I have had two mishaps with house keys lately and I'm feeling rather crappy about myself because of them.
MISHAP #1
As you may know, I'm new to LA and therefore new to the world of valeting. I have actually only valet-ed three times:
The first was when we were out here on our re-con mission and we drove to dinner with K&M.
The second was at our first girl's-night dinner.
The third was last Tuesday. I met L for dinner at CPK on Ventura and they had complimentary but obligatory valet service. All you had to do was get your ticket stamped at CPK and the valet service was free. So after dinner we both pulled out our tickets and I saw, for the first time, the writing on the wall: ONLY LEAVE IGNITION KEY.
"Oh," I exclaimed, "Was I not supposed to leave my whole ring?"
"No," L said, "I never do. But you live with your husband, I'm sure it will be fine. Just don't do it again."
So we got back to our cars, I tipped generously and then I popped open the glove box. Sure enough, right on top, was a piece of paper with SMS's name and our address. Lovely. I called him and asked him what he thought we should do, but he was busy and couldn't really focus on my concern. When I got home later that night we had a big fight about it and neither of us slept at all.
Now in reality, as Mr. Happy said, the chances of this being a real problem are infinitesimal and K says she does this all the time, but of course with my constant fear of rape and murder, none of this helps all that much. Call a locksmith, you say. And part of me thinks I should. The other part me says, get over it. I have since put my car key on a separate ring and will never make that mistake again.
And why, you might ask, if I have valeted twice before, is this the only time I am freaking out about it? Well, the first time, we didn't HAVE house keys and the second time I was on the Westside, which made me feel "safer" because our apartment is far enough away that, really, who would bother?!
MISHAP #2
I am in the middle of mishap #2 right now, though you wouldn't know it it look at me.
If you happened to come upon me at this very moment, you would see a young-ish woman, in a Hines Ward jersey, happily blogging on her friend's front porch. Aside from the fact that Steelers lost today (more on that below), you would think I am quite content. But what you wouldn't know is that the reason I am on my friend's porch is this: K let me have her keys today so that I could watch the Steelers on the NFL Sunday ticket we share at her place. Normally she and M are here along with a couple of other LA Steeler fans, but today she had to be elsewhere and none of the usuals were free, so I came over to watch alone. And when I left, I locked up and threw the keys though the mail slot as she requested. . .
And then I realized that I had left a ground-level window open. . .
So I called her to see what I should do. I figured there were three options:
1 - Nothing - go home and hope for the best.
2 - Sit on the porch and wait for her to come home.
3 - Rip open the screen, crawl in the window, shut the window, re-lock the house and throw the keys back through the mail slot.
I haven't heard back from her -- that was two hours ago. I did some errands around her neighborhood and then I came back to sit vigil until I hear from her and she tells me what to do.
So yeah, don't lend me your keys. Ever.
. . .And about 'dem Stillers -- don't worry, it's going to be ok.
Hines Ward will get healthy again.
Polamalu's "abdomen" will get better (can anyone say diarrhea?!)
And frankly, if we had to lose, I'd rather it be when we were up 3-0 than when we were up 6-0. That would be just too devastating -- this, on the other hand, is humbling.
And actually, I had a good Steeler day -- when I left the house I almost ran over a guy in a #7 jersey, then, at Jamba Juice on Ventura (same shopping center as the aforementioned CPK) a guy asked if I was excited about the game -- turns out here was a Steeler's fan from Northern Cali (will someone please explain to me how non-Burghers decided to be Steeler's fans?! - not that I'm complaining...) and then, when I left K's to run my errands, I almost hit another kid with a #7 jersey on. So yeah, Steeler Nation is representing in LA, never fear. We're going to be just fine. It's not like we're the Mets.....(I know, cheap shot.)
**UPDATE**
K&M came home and thought I was very silly, but appreciated my diligence in guarding their house. M is a little bit excited that I am afraid of him. He says that bodes well for his ability to parent! A little bit of fear could probably keep a lot of teenagers in line!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Cambria
Well SMS is very upset that I have run away from the B&B to the cafe with free internet but I couldn't help myself. We are having a wonderful time Cambria, CA -- lots more pictures and notes to come, but hope this will tide over all you loyal readers! :)
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A Slotted Spoon Can Catch A Potato
SMS has the next two days off from teaching due to Sukkot. (Yea Sukkot!) We're going away but SMS doesn't know where.
This is what he knows:
Here's what he'll know if he reads this entry:
We're using a gift certificate that was given to us for our wedding 3 years ago from a good friend of SMS' family ("Dotsie") and her partner. It's from a place called Select Registry which is really amazing: it's a gift certificate that you can use at any of a number of Bed and Breakfasts and Inns all across the country. It's a great gift and it's good for 7 years! We tried to use it a few times on the East Coast, but the Inns were never in the right place or they were too expensive or something else made it not quite right. But here on the West Coast I found a place that is reasonably priced (the gift certificate will cover most of the two nights) and in a great location, or so I've been told. I am very excited!
Dotsie is, unfortunately (too gentle a word), not with us anymore. In the years since her death I have gotten to know her children fairly well. They are amazing people. (See here, here, here and here if you need proof.)
Photo of Dotsie's kids and at her youngest son's wedding last month.
