Mihal's Musings

Venice (The One Without The Gondolas)

2009-09-01T20:50:00.001-07:00

I stepped out of my car and took in the fresh ocean breeze or anticipated one anyway. There wasn't one. And it was scorching hot. Just as I was wrapping my mind around the idea that I chose a bad day to come here, my thoughts were interrupted. A beach bum in a rasta hat and dreads that looked like they were nesting birds among other critters appeared at my side: "Hey honey, can you spare a dollar? Let's get loaded." How do you respond to that proposition? "Are you kidding me? You think we can get loaded for a buck? O.K., prove it!" But instead I just politely muttered, " No thanks." And that began my trip on the boardwalk, literally and figuratively. (no drugs were ingested, unless you consider guacamole and chips intoxicating, then... Yes)

I walked around, camera in hand, which made me stand out even more, and apparently provoked the next suitor to say "nice camera... and nice ass."
I treaded on and took some shots. (I didn't get a shot of Loaded Man, unfortunately.)

First, a couple of shots of the boardwalk..and a building.

Pipe shops, medical marijuana, mind reading, palm reading and a synogogue...Oh My!

This couple was working up a sweat on their Segways...or maybe that was just because their helmets were on too tight and it was about 90 degrees.

I really wanted to check my body energy and circulation. And there it was. A "check your body and energy circulation" booth. Now that I found out where to do it, I just had to figure out how.

Since I couldn't figure out how to check my body energy and what went where, and the beekeeping lady next to the sunglasses rack was obviously too busy with her bees to help me (see below), I decided to move on...

No Hassle? Are pipes usually a hassle? No hassle in the pipe shop? Is there usually hassling in pipe shops? Hassling pipes?

These warrior figurines were just hanging out on the boardwalk. I'm not sure why. But does there really need to be an explanation for warrior figurines?

Just like the warriors, these Venetians were also just hanging around on the boardwalk. I like to call it "the happy love corner"...there was a lot of love going around.

This bistro (I know it was a bistro from the sign) was directly across from "the happy love corner." These two should have considered going there, since they didn't look so happy here. He's tired of getting dumped over lunch, ladies. Come on, give him a break. (The bistro got an A, not all's lost.)

Freakshow? Do you really have to ask?

I don't know why this guy was so irritated when I asked him if he could read me "Green Eggs and Ham." I don't see anyone else around, Captain. I snapped the picture and ran. (He never did read to me in the end.)

His T-shirt read "Jazz is my life." Was he painting his way through Jazz school? Painting only JAZZ musicians, like the two behind him?

I hope they don't have a bicycle up there. Did they see the "No bicycles" sign?

"Honey, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. Good thing I brought the big turquoise bag filled with stuff, though."

On to Main Street...(doesn't every Main Street have a ballerina clown mascot?)

A tanning salon. "Darque Tan." Dar ke? Dar cue? Dark weh?

Then it was time to Exhale and Sit Still, so I did.

I left Venice without a single souvenir, drug, tattoo or knowing about my body energy and circulation...I might have to go back next week.

School Daze

2009-08-17T14:55:00.000-07:00

To school or not to school? That is the question. More specifically, to start schooling at 3 -- is it really necessary?

According to my fellow mommy friends -- Bubbie included -- it is. For working parents, it seems the only way. But for a work-at-home mom, like me, I don’t see the need. Still, I caved to peer pressure and narrowed my choices to three recommended Jewish preschools.

My son and I made our way to the first contender, a traditional preschool in the East Valley. The dilapidated building looked as if it was under construction, which I choose to not hold against the school – until my husband later said he’d attended preschool there and mentioned it had looked that way for nearly three decades.

After my son joined the other children for circle time, he was the first to recite his ABCs. The teacher turned to me and asked, “If you are going to teach him at home, what is left for us to teach him?”

We exited shortly thereafter.

The second candidate was the preschool on the hill. The teachers were pleasant and the school grounds were beautiful. The views were spectacular, which I’m sure was factored into the cost of tuition. How else do you justify a two-year preschool tuition that rivals the cost of a new Prius?

So we made our way to our third choice.

The director greeted us and said she did “not have time for this.”

This? My scheduled appointment? She spoke to us as she hurried down the hall. My son and I jogged closely behind to keep up. She announced that my son would be placed in a Hebrew-speaking class. If I chose to enroll him, I explained, my preference would be to place my son in a more diverse class, especially since English is his first and, frankly, his only language. She said that there were only two other classes: a religious class and a secular one, which was filled.

When I inquired about scholarships, she was quick to say, “Not every Jewish child gets to go to a Jewish school. Even my grandkids don’t attend Jewish schools.”

This seemed to be my cue to leave.

I can’t say that the research was for nothing. It helped inform my decision to continue outings with my son. We will still visit libraries, bookstores, museums and parks together and meet up with friends for scheduled play dates. Also, the Skirball and Getty offer particularly nice views.

As a wise teacher once asked, “If you teach him at home, what’s left for us to do?”

To her I would respond, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Published in the August/September issue of Jewish Family (a publication of The Jewish Journal)

Review: Whatever Works

2009-07-12T20:26:00.000-07:00

Woody Allen is at it again with his cynical existential bantering in his latest offbeat comedy Whatever Works, a script three decades in the making. This time Allen chooses a surrogate, Larry David (Seinfeld co-creator and creator of Curb Your Enthusiasm), to star in the film. This quirky comedy, though not one of Allen’s best, will still leave you with memorable one-liners and cynical ramblings, and even make you laugh out loud every now and then.

For full review go to Review: Whatever Works

A Vacation For This Economy

2009-06-03T10:04:00.000-07:00

It's time once again to consider a family vacation now that summer is here. In this economy, however, actually taking one may be another story. That's when my thoughts start drifting toward the word "staycation."

"Where are we going this summer?" the kids ask.

"Nowhere!" you reply confidently.

Staycation: a vacation without going anywhere. For starters, you don't have to choose an exotic location, because you are already there. Do you know how many people travel from all over the world just to be where you are? Not that Frommer's is putting out guides to Oak Park, but you get the idea.

Plus, what is so exotic about jet lag or second-degree sunburn, anyway? Is it worth the inexpensive lobster to be in a place where you can't even drink the water? At home, you can drink the water right out of the tap - filtered through your refrigerator or Brita pitcher, of course. Then there is the hassle of packing and unpacking, and choosing what to take and what to leave behind. (Kids?) And besides, you wouldn't want to forget that cocktail dress for formal night, leaving you a prisoner in your own cabin, would you?

Lets face it, the joy of vacationing isn't really about the location, it's just about "getting away." You can get away right in your own home. It's simple. First, disconnect your home phone (if you still have one), then shut off your cell phone and all other LoJack-like personal tracking devices. Have a picnic in your backyard or on the living room floor. You don't even have to acknowledge your neighbors. Your time away (or astay) should be all about you. Remember you are on staycation!

If you choose, you can even leave the comforts of your own home. How about sightseeing? You can cruise Hollywood in a double-decker bus and snap pictures of the outside gates of stars' homes. If sandy beaches are more your style, a simple drive takes you to the waves and cafes of Malibu (unless you already live there, of course). For a more eccentric atmosphere, the drum circles and incense of Venice Beach beckon. Or just enjoy the beautiful hiking trails in the Santa Monica Mountains.

How about visiting a museum? The California Science Center is a great place for kids and is always free, as are the Getty Center, Getty Villa and the Los Angeles Fire Department Museum.

For authentic Mexican cuisine, a trip down the Metro Red Line is all you need. With a $5 day pass, you can travel to the landmark Los Angeles Union Station with Olvera Street accross the way, and wander through the marketplace for Mexican souvenirs. No one will ever know you weren't really in Mexico.

If your staycation happens to fall on the first Friday of a month, head up to the Griffith Observatory for free, to learn about astronomy and space exploration in the Leonard Nimoy Event Horizon Theater. You can also join the monthly Star Parties there, where families can observe the stars and planets through one of the many telescopes.

End your staycation listening to live music at the City of Calabasas Free Sun Sets Summer Series concerts, the Janss Marketplace Summer Concert Series or free concerts at Warner Center Park (no need to actually go to New Orleans with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band coming to you on July 12).

