NYE Inflated heart

What is it about NYE that makes your heart fill up with the warmth and closure of a year past? Why do we find ourselves scrolling through the cell phone and email address book, wanting to wish someone, everyone, a good evening and a wonderful new year? Why do we feel so nostalgic and hopeful?

Maybe its because we have been trained for years, to drop the inhibitions and let our love shine free. Maybe its because there is an overwhelming buildup and anticipatory clock countdown. Maybe we all want a "When Harry Met Sally" moment.

Maybe its because time passing, and year changes reminds us of the finality of the past moving behind us. Maybe there is some subconscious fear that the world could end tomorrow, so we feel the tap of mortality and spew our feelings without filter.

In any event, I am inflated with love and well wishing for all my touchstones, past and present. My heart, today, feels like an expanding cartoon crate about to bust at the seams and shine love and light in two thousand and seven different directions.

For reasons I cannot explain, I am sending love, pheromones, peace and happy grams to all the people that reside in my heart. Because it is an ending, and a beginning, because I am sappy and fall prey ( just like you) to all the hype no matter how hard I try to rationalize its absurdity. At the end of the day....I guess it doesn't hurt, in fact, it feels pretty damn good.

In the words of James Taylor: "Shower the people you love with love"

Good love is contagious, hope you catch it today too.

5 things to do before tomorrow ends...

1.) Reach out to that person you have been meaning to catch up with. Send an email, send a hand-written note, pick up the phone...just stop rationalizing your procrastination. If you care enough to need to justify your inaction, you care enough to re-connect. ( avoid ex's in this category. This is not a permissive directive, its more like an elbow nudge to forgive you-know-who)

1a.) Say to yourself: "FECK EM! He/She is the one who let the ball drop. Come to me, I can't save EVERY relationship!"

2.) On the left side of a piece of paper write down 3 things you are grateful for. On the right side, right down something you can do this year to keep it.

2a.) OR! Make a list of 3 things that BLOW right now, and then a drink name for each "THING" you will drink. ( breaking up = hairy whiskey on the rocks, fighting my mother = Tall grey goose, sprite and sour with a twist, feeling fat = bottle of red)

3.) Set an intention to say something positive or kind to everyone you encounter. Then Tuesday you can go back to cursing the world, but think how many people you see/talk to on NYE? That is paying forward for like 6 months.

3a.) OR! Just for fun, be really shitty to everyone tomorrow, that way you can set a resolution for 2008...to be nicer to people, and the bar will have been set really low. (tee hee)

4.) Pick a song to be your theme song for January. "Walking on sunshine?"

4a.) OR! "Gimme More" ? S'ok....no one has to know you actually hear that song in your head and shower jam to it when no one is watching. "It's Britney Bitch."

5.) Come up with one new fear to conquer, and start the inspirational inner-rhetoric...see what happens. I bet you do it before spring.

5a.) OR! You can cling to your old habits, while claiming that next year or better yet, on your birthday, you will drop that stupid idea like a dirty condom on the subway.

Juno- Favorite Lines:

http://www.foxsearchlight.com/juno/

Juno is a movie that makes you ache with the polarized spectrum of emotional conviction and teenage apathy. The lines cut like a knife, and made me laugh out loud ( by myself at the theatre.) The dialogue moves quickly and with full hormonal shock-value honesty. I am aged by my inadequate knowledge of the words "Wizard" and "Boss".

This movie reminds you how tragic life felt in high school, and slyly parallels the reality of complicated relationships. A little dark and twisty, but you will laugh your way back up the hill. I do find pride in knowing the "Moldy Peaches" songs from my ipod play list last winter...pfft.

"Anyone Else but you" - Moldy peaches http://www.myspace.com/themoldypeachesfans

Rollo (Rainn Wilson): You better pay for that pee-stick when you're done with it. Don't think it's yours just because you marked it with your urine!

Rollo(Rainn Wilson) : That ain't no etch-a-sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, homeskillet.

Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page): If I could just have the thing and give it to you now, I totally would. But I'm guessing it looks, probably like a sea monkey right now, and I should let it get a little cuter

Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page): Yeah, I'm a legend. You know, they call me the cautionary whale.

Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) : Can't we just like kick this old school. You know, like I stick the baby in a basket, send it your way, like Moses and the reeds?

"You're a part-time lover, and a full time friend, the monkey on your back is the latest trend..."

New Years Eve song tribute to friends.

Auld Lang Syne : by Robert Burns

Should old acquaintances be forgotten,And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintances be forgotten,And days of long ago!

For old long ago, my dearFor old long ago,We will take a cup of kindness yetFor old long ago.

We two have run about the hillsides And pulled the daisies fine,
But we have wandered many a weary footFor old long ago.
We two have paddled (waded) in the streamFrom noon until dinner time,
But seas between us broad have roaredSince old long ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So....I don't know what friends were like in the 1700's, when this song was written. Sounds like they picked daisies, and paddled boats and took long walks. My old friends and I have worn daisy-dukes, missed a lot of proverbial boats, and had sore feet from high heels. I like the idea of taking the end of a year to commemorate the people in your present AND the people in your past. We are, after all, a product and creation of the moments that we share with those we have loved, and befriended and trusted and learned with. That is something. If nothing else, worth toasting to.

I like to think of good friends as extensions of ourselves, with varying degrees of similarity, shared interest and healthy disagreement. People, who over the years, have witnessed this thing we do called "living". It isn't always pretty. It's not always fun to watch, but it is real. It is a road trip that always requires some co-passengers.

So get your list ready. Spend some time appreciating those friends that you have or have had:
-who quietly supported you without judgement
-who defended you and your best interest, even when they had to fight YOU.
-who challenged you to be better.
-who knew when to say nothing.
-who listened and remembered.
-who told you the truth, when saying nothing would have been easier.
-who reciprocated or even gave more.
-who pulled through when no one else did.

Think about them. Cherish them. Let the champagne bubbles serve as warm-fuzzy senders of gratitude. Feel the warmth come back in knowing...

Somewhere, someone is thinking of you too.

Fortune Cookie Rule for Resolutions

Let's play a little game. I feel playful, games are fun. Resolutions are a joke. According to about.com the most popular New Years Resolutions are below. I thought it would be fun to use the fortune cookie rule and end them all with: "...in bed." Let's see if it works:

1.) Spend more time with family and friends....in bed. - Could work. Could get complicated, but by God, it will be a new and interesting year!

2.) Fit in fitness....in bed. - Eh. Does that mean naked yoga or "work double time"? No one likes a rabbit. Men will argue the this one into the bed frame. I have trouble fitting in meals...

3.) Tame the bulge....in bed. - Hm? That sounds counter-productive to me.

4.) Quit Smoking...in bed- YES. Quit smoking anywhere you stinky stinker. Smoking in bed only looks cool in black and white film where you can't see the ceiling stained yellow, or the nasty teeth on the two lovers.

5.) Enjoy life more...in bed. - Now, when I read that, I think: Read books, light a candle, have a babysitter over so I can paint my nails with a face mask on.

6.) Quit drinking...in bed.- No. I dont particularly drink in bed, but drinking gets me into bed. Does that count.?No. I will not quit drinking. I will not quit. Not cause you said. Not in a bed.

7.) Get out of debt....in bed- Okay, now its getting tricky. This means, all those people you jipped in bed, either too early, or without passion, or by pretending, you must pay back, some how. That's a big resolution. No thanks. There just isn't enough time.

8.) Learn something new...in bed- Oh yeah.....this should be a national social requirement in order to get laid. Not unlike the test I think people should take before being allowed to reproduce. A checklist...2008..."back bend, triple-claw gyration plank." Check.

9.) Help others...in bed- No. Let them finger it out themselves. Well, define help? No.

10.) Get organized....in bed - Are we talking Boston North-end organized, or more like Swedish container unit organized? Neither sound very appealing. My vote is stay chaotic and unpredictable.

Try it with your resolutions. Anything can happen...

Top 3 Update.

Let's face it. I am hypocrisy personified... or maybe I just have an alter-ego..or maybe I am human and sad things make me sad, so I turn to trite things to make me laugh....Thus:

My Top 3 update: ( Get em'...Bed em')

1.) George Clooney. -I need some laugh lines and salt n pepper in the new year.
2.) Tom Brady -So long as he doesnt speak. Especially about how tough he has it. Please.
3.) Josh Duhamel - Needs no explanation. He is a physical specimen.

