Free Jewelry?

Today on Baby A and my walk into Westwood village, a woman gave me two pearl necklaces: one for me and one for me to give to someone I love. What was the catch? None.

The necklaces were compliments of Dogeared Jewels and Gifts. Basically, they want to send “good energy into the world through personal and positive gifts.” The necklaces are small pearls with cards discussing beauty and love. I’ll be giving both of my necklaces away since Baby a will rip them from my neck. the one of beauty to my friend and neighbor Cy for being such a wonderful friend over the years and the one of love to my mom.

Thank you, Dogeared.

I Challenge You to a Week of Thanks

The countdown to the biggest day of gratitude of the year, Thanksgiving, begins today. And I am throwing down the gauntlet. I challenge you to be thankful for something each day until Turkey Day. Here’s why:

• People who are grateful are more content and hopeful, according to Robert Emmons, PhD, professor of psychology at University of California at Davis and author of Thanks! How Practicing Gratitude Can Make You Happier.
• Thankful people recover faster from illness.
• Gracious people handle chronic stress better.

So for the next seven days blog, tweet, write or tell others why you’re thankful. (You can leave comments here all week). Consider it a warm up for the big day.

They Made My Vice Better

Now, if they only made a "tall" size for Baby A.

I have a weakness for Starbucks’ iced coffee. I drink one nearly everyday, but I hate that I use a plastic cup each time I didn’t one. Using a reusable cup would be great but the ones out there have excited me…that is, until now.

Starbucks took their flimsy plastic cups made them so they’re BPA-free, dishwasher safe, and double walled so they don’t drip from condensation. Yippee! My iced coffee isn’t contributing to my recycle pile. I don’t think I have been so excited about a product in a long time.

Feeding My (Writing) Spirit

Shameless promotion of Tod's latest book

Saturday I went to hear Tod Goldberg read from and discuss his latest collection of short stories, Other Resort Cities at the Mystery Bookstore in Westwood. (It’s a fabulous independent bookseller. I highly recommend checking them out.)

When I can I try to go to Tod’s signings. Not because I have known him for most of my life (we went to high school and college together), but because Tod reminds me about my role as a writer. Specifically, that it is my job not just to inform but to tell stories (Duh).

Here’s the thing: I’m a health journalist and I mostly write articles that tell people to do things to improve theirs through diet and exercise. It’s easy to forget while combing through research to find tips you can use that I, too, have stories to tell.

I do enjoy seeing my old friend and listening to his stories about people who know. However, it is the way that Tod renews my writing spirit, despite his use of the F-word for emphasis.

A Monday of Possiblities

It is eerily quiet. There’s parking. I’m in Westwood, right? I walk across Wilshire Boulevard and I’m the only person in the crosswalk. It’s Monday, isn’t it?

I turn down Broxton and begin walking to my Starbucks—the one that knows my drink and Baby A’s name—and hear the buzz of restlessness.

There are thousands in the village awaiting the premier of the latest Twilight film, New Moon. Some started camping out on Thursday, others joined them on Friday, by Saturday the line of tents covered a couple of blocks, and last night, Westwood’s sidewalks surrounding the Bruin theater looked like a tent city. Personally, I don’t understand this fanaticism.

As I stood in line for my coffee, I  overheard the group of people behind me discuss whether they’ll be waiting 6 or 7 hours for the stars to appear on the red carpet (Yes, this line was to look at the parade of stars on the red carpet. Not even to SEE the movie.) and whether they should have In N’ Out Burger for lunch or go straight to Diddy Reese for dessert. All of this sounded good to me and it isn’t because cheeseburgers and cookies are my thing (They’re not). The influx of star-gazing women brings money (hopefully) to my neighborhood—one that despite its close proximity to UCLA has struggled in the past.

So, welcome Twilight followers. Please drink lots of coffee (you can take your pick from Starbucks, Coffee Bean, Perfectto, Peets), and eat lots of donuts (Stan’s), cookies (Diddy Reese), sandwiches (Sandbags) and the plethora of other food offerings in the village. You have lots of time to kill, might as well enjoy all that Westwood Village has to offer.

A Kitty’s Life

Wouldn't you love to spend the day doing this?

In the sitcom “Still Standing” (reruns can be seen on Lifetime), Jaime Gertz’s Mom character gets the flu. Grandmom is visiting. So she marches Jaime upstairs to get well. The episode goes on, Jaime gets well but pretends that she’s still illing so she can take a break. In her sick bed she doesn’t have to worry about cleaning the house, taking care of her children or working. She wants to milk it for all it’s worth. For a short period, she has the life of a kitty.

This morning, I also had a kitty’s life. I’m fighting off something (cold or flu, I’m not sure). I got to sleep in while M took care of Baby A. I even got to take a nap while they went for a walk to get me chicken soup. So I spent the morning in bed with Pumpkin pictured above. She spend each day sleeping on my bed with the only worry being whether Baby A will climb up and bother her. This was my only worry today, too.

 

The Number of the Day is 40

This week Sesame Street started it’s new season. Thank God. I’m not sure how many times I would be able to sit through reruns of the Help-O-Bots or How Many Hats Can You Wear on Your Head Day (even though Baby A and I play this game at least once a week).