My love affair with her kids started just after her death when SMS and I paid a seven-hour Shiva call. No joke: seven hours. We got there around 7pm and left around 2am. We were, not surprisingly, the last ones there. I remember certain things we talked about, but definitely not all of it. I do remember having a good time, and feeling really guilty about that.
Regular readers and friends will know that even before my dad died, I had a mild obsession with death. I like true-crime books and tv shows. I am not afraid of hospitals or sick people. Even when it's hard or uncomfortable, I know it's important to visit the sick. But what I don't talk about much, what is hard to admit, to myself and to others, is that one of the things that I find fascinating about death (and grave illness and disaster -- all of which I have dealt with in the past 6 years) is the way it breaks up the routine of life. I know that sounds sick, alarming and gross. I know that people who have not experienced a tragedy up close might not understand it. I know that people who have experienced tragedies may disagree. And I respect that.
I should make it clear that it's not that I wish these things on anyone, it's just that I understand these tragedies are a fact of life and I know occasionally wonderful things can come out of them. If we miss the opportunity to appreciate the magical things then we become victims all over again, and we miss the opportunity to grow.
I am reminded of the night after my dad died. I was home in Pittsburgh with Susan P. and Mr. Happy. SMS and my New York friends had not arrived yet. I don't remember when we fell asleep, but I do remember waking up in the middle of the night only to find my mom and my brother awake, too. When I say that tragedies interrupt the monotony of daily life, this is what I mean. We wanted to be asleep; we needed to be asleep; but it just wasn't our time to sleep. Under no other circumstances would my mom, my brother and I be awake and chatting at 4 in the morning. I was so glad that the two of them were awake. I felt so close to them and, through my grief and my disbelief that my dad was actually gone, I was happy, a little, too.
When I think about using the gift certificate this weekend, I am a little sad. Sometimes I think the reason we never used it back east is because it was a little part of Dotsie that was still with us. Although we sent her and her partner Dan a thank you note before she died, I had always intended to send her another note after we used the gift certificate. I guess I need to find Dan's address.
This is what he knows:
- We're leaving around noon on Thursday and we're getting back Saturday by dinner.
- The forecast (so that he can pack) is:
Thursday, High 69/Low 50
Friday, High 61/Low 49
Saturday, High 65/Low 49
Here's what he'll know if he reads this entry:
We're using a gift certificate that was given to us for our wedding 3 years ago from a good friend of SMS' family ("Dotsie") and her partner. It's from a place called Select Registry which is really amazing: it's a gift certificate that you can use at any of a number of Bed and Breakfasts and Inns all across the country. It's a great gift and it's good for 7 years! We tried to use it a few times on the East Coast, but the Inns were never in the right place or they were too expensive or something else made it not quite right. But here on the West Coast I found a place that is reasonably priced (the gift certificate will cover most of the two nights) and in a great location, or so I've been told. I am very excited!
Dotsie is, unfortunately (too gentle a word), not with us anymore. In the years since her death I have gotten to know her children fairly well. They are amazing people. (See here, here, here and here if you need proof.)
Photo of Dotsie's kids and at her youngest son's wedding last month.My love affair with her kids started just after her death when SMS and I paid a seven-hour Shiva call. No joke: seven hours. We got there around 7pm and left around 2am. We were, not surprisingly, the last ones there. I remember certain things we talked about, but definitely not all of it. I do remember having a good time, and feeling really guilty about that.
Regular readers and friends will know that even before my dad died, I had a mild obsession with death. I like true-crime books and tv shows. I am not afraid of hospitals or sick people. Even when it's hard or uncomfortable, I know it's important to visit the sick. But what I don't talk about much, what is hard to admit, to myself and to others, is that one of the things that I find fascinating about death (and grave illness and disaster -- all of which I have dealt with in the past 6 years) is the way it breaks up the routine of life. I know that sounds sick, alarming and gross. I know that people who have not experienced a tragedy up close might not understand it. I know that people who have experienced tragedies may disagree. And I respect that.
I should make it clear that it's not that I wish these things on anyone, it's just that I understand these tragedies are a fact of life and I know occasionally wonderful things can come out of them. If we miss the opportunity to appreciate the magical things then we become victims all over again, and we miss the opportunity to grow.
I am reminded of the night after my dad died. I was home in Pittsburgh with Susan P. and Mr. Happy. SMS and my New York friends had not arrived yet. I don't remember when we fell asleep, but I do remember waking up in the middle of the night only to find my mom and my brother awake, too. When I say that tragedies interrupt the monotony of daily life, this is what I mean. We wanted to be asleep; we needed to be asleep; but it just wasn't our time to sleep. Under no other circumstances would my mom, my brother and I be awake and chatting at 4 in the morning. I was so glad that the two of them were awake. I felt so close to them and, through my grief and my disbelief that my dad was actually gone, I was happy, a little, too.
When I think about using the gift certificate this weekend, I am a little sad. Sometimes I think the reason we never used it back east is because it was a little part of Dotsie that was still with us. Although we sent her and her partner Dan a thank you note before she died, I had always intended to send her another note after we used the gift certificate. I guess I need to find Dan's address.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Random Thoughts for a Monday Night
1 - Dial Anti-Bacterial Soap smells like Dr. Labriola's office.
