke about this now, since the man's life is in a little more serious condition than he was yesterday.

Of course, any time anyone over the age of 70 is injured, it is graver than if a younger man suffers the same fate.

Of course everyone hopes for his recovery. I don't think anyone, even Cheney's worst critics, want to see the the veep in the position of being charged with some kind of manslaughter.

Still, though, I wouldn't want to be hunting with Cheney.

Cheney's Shootin' Party or "Quayle? Is he here?"

As if everyone else hasn't already jumped in about Saturday's, er, "shooting incident" (Read what the late night talk show comedians said on Monday night):

When I first starting reading about this yesterday, I started laughing. It is like a free gift! I couldn't wait to turn on The Daily Show tonight, but it didn't take long for the jokes to start. Especially after the details started to emerge.

No wonder they kept it from the press as long as possible. He was hunting at what amounts to a dude hunting ranch, run by Republican supporters, it was unpublicized, and Cheney made a bunch of bonehead mistakes? Embarrassing!

Now, of course, the discussion has gone beyond what an idiotic mistake it was, and how Cheney isn't the hunter he claims to be, to how long the incident was kept secret. Given that he was hunting without a proper license in Texas, and that he was wearing headphones, almost puts him in the category of Britney Spears driving with her 4-month-old baby in her lap.

Chances are, Britney won't make that mistake again. But here's betting that the vice president will be back hunting again as soon as his schedule allows.

Children's birthday parties

Today I took my girls to a birthday party. The space was great -- big, with lots of games to keep everyone busy, as well as a lot of space for running around as five and six year olds are wont to do. The host family generously invited siblings, as well.

Ironically, the party space was in Snoqualmie, and we passed Carly's memorial spot on the way, which always tugs at my heart. Carly was 16 when she and another girl were killed in a car crash, on the way home from a church group meeting. One girl, thankfully, survived with superficial wounds. Carly was a bright, shooting star, and was the light of her family.

But back to the birthday. It was a pretty good party, but there were a few things about it that bugged me. I admit these are pretty selfish.

First, there didn't seem to be much of an information flow going. At the bar there were ice cream sundaes, punch, and sandwiches, but no announced it. I sort of figured it out on my own after seeing ice cream dipped and served. The only thing that was really announced was singing Happy Birthday and cake, and then it was largely left to the parents there to round up kids. That, and the group photo. And, even then, it wasn't clear which kids were to be in the photo and which ones weren't.

Present opening was not announced, either, and the birthday girl was stuck in a tiny space with the kids all crowded around. And while the mom hung out at the ice cream bar, and seemed to be taking care of the cake and ice cream, the children pushed closer and closer until some other parents organized them. Even then my little one cried because none of the crowding children would widen the circle to allow her in to watch. Finally the grandpa lifted her over to the other side of the group, behind the birthday girl, so she could see. Gone to waste was a big stage, with stairs, where she could have sat while the kids spread out.

I also confess I felt a bit like a fish out of water. I spent the majority of my time standing alone, watching other adults chat with each other. The few times I approached anyone, the conversations were, for the most part, brief and superficial. Eventually I got involved in a lengthy conversation with the birthday girl's grandpa, who was interesting, and kind, and interested in what I had to say. Children seem to have an easier time, generally just accepting unknown children to join in the fun. None of the parents who did not already know me seemed the least inclined to strike up a conversation, even in proximity, but just give me one of those coldy curious, "So who are you?" looks.

On the other hand, the cake was great, and there was plenty for everyone.

Bye, George Hamilton -- Lisa rocks!

After last night's Dancing With The Stars, there was little doubt that George Hamilton had reached his limit. In fact, it is good to note that last week, when it was announced that Tia Carrere (my 6-year-old's favorite) was eliminated, you could see George turning to Edyta, his partner, and Edyta whispering furiously in return.

No doubt he had secretly been hoping to be eliminated then, before the challenging Viennese Waltz. (In which, I would like to say, Tia Carrere would have rocked. One can't help but think that, given another couple of weeks of dancing, she would have been in the final four.)

We loved George -- he was elegant, and brave, and amusing, and gave great performances, reminding us that over 60 really isn't that old. But, even so, broken ribs and an arthritic knee make it difficult to achieve the speed required in ballroom dancing.

But, tonight, we were still on the edge of our seat, waiting to see if George's fan base would do in Lisa Rinna. All along I have been pulling for Lisa. Ever since her wonderful turn as Logan's mother on last season's "Veronica Mars," I have been a fan. Given how hard she seems to work at everything she does, I expected her to be a strong competitor.

And now, she has won the hearts of my girls. I think seeing her with her daughters clinched it for them -- any time little girls are involved, that's enough for mine. Up until last night, the girls insisted that they wanted George to make it to the final two, although they continued to say they wanted to see Stacy win.

But tonight, when George was eliminated, they were jumping up and down screaming, "Lisa's still in it!"

And I hope she wins it all. She has tough competition -- Stacy is such a natural that she never even looks like she's breaking a sweat when she is dancing like a pro. And Drew is right next to her in competence. But let's face it. Stacy and Drew have the advantage of the resiliency and stamina of youth.

Don't get me wrong -- it is obvious the two of them welcome challenge, and work hard to deserve perfect scores. But it's just so much more fun to watch someone over 40 kick butt on the dance floor.

It's one thing, like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, to start dancing young and be dancing your socks off well past 40. But, like in almost any sport, it is vastly different to start competitive dancing past 40, and excel.

Lisa has our votes.

On Liza

The latest episode of BRAVO's "Inside the Actors' Studio" featured Liza Minnelli in a special two-hour program, referred to by James Lipton as a master class. And that's what it seemed to be.