You know...in case.

Bhutto Who? Shame on you!

Disturbing display #1:
I am at the gym yesteray morning. Busy pumping along on the elliptical machine trying to meet the expectations of the heavily accosted women of America to be below a size 4. "The View" gets broken up by a NEWS BRIEF on Benazir Bhutto's assassination. Bush appears before the camera in Crawford Texas. What happens next? 75% of the other women and men CHANGE THE CHANNEL! (each cardio machine has it's own tv) WHAT? The woman next to me puts on the Food network. People switch to VH1 or other surreality crap. You don't have to like Bush, you don't have to like news, but man....

Disturbing display #2: On Larry King Live last night, the news story cut from the live coverage to "Mischa Barton's 7 hour jail sentence" then back to: "More on the horrific unraveling of Pakistan in the wake of Bhutto's death" - Thank you CNN for sharing those two news reels. (I am being sarcastic.) (( It is sad I need to state that, but I do.)

Disturbing display #3: The media moguls are busy at work naming Pakistan: "Terror Central". Late last night I predicted it would be something like: "Pakistan, RPG in hand" or "Pakistan-Terror land" or "Axis of Terror land". Can we just watch the news? Without a catchy-commercialized label and well-designed graphic?

I get it. Most Americans don't generally follow Pakistani news, but this is WORLD news. This was the first female Prime Minister of a Muslim country. Was she perfect? No. Was she corrupt?...She was a leader in a third-world country. Get real here. Bottom line, I, like so many others don't know much about her, or the situation.

I am not saying you have to understand all the after-shock effects (I dont), or even the future implications of what this means to America, to you, to your families. (Because it does). I am just suggesting maybe you TUNE IN and acquire an opinion for yourself. Let me propose a few questions to ponder...

1.) Where will the 50 billion (or so) of funds the US provides to Pakistan go? Will it go? Who will manage that?
2.) Who is this Musharraf guy? What does he stand for? Or better...with whom?
3.) Who might have planned this? If it was more than a random isolated suicide bomber, is it the first step of some multi-level plan?
4.) What is the PPP?

Just asking. I wont spout a political stance. I don't know enough. I know that. But it doesn't mean I wont pay attention...

Let the record show...My 2008 Intention:

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we're uncool. " - Lester Bangs in Almost Famous

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOg2yOwy3yY

Too much time is spent trying to say the perfect thing. Create the perfect golden moment in fade-away fashion. Too much energy lost thinking up the grand gesture. To seem in control, to appear as though every talent came with little effort and lots of hard work. The fact of it all is this:

It is hard work for some, easy for others. There are people who live by love, and those who love to live without it. There will be entire unintentional moments that gleem with perfection, without any premeditated plan to do so. There will be total failures that blow ego and its by-products into oblivion. For some letting go is a snap decision like choosing Thai for dinner, instead of Lasagna. For others it takes years, decades to put a shoulder-chip down.

Life is finite. It is here and we are so busy trying to seem whatever the unnamed emotion of the day is (Grateful. Loving. Successful. Mysterious.) that we lose complete sight of the very priorities we actually place value on.

The present can be so wasted on the next "get". The little things that string us together as the big thing is what makes the entire sequence worthy of both honor and some sense of redemption.
I make no sense most of the time. Most of my present is spent counting down something, or looking for the next elusive muddy pot hole to trip through. Just so I can say: "Ah-Ha! I knew you were there!"

The simplest observation I have made this year is that I can obsess about the holes, and valleys, and pain to come, but it wont stop it from coming. In fact, I have categorical evidence showing that thoughts can serve as a giant magnet. Vibrating and pulling the exact manifestations we work so hard to avoid...right to us.

I detest the idea of listing things to change due to a mere numerical increase on a calendar. I think positive change should be a constant seeking goal.

So instead of some quirky cute list naming things I wont change, or will not resolve to do, I will say this: If my magnet is going to be pulling anything next year...I'd rather take that power to pull something nice. Something sunny. Something a little less heavy.