2 - I hate cleaning up pee from the carpet.
3 - I really like How I Met Your Mother but I'm not sure I'm ok with the framing device. I am however glad the slap-bet is back.
4 - I got really frustrated in the hospital parking lot today. I was there to drop off some essentials and some In-N-Out to my friend Holly's parents who are there with her brother who has been there for more than 70 days. He's being released tomorrow to rehab, which is both good and stressful, as things in really crazy situations often are. But I was frustrated because these women were walking around the really crowded parking lot and it seemed like every aisle I went down they were in my way . . . and they weren't really making an effort to get out of the way. I wanted to scream that I was there to run an errand for people who were at the hospital because their son almost died and PLEASE GET OUT OF MY WAY! And then of course it occurred to me that these ladies were probably at the hospital for some equally horrible reason and I took a deep breath. This may seem like a no-brainer to many of you, but I am terribly impatient and I definitely didn't have this kind of perspective before my dad died. What I thought about after taking my deep breath tonight was how we must have looked leaving the hospital the day my dad died. I can't remember it for the life of me, but it probably looked something like those women wandering around the parking lot tonight.
2 - I hate cleaning up pee from the carpet.
3 - I really like How I Met Your Mother but I'm not sure I'm ok with the framing device. I am however glad the slap-bet is back.
4 - I got really frustrated in the hospital parking lot today. I was there to drop off some essentials and some In-N-Out to my friend Holly's parents who are there with her brother who has been there for more than 70 days. He's being released tomorrow to rehab, which is both good and stressful, as things in really crazy situations often are. But I was frustrated because these women were walking around the really crowded parking lot and it seemed like every aisle I went down they were in my way . . . and they weren't really making an effort to get out of the way. I wanted to scream that I was there to run an errand for people who were at the hospital because their son almost died and PLEASE GET OUT OF MY WAY! And then of course it occurred to me that these ladies were probably at the hospital for some equally horrible reason and I took a deep breath. This may seem like a no-brainer to many of you, but I am terribly impatient and I definitely didn't have this kind of perspective before my dad died. What I thought about after taking my deep breath tonight was how we must have looked leaving the hospital the day my dad died. I can't remember it for the life of me, but it probably looked something like those women wandering around the parking lot tonight.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Success!
. . .or, I don't need no stinkin' treadmill!
Like many people, my adult weight has fluctuated significantly over the years and like most people my weight fluctuates slightly on a daily basis. I do my best to weigh myself at the same time each morning, however I have my last meal (or snack) at a different time each night, so it's hard to establish a baseline. I can however confidently say that for the last week I have been below my You've-Got-To-Be-Kidding-Me weight (also known as my YGTBKM weight). To avoid an embarrassing post about actual tonnage, I will revert to basic algebra:
But since arriving in LA I have stuck to a strict plan of walking -- 5 days a week on the flat ground in my neighborhood and 1 day a week on the steep grade of Wilacre Park -- I've changed my eating habits slightly and I've been drinking tons of water. These lifestyle changes have resulted in a changes in my weight, my attitude and my general well being. It feels great!
You will notice I take a day off from walking -- I should point out that it is not because I think I need or "deserve" a day off -- I do it to show myself that it's ok to take a day off. See, in the past, I would walk every day for 4 days and then miss 2 for whatever reason and then not go back to it because I had already "screwed up." Now, I build in a day off so that if I have to miss a day or two, I don't fee derailed.
I always knew that I wasn't getting enough exercise and I can't quite explain why I couldn't motivate to do more of it, but now that I am, I'm really enjoying it!
So for now, the internal treadmill debate is silenced. . . however, it is unseasonably "cool" and it might rain (gasp!) so we'll see how that plays into everything. . .
Like many people, my adult weight has fluctuated significantly over the years and like most people my weight fluctuates slightly on a daily basis. I do my best to weigh myself at the same time each morning, however I have my last meal (or snack) at a different time each night, so it's hard to establish a baseline. I can however confidently say that for the last week I have been below my You've-Got-To-Be-Kidding-Me weight (also known as my YGTBKM weight). To avoid an embarrassing post about actual tonnage, I will revert to basic algebra:
- Let's say my reasonable adult weight = X
- My YGTBKM weight has always been X+9
- On my wedding day I was X-4
- Before my dad got sick I was X+6
- While my dad was sick and in the hospital I lost weight, I also turned 30 and my metabolism said "See-Ya! I'm outta here!" and then my dad died, and during 3 days of Shiva I put back on everything I had lost and then I kept putting on, and then I passed my YGTBKM weight and ended up somewhere around X+15.
But since arriving in LA I have stuck to a strict plan of walking -- 5 days a week on the flat ground in my neighborhood and 1 day a week on the steep grade of Wilacre Park -- I've changed my eating habits slightly and I've been drinking tons of water. These lifestyle changes have resulted in a changes in my weight, my attitude and my general well being. It feels great!
You will notice I take a day off from walking -- I should point out that it is not because I think I need or "deserve" a day off -- I do it to show myself that it's ok to take a day off. See, in the past, I would walk every day for 4 days and then miss 2 for whatever reason and then not go back to it because I had already "screwed up." Now, I build in a day off so that if I have to miss a day or two, I don't fee derailed.