The show is in its 40th year and as The Week pointed out it hasn’t gone without controversy. When it first aired it was banned in Mississippi because of its multi-racial cast that included Maria and Gordon (the man doesn’t looked like he has aged a bit.), both of whom are still teaching America’s youth. Including my 16-month son who’s internal clock knows when the show is on. He hands me the remote each morning and afternoon hoping that I will find Elmo and his friends.

I do, happily. In the short time that we have been watching, I’ve watched A. laugh at jokes that he didn’t yet understand just a week ago; mimick actions—whether dancing, singing or drumming—that the characters are doing; and find comfort in the characters that he probably sees are his friends. As for me, it gives me something to build our day around. For instance, when Elmo is thinking about frogs, A and I jump around the apartment like them. Or, if the letter of the day is “M” I point out all the words beginning with the letter. I don’t have a degree in childhood early education, but this seems to work for us. It also affords me the time to set dressed, cook, and possibly send an email or make a phone call.

Happy 40th anniversary, Sesame Street. Without you, most mothers would spend their days in pajamas.

The 20-Year Itch

At the end of the month, Palm Springs High School’s Class of 1989 will have their 20th reunion. I won’t be there.

It just isn’t in the cards. All the moving parts didn’t fall in line. I didn’t attend my 10-year reunion either. I really had wanted to but my then-inlaws wouldn’t switch the holiday with my parents. So, I ended up in another desert miserable. Which could be the reason why I was looking forward to going this year, despite my own Liz Lemon reunion reality dreams.

All isn’t lost. As my oldest dearest friend pointed out: Because of Facebook, we’ll have more to talk about than what have you been doing for the last 10 or 20 years. In this case: Because of Facebook, I’ve connected with the people I would have wanted to see at my reunion. (There are a few people I still wonder about, but that’s another story.) The social networking site has allowed me to see my high school pals’ kids, support the professional endeavors of producers, musicians, actors and authors that I graduated with, and cheer on those who were making life decisions or falling on rough times. I believe that it will also allow me to keep in contact with these people and try to meet up with them for a drink (coffee or otherwise) when we’re in each other’s hoods.

Thank you Chantal, Beverly, Hyun Sook, Amy, Pam and anyone on the committee that I’m forgetting for planning what I’m sure will be an awesome evening. I look forward to seeing pictures on Facebook.

Time for a Change

A week ago, we fell back to standard time and the extra hour only made me more tired. I’m not sure what it is about moving the clock that makes the days longer, my sleep deeper and my motivation non-existent. I haven’t wanted to sit with my laptop and work, despite the creative thoughts swirling in my head. Today, I finally have a moment to do some work and I can’t wrap my head around it. No amount of coffee, water or food can help center me. Luckily, I have this blog to focus me. I always check the stats and see what search terms are driving traffic, but this week I haven’t been writing. I should be writing. I need to be writing. And so today, this site is doing its job—warming up my brain for the work ahead and centering me so I can concentrate on the tasks that are in front of me.

What I Love About M.

As I mentioned yesterday, I’m celebrating a wedding anniversary. Even though we’ve been married for only two years, that’s only a minute of the time that we have known each other. Like countless other relationships, we started out as friends so I have had time to amass a list of the things that I love about M. [Note: These are in no particular order.]

His mind is always working. Call him “The Energizer Bunny.” He’s a thinker and a doer. This can be a good thing and a bad thing depending on how you look at it. I tend to enjoy the part where his creative juices start to flow about anything: getting rid of 50 things, how to structure an article, saving for Baby A’s education, etc. I’m glad to know that he thinks about these things as much as I do. And he doesn’t sit around hoping that they will happen.

He’s kind to animals, including insects. There are two stories that illustrate this best. The first is when we lived in suburban Los Angeles, he and I would walk a 3-mile loop. Along the way he would stop, pick up worms that had found their way onto the highly-trafficked sidewalk and place them into the dirt or grass. The second is a time when Moo kitty was sick for about a week. Each night he would lay next to Moo on our cold hard tile floor in our tiny bathroom  and pet him for hours. Many times M. would fall asleep next to the big white and black kitty. Both of these times my heart melted.

He can be silly. Usually, this side of M. comes out when he’s playing with Baby A but there have been times when he’s done something that makes me laugh, shake up head and think, I love him. Of course, I do. Silliness is a sign of a sense of humor and M’s is multidimensional. Besides being able to be goofy enough for a toddler to laugh, he has a sharp wit that is brilliant and easy.

He’s talented. Both of us are writers and editors. For me, I work hard at it. Before I write I need to warm-up and do mental calisthenics (it’s why I blog). For him, he can sit down and create sentences that flow and have rhythm. No multiple drafts. No testing the waters. Just good prose. I love artists and M. can paint pictures with words.

He puts family first. Whether it is his sister across the country or my cousin up the block, if you’re related to M. (no matter how distantly) he’ll do anything for you. In a way it is chivalry at its best.

The Intangibles. Then, there are the characteristics of M. that just make me look at him and know that I was meant to spend my life with him: the times my heart melts when he’s with his son or just doing the dishes; or the times my heart feels like it’s breaking when he leaves to go on a trip or sometimes just to go to the office. I have never doubted our role in each other’s life because it is simple—he’s supposed to be here. And as corny as it sounds, I’m sure I didn’t know what true love was until I met him.