In the spirit of cosmic reciprocation. I am pulling for good.

(cue music) "Ive seen all good people: Your Move" - Yes
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Who doesnt love a good recorder/flute thingy and a good round in a rock song?!

Be Cool. Be Uncool. Just be Positive.

Diana Ross is my mother!

Okay, This is not the first time anyone has heard this particular breed of conspiracy theory, but tonight my sister reminded me ( while watching the KCH awards): I am the love child of Diana Ross and my father. No offense, mom. Really. But who can deny these facts:

1.) The timing works out perfectly. I'm 30. She is....old enough to have a 30 yr old. The year I was born she won 7 AMA's. How could she claim me?! She was so busy! I love the number seven...Spooky.


2.) She divorced in 1977, and was "single" for a little while. She was then scene with a skinny, goofy African-Arab engineer one late December night in Knights bridge. She then ( get this) married a Norweigan dude in the 1980's, who happens to be my mother's twice-removed cousin: Arne Neass Jr. and ( double get this) I LOVE his daughter ( my sister) Leona Naess's music! See?!

3.) I present the below pictures. Which one resembles me more?




4.) Let's take a gander at me ( the early years). Note the hair explosion on my head, and the cleavage! Hm...



5.)I have always been an attention monger, and at the ripe age of about 5, I stated it. Claimed it. Even recited/imitated her. Diana Ross is my mother.


Stop in the name of love....Think it over.

The Great Debaters - Denzel does it.

Do I love Denzel Washington? Hm...let's see? Unequivocally, YES. Sure, people can come up with hundreds of reasons to knock him. Let them...but they can't knock this movie.

A story of a college debate team set in the 1930's. Led by poet and professor, Melvin B. Tolson. It starts with a quote from Langston Hughes and ends with citings of Gandhi and Thoreau. Perhaps not every fact is true...but that is why they say "based". More importantly, it makes anyone want to be better, behave better and be morally accountable, no matter what the circumstance. (Hopefully)

The cinematography was amazing, from mirroring weeping willows of Texas swamps to the dark wood of Harvard University. He found simplicity everywhere, and so many scenes didn't need to belabor the thought presented, no matter how poignant or powerful. The sentiments rang true without overly long pauses, hollywood-slow motion, or unecessarily dramtic music. Just watch "James Farmer" (Forest Whitaker) get hugged by his son and you will see what I mean.

If absolutely nothing else, and I assure you that there is much MORE "else".This movie presents new options to young black American women and men. It provides a prideful story of education, hard work, skepticism and change. A story not so often brought to the big screen. Unfortunatley, those slots are filled to the brim with absurd shows about steppin' your way out of the ghetto and such.

The Great Debaters. Go see it.

Truth lies. Part I.

The airport has a bustle that is less excitement and more the rush of getting back to normal. People standing in line at Starbucks in O'Hare are tapping their feet as if to beg the clerk to move faster, to zap them with their caffeine-sugar cocktail that will surge them back into the routine. The sound of rolling suitcase wheels and distant giggles, clinging glasses, gate updates spiral through the air above her. She tunes in for a second, quieting the noise of her head.

"Attention passengers: flight 469 to La Guardia is scheduled to leave at 7:50pm. Our arrival time is being updated as...."

She re-engages her magazine. Shifts in her seat, crossing a leg and begins to read "Three steps to a happier new you". Her eyes feel heavy from the long visit. Nothing in particular to get back to, nothing specifically to complain about. She continues. A slight raise in her body heat forces her to look up, change her positioning again. Not truly appreciating her own body giving her a signal. " Number 1. Wake up with light..." she curls her lip at the obvious veiled sales-tactic already. The tip goes on to describe the latest sunrise simulation alarm clock. "Is nothing pure?" She asks herself. Can we NOT sell something in every syllable? she gets more upset than necessary with the entire idea of it all. Her heart jumps a second.

This time she looks up, sensing something is happening. Someone is looking at her. She feels the eyes on her in the same nature a grazing gazelle knows when a cunning cat of some sort is sizing it up. In an instant she sees him. A pang so sharp it has after-shocks, strikes her chest. Her breath stops and she looks down in pure fearful reaction. Her mind doesn't have time to process what is happening. He walks over. Lifts an eyebrow. The lines on his face smile at her with a knowing familiarity and she stands.Limply, like a child raises from a chair before being asked to answer a difficult question.