I always knew that I wasn't getting enough exercise and I can't quite explain why I couldn't motivate to do more of it, but now that I am, I'm really enjoying it!
So for now, the internal treadmill debate is silenced. . . however, it is unseasonably "cool" and it might rain (gasp!) so we'll see how that plays into everything. . .
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Daniel Pearl World Music Days - October 1st-15th
Many of you know I am now working for the Daniel Pearl Foundation. Our biggest event every year is Daniel Pearl World Music Days which takes place each October to coincide with Danny's birthday. Please help me get the word out about this global musical event!
Thanks for taking the time to check this out and forward along.
About World Music DaysIf you are a musician, there is till time to participate - if you're not, you can attend an event in your area (to find one, click here)!
An international network of concerts using the power of music to reaffirm our commitment to tolerance and humanity.
The Daniel Pearl Foundation invites you to join us in promoting international friendship by dedicating a musical performance this October as part of Daniel Pearl World Music Days.
Inspired by the legacy of journalist and musician Daniel Pearl, World Music Days uses the universal language of music to spread a message of hope and unity across cultural divides. By simply including a dedication from the stage or in the program of your upcoming performance, you will reaffirm your commitment to international friendship and take a stand against the divisive forces that took Danny’s life. As a member of this global network of concerts, your music will inspire your audiences with a sense of unity and purpose. Please visit our website for more information. To register a performance, click here.
World Music Days is an “awareness raiser,” not a fundraiser. There is no financial obligation to participate.
Thanks for taking the time to check this out and forward along.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Where have I been?
One might think that because I haven't posted in a while not much has been going on....one would be wrong...
Since our exciting trip to the Self-Realization Fellowship Temple on Thursday, we've been lots of places and done lots of things. Here are some bullet points:
Since our exciting trip to the Self-Realization Fellowship Temple on Thursday, we've been lots of places and done lots of things. Here are some bullet points:
- Friday SMS and Aunt Becky went to Malibu, then we all had dinner with our friends L&J at a Greek restaurant on Ventura where there was a live band and the waiters danced. . . well. . .in very close quarters!
- Then J and I went out to a bar in Hollywood to hear an old friend spin old school drum'n'base.
- Saturday we headed up to Ventura where we walked around, visited a mission and caught the tail end of an 18 and under surfer competition.
- Sunday was Week 2 of LA Steeler Nation at K&M's house. 5 girls and M talking about purses and eating healthy snacks -- our games are not for the faint of heart!
- Then I met Aunt Becky at the Getty which was totally amazing! Aunt Becky would like me to point out to all the nay-sayers that it's totally worth the $8 parking fee and short tram ride.
- Then Sunday night Aunt Becky took us to McCabe's to hear John Gorka (totally wacky but totally great!) and then we took her to the airport for her red-eye.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
This is how we spent Rosh Hashanah. Seriously. And I took this picture. There was literally "not a cloud in the sky." Sort of unbelievable. And sort of wonderful. (More pictures here.)Aunt Becky is visiting and she had researched the Self-Realization Temple as a place we could spend time to celebrate the new year in our own way. It was beautiful and free AND there was free parking - how cool is that?! This is just another reason I love house guests!
It's amazing that this tranquil, beautiful, serene place is on a major road, but all this serenity did not shield us from a truly LA moment. As we were exiting Sam was approached by a woman who said "I think something happened to me." He had seen her meditating earlier in one of the temples and he asked her to sit down. She calmed down a bit with him but then Becky and I arrived and we asked what was going on. Apparently, according to her, she had (a) either had a transformative moment in the temple or (b) there was something in the "health bar" that she "took from under the sink" in the house of the "alternative doctor" she works for in the Pacific Palisades. I noticed that her eyes were dilated and immediately assumed she was on 'shrooms or acid. She thought she might puke, and that she had been poisoned. I took her into the bathroom but she decided she felt much better sitting next to Sam. She had called her boyfriend so we waited with her. We asked her what she had eaten, if she was on "street drugs" (Aunt Becky's words) or prescription, if she had allergies - she answered no to all questions. We hoped her boyfriend would give us a clue as to whether or not this was normal but when he showed up he seemed surprised, but not overly shocked. And then they left. It was all very unreal and yet very, very mellow. So West Coast!
The rest of the day was spent on UCLA's campus - first at the botanical gardens and then at a coffee shop. Good Stuff. Happy New Year!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Miss Lily
My brother called last night to check in on Lily's condition. It occurred to me that I have not updated on that situation. On Saturday my mom had to put Lily to sleep because of her kidney failure. Lily was a super cat who was loved by many. We will all miss her.
House Guests, Pt. 1
I love having house guests. Especially when I'm in a new place. You get to do stuff you wouldn't normally do because you want to show off how cool your city is. This past weekend my "baby cousin" Rachel (who I taught to say sh!t at the tender of age of three!) came to visit. After we picked her up at LAX we went to the Santa Monica Pier.
That night we stuck close to home and went for a walk along Ventura Blvd.
Sunday morning was, as it should be, all about the Steelers!
Then Rache checked out UCLA's campus for possible future law school - yipee! Sunday night was all about In-N-Out!