When your best friend returns from her weeklong vacation abroad, wearing a surgical mask to avoid Swine Flu, you can rest assured that you did not contract Swine Flu in your own home, because swine isn't even kosher.

Published in the June/July issue of Jewish Family (a publication of The Jewish Journal)

Life Lessons Learned at the 99 Cent Only Store

2009-05-18T23:09:00.000-07:00

I thought the man behind me in line at the 99 cent only store was going to yell at me for holding up the line when he tapped me on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he said, as I was trying to decide between party favors for my son's birthday party. I turned around slowly, already thinking of something witty to say about why it was taking me so long to choose between sand pails and beach balls, but he interrupted, thankfully.

He asked if I was throwing a party for my child and went on reminiscing about his children's younger years. With tears in his eyes, he explained, "they teach us more than we can ever teach them."

I told the man I agreed with him, and completed my purchase of beach balls and sand pails (I couldn't choose between the two...and the price was right.) I made my way to the car thinking about what he had said. I thought about all the things that my son has taught me.

This is what I have learned so far:

1) We are born with our personalities and spend a lifetime trying to reinvent ourselves with what is deemed appropriate at the time.

2) We are forced to say we are sorry, even when we are not.

3) We HAVE TO share, even when we don't want to.

4) We learn to lie to please others. "Let's call Auntie X to tell her how much you love that sweater she knitted for you. Of course it is a much better gift than that train set you wanted. Trains can't keep you warm."

5) We have to hide our true feelings. "Please don't yell at the waiter, because he spilled ice cold apple juice on you, Sweety. It was an accident."

6) We learn that being polite often means compromising ourselves. (No explanation needed.)

7) We NEVER get hurt. "I know you fell down, but you're O.K.! Here hold this compress over your bruised ego...I mean knee."

8) We bend the truth to protect our families. "Of course cousin Jane loves you even though she doesn't send you birthday presents or Hanukkah presents or call or visit or..."

9) First we have to get the icky things done, before we can play. Really? "Help mommy put away the toys and then we can go out and play."

10) Authority always wins. "Because mommy and daddy said so." and lastly...

11) Doing things on your own, makes you big.

These are just the few lessons that came to mind on my way to the car (It was a long walk.) My son challenges me everyday to be the best person I can be. As cliched as it sounds, it is an extremely difficult task to take on. I can only trust that what I teach him doesn't take away from who he is. I hope I'm on the right track. (From the looks of my list...not so much.) If I'm wrong, (and what parent is, really), I can only hope that, when he goes to discuss me in therapy as an adult, that his therapist goes easy on me. And to my son; I apologize in advance.

Not a Groupie

2009-05-08T12:02:00.001-07:00

Recently, my friends have been joining "mommy groups." Groups where moms and their kids get together for weekly outings and activities. (How is that different than the activities I already do with my son or friends? I don't know...but I'm guessing that it just is.) I don't belong to a mommy group. Maybe I needed to. I want to fit in, too. I, too, want to swap recipes, host Tupperware parties and join multi-tiered marketing schemes. I began to feel left out, something had to be done.

So, I did what any good mother would do, and researched the best of mommy groups out there (on the Internet, of course).

And there it was: www.meetup.com.

Meetup.com is a group heaven. There are hundreds of groups to choose from anywhere in the country, and not just for mommies. I was overwhelmed. How do you choose the perfect one? Then, I found one in my area. "Star Trek and Space Exploration Group"...but thought that maybe I was getting off topic a little bit. (How fun would it be to explore space? Do they teleport themselves?) So, I continued my search and found one that seemed to fit a little better. I signed up for "San Fernando Valley Moms." (Because I just knew that we already were going to have a lot in common. We were from the same geographic location, how could we not?)

I couldn't wait to join. I began imagining hosting my very own Tupperware party, buying scrapbooking supplies and earning my Gold Star sales executive pin in my new pyramid scheme group. I couldn't wait...but I had to.

I filled out the questionnaire and clicked "join." A message appeared instantly: "awaiting reply from leader." So, I waited and waited and waited. No reply.

I double checked that my "application" was complete. Yup. Three pages all about me, my hobbies, my likes, my dislikes, my background, my opinions, my ideas, my life story and what I ate this morning for breakfast (I thought the last one was a little much too, but answered it anyway -Lucky Charms.)

I couldn't wait to hear from "the leader." I couldn't wait to be "led."

Two days later, it came...the email I had been waiting for.

It read:

Your request to join The San Fernando Valley Moms Meetup Group

was declined.

The person who declined your request said:

Feel free to post your pic and re-

apply.

A second chance? Gold Star Executive of the month? I decided to pass. I'm actually glad I got rejected (I know...that's what everyone says when they get rejected). But I REALLY mean it. I'm just not cut out to fit into a 'certain' group...and besides, I have way too many plastic storage containers already.

What's Going On?

2009-05-05T15:39:00.001-07:00

People have been exceptionally nice today. Ok, what's going on? Where are the hidden cameras? Doors were being held, mothers were friendly on the playground. I broke a bowl while standing in line at a Mongolian barbeque restaurant and (get this) the guy next to me offered to pick up the broken pieces. What? I thanked him profusely and did it myself anyway. He moved me out of the way and insisted that I had my hands full already, as my son was rearing to go. Maybe he just felt that clumsy ol' me had done enough damage already. (He was being nice, regardless.)

I thanked him after we chatted for a bit about how selfish people have become. I guess we were wrong...today anyway.

What's Your Stori?

2009-04-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

Mommyhood has recently made a comeback. This new trend in Hollywood, to become a mother, has made it o.k. for the rest of us. (Thank you Britney and Angelina.) So, on a recent trip to the bookstore, I was not surprised to find, yet another book, written by another celebrity mom. While my son was reading "Good Night Dora", I plopped myself down next to him with a copy of Mommywood, by Tori Spelling (and Hilary Liftin).

I began reading. "Ultrasound....blah blah blah". I kept reading. My mind began to wander. Back to the book. I read on. Something about fearing that her son's nose will be too big. I began skimming, hoping to find something interesting. My mind wandered again. "Should I get an iced coffee, hot coffee, tea, maybe a cookie for my son, some milk, hot or cold?" I even found myself peeking over my son's shoulder, more interested in finding out if Dora finally goes to sleep, than if baby Spelling's nose is the perfect size. (Maybe it's just me.)

My son was clearly annoyed by the fact that I was flipping the pages of his book and jumping ahead. I couldn't wait to find out what happens next. I was left with no choice but to go back to my book (or get my own copy of Good Night Dora, which was just not within arms' reach).

So, I kept skimmeading (skimming and reading), until I read something that caught my attention. Finally! Tori writes, "...I work as hard as the next person to make a home." This is the last sentence I read before I returned the book to its appropriate section: fiction.

Just for the record, from what I could tell, it was a great read and well written. Everyone should pick up a copy of "G0od Night Dora". I did.

Naked Brothers Band

2009-04-06T17:39:00.000-07:00

My interview with Nat and Alex Wolff (Naked Brothers Band) on their musical influences, recent nomination, upcoming summer tour and more...

For full interview, go to Naked Brothers Band

The Stall of Shame

2009-01-22T22:17:00.000-08:00

“I was with a married man at seventeen years old.”

Although I would like to take credit for this great feat (no, not really), this quote is not mine. This quote stuck out among the other quotes written on the bathroom stall at Borders.

The others included: "I slept with your ex." "I’m pretty, but I want to be beautiful." "I love hooking." There must have been at least fifty in different color inks, pencil and permanent marker. I stood in the stall, enthralled, nearly forgetting what I had come here to do.

Who were these girls writing to? An audience of women with full bladders? Were they seeking approval? If so, how would they get it? I didn’t see any w/b (write backs) or a contact number. K.I.T.? Would they be back to see if anyone had written? When I was a teen, we wrote in diaries; now, stalls must be the way.

