Leftovers and Then Some

As it rains Bengal tigers and Great Danes on this mid autumn Oregonian evening, I have some catching up to do. If I were to say "Here goes nothing", you have every right to turn this off right now. Instead, I'll press on like a cheap fake fingernail.

Not since Twin Peaks has there been a TV series right up Cherney alley like HBO's The Leftovers. I got hooked on this during a late summer vacay to Denver, though I only caught the first season, but this damn thing haunted me from the moment I feasted my eyes and brains upon it. Based on Tom Perotta's novel, this odd duck of a program about the aftermath of what could or could not have been The Rapture is everything I want in a show and more. At turns weird, dramatic, satirical, touching, maddening, funny, brutal, confusing and most of all melancholy, The Leftovers owes its success in my eyes to not several people. Naturally it begins with Perotta's source material, but enough cannot be said for the Herculean efforts of showrunner Damon Lindelof. The cast is absolutely magnificent with not a sour apple in the whole crazy bunch-Justin Theroux, Carrie Coon, Amy Brennerman, my new girlfriend Ann Dowd and a career topping performance by Scott Glenn. I fell so madly in love with this, I headed to my nearest library for season two as soon as I returned from Colorado, then got HBO for a month for the grand fiinale. Totally worth it.

I've had a hankerin' (no g required) for some New Orleans fare for many a year. I don't know if I'll ever get

to that part of the world, but I've craved some of the delectable cuisine to the point that I considered running away with the circus until Ringling Brothers went out of business and Cirque du Soleil said "Non!" Anyway, I got my wish when my stepson Matt treated my wife and I to an evening at Acadia, a New Orleans bistro here in Portland. Oh cher, this was some good eatin' (again, sans g).

The barbecue shrimp starter about did me in as I dipped my bread in its devious broth of butter, pepper, lemon and white wine, filling me to the point that I was almost too stuffed for the entree. But I roughed it with an amazing jambalaya. My wife went for a soft shell blue crab and crawfish etoufee while Matt dug into a nice fat pork chop that would choke your mama if she had trouble chewin'. (no g spot here neither) Dessert was a bread pudding from heaven with a sauce to die for which justified the heaven reference. Top this off with some delicious (and potent) bar beverages and four star customer service, Acadia gave us the best dining experience in years.

I had the good fortune of having yet another theater group tackle one of my scripts, Murder: The Final Frontier. The Brickstreet Players of Clovis, New Mexico came in right after Song of the Canyon Kid closed in Minnesota to announce their desire to produce said murder mystery this October, making it the second production of this show this year. And it went right back to its roots as a Halloween offering. So thank you to Brickstreet as well as the Mantorville Theatre Company, San Luis Valley Theater Company and Sugar High Theatricals for a great year.

That's four shows in four different states. This is like the Electoral College. I could get elected this way.