I suppose it's not surprising that after fried clams, bagels and cream cheese, pizza, falafel and TWO In-N-Out burgers it's my own fault I got sick - but I had a blast!
Tomorrow Aunt Becky arrives and we start eating and playing all over again!
That night we stuck close to home and went for a walk along Ventura Blvd.
Sunday morning was, as it should be, all about the Steelers!
Then Rache checked out UCLA's campus for possible future law school - yipee! Sunday night was all about In-N-Out!
I suppose it's not surprising that after fried clams, bagels and cream cheese, pizza, falafel and TWO In-N-Out burgers it's my own fault I got sick - but I had a blast!
Tomorrow Aunt Becky arrives and we start eating and playing all over again!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Before
Anyone who knows me knows that today, September 10th, is an important day to me. I was in New York in 2001 and I have been profoundly affected by that time in my life. Below is a piece I wrote in 2002 that inspired The Before Project.
On September 10th, 2001 I was at the Annual MTC Pie-Off, and yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. 50 or so Manhattan Theatre Club employees and various and sundry significant others get together in a beautiful home in Brooklyn for a pot-luck supper and pie baking contest. There are two categories in the pie baking competition: fruit and non-fruit, and no, that does not refer to the pie-baker, but to the pie itself. Also, it's pies only – NO TARTS!
I had started working at MTC approximately 2 weeks earlier, and though I'd say I'm outgoing sort of person, I really didn't know that many people yet, and they really didn't know me. Around 2 o'clock on the 10th I received a call from Andy Hamingson, MTC's Director of Development and one of the co-hosts of the Pie-Off. He asked if I had baked a pie. I panicked – I had NOT baked a pie. Would he think I had poor team spirit, a lack of enthusiasm for my new job; was I boring? I hemmed and hawed (as my grandmother used to say) and eventually admitted that I had not baked a pie. Great, he said, would you be a judge? Sure, I blurted out, and that was that. . .except for one problem: I HATE PIE. There are two problems with pie:
1) Gooey fruit – who's bright idea was that?
AND
2) Nuts. Nuts on their own are fine, nuts contaminating baked goods? Who's bright idea was THAT?
But there I was, with a whole afternoon to contemplate my fate.
Around 6pm, as we were gathering our things to leave for the Pie Off, my boss decided that he and our intern could handle the 8am meeting he had scheduled for the next day and the Education Assistant and I could come in at the regular time (10am). I didn't know at the time what huge difference that decision would make in my life. Of course I was thrilled – this meant I could drink at the Pie Off (nothing like getting drunk in front of new co-workers!) AND I would have time to vote before work in my first New York primary – but really, when I think of how different that Tuesday would have been had I been in mid-town Manhattan at 8am instead of Brooklyn I sort of have the feeling that everything does happen for a reason. The thing I am most thankful for when it comes to September 11th is obviously my life, but beyond that, the fact that Sam and I were together and the fact that my mother was the first person I spoke to after seeing the Towers on fire with my own eyes made that day . . .I was going to say bearable. . .let's just say it made it a million times better than it could have been.
But back to September 10th. I don't know who in the crowd of expectant pie-bakers and curious onlookers noticed, but I know Sam had a blast watching me eat what seemed like never-ending slices of pie with oodles and oodles of gooey fruit and offensive nuts (usually not in the same pie, thankfully). I have to admit though, it was fun. I actually stopped and thought for a moment: this is it, this is the job I want, this is the life I want, this is how things are supposed to be (without the gooey fruit part!).
____________________________________
"There was a time I called before..."
"There was a time I called before..."
On September 10th, 2001 I was at the Annual MTC Pie-Off, and yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. 50 or so Manhattan Theatre Club employees and various and sundry significant others get together in a beautiful home in Brooklyn for a pot-luck supper and pie baking contest. There are two categories in the pie baking competition: fruit and non-fruit, and no, that does not refer to the pie-baker, but to the pie itself. Also, it's pies only – NO TARTS!
I had started working at MTC approximately 2 weeks earlier, and though I'd say I'm outgoing sort of person, I really didn't know that many people yet, and they really didn't know me. Around 2 o'clock on the 10th I received a call from Andy Hamingson, MTC's Director of Development and one of the co-hosts of the Pie-Off. He asked if I had baked a pie. I panicked – I had NOT baked a pie. Would he think I had poor team spirit, a lack of enthusiasm for my new job; was I boring? I hemmed and hawed (as my grandmother used to say) and eventually admitted that I had not baked a pie. Great, he said, would you be a judge? Sure, I blurted out, and that was that. . .except for one problem: I HATE PIE. There are two problems with pie:
1) Gooey fruit – who's bright idea was that?
AND
2) Nuts. Nuts on their own are fine, nuts contaminating baked goods? Who's bright idea was THAT?
But there I was, with a whole afternoon to contemplate my fate.