"I thought it was you" He says. Starting to talk from farther than a normal conversation is held. He seems uncomfortable yelling, but ready to start talking . So he does.

"It's me." She lifts both arms as if to say Ta-Dah half-hearted. Her eyes as alert as humanly possible. Heightened sense of awareness. She immediately realizes how tired she must look. She brushes some fallen hair behind an ear. Doing so, she notices the heat of it (her ear, not the moment, although it is equally molten)

"Merry Christmas...I guess." He giggles and takes a step towards her. Leans left to hug her and then darts back to look at her for a second. A moment for approval. She looks at him with big open eyes.

They hug. He hugs tightly, and she can smell him. Fresh powder and bachelor's smell. A mixture of leather briefcases, and stale college room with a hint of peppermint gum for good measure. She inhales the air slowly, deliberately.

His hands pat her back a few times to signal he is letting go. Her hair is on his shoulders, falling in pieces on his blue shirt. She stands still. Her arms bent at the elbow, palms open on his back. He pulls away. His face closer to her this time.

"You were watching me. Were you debating saying hello?" She sounds wounded and clipping at the same time.

"No, of course I wasn't. I just noticed it was you. " He lies.

"How are things?" He asks with his head tilted. His hand in a pocket to seem a little more in control. "I heard you are writing." He asks and states.

"I'm trying. Always have been. " she looks down at his shoes. His face bargains her love back from anger, and she needs anger for survival. "Don't do this thing, OK?" She says curtly.

"What thing?" He shifts his weight on to his back leg, recognizing now that she isn't willing to play the surface game. His pale face shows the heat of blood rushing.

"This thing. Where you pretend what happened, didn't. I act interested in anything other than if you are feeling any remnant echos of pain. Where I crack jokes so you feel assured things are fine, and then I walk away feeling used, beat up and dishonest, all in the name of making sure YOU don't feel accountable for anything you have done." she breathes and notices that looking back at his face didn't dilute the anger that time.

"Stop....." He shakes his head squints his eyes as if to not understand." What?" He fights the instinct to retreat. He reaches for her arm. Holds it tightly. "You look great."

"I don't." she shakes her head. "Don't make it so apparent that you know my weaknesses." She smiles through a furrowed brow. "It makes me feel trite"

"You do that. I just give you compliments. And I do....know you." He says softly. They lock eyes and both hearts volley in the air in unison at the truth being spoken for the first time since they last saw each other.

Their inexplicably kindred hearts stay a float within their separate rib-cages, feeding from the energy between them. Like two eager children hoping they are allowed outside to play. The silence between them carries a weight of loving temptation and the sound of playful plee.

She looks at him and notices three letters on his boarding pass: "LGA"

"Let's have a drink for the sake of holiday cheer and past bygones?" He proposes, shocked that the words left his mouth. The spontaneity and emotion of it all always drops his walls of reason.

"You buy. You beg forgiveness. You make me laugh and nothing bad can happen." She marks her last comment with a pointing finger as if to give a clear and obvious instruction.

His phone vibrates. He clicks it open with one hand. He rolls his eyes at the number appearing. She feels the anticipation of his offer-retraction melting her to nothingness. Her tear-ducts begin to swell at the disappointment and fear of it all. "No, you must be.." She begins.

He closes the phone, and cuts her off: "Done. Maybe. Done, and c'mon, on baby Jesus' birthday? No way." He quips and picks up her bag. The smell of him whiffs by her nose and she follows it. Follows him.

I'm getting old!

5 Signs I'm getting older:

1.) Playing Guitar Hero III makes me feel dirty and shameful. (only because of the outfits the girls are wearing, and it is always too loud).

2.) When I am working out at the gym and all the college girls are back from school... I look at them, and instead of asking myself: "Does my butt still look like that?" I think: "I wonder if she babysits?"

3.) My favorite gift this year was a "Clairsonic Skin system"!

4.) A "Good" New Year's eve would be at home with good friends, good wine and plenty of sleep to greet 2008 with a smile.