I thought I would take the liberty of commenting on the quote that stood out for me. Because I believe strongly in not defacing public property, I decided to write here. It was hard not to pull out my permanent marker and comment on all these quotes (I carry one in my purse, in case any 5 year olds happen to want me to autograph a copy of their Highlights magazine.)

So I hurried out of the stall…and kicked off the toilet paper that was stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
Here I am. (Just to make it clear-out of the bathroom altogether.)

To the girl who slept with a married man at 17:

It is not YOU who should be proud, but him.

Let me guess, it probably went something like this. Mr. Married Man was probably in his mid to late forties with a comb over , a subtle pin-striped navy blue suit, Crest white-stripped brightened teeth, a shiny manicure and a corporate position going nowhere. It’s no wonder his wife stopped sleeping with him, tired of coming home to a guy whose only outlet was porn magazines and golf on the weekends with his buddies. His marriage was in trouble. Having been put on Viagra after his blood pressure and cholesterol meds made him lose the ability to perform, sleeping with him made his wife feel just like sleeping with grandpa (that makes for another blog). In fact, who would want to sleep him? Not even his wife, who found more of a thrill shopping with the girls and flirting with the smoothie maker at her gym after spin class.
But, nonetheless, he was smooth. He sat back in his easy chair at the Borders Café after a long day of work, with a shot of espresso in one hand and meds in the other. How could you resist?

He walked over towards you and your girlfriend and chose YOU. (Everyone always thought she was prettier; not this time.) You looked up from your iPod. It was love at first sight (for you, anyway). It was the hopes of a one nighter for Mr. Man or at least a few good hours.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” you giggled. Your friend left while you and Mr. Man chatted the night away over hot chocolates. Well, you chatted anyway…about finals coming up, how your mom doesn’t get you, your friends don’t get you, in fact, no one gets you. You even spoke of how hard it was to grow up without a father.
”Bingo,” he thought to himself, almost saying it out loud. There he was: Mr. Man, the father you never had.

He made you feel beautiful; grown up, in fact. He let you be yourself. He would do anything for you…to get you in the sack, of course.

One thing led to another as you left Borders in his beat-up black Porsche. He put his hand on your knee and assured you it would all be okay. You envisioned how you would introduce him to your friends and your mother. You imagined your wedding day. Where would you honeymoon? How many kids would he want? You had so many questions for him, but chose not to ask.

Before you knew it, the night was over. You gathered your things sprawled on the motel floor motel, which reeked of stale cigarette smoke. You smiled while he lay asleep. Just then, he got up in a hurry, dressed and left to pick up the bill. How thoughtful of him. He dropped you back off at your car parked outside of Borders, where it all began. Neither of you said much. I’ll call you," he muttered, and waved as he sped off. You stood there, thrilled, knowing he would soon leave his wife for you. Maybe he’d even be your date to the prom, you imagined. So many plans, so many dreams…with which you headed up to the restroom and tagged what you had done…so proud.

He called his buddies on his way home. He felt rejuvenated, knowing he still had it in him. He was now ready to work it out with the woman he loved, who waited up for him at home with a warm cooked meal.

I wish you luck and hope that the next time you feel like tagging something on the wall it is worth the mention, for your sake. In fact, maybe just keep it to yourself, so that others don’t have to feel so bad for another young girl gone wrong, not to mention destruction of property.

Sincerely (and I mean it)
-Me

Along Came A Spider

2009-01-22T21:41:00.000-08:00

At first, I was just minding my own business, enjoying my sushi at the bar, before a couple sat down next to me. I swear I tried to focus on the California roll before me, but couldn’t. The couple next to me, the girl in particular, was so loud. I am sure the people on the other end of the bar heard what she was saying as well. I know this because they were staring. (At least I told myself this, so that I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping.)

There I was, focusing on maneuvering the sushi from my plate to my mouth with my chopsticks, when they sat down. She pulled out his stool for him and then her own.
“Oh, ok,” he mumbled sitting down. She had a puzzled look on her face as she sat down.
“I’m just not used to that. That’s all,” he said
“What? Girls being nice to you ?” she asked sarcastically.
He just sat in his stool and they both concentrated on penciling in their orders.
Ok, I was curious. I really tried not to listen again, really, and refilled my soy sauce dish.
“So?” He said uncomfortably. Obviously this was going nowhere real fast. “Tell me about yourself, what do you do?”
(Shouldn’t they have known about this through the site they met on or friend that introduced them? Back to my ginger…sorry)
“I’m a movie-goer,” she said.
Turned out he was fascinated. “Oh, you work in the industry?”
“No, I just like seeing a lot of movies.”
“I see.”
Oh boy, he was really struggling here…but not for long. It wasn’t too long before she went into details about her dog’s surgery, and I mean details. (I had to shut this part out…come on, we’re eating here!) She went on to how much she loved her dogs and how difficult it was to train her rabbit to go in the litter box. Blah blah blah. All the while, the poor guy was trying to get in a word here and there. So he finally tries..
“I’m not much of a dog person, although I love…” he was then interrupted.
As if she was reciting a monologue, she continued. “I’ve always loved dogs. In fact, I want to get more, but my roommates won’t let me. I would never get a cat, though. I hate cats.”
That’s when he interrupted, “Yeah, that what I was just going to say. I love cats. I have had mine since college and can’t live without him.”
“I guess I could learn to love them,” she joked, as if he asked her to.
She continued to look down at her food, while he did the same. The sushi chef kept passing their plates and she would take his and hand it to him.
Finally, I think he flipped. “I can get my OWN sushi. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” she said obliviously.
I was done with my sushi and was haphazardly shoving ginger in my mouth at this point. That’s where I had to draw the line. I asked for the check, and so did she, apparently.
Our checks came. I paid my bill. She did the same…”I’ll pick up the tab,” she said.
“But we’re not done.” He pleaded.
“I am.”
“OK. Thanks…I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied while slapping down the cash. She jetted out.
The sushi chef came over to the poor guy. “What happened?”
“I got free sushi. Woman’s lib!”
Sometimes…there is nothing left to say.

I Bet You Think This Blog is About You...

2008-12-30T15:10:00.000-08:00

...don't you, don't you. If your scarf is "apricot", we've got a serious coincidence here. (quoting the lyrics to Carly Simon's "You're so Vain")

This blog is about YOU. YOU- everyone that has ever crossed my path, ends up in my mind, on my notepad and even my blog...indirectly. I often get asked "was that 'ME' you mentioned in one of your blogs?" People that I don't even know approach me about this. Even the barista at Starbucks asked the other day, now that's just odd.

L.A. Neighbors

2008-11-24T13:49:00.000-08:00

I excitedly hurried home with my son after completing my Thanksgiving shopping early, it was only Monday. Carrying groceries from my car up to my place is always a challenge when I'm juggling shopping bags and a speedy risk-taking two and a half year old. Somehow, I always manage...one way or another.

Today, it was a little bit more difficult than had expected. Luckily, one of my neighbors walked by. "Great," I thought, already thinking that I would take him over some fresh baked cornbread muffins after he helped me with my groceries. I held my son's hand and put down three of the five bags I was carrying (no joke). He looks over at us, says hello and keeps on walking. He wasn't carrying anything. He did not seem to be rushing anywhere. But, he just walked by, without offering any help.

Was I expecting too much? Probably. While I was busy ruminating about neighborly injustice, my son slipped off of one of the stairs. He was over it in about five seconds, yet I was in a slight panic (ok, major panic). Now ruminating about the fact that I had been so wound up in my neighbor's actions, I hadn't been there to catch my son. Shortly after, my son began his sprint toward our front door, while I trailed behind with my shopping bags.

My neighbor walked by again. (And we still hadn't made it to the front door.) He smiled. "Have a nice day!"
"You too," I managed to mutter, still with shopping bags in hand. I was just happy my son was ok and we finally made it to the front door.

18th Annual Environmental Media Asoociation Awards

2008-11-18T19:35:00.000-08:00

Hollywood turned green Thursday, November 13th at the 18th annual Environmental Media Association Awards. The green carpet was rolled out outside the Ebell Theatre as stars arrived in their hybrid vehicles and donned eco-friendly attire to promote awareness of environmental issues.