Around 6pm, as we were gathering our things to leave for the Pie Off, my boss decided that he and our intern could handle the 8am meeting he had scheduled for the next day and the Education Assistant and I could come in at the regular time (10am). I didn't know at the time what huge difference that decision would make in my life. Of course I was thrilled – this meant I could drink at the Pie Off (nothing like getting drunk in front of new co-workers!) AND I would have time to vote before work in my first New York primary – but really, when I think of how different that Tuesday would have been had I been in mid-town Manhattan at 8am instead of Brooklyn I sort of have the feeling that everything does happen for a reason. The thing I am most thankful for when it comes to September 11th is obviously my life, but beyond that, the fact that Sam and I were together and the fact that my mother was the first person I spoke to after seeing the Towers on fire with my own eyes made that day . . .I was going to say bearable. . .let's just say it made it a million times better than it could have been.
But back to September 10th. I don't know who in the crowd of expectant pie-bakers and curious onlookers noticed, but I know Sam had a blast watching me eat what seemed like never-ending slices of pie with oodles and oodles of gooey fruit and offensive nuts (usually not in the same pie, thankfully). I have to admit though, it was fun. I actually stopped and thought for a moment: this is it, this is the job I want, this is the life I want, this is how things are supposed to be (without the gooey fruit part!).
__________________________________________
The Before Project was my attempt to remind people that no matter how much we were each impacted by "September 11th," we each had hopes and dreams before that day that are still valid.
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of September 11th that SMS and I will spend outside of New York City. I am sad about that. I wish I could take the day off and take a long walk in a canyon or on the beach, but with the High Holidays coming I will be taking other days off. I will try to find a way to stop and remember. To remember the sanctity of the day and to remember "a time before."
The Before Project was my attempt to remind people that no matter how much we were each impacted by "September 11th," we each had hopes and dreams before that day that are still valid.
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of September 11th that SMS and I will spend outside of New York City. I am sad about that. I wish I could take the day off and take a long walk in a canyon or on the beach, but with the High Holidays coming I will be taking other days off. I will try to find a way to stop and remember. To remember the sanctity of the day and to remember "a time before."
Thursday, September 6, 2007
What I Do Every Day
So it occurs to me that I have a pretty nice little routine set-up here and many of you have been wondering what it is I do all day, so I thought I'd tell you!
I get up between 6 and 7 in the morning -- I know it's early, especially for me, but I really like it. I also like how surprised each of you sound when I call you or show up on-line at that hour.
I take a 45-minute walk (just under 3miles) around my neighborhood while listening to some NPR podcast (Wait Wait Don't Tell Me! or This American Life) or, occasionally, some music. I see the same few people walking their dogs, exercising or taking out the trash. This morning an older woman who I see most days said something to me. I took my headphones off and asked her what she said. She said "Can you believe this weather?" I said, "No!" (It was quite cool this morning.) and then I said "What is your name?" and she looked at me funny and then said "Helen," with a slight accent. I said, "Hi! I'm Jamie" and I put out my hand to shake hers. She looked happy.
After my walk I do my usual morning puttering (the Today show, CNN, check my email, eat some yogurt, take a shower) and get on the road between 9 and 9:15am. I listen to NPR and make a few calls. I don't get great reception on my commute, but I also don't get a lot of traffic. I take Sepulvada Blvd (a surface street) instead of the 405 and I'm usually at work between 9:45 and 10am.
Work? Right. Many of you don't know what I'm up to on that front. My opportunity with the institution in Israel is on hold for the foreseeable future and I am on an "as-needed" basis with a school here in LA to do recruiting trips if it fits into my schedule, but mostly I'm working with the Daniel Pearl Foundation. It's an amazing organization and I am really enjoying my work. Tons of info about the organization here and our upcoming World Music Days event that you can participate in here.
I'm there from about 10am - 4pm or 5pm three days a week (I do work from home as well) and I haven't been stopping for lunch. Mostly I eat a Zone Perfect bar, munch on almonds and drink lots of water. I don't seem to get very hungry and I don't get sleepy in the afternoon anymore either. I think it may have something to do with the morning walks or the pace of the job. There's a lot to be done!
Then I come home or meet friends. I do errands or get dinner. Sometimes I even see my husband, though not so much this week, as this is his first week of teaching high school full-time. From what I can tell, he's enjoying it, though he is understandably stressed and overwhelmed.
I get into bed between 10 and 11pm and go right to sleep. And then I'm up again around 6 the next morning.
There are few other things that pop up here and there....tomorrow I'm taking Mae (the cat who pees on the carpet) to the vet at 9am. Saturday my cousin is coming to town and Sunday we are watching the Steeler's game at our friend's K&M's place. Next week our aunt is coming to town and we'll be taking time off for the High Holidays. I'm bummed there hasn't been a "normal" week since I started work, and there isn't one in the foreseeable future (what with the holidays and all) but I hope to be able to get into a groove by October or November. We'll see about that.
Sorry for the long, wordy entry that lacks pictures and jokes, but hopefully it will satisfy some curiosity. I'm really happy out here, though I miss a lot of you very much.
I get up between 6 and 7 in the morning -- I know it's early, especially for me, but I really like it. I also like how surprised each of you sound when I call you or show up on-line at that hour.
I take a 45-minute walk (just under 3miles) around my neighborhood while listening to some NPR podcast (Wait Wait Don't Tell Me! or This American Life) or, occasionally, some music. I see the same few people walking their dogs, exercising or taking out the trash. This morning an older woman who I see most days said something to me. I took my headphones off and asked her what she said. She said "Can you believe this weather?" I said, "No!" (It was quite cool this morning.) and then I said "What is your name?" and she looked at me funny and then said "Helen," with a slight accent. I said, "Hi! I'm Jamie" and I put out my hand to shake hers. She looked happy.