5.) The blockbuster I watched this Christmas Day, was "Potty Time!"...and I have watched it about 7 times since.

Endings end too.

There is a power in anticipation. A luster in what lies ahead. We create it with bated breath for gifts exchanging, embracing love and family. An expectation set years before we can muster the sanity to realize it's purity is too hard to hang on to. ( like so many things)

I find myself listless tonight. The tree is off, the lights outside have been unplugged. There is a love-hate emotional tie I have to endings. Endings of any kind. I suppose it makes sense for me specifically, but life can feel like a countless stream of beginnings with foreshadowed closes skipping slowly behind. I look forward though, holding onto the intention of progression and betterment.

Pretenders "2000 miles" plays in my head. I move like in slow motion, shoulders drooping. The beginning of a new year awaits, yet the one I am still heel-stepping out of lingers as something of a loss. Loss of many natures. Friendships, ideas of men I loved, jobs, self-esteem, but with it I have lost the pain that those things latched on too. Instead of : "I think of you wherever you go.." I feel more like "He's gone. 2000 miles. It's very far."

We let free the things that bind us to the old wounds that keep us from the new healing of regarding life as less of a status report, or happy-scale and more of a ever-evolving shape of things. A molding, and unfolding acceptance to the things we are becoming by the things we let go of.

I stop at the final light switch on the final room to put to rest tonight on Christmas. I look to the room in the dark, deep breathe and find relief in knowing....

Endings end too.

10 Lovey love-love things to do at Christmas time:

1.) Hug people who don't like to be hugged. Hug hard. Inevitably, they will melt at the warm and aggressively kind gesture, even if only for a nanosecond.

2.) Laugh obnoxiously at some one's bad joke. It makes them feel better. Just do it.

3.) Hold hands.

4.) Email, text or call someone you haven't spoken to in ages and let them know you are thinking of them.

5.) Give a homeless person a meal, five bucks, or hell, a beer in a bag. It's a tough time of year. You drink, why can't they?

6.) Forgive yourself for the extra pounds on the scale.

7.) Be nice to your mother. She may be nutty, but she is your nutty, and she puts up with your unforgiving resentment every day too.

8.) Go have sex willy-nilly cause you can, and your lonely. Wait! No, don't do that. But wouldn't it be fun if tomorrow never came? In the name of love...ok, no. Don't.

9.) Say "I love you" more freely, to everyone, even if to your one-eyed cat. The words feel warmer and fuller at Christmas time. Say it and MEAN it. Emotions carry in words. And words can carry.

10.) Love yourself for all you have accomplished and survived this year. Love that in a weeks time, a new one will begin and anything can happen. Be kind to you for the sake of holiday love.

"Story of My Life"

Tis the season for tolerance, travel, and giving. We found ourselves in mega-store in small town rural Iowa. A guitar lay on a table attached to a TV screen. My husband and I look at each other with that: "game on?" look and I pick it up.

Sure, there are tons of gifts to be bought. Yes, this is our only chance to shop without our two-year old child, but we have been in the car, fighting fog with 100-meter visibility for five hours. We are about to be engaged in a whole lotta small talk, where the conversations replay with nearly thirty different people. The summary is this: "How's things in your world?" "Good." "Well that's good." "Eh-hm. It's good." - so...we took a moment to play a little video game. Get in touch with our inner-tween and rip a few riffs with Guns and Roses in Aisle 14. No harm in that?

The song is "Welcome to the Jungle." I botch it trying to figure out how the game is played. (we don't read instructions, any "natural" can pick anything up and be good, naturally).

Immediately, I feel the pressure from the random stares of people coming to watch how I fair on the push-button guitar. Is quite hard to be inconspicuous with Axel Rose's visceral scream at the beginning of the song. A man in tapered acid-washed black jeans looks at me with a grin showing his three missing teeth. Another woman and her 4 children push past quickly, every step she takes makes a jingle-bell noise from the actual bells attached to her sweater.

It's his turn. I hand over the guitar, and in typical lulu fashion I say: "Beat that Bitch." He grabs the white Gibson-esque plastic guitar that looks like a green bean in the hand of a giant. His head tilts and off he goes. Missing chords, barely hitting notes, and then he finds his groove. I start pointing out every note he doesn't hit. Little sporadic comments like: "Oops?" or "woa. keep trying."