Click to read full article: Environmental Media Association Awards

The Mommy Hour

2008-09-23T21:44:00.000-07:00

The Witching Hour is a term that was once used to describe the hours when black magic was at its best. It was later used to describe the time between midnight and three a.m. I now believe these hourse to be ' The Mommy Hour'. Nothing supernatural here.

The Mommy Hour is the often the time between 9:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m. (give or take a few hours). After tucking the kids, and often the husband, in bed, this time is used solely for the mommy. In fact, I write to you now in The Mommy Hour. The day belongs to everyone else. You divide your time between work, home and family. Although there are periods throughout the day where a mommy gets time to herself, I don't think it's truly until this time where a mommy is most effective.

In the last half hour alone, I have been able to do more things than I could have done the entire day. I organized the kitchen, put away the toys scattered throughout the house especially the living room, grabbed myself a cranberry juice and pitched up a tent in my living room. No really, I did. (It was the cutest igloo/tent in the Kid's Dept. at Ikea. Room or no room, I had to buy it. Plus it was only $9.99) Now after the tent-pitching, it's mommy time.

During this time, I usually get a call or two from friends on my cell or an email, so not to wake up the rest of my household (although my husband is usually up having his Daddy Hour too.) We don't make small talk, we just stick to the facts and plan play dates for the week. The call is short and sweet, so that we can each get back to our own "mommy time." (Now if I can just fall asleep at a decent hour, so I can actually stay awake at these play dates, that's another story.)

I'm starting to realize that I might just be nocturnal and that sunlight actually hurts my eyes. The only problem is that I have to be up at the crack of dawn when little man gets up, because although he heads straight to the TV, turns it on and props his favorite DVD in the player, he still has a hard time frying eggs on his own. (We're still working on this one, so that mommy can sleep in. Is two too young to be frying eggs?)

According to my friends, The Mommy Hour is mandatory for the sake of the family. If mommy doesn't have time to wind down, then there's no telling what will happen to her family the next day or if breakfast will even be served. This unwinding time also includes: cleaning up, preparing kids lunches, paying bills, returning emails, opening snail mail, and folding laundry among other things. I like to focus on the other things: just sitting and staring at the walls (which I can't do--I always need to be doing something and wall-watching doesn't work for me), painting my nails (because who has time for a manicure, unless someone is getting married), taking a shower or bath (because, yes, some days we go un-showered.) Most of my freelance friends or On-The-Go moms (aka Stay at Home Moms) use this time to work, paint, write, create (whatever word you want to use). This is when I finally write without interruption, except for the occasional moments that I begin to drift of, other than that, I am good. I really value this time. I, as I am sure many moms, do.

So, after all the other hours of the day; the working hours, family hours, errand hours, avoidance of household chores and inlaws hours etc...it is good to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and time for the Mommy Hour. Now if I could just stay awake long enough to enjoy it.

The Little Ol' Lady From Pasadena

2008-09-20T23:24:00.001-07:00

I enjoyed some quiet time by myself at the food court in the mall. Just me, my Mediterranean salad, and a little old Japanese woman. Yes, you read it correctly--I ate a salad.

I promised myself to just sit still for a bit. (What? An unstructured activity? But what should I do?) So, I sat there alone in my thoughts: Should I have stayed home and used this time to nap like my husband and son?"...but I was interrupted by a little old Japanese woman.

"You look lonely," she said. "Ok, I will sit with you." I looked lonely? Had I subliminally asked her to sit with me? She responded as if I had asked her to. Was looking lonely synonymous with looking homely? What did she mean?

So, she decided to sit across from me, at the table I specifically chose farthest from the other tables. There must have been at least fifteen empty tables around us. I counted ten before she interrupted me. I wasn't sure what she was saying, but I smiled and nodded "yes." She was a sweet old lonely lady with a dark wooden cane in one hand. Her hair was dyed jet black and appeared as if she had it recently curled and styled (or she slept standing up.) You could tell by the lines on her face that she had seen many good years. You could also see sadness in her eyes, but she continuously giggled as she spoke, so I joined in and giggled with her. I don't know what we were giggling about, but when I realized what she said, I stopped giggling.
"Me silly woman. Too old to eat my food. It's falling everywhere." I didn't know how to respond, so I just focused on my food.

"Now, where was that Kalamata olive they placed on top of my salad?" I was determined to find it. Had I not been paying attention and swallowed it whole, pit and all? Just then, a tehina-covered lettuce leaf got stuck in my throat.
"Lady, you ok," she either asked or stated, I wasn't sure. I decided the latter and of course just nodded and smiled.

Our conversation continued. She made small talk. She told me she was from Pasadena originally, somehow her accent made me feel she wasn't telling me the whole truth. Then she said, "Mall not busy for a Saturday, huh ok." (Again not sure if this was a question or statement by the infliction in her voice.)
I replied, "No." (I'm not very good at making small talk.)

"You write lots. You have nice day," she said, as she got up to leave.
"You too," I replied overly ecstatic. I found my Kalamata olive, it had rolled under my plate.

That Which is Not Different

2008-09-19T17:10:00.001-07:00

On a recent drive from Los Angeles to Temecula, I could have sworn I was having deja vu. Every few miles alongside the freeway, I would notice the same shopping center with the same stores. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...then a tract housing community and even a Westfield mall. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...tract housing...you get the point.

I had to re-sip my decaf Iced Latte with soy a few times, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming or in some sort of trance. Were we in the same spot we had been in all along? Were we driving in circles?
Nope...but how could I be sure? The sign finally read "Dorothy I don't think we're in Kansas anymore", aka "Welcome to Temecula" right after we passed...
...yup you guessed it: a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and tract housing community.

We continued our journey on to Wine Country. I couldn't wait....green hills covered in grape vines, just like those that I remember when I visited Italy. We were getting closer...I new from the sign up ahead that read "Wine Country ahead"...but not until we passed a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and TWO tract housing communities.

This is no joke!!!

When we finally got to the winery, I realized it was not even close to what I had seen in Italy. There were also two empty lots facing each other on both sides of the road.

I looked at my husband and said "you know what would be great here? A Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and a tract housing community."
"But what would be across the street?" he asked.
"A huge parking structure to accomodate all the cars, of course."

We sipped our wine and toasted, "Here's to all that is the same."

SAHM

2008-08-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

I just received an email from a friend, describing another friend of hers as a SAHM. Huh? I sat there staring at the letters. S-A-H-M. , was it pronounced Sahem? Was the H silent? Same? Did it stand for something? Silly And Happy Mom? Sexy and Hot Mom? Is that like a MILF? (See I'm up with the hip acronyms....sometimes). I had to ask.

Apparently it stands for Stay at Home Mom, but you probably already knew that. OK. I am confused as to why we would need the acronym SAHM. Is that to make it easier to take out a singles ad in the local paper:

SAHM seeks SM(the 'M' standing for Male, not Mom in this case, but to each their own) or SAHD(Stay At Home Dad) to LOL together with.

Is it used in crossword puzzles?:
Accross
47. Four letters that describe a mother that never leaves her home.

Or, is it that when you are chatting on a MOM board (which all mom's do of course), you can state your career easier? - SAHM....LOL (I have to keep throwing that LOL in there too).

Another problem I have with the term SAHM is I don't find that to be an accurate description of what I do. My job has little to nothing to do with STAYING at all. I never STAY in one place too long, let alone at home. Maybe that's just me. I think it should be changed to OTGM (On The Go Mom) or RAHM (Rarely At Home Mom). I think these are better descriptions of what I do. Between Mommy and Me, swim class, tumbling and errands (which go on and on and on...), I can't honestly say how often I am AT HOME. When I picture a SAHM, I picture the little old lady who lived in a shoe, sitting back in her rocking chair knitting with tons of children running around and cats on her lap, in her hair, on the dining room table, on the kids.... (Not that there is anything wrong with owning cats or knitting for that matter). That is what I picture as staying at home. The kids run free and care for themselves, just like the cats (I know cat-lovers will differ). The mom just sits all day and Stays At Home. Maybe it is true "when you live in a shoe and have so many children you don't know what to do."