In addition to being interviewed, and somewhat guardedly candid about her childhood, Minnelli sang three songs, chosen specifically to demonstrate various challenges in performance singing.

Although it would have been interesting to listen to her speak at length about her personal life, and everyone is dying to know all the juicy tidbits about her marriages, especially to David Gest, it was much more interesting listening to her speak with authority about her craft. Notably, more people than usual were visibly taking notes while she spoke. Sprinkled throughout her conversation with James Lipton were nuggets of practical performance advice.

Minnelli related this story: When she was a girl, she asked her father what acting was. He said he didn't know. But the next day he came back to her and said he had given her question a lot of thought. And he thought acting was hearing something for the first time, and saying something for the first time. Which is, of course, acting in a nutshell. That ability to take and, night after night, present a story as if it's happening now.

She talked about how lucky she was to have Fred Ebbs as a friend, and how she gives him credit for creating her performance persona, with the songs he and John Kander wrote for her. And how lucky she was to have the same great dance coach for life, since she was age 5, and for being able to find great, talented people, and learn from them.

One thing I inferred from her comments is: Stealing from other performers happens. But it should only happen when you have tried other things, and someone else has created a gesture, or a look, or other piece of business that is exactly right for that moment. Is it really stealing? Or is it taking the best of what someone else has done, and use it to create the most dynamic moment possible? To make the work the most important thing?

To watch someone like Liza Minnelli, who has remained successful as a performer, and been given accolades and awards through a four-decade career, reminds us that there is no substitute for hard work and a dedication to professionalism. It also makes one wonder why we are so willing to be sidetracked by someone's personal life, and allow it to color our thinking about their talent.

Because, when it comes down to it, the main difference between celebrities and us is that we don't go through our lives under the constant scrutiny of the public eye. Given that ninety percent of what we hear is untrue, and ninety percent of the remaining ten percent is truthiness -- someone's version of the truth -- perhaps we need to be a little more empathetic. How many of us would enjoy having the paparazzi follow us around and interpret our lives for everyone to read?

More young actors today should take a look at how Minnelli approaches her work, and learn from it. Because, no matter what the decade, or what the circumstance, she is always Liza with a Z. And she knows it, and is always respectful to that.

Super Bowl 40

What a game! It was played fairly poorly, as most Super Bowls are. And both teams had missed chances. It's kind of too bad for the Seahawks that, even after a spectacular year, and their first appearance in the Super Bowl, they are made out to sound like losers by their own fans. And it's kind of too bad that the Steelers don't seem to be getting credit for winning this on their own terms, instead of being lumped in with a completely different team from years ago. But the commercials were mostly fun, few were offensive, and the NFL made use of the turned down mike and the five second delay.

Still, all in all, it lacked the boringness of many past games.

Next year, Seahawks fans.

It's halftime of Super Bowl 40

It's halftime of the big game. The Rolling Stones? Heh. They look pretty good for old guys whose bodies have been assaulted by tobacco, drugs and alcohol for years. But are those pit people really necessary? I think the fans in the stands are rocking enough without it. Besides, they couldn't come up with any Motown talent? In Detroit?

So far it's been pretty good football. Both teams have made their share of mistakes, but they're both showing why they are there.

The officials, though. That touchdown of Pittsburgh's? Shouldn't have been called a touchdown. They are sure going to be sheepish when they watch the game films. But, since they were so close that the Steelers would probably have scored anyway, it's probably not that controversial. Still, it looked like a gimme, and this is the pros. They don't allow gimmes at the Masters' in Augusta, either.

And the jacket's off and Mick's singing and strutting "Satisfaction." After this half the fans will probably go home, forgetting they are at a football game instead of a Stones concert.

Let's play ball! Enough British hips!

I Wanna Be A Producer...

This afternoon we took our 6 and 9-year-olds to see "The Producers: The Musical" at the movie theater. "But isn't that movie rated PG-13? And isn't it rated that for raunchy vaudeville humor and language?"

Yes, it is. But with the absence of violence and nudity, and the actual number of swear words at a minimum, we thought the vaudevillian "naughty" humor would mostly go over their heads, the gay element a non-issue, and we could easily handle any questions. That never were asked.

On the other hand, the musical numbers are fantastic, and it tells a great story of the friendship and trust that bloom (heh heh) between two people.

How much do we love this musical?

Sherman, set the wayback machine.

Back in the 1970s, I caught the movie once or twice. I was immediately enchanted by Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder. And years later, I could still relate most of the plot, and sing most of "Springtime For Hitler."



Hubby, on the other hand, had never seen the original, but is a fan of Nathan Lane ("Why, it's good old reliable Nathan..."), Matthew Broderick (Save Ferris!), and other Mel Brooks works. ("Frau Blucher?" "neeiigh!") We casually talked about seeing it in development in Chicago, but life intervened, and all too soon it was opening night on Broadway.

A year later, we decided we wanted to see the original cast. So, impulsively, Glenn ordered premium tickets from Broadway Inner Circle, hired a friend to nanny for us, and took a whirlwind trip to NYC to see "The Producers." We ended up seeing Brad Oscar as Max, instead of as Franz Liebkind, but he was fabulous. Our only disappointments were missing seeing him as Franz, and seeing Nathan Lane. But we didn't worry too much -- we knew there would be a movie!

How much do we love this musical?

When hubby was in London last week, he didn't have time to go see the London production, but he did take time to shop. Between this trip and our NYC trip, we all have t-shirts, we have two hats, a sweatshirt, and we can show up in full garb. Which we did today when we went to see the movie.

We listen to both the cast album and the soundtrack, and compare the differences.

We own the script annotated by Mel Brooks and Tom Meehan.

We can't wait for the DVD.