After my walk I do my usual morning puttering (the Today show, CNN, check my email, eat some yogurt, take a shower) and get on the road between 9 and 9:15am. I listen to NPR and make a few calls. I don't get great reception on my commute, but I also don't get a lot of traffic. I take Sepulvada Blvd (a surface street) instead of the 405 and I'm usually at work between 9:45 and 10am.
Work? Right. Many of you don't know what I'm up to on that front. My opportunity with the institution in Israel is on hold for the foreseeable future and I am on an "as-needed" basis with a school here in LA to do recruiting trips if it fits into my schedule, but mostly I'm working with the Daniel Pearl Foundation. It's an amazing organization and I am really enjoying my work. Tons of info about the organization here and our upcoming World Music Days event that you can participate in here.
I'm there from about 10am - 4pm or 5pm three days a week (I do work from home as well) and I haven't been stopping for lunch. Mostly I eat a Zone Perfect bar, munch on almonds and drink lots of water. I don't seem to get very hungry and I don't get sleepy in the afternoon anymore either. I think it may have something to do with the morning walks or the pace of the job. There's a lot to be done!
Then I come home or meet friends. I do errands or get dinner. Sometimes I even see my husband, though not so much this week, as this is his first week of teaching high school full-time. From what I can tell, he's enjoying it, though he is understandably stressed and overwhelmed.
I get into bed between 10 and 11pm and go right to sleep. And then I'm up again around 6 the next morning.
There are few other things that pop up here and there....tomorrow I'm taking Mae (the cat who pees on the carpet) to the vet at 9am. Saturday my cousin is coming to town and Sunday we are watching the Steeler's game at our friend's K&M's place. Next week our aunt is coming to town and we'll be taking time off for the High Holidays. I'm bummed there hasn't been a "normal" week since I started work, and there isn't one in the foreseeable future (what with the holidays and all) but I hope to be able to get into a groove by October or November. We'll see about that.
Sorry for the long, wordy entry that lacks pictures and jokes, but hopefully it will satisfy some curiosity. I'm really happy out here, though I miss a lot of you very much.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
I laughed, I cried, It was Better than Cats!
Really, what could possibly be better than cats (real cats that is, not the Broadway kind!)?
Nothing, I say - nothing is better than a cat!
While many of you have heard loads of tales (tales, get it?) about the adorable Henry and Mae, I have actually been lucky enough to have quite a few very special cats in my life.
The first cat in my life was actually long-gone before I came along. Shalamar was a Siamese cat that lived next to my grandma before I was born. It was widely known that my grandmother did NOT like cats, but for some reason she liked Shalamar. I hears stories of Shalamar all my young life and after my dad died, I actually found a picture of her. I would put it here, but back in June I packed it and it has not yet reemerged.
The second special cat was an imaginary one...when I was little I wanted a cat very, very badly. Also, when I was little, I didn't like to take naps (oh, how times have changed!). So Cohen Sr. and Susan P. arranged this thing where I would put a bowl of milk out before I went up for my nap and my mother would dump it out while I was sleeping and that's how I would know the kittie came by during my nap. It doesn't sound so cool now, but when I was a kid, it was really, really cool.
The next special cat in my life was Kip, or, more accurately, Alexander Kip Kittie Cohen. Yup, that was really his name. He came into our life when I was in pre-school. He was shy. We used to call him "the original fraid-y cat." Some of my friends growing up didn't even believe we had a cat!
Kip, as we called him, was really Matt's cat, and then maybe my mom's and then mine & my dad's. Even though I wasn't his favorite, I learned so much from Kip. Here's a poem I wrote about him a long, long time ago:
The next cat who came into my life was Lily. Lily has been passed around a lot. I don't know who her cat parents were, nor do I know who her first human parents were, but my friend E adopted her from a shelter in NYC in the late 90s. When E could no longer keep her, I was lucky enough to adopt her with my roommate R. Mr. Happy happened to be in town the day I picked her up and I will never forget the cab ride back to Brooklyn with Lily crying loudly the whole way and the less than understanding cab driver grumbling a lot. A few years after R and I adopted her, R and I went out separate ways...I moved to Maryland and R was good enough to let me take Lily with me.
Lily and I travelled a lot that year in Maryland. I would bring her back to Brooklyn to visit R and my then BF, now husband, SMS quite often. Then, in late December 1999 I was getting ready for 10 days in New York with Lily when my mom called. My grandmother had been hospitalized and I needed to return to Pittsburgh, so Lily made that trip with me as well. And there she stayed. She became my dad's cat overnight. Unlike his human daughter, Lily followed him everywhere and did everything he said. It was truly spooky!
When my parents split, Lily stayed with my dad. When my dad died, Lily moved in with my mom. Although it may seem like being passed around would be hard on a cat, I just think of it as a way to have more people love her. She is sweet and kind and truly nocturnal. She doesn't really let you sleep, but it's hard to get mad at a cat who is waking you up at 3a.m. by pushing her cold wet nose into your nostril (no joke!). In fact it's a lot better than being awakened at 3a.m. to clean cat pee of the rug, which happened to me this morning (Mae is going to the vet on Friday!).