So, the next time you hear someone categorize a mother as a SAHM, think of me. Please correct them: "You mean an 'On The Go Mom,'" and I'll feel that just one more person gets me.

Saved by Cheerios

2008-08-26T12:45:00.001-07:00

So, there he was. He was tall, dark and...... greasy. He stood over the cash register at the mall pretzel shop. Our eyes met as he was about to take my order. Before I could say anything, he stopped to pick at one of the oozing pimples on his face. Of course, he wiped it clean with a napkin shortly after and grabbed a pretzel. With a quick "Never mind," I ran off as quickly as I could.

Shocking as it may seem, this was not the first time I had to deprive my son of a pretzel at a mall. It has happened before, the same way at a different location. I understand that acne was even more uncomfortable for the cashier and an awkward part of growing up, but as long as there was no interaction between the acne and my pretzel, I would have been ok. Am I asking for too much?

After a persistent mall search for anything else my son would eat as a snack, on opposite ends of the mall no less, all he could say was "No! Pretzel mommy, pleeeeeeeeeeease." How could I refuse after a pleeeeeease like that? But how could I explain to him that it was unsanitary, and there was no way I would let him have one. I tried. Trust me. I tried and tried.

So, I did what any good mother would do and I returned to the pretzel place. There had been a change of shifts. A new greasy teen was on the register. I took my chance because the pretzel- twister-teen was wearing gloves and handling the actual pretzels. The line was long. That's a good thing, right? (Not for my two year old son.)

We finally reach the register. Ok, I can do this. As long as the pretzel-twister-teen is the one that hands us the pretzel. Just then (and this is no joke, I am serious!!!), the cashier teen gets a paper cut and screams. He tells me to hold on and begins sucking on the cut on his finger. He gets back to me. I can't move. I am in shock.

Thank goodness for the pretzel twister. He must have understood the look of fear on my face when he asked if HE could help me. I asked for a pretzel that HE twisted and just took out of the oven. He handed me one and I left the money on the counter. I left before I could get the change. I didn't want to take a chance on having him touch the register that that greasy teen #1 had touched and paper cut teen #2 had touched. I must have had that same look on my face I remember having when I had morning sickness with my pregnancy, because he asked if I was OK. I nodded, thanked him politely and left with my pretzel.

I hesitantly handed my son the CLEAN pretzel after inspecting it closely ten times. "No, mommy! Cheerios? " he asked. Did he understand?

Thankfully, I always have a cheerios stash in my purse. With a sigh of relief, I tossed the pretzel into the garbage can and handed my son his zip-locked cheerios.

Kundalini

2008-08-15T15:35:00.001-07:00

Early morning, I head over to my Kundalini Yoga class. I have always practiced Yoga on and off "truthfully" for some years now, but have never experienced Yoga in the way I do through Kundalini. Kundalini represents a letting go of thoughts and control (what? control issues?) and helps one follow the flow (what?...not a chance, buddy!)

With my eyes barely open and mind already running a mile a minute, I almost turn back each time. I can't help but think of all the things "I could be doing with my time" instead of Yoga. Sleeping for one. I make it to class...we start out sitting cross-legged and reflecting on our inner selves. Inner selves? No, let's just move on and think about all the other things in the world. So, I fight my mind every step of the way. The conversation with my inner self begins:

Me: After class, I need to stop for groceries. Can't forget a roll of quarters for laundry. Wait, mind come back.
Mind: I'm here. I've been here all along. What?
Me: Ok, I have to stop thinking about other things.
Mind: So, stop thinking.
Me: Ok, I'm going to stop thinking now. Did I lock the door on my way out? Wait...clear my thoughts.
Mind: Need something to think about. I can't help but think about not thinking.
Me: Ok, I'll pay attention to my breath. Wait, no that will make me hyperventilate. Am I breathing ok? Too fast? Too slow? How come the guy next to me sounds like he's snoring when he breathes? Is that the right way to do it?

This conversation goes on and on and on (did I mention "and on..."). We move on with our poses. Wait..my thoughts are disappearing. I'm focusing on being scrunched into frog pose. Now, standing. My mind is slipping away from me. Damnit!!!! I need to regain control!!!!
But there is no use. I'm in standing position chanting 'Sat Nam'....Me? How did I get here?...and how do I get out of it?

An hour and a half later, the practice finishes in Savasana pose (pronounced Sha-Vasana) or corpse pose. Lying on my back with my legs straight out in front of me. Hands at my sides, palms facing up. I am calm. This scares me. (Yes, calm scares me.) My mind is clear. All I hear now is the old man next to me snoring. Is he asleep? No, he snores even when we are changing poses. Then the song. (Yes, everyone joins in to sing the same song as the end of every practice. )From the outside looking in, it looks really lame. I am not going to sing it! It's like singing "the Hokey Pokey" at the end of every class. "Now everyone join in." So, I put my right arm in, and once again, by the second verse....I'm singing. What? They got me again!!! Then class is over I get up to roll my purple yoga mat slowly. I feel as if I'm a fly moving through molasses. I feel everything is happening in slow motion. I put on my shoes. (which takes great effort) So, this is what it feels like to be calm? I head out to my car with a new attitude. Carefree! I decide that I am not going to let anyone or anything bother me today. I'm not going to swim against the current. I am just going to be at peace - always. I smile. I get in my car and head out of the parking lot. Just as I am ready to make the right turn, a teenager on a bike runs the light and cuts me off. I slam on the brakes and lean in on my horn. I angrily bite my lip to avoid cursing at the guy. He stops his bike, turns around and flips me off. What, now it's my fault!!!! And just like that....my yoga practice is gone, until tomorrow morning.

Just in case you are interested in the lyrics to the song...I have included them below:

You put your right arm in,
You put your right arm out.
(Oops...not the Hokey Pokey)

(Don't laugh when you picture me singing this at the end of class...)
May the longtime sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure, pure light that's within you
Guide your way home

Namaste!

Highlights of My Day

2008-08-13T14:18:00.000-07:00

You know what THEY say. THEY are always saying something. A talkative bunch THEY are. They say we are never happy with what we have. If we have straight hair, we want curly hair (flashback to bad 80's perms...EWWWW) (I almost posted a scary pic of myself with 80's hair, but had second thoughts. Some things should be left to the imagination.)

If we have dark hair, we are not sure what color to change it to, so we put in multiple colored highlights. Lighter ones, no darker, wait...a little lighter. Ok...a few blonde ones and some brown ones....

My hair started to resemble that of Rainbow Brite's (another 80's flashback). For those of you who don't remember her or for those of you born in the 80's (geez, I'm old) See pic below:

There were different versions of her with funky red and rainbow colored highlights. (I'm getting off subject here), but that's what my hair resembled with all the touch ups. So after careful review of myself in a mirror (which I don't care to do often), and feeling inspired by my fellow brunette icons: Sex and The City's Charlotte, Mila Kunis, Catherine Zeta Jones and Mary Louise Parker, I visited my local Rite Aid, spent a whopping $9.99 on a bottle of Dark Brown Loreal Preference Hair Color and poured it on. Within minutes, twenty five to be exact, my highlights were gone and I was back to my old self.

I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not...but it works for now...'til the next visit to the hairdresser or Rite Aid.

Thanks...

2008-07-28T10:21:00.001-07:00

Thank you to all the people I meet every day that influence me in some way, who teach without knowing, who inspire without trying, who give without expectations, who care without ambivalence, who are open and allow others in, who are authentic in an often cold and dark world. Thank you for not knowing all you do all the time.

Mamma Mia, What Were They Thinking ?

2008-07-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

A Greek Island with breath taking views, upbeat music, a sappy love story, Meryl Streep and spandex. You would think with all this you have the formula for a great musical. Some critics have even gone as far as calling it "the next Grease". Hey guys, don't press your luck.

Mamma Mia, starring Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan and Amanda Seyfried did not quite live up to its hype. After only a few minutes into the film, I thought anyone that can sit through this is a "super trooper" as Abba would say. I cringed every time someone opened their mouth to sing with Meryl Streep excluded. Not due to the fact that her voice was on pitch, but it was likable. Come on, she is Meryl Streep after all. Streep's acting was right on and believable as usual. She is at a point in her career. I respect her decision to do this role, she has nothing to prove to anyone any more. I expected Brosnan, on the other hand, at any moment to blurt out "Bond, James Bond". He was clad in "Bond-like" attire and could not make me believe him as anything other than the 007 himself.

