It's Dad 2.o Summit Eve, and the crew and I are in our cavernous set-up space at the Hyatt Lost Pines Resort. We're trying to concentrate on work, but we keep looking over at the 300 cubic feet of LEGO stuff that just arrived on three huge pallets.
I need to write this newsletter, and return a few hundred e-mails, and figure out ... what the hell are they going to do with all those LEGOs? They're bringing a master builder in to master-build something. What will it be? A steamboat? A four-bedroom condominium?
That would be cool. To live in a condo made of LEGO's. LEGOCONDO. That's fun to say. But you'd have a bitch of a time getting a zoning permit. How could LEGOCONDO make it up to code?
Can you imagine if they had LEGOCONDOs in New Orleans during Katrina? That would have been bad. I've been watching the first season of Treme, and I'm completely hooked. No artificially heightened drama, and a willingness to let viewers figure things out without the need to explain everything with contrived exposition.
One of the characters is a chef whose restaurant goes out of business, and when liquidates her restaurant, she sells her flatware and linens to Chef John Besh, playing himself. I hear his cooking is even better than his acting.
And he'll be here tomorrow night, making Jambalaya at our Welcome Party. We have to bring it indoors to avoid the violent thunderhail that's forecast for tomorrow night.
And a brief, fevered bout of free association comes full circle.