But the sad news is, Lily isn't doing so well. There is something wrong with her kidneys and it isn't clear if it's an infection or cancer. They are treating it as if it's an infection, if the treatment works, they're right, if not, it's cancer. My mom is very sad. I am very sad. Lily is very tired, but doesn't seem to be in much pain. I will continue to update and I hope it turns out to be nothing, but for now, well, for now I'm just sad.
Nothing, I say - nothing is better than a cat!
While many of you have heard loads of tales (tales, get it?) about the adorable Henry and Mae, I have actually been lucky enough to have quite a few very special cats in my life.
The first cat in my life was actually long-gone before I came along. Shalamar was a Siamese cat that lived next to my grandma before I was born. It was widely known that my grandmother did NOT like cats, but for some reason she liked Shalamar. I hears stories of Shalamar all my young life and after my dad died, I actually found a picture of her. I would put it here, but back in June I packed it and it has not yet reemerged.
The second special cat was an imaginary one...when I was little I wanted a cat very, very badly. Also, when I was little, I didn't like to take naps (oh, how times have changed!). So Cohen Sr. and Susan P. arranged this thing where I would put a bowl of milk out before I went up for my nap and my mother would dump it out while I was sleeping and that's how I would know the kittie came by during my nap. It doesn't sound so cool now, but when I was a kid, it was really, really cool.
The next special cat in my life was Kip, or, more accurately, Alexander Kip Kittie Cohen. Yup, that was really his name. He came into our life when I was in pre-school. He was shy. We used to call him "the original fraid-y cat." Some of my friends growing up didn't even believe we had a cat!
Kip, as we called him, was really Matt's cat, and then maybe my mom's and then mine & my dad's. Even though I wasn't his favorite, I learned so much from Kip. Here's a poem I wrote about him a long, long time ago:catKip had to be put to sleep when I was a senior in high school. He had throat cancer. The night before we took him in, before we knew what was going on, I sat up with him, holding him in my lap. I could tell he was having trouble breathing and I didn't know how to make him feel better. I just sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor petting him until my mom woke up. I didn't just learn about love from Kip, I learned about loss as well.
holding him
above my head
watching him
claw for my arms
every time
i hold him high
every time
he reaches for me
this is how i learned to love
this is why i am who i am
The next cat who came into my life was Lily. Lily has been passed around a lot. I don't know who her cat parents were, nor do I know who her first human parents were, but my friend E adopted her from a shelter in NYC in the late 90s. When E could no longer keep her, I was lucky enough to adopt her with my roommate R. Mr. Happy happened to be in town the day I picked her up and I will never forget the cab ride back to Brooklyn with Lily crying loudly the whole way and the less than understanding cab driver grumbling a lot. A few years after R and I adopted her, R and I went out separate ways...I moved to Maryland and R was good enough to let me take Lily with me.
Lily and I travelled a lot that year in Maryland. I would bring her back to Brooklyn to visit R and my then BF, now husband, SMS quite often. Then, in late December 1999 I was getting ready for 10 days in New York with Lily when my mom called. My grandmother had been hospitalized and I needed to return to Pittsburgh, so Lily made that trip with me as well. And there she stayed. She became my dad's cat overnight. Unlike his human daughter, Lily followed him everywhere and did everything he said. It was truly spooky!
When my parents split, Lily stayed with my dad. When my dad died, Lily moved in with my mom. Although it may seem like being passed around would be hard on a cat, I just think of it as a way to have more people love her. She is sweet and kind and truly nocturnal. She doesn't really let you sleep, but it's hard to get mad at a cat who is waking you up at 3a.m. by pushing her cold wet nose into your nostril (no joke!). In fact it's a lot better than being awakened at 3a.m. to clean cat pee of the rug, which happened to me this morning (Mae is going to the vet on Friday!).But the sad news is, Lily isn't doing so well. There is something wrong with her kidneys and it isn't clear if it's an infection or cancer. They are treating it as if it's an infection, if the treatment works, they're right, if not, it's cancer. My mom is very sad. I am very sad. Lily is very tired, but doesn't seem to be in much pain. I will continue to update and I hope it turns out to be nothing, but for now, well, for now I'm just sad.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Labor Day
I'm not feeling very eloquent today. . .it may be the heat, or the lack of sleep, or the laundry that I am working my way through, but whatever it is, I feel BLAH. I would say it is the end of summer, but (a) we really haven't had much of a relaxing summer (due to the move), (b) due to the climate, I'm not really lamenting the coming of "fall," and (c) "ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!" So let's just say it's the lack of sleep. SMS and I had A BLAST in Chicago (as you can hopefully tell from the shot above): good food, good friends, good family, and good wedding. . .all around goodness.Loads of pictures here but my favorites are below.
The view from our friend Jon's place. He lives near Printer's Row in the South Loop and was good enough to put us up for a few nights. You can't tell from these pictures, but he can see from Navy Pier all the way to the aquarium.
Me, SMS, the bride and the groom at the rehearsal dinner & The Boys, post-wedding.
My sister-in-law with my nephews. Sooooo cute!
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