After the opening credits, I waited for the movie to pick up its pace. It was slow-moving and the musical numbers seemed forced. The movie did not do the staged play justice, which was fun and addicting. The play would make anyone want to run out and buy Abba's greatest hits (which I did). The songs in the movie sounded like mere Karaoke versions of Abba. In today's modern world, a lot could be done to improve the musical numbers at the very least. Auto Tune anyone?

Overall, I left the movie thinking two things 1) wow, good for Meryl Streep. I still see her in the same light. And 2) I couldn't help but think "BLUE". Everything was blue about the movie, the set, the ocean and the way the film left me feeling.

Mama Drama

2008-07-11T13:34:00.000-07:00

For the sake of anonymity, let us just say that a certain mom was at a certain park in Burbank, California today with her son. The scene was frightful. Not the children running around, but the lack of concern on the moms' faces when their child would trip, hit or steal a toy from another child. But then again, how could they be concerned about their child when their cell phones, or new blue-tooth head sets were glued to their ears. Thanks to the new Cali law of now cell phones while driving, moms are reverting to making calls during play time with their children. To give the moms the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure they all were on extremely important calls. I even heard one mom say into thin air, aka her bluetooth headset, "You're kidding me, she cut her hair that short."

Although, I'd like to take credit for the creativity of that last line, I simply can't. It was a true statement said by a bluetoothed mother whose son happened to be stealing every toy my son wanted to play with and aggressively doing so.

After removing my son from the situation, because I'm sure it wouldn't have been nice to simply push her son off the toys, I walked away only to encounter further mama drama by another mom. Kudos to this mom, she was not on a cell phone, but instead talking the ear off of someone she befriended at the park about how she needs a break. The "befriendee" was clearly not paying attention. So, I followed my son into the sand box and weplopped down to build a sand castle, when loud mouth mommy comes over to tell me I should make sure that my son doesn't steal toys from other kids and pay attention. I'm sorry, but we were minding our own damn biz lady. You must have us confused for the bluetoothed beasts picnicking on the grass yards away from where their children actually are.

I was so upset that I took my son out of the sandbox and out of the park. Just as I was nearing my car I noticed another mother doing the same. We stood around and chatted that WE the moms who were actually playing with our kids in the sandbox where kicked out of the park. The Bluetoothed Burbank Beasts enjoyed the rest of their afternoon on their cell phones. while their kids bruised each other, themselves and learned Darwin's theory of survival.

Mommyfied

2008-06-23T00:02:00.000-07:00

While holding shopping bags in one hand, and pushing a stroller with the other, I ran toward the restrooms at Target with my newly-potty-trained-needing-to-go-now son. Just when I hit the door and tried to maneuver to open it with my foot while avoiding the handle (you don't know who's restroom-ridden hands have touched it), the door flew open to reveal two trendy Hannah Montana/Jonas Brother-loving teenagers girls. They were so busy texting on their rhinestone-covered Sidekicks that we almost crashed, if it hadn't been for one of the girls shouting, "watch out for that lady."

"That Lady"? When did I go from "girl" to "lady"? Merriam-Webster defines lady as "a woman having proprietary rights or authority especially as a feudal superior." When did I become superior and to whom? Where is the line of superiority drawn? Was I an instant lady because I was there with my son? Did I look like a lady? What does a lady look like? Me, apparently.

When did this happen? Was it when I stopped listening to my Tiffany and Debbie Gibson cassettes that I grew older? Maybe I should've kept listening to them or at least ripped them as MP3s so I wouldn't have to listen to them on my Sony Walkman any more, but on my iPod instead.

I graciously said "thank you" and held the door with my foot (washing it off soon after). The girls smiled a "you're welcome" politely and walked away. Just as my foot couldn't hold the door any more and my son reminded me that he needed to go now, the door began to close and I heard one of the girls mumble to her friends...."that lady didn't look like a mom."

Instead of thinking too much, I took it as a compliment. I don't look like a mom, but I am one and wouldn't have it any other way!!!!

Typing In The Rain

2008-06-22T23:19:00.000-07:00

Why hasn't anyone come up with a waterproof laptop computer? Come on. I mean, think of all the uses for this computer. You could type in the rain, underwater while scuba diving, or in the bath or shower (which is where I came up with this idea).

In a Seinfeld episode, Kramer installs a garbage disposal in his bathtub so that he can conserve water by showering and peeling his vegetables at the same time. Why not shower and type at the same time? For some reason I get creative ideas when I'm in the shower. Some people sing. I think. This is the time that I'm alone with my thoughts, no distractions, just soap suds and me.

As I was showering tonight (this is a blog about personal information, right?) I came up with a story idea. I had to quickly exit the shower, soap suds and all, to find my laptop and type away my ideas before I would forget them. If I had a waterproof laptop, I could have just brought it into the shower with me and typed away. If I had a garbage disposal, I could have prepared tomorrow night's dinner as well.

I'm a big believer in time management and utilizing each moment as efficiently as possible. Next time someone is in the market to invent something, think of the waterproof laptop or maybe even a waterless shower, so I can use my own laptop. It wouldn't be good to let creativity go down the drain.

Twenty-Ninth Annual Gift of Life Tribute Celebration Dinner

2008-06-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

George Lopez and his wife Ann hosted the twenty-ninth annual Gift of Life Tribute Celebration Dinner at the Century Plaza Hotel on May 18th to hono Samuel L. Jackson and his wife Latanya Richardson. Jackson was honored with a Humanitarian award for his involvement with the National Kidney Foundation. "They've (Jackson and Richardson) always done stuff for other people and have been great supporters of my wife Ann and I," said Lopez.

Jackson's involvement is a personal one, as his niece had been ill for a long time and awaiting a transplant. He made a plea at last year's gala to find a donor for her. A match was found: one of his cousins. "Now she has joined the one kidney club, as I call it," joked Ann, who gave her husban Lopez on of her kidneys in 2005, the same year he was diagnosed with kidney disease.

For full story go to Gift of Life

George Lopez Launches The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic

2008-05-07T23:29:00.000-07:00

Andy Garcia, Don Cheadle, Ray Romano, Joe Mantegna, Cheech Marin, Charlie Day and former Miss USA Susie Castillo were clad in their golf outfits and just a few of the celebrities who participated in The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic launched by actor/comedian George Lopez along with philanthropist Stewart Rahr. THe fundraising event, which was held at Lakeside Golf Club in Toluca Lake, California on May 5, benefited programs such as the Children and Teen Camping Program (allowing children and teens suffering with kidney disease to attend camp). Kidney Early Evaluation Program (KEEP), screening individuals at high risk for kidney disease and the Pediatric Education Conference, which provide information to children and their families affected by the disease.

George Lopez involvement is also personal, as he received a kidney transplant from his wife Ann in 2005, after suffering from chronic kidney disease for most of his life. George and his wife Ann believe in raising awareness for early detection, as his disease was discovered "too late".

For full story go to: The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic

Review: The Wackness

2008-04-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

Starring: Josh Peck, Sir Ben Kingsley, Famke Jannsen, Olivia Thirlby & Method Man

What do you get when you put together a college-bound drug-dealing virgin, promiscuous girls, a drug-addicted suicidal therapist who cheats on his younger wife, hip-hop music and 90’s slang and clichés? Sundance 2008’s Audience Award winner-The Wackness: a dramatic coming of age story with an appropriate title, as this film seems a bit scattered and dragged out.

For full review go to: The Wackness

Kids' Choice Awards 2008 - Orange Carpet

2008-04-08T14:39:00.001-07:00

The stars shined as they arrived for a slime-filled evening on the orange carpet at Nickelodeon's 21st annual Kids' Choice Awards, March 29th at UCLA's Pauley Pavillion. The star-studded guest list included Jodi Foster, Harrison Ford, Will Smith, Steve Carell, Shia La Beouf, Drake Bell, Hayden and Jensen Panettiere, America Ferrera, Cameron Diaz, Ashlee Simpson, Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers, Naked Brothers Band, Jordin Sparks and Rihanna among others.

