Tuesday night, the original El Gallo in The Fantasticks died. So did the original Billy Flynn in Chicago. And Det. Lennie Briscoe from Law & Order. All the same guy. RIP, Jerry Orbach. Kicked thespian ass for 50 years. So it goes.

Presenting a horrible name for a minor league baseball team: The Modesto Nuts! What's next, the Turlock Taints?

Short(ish) post that won't even begin to do justice with what's been going on in my life:

I'm an uncle for the second time. My sister Melissa gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Hannah Adrienne, who'll turn 2 months old this weekend. Melissa and Denlow have wanted to start a family for a long while now, and everyone is overjoyed that the moment has come. It's so interesting to see the baby develop more every time I come over to visit. Best early Xmas present ever.

G and I hopped a plane last month and spent a week on Maui. G found a great airfare, we cleared the time with our jobs, and a week and half later, we were feasting on the humble Hawaiian plate lunch and sucking down mai tais like they were going out of style. My first time on the islands. Even more momentous, my first time off the North American continent. I wish I were still there. Lush countryside, beautiful beaches, warm ocean water, great multi-culti food... sigh.

It's been almost 2 months since I moved to S.F. Things are still in boxes, though fewer boxes since I got a bookcase last weekend. Furnishings are bare - metal chairs (with wicker seats and backs) and a plastic folding table, all on loan from my family. I feel bad that G prefers lying on the floor when she visits, as I have no comfy chair (I have my big red ergo office chair, which is nice in its own workspace-comfort sort of way). Clothes need to be hung up, mementos displayed, carpet vacuumed. The only part of the place in good, complete shape is the kitchen - going batshit on new goods at Bed Bath and Beyond and Trader Joe's will help with that. I need to go on a similar batshit consumption jag at Ikea in the near future. Only G and her cousin Kyle have visited here - the family has been busy at home doting on the new bundle of joy. And, well, it's not presentable. From the quasi-moved-in state of my digs, I feel like I'm housesitting for someone I've never met. The unreality of it all is still palpable. But I'm here, I'm living alone. Still weird, but I do like it.

One-man show? On hold. Acting? Not since Nunsense A-Men! got the bum's rush in July. Singing? Yup, at City College and at karaoke nights (at a great Chinese restaurant on Twin Peaks, a 5-minute drive from my place). I'm still trying to decide what I want to be in my adult life. I hope I find out before I move into a rest home.