For full story go to: 2008 Kids' Choice Awards

To Gift or Not to Gift...

2008-02-24T14:22:00.000-08:00

The wedding registry, such a simple concept. You will be attending a wedding, shower or any other momentous occasion and don't know what to get, so you simply look to the gift registry.

The gift registry -a list of things that the person has requested you buy for them with prices included. How convenient, right? Don't get me wrong, when you are at wit's end trying to figure out what to get "Miss, oh thanks, that's nice, it's so YOUR taste" or "Mr. thanks I love the gift, but you shouldn't have. No, really....you shouldn't have"., the registry is a sure win-win every time, or is it?

Registry dilemma #1: Miss "I-need-to-entertain" (although she hardly ever has entertained anyone before, unless you count her tasteless jokes) registers for a 15-piece china set at $150 a setting or mixing bowls for $29.99. Clearly, what do you think the entertaining Miss would prefer you get her? If you answered mixing bowls, you clearly have not gone through the registry shuffle thoroughly to note that the $29.99ish gifts were thrown in to throw you for a loop, to, in fact, make you feel bad that you didn't get her the new electronic sweeper that does it all for you (because when you are busy entertaining, who has time to sweep?) for $399.99 (not $400.) How do you compete with the "great gifts" (high-priced) and the "cheap, I can't believe that's all you got me gifts".

Registry dilemma #2: Getting lost in the crowd. Now that you have made your selection and decided to go in with your closest friends, relatives and even people you don't know attending the wedding, to get Mr. & Mrs. Need To Entertain that new refrigerator, just so you don't appear cheap, how does the happy couple know how much you've contributed to the group or if you just signed the card. When they send out Thank Yous will it just be one for the group (ie" Thank you fellow refrigerator contributors, we will be thinking of all of you every time we refill our glasses with the great crescent-shaped cubes from our automatic ice dispenser) or is there a way to partially purchase the item through the registry to receive full credit for your part. Also, is your contribution refundable?

Registry dilemma #3: The element of surprise is gone. Where is the old-fashioned sense of anticipation to see what Aunt Matilda knitted you this time or if your always drunk Uncle Chuck's 95th bottle of Tequila (shipped to you from one of his weekend cruises to Mexico) include a worm in it or not this time? How exciting is it to get gifts you already know you are going to get? The bride opens yet another gift from "enter online store registry here" with the same wrapping paper and of course logo on the bag to further remind her that yes, this gift is from your registry don't worry. (atleast wrap it in a grocery bag or something to scare the living hell out of her) So the bride opens her gift and smiles...."Wow...mixing bowls. Thank you so much I love them..." and then mutters under her breath..."of course I do, I chose them..but didn't think that my maid of honor would stoop that low and get me the $29.99 cups after all I've done for her- giving her the honor to stand up by me at the alter and have her hair done with me...." (Ok, getting carried away for a moment). How should the bride respond to the gift purchases ? Should she act surprised that that particular person bought that particular gift or just smile because she willingly received exactly what she asked for?

Registry dilemma #4 (final dilemma..because I decided to end it here...I could go on for days). You are the ONE person who strays from "THE REGISTRY" (aka "THE ONLY GIFTS TO BUY). Kudos to you for your daringness, but good luck trying to fit in with everyone else when the bride or her maid of honor (because she gets all the tasks the bride avoids) looks over the list of gifts she has received scribbled on some restaurant napkin and remembers you. "Oh yeah, THAT gift". She is thinking exactly what you'd think she would. " Why didn't I get EXACTLY what I asked for?" There's no room for creativity here people. (Not even in the choice or wrapping paper) You're basically doomed, unless you've included a gift receipt. You're especially doomed if you thought you were being smart for purchasing the EXACT (or so you thought) replica of that Cuisinart blender at wholesale for half the price, when as the bride is

opening your gift you see it's not "Cuisinart" but "Cuisincopy". You should've stuck to the registry, Then the worst thing that would've happened is the bride would've known you purchased one of the $29.99 fill in gifts, but at least it's $29.99 worth of something she actually wanted.

The registry has taken the guessing game out of what to buy for the bride and groom. With it, it has taken out the element of surprise. But who needs surprises any way. With all the surprises the bride will have to face at the wedding... oh no, the napkins don't match my centerpieces, will my centerpieces match my dress, will my dress match my shoes, oh...where did I put my shoes again....at least the bride can be sure of one thing....(if it's not who she's marrying as well) that the gifts she received were exactly what she ordered. What she's going to do with all of them..now that's another question.

Penelope Premiere

2008-02-24T14:03:00.000-08:00

I was at the Director's Guild in Los Angeles on February 20 for the premiere of the film Penelope starring Christina Ricci and Reese Witherspoon.
For the complete story go to:
Penelope Premiere

Table For Tu

2007-11-04T00:40:00.000-07:00

My husband and I decided we would go out for a nice evening. We headed over to Citywalk (not because that's where nice evenings happen, but it is a few blocks from where we live). We decided on Cafe Tu Tu Tango for two reasons: I had never been there before and there was no wait to be seated. Of course the latter is the real reason we chose this place.

To begin, the host places us at a table by door, where everyone passes you on the way in and out. Let me specify, it is the ONLY table by the door. We asked to be moved, only to sit at a table, where we were nearly sitting on top of the people next to us. It was a little too close for comfort, so we asked to move yet again.

Finally, we are seated at a cozy table for two by the window. This is nice. Now we can just sit down and enjoy a good meal. Not quite.

Our food arrives: calamari, guacamole and chips, and salmon salad. We dig into the salad. Suddenly, my husband grabs his napkin and covers his mouth. He looks as though he had just seen a ghost. I froze, unsure of what was going on. With one hand over his mouth, the other pointing to his salad, he says "look at my plate". I looked. All I saw was some lettuce, salmon, a small cherry tomato and a Kalamata olive.

"What?", I asked.

"Look closely", he said with a frightened look on his face. Ok, at this point, I was starting to get nervous. He already proposed to me over three years ago. Had he thought of some clever scheme to get me another ring? An anniversary band? Nope!

"At the olive?", I asked.

"That is not an olive. Olives don't have legs...."

"Ewwwww!!!" Just then I realized that the frightened look on his face wasn't that he had surprised me with a ring and was upset I didn't get it, but that there was a huge beetle of some sort in his plate. It was bigger than any olive could ever be. There it was, dead in our salmon salad.

We called the waitress over and told her that we just wanted to leave. We hadn't touched the rest of the food and took a forkful of salad that we now regret. She looked at the plate in disgust as well, apologized and told us to go.

The only thing worse than seeing that beetle in our plate, was being hungry and losing our appetites. We must have walked around Citywalk for half an hour before we decided to be brave and venture out for some fries from Tommy's upstairs in the food court.

We did manage to laugh about the whole thing and enjoy the rest of our night. Looking on the bright side- we survived ! But the poor beetle.....that's another story.

Table For One

2007-10-25T21:56:00.000-07:00

"Table for one ?", the maitre d' asked condescendingly, glaring at me.

"Yes, please", I whispered shamefully. I probably shouldn't have been ashamed, but I was. I don't know how long it had been since I dined alone, thankfully.

Being married for four years and a mother for nearly two, doesn't leave a lot of time for solo dining. Now it even felt uncomfortable. To add, I was at a networking conference and spent my lunch break away from everyone. I guess I had the wrong idea, as did the lone wolves at table number two, three, four and five, around me. (Scratch that, table five's guests arrived late). You would think at a networking event, we'd socialize and share a table, perhaps. But no, that could be complicated by the fact that we would have to converse or even worse share a tab and split the bill.

I felt uneasy, as if I had to keep myself busy to come across confidently. I felt that everyone was staring at me. Well, they weren't, but it sure felt as though they were. The people at tables two through five didn't appear anxious. They kept themselves busy with trivial tasks. One was fidgeting with his cell phone, another with his laptop. The man at table four was meticulously rearranging the items in his backpack. They must have felt just as uncomfortable as I had.

While I was sitting alone and without distraction, I was able to just slow down for a bit and relax. I began to enjoy the stillness. My food arrived. I ate as I watched the man at table number four clean out his backpack for the second and third time.

I realized that sitting alone wasn't so bad after all......only next time, I'll be sure to bring my backpack.

Don't Let the Stroller Hit You on The Way In

2007-10-21T23:15:00.000-07:00

   It wasn't until I recently joined a Mommy and Me group that I realized that I am a "mommy". You'd think I would have figured this out earlier; my son is now 16 months old. It hit me all of a sudden, as did the stroller behind me on the way from the parking lot to the classroom, that I am a mommy. Holy cow....when did this happen? I mean I know when it happened, but how? Wait, I know that too.
   Being around other mothers really makes you think about yourself as a mother. You can't help but compare who you are to others, at least I can't. I've found that I've come across three types of moms and don't know where I fit in exactly.
   First, you have the chic 40+ hour full time worker, part time L.A. mom. It's easy to spot this mom, because you can usually find her in one of two locations: The Sherman Oaks Fashion Square or The Grove on a Saturday, walking ahead of her nanny, who's pushing a dual stroller with the two kids she had back to back. She has a Frappuccino NSA (No Sugar Added) in one hand and her latest Coach bag in the other. She is wearing Juicy Coiture sweats and DKNY gym shoes that she would never wear to the gym. She looks well rested, bleached, botoxed and manicured, while the nanny looks like she just ran the marathon through a rain storm. She is calm and joins her nanny and oh yeah, her kids, almost forgot about them, for a small salad lunch. After her salad and Vitamin Water, Mom just takes one more look at that outfit she'd been eyeing in the window at Bebe, while the nanny continues to feed the kids fried chicken nuggets, fries and a soda.
   Next, you have the full time mom with part time sanity. You won't find this mom at the mall, but instead she can be found at your local grocery store, Costco or park. This mom is confident that being a mom is the only thing she wants to be. Wife? Well, that went out the window when she and Daddy decided to bring Junior into the world. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. She is always in a hurry. You can easily spot her because she usually has Junior's lunch somewhere on her sweater and her highlights have outgrown to the point that you are not sure what color she's going for. There's no nanny in sight for this mom. Nope, she can tackle it all on her own. She enjoys doing laundry, baking cookies and eating. In fact, eating takes up most of her day. Along with being the quickest stroller folder and unfolder this town has ever seen, this mom can hold Junior in one hand and build a house in the other. She is the Xena of all mothers.
   Lastly, you have Mrs. Balance-It-All 50-50. 50% caring for her children and 50% devoted to her hobbies, marriage, vacations, household chores, childhood dreams, family security, sanity, relaxation, supporting her husband's career, keeping the in-laws happy, manicure, pedicures, massages, cookie baking, outings for her children, extra-curricular activities, soccer practice, PTA presidency, animal shelter volunteering, cooking class, yoga, weight- watchers, along with the struggle of not being botoxed Mommy #1 or food-stained Mommy #2. The pressure is on for Mrs. Balance-It-All. She loves being a mom first and foremost, but does not want to lose herself in the process. Her in-laws swear she doesn't have time for them, her husband asks why she never slows down, and she thinks she is not doing enough. Mrs. Balance-It-All is able to take it all in stride at the end of the day, with a warm bath, a couple of Advils and a shot of tequila or chamomile tea, or tequila in her chamomile tea, depending on the type of day she has had.
   I think about the three types of moms I've come across and can't decide where I fit in. Botoxed mom is definitely not me. Come to think of it, I do drink Frappuccinos with no sugar added, but yup, no botox, no nanny, no dual stroller and definitely no Coach bag. (Note: I must be the only person on this planet who is not a Coach fan. Sorry, Coach.) I'm also not Mommy #2, although I have been known to walk around all day with Elmo Mac and Cheese on my shirt or in my hair. My hightlights also haven't grown out that much. Mommy #3 is definitely not me. I don't like tequila and I'm allergic to chamomile.
     Perhaps, I am different. I truly enjoy motherhood and my family. (Let my in-laws think they are included in this statement, it's OK.) I've come to realize that I don't have to be like someone else or keep up with the Spellings next door. I learned to shut out the opinions, a.k.a suggestions of others. I'm proud to be Marc's mommy. His opinion of me is the only one that counts. Now if I keep telling myself that, hopefully I will truly believe it.

Botox Shmotox

2007-10-19T20:02:00.000-07:00

Botox- is it really necessary? What's wrong with wrinkles? Who decided they are not attractive? Doesn't it make the person look older, wiser, having had more life experience ? Isn't that the point? Is there a reason we all need to look like teenagers with baby perfect skin ? Has Hollywood taken over the world?

I have to admit, I do like when people who have gotten botox injections admit that they have and they don't naturally look like they are not aging. Isn't there a name for that kind of disease ?Shouldn't we all be proud to grow old?

Bored

2007-10-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

Merriam-Webster defines boredom as "the state of being weary and restless through lack of interest". Although I understand the literal meaning of the word, it is the concept of boredom that I can not grasp. It's not that I have never been bored, but the times that I have been are because I'm at the wrong place at the wrong time, a place that I don't feel I belong. To be bored on a daily basis is something I have yet to experience. If being bored is the product of doing something with lack of interest, wouldn't a mere solution to the problem be to simply change your course of action or at least your perspective of what you are doing? Of course if boredom makes you happy, then by all means continue to do what you love.
I began thinking about the phenomenon of "boredom" after hearing it over and over again from someone close to me. It seems as though she is always bored and searching for something that makes her happy. A funny thing is that her husband is always bored too. Is it just me that sees the forest through the trees? Perhaps, her and her husband are bored of each other? Why not just do what makes you happy? The funny thing is that I am the one she turns to in these times of "I am so bored and have nothing else to do, so I called you". (I must admit that it is nice to know you are needed, even if the person has expired every other option beforehand.)
Of course everyone is bored now and again, when sitting in traffic or waiting in line at the post office, but choosing how to react to the situation is what constitutes boredom. So every time I run around thinking of how much I do in a given day, I remember her. It's better to have a lot to do, than be bored. At least that's my opinion.

PUBLISHED ARTICLE : Crafts Revitalize Israeli Spirit

2007-10-19T03:06:00.000-07:00

   While strolling old Jaffa’s gallery district in May, Zehava Bitton saw empty storefronts. "It was heartbreaking," said Bitton, who was on a mission with American Red Magen David for Israel (ARMDI), Israel’s equivalent of the Red Cross. "I used to work as a tour guide in the area, and I remember it was so alive before the intifada. There were people walking everywhere, and music spilling out into the streets. But now out of 40 galleries, only six are left."
   The galleries are among numerous of Israeli small businesses that have folded since 2000 as a result of a significant decline in tourism due to fears of terrorism.
   To help the dying arts scene, Bitton initiated "Art for Life," which will take place in three Southern California venues Dec. 11-16. The event will feature work by more than 15 top Israeli artists, who will donate one-fifth of their sales to ARMDI. Eight will appear in person, including world-renown sculptor Frank Meisler and jewelry designer Amitai Kav.
"To survive for Israeli artists these days means going abroad," said a grateful Ori Gabrieli of Gabrieli Weaving.
   Bitton knows something about survival. The former paratrooper fled her Sharm el-Sheikh home when Israel returned the Sinai to Egypt. She eventually worked for the Jewish Agency for Israel during the massive Russian and Ethiopian immigrations of 1991. After moving to Los Angeles around 1995, she became a western region board member of ARMDI.
   Bitton, 43, envisioned "Art for Life" after meeting Gabrieli in Los Angeles some months ago. He told her he had been forced to close several of his galleries and to drum up clients overseas. When he described participating in bazaars with other Israeli artists across the United States, she asked Martin Cooper, ARMDI’s Western Region board of directors chair, to help plan a similar event for Los Angeles.
   "It will show that beautiful art is still being created in Israel, despite the political situation," she said.