He finishes and I say: "You weren't hitting any of those." "What?!" He replies. We get into a full-glam-rock debate over how to actually know that you have done well. Is it the fire flame that goes ablaze on the note? or the score on the side? I am convinced he is wrong. I say: "we should buy one so I can prove to you that you suck." He darts away to look at the gamer shelves. We even drive to the nearest "game stop" to see if they have any Wii's. No dice. Looks like we will have to leave this battle unfinished. Just as we pull into grandma's house he says: "You may just have to deal with being wrong Lulu. It happens."

We got home tonight. We settled in, unpacked. My husband looked at me with the sparkle of a child before Christmas. Without saying anything I whisper: "Go get one." So he grabbed his best-buy gift cards and ran out the door.

He beat me, fair and square at every song except: "Story of My Life" by social distortion. There are a thousand better ways for us to spend our nights, and I'm hoping we lose interest in this addictive vacuum of time. But for now, we are enjoying our gift to us. We are indulging in something wasteful and fun. We learned some things last night: I am wrong sometimes,we love music and competition, and its good to be a kid.

Such is the Story of my life.

Um...Top 3 update.

Oh the polarized priority of my blog posts!

My color today: Light purple pleading to be bright light purple.
My smell: Anything NOT gingerbread, pine needles, or cinnamon. ( maybe vanilla bean)

Top 3 as of today:

1.) Tom Brady - On record for perfection. My kind of man. Seriously, show me a woman that doesn't appreciate those long, tight, muscular thighs in manly-tights?

2.) Danny Archer- Leo DiCaprio's character in "Blood Diamond" .I love a good-hearted, cynical man in crisis. Add the SA accent?! I am putty. True anything-you-want-putty.

3.) Hank Moody aka. David Duchovny- The filthy-mouthed-sardonic-super-writer-slut.

Media panders to the "Dumb factor"

I think if there were a line to cross between slightly filtering news with little small-thinking side bars, and gross assumption that we are stupid, Its been catapulted over!

I was watching the NBC news two days ago, and the anchor said: "British troops hand over power to the northen territory of Iraq. This momentous day was met with celebration and parade" A small video box appeared in the left hand corner of marching soldiers, and cheering women in full Islamic garb. (no guns in the air, or burning flags this time. Phew).

The clip ran for about....twenty seconds. The anchor shuffled some papers and said something like: "In other news...Is that glass of wine helpful or hurtful?" Who lined that up?! I paid attention for a second, thought about how my daily wine intake has increased, and how I am gaining weight and maybe it's from the wine. (record scratch) WHO FECKING CARES? DID ENGLAND JUST PULL OUT OF WAR IN IRAQ? I don't know? The news isn't saying? What? I jumped on my computer and found headlines. "British Hands over Basra to Iraq Control" I find several more online articles, and fulfill my obsessive need to be informed.

Here's my problem. (Yes, Im assuming you care) There are plenty American people ( I live in a town full of them) that are educated, concerned and raising their children. I can almost bet my yearly fuel budget, that they were watching this, and it was passed over as quickly as you can say: "Jamie Lynn is pregnant?!" How does this happen? If we don't demand real news, we wont get it.

That, to me, Is not only reason enough for the world to shake their head with disdain, but it is down-right scary. I'm the first to admit it: I am good at looking away, obsessing about other people's (not so really bad) problems. It makes me feel better about myself to look at Britney or sensationlize toy recalls, and obesity, and minor medical snippets that have quotable statistics.

Pay attention people. It may not change your immediate world. You may not realize that our dependence on oil IS affecting you. Our wars, presidents,SUV's, diapers, plastic bags, use of electricity, lack of interest in anything non-American is going to create the world in which our precious children will be stuck with. It is proving to be far less romantic than the idea we cling to as "The Great American Dream."

Take a minute to think about what YOU are talking about. Maybe you can broaden the scope a little? Even if its uncomfortable, even if it scares you. Put down the People Magazine and humor your children, your friends, your parents, your dog....talk about something that actually will matter 20 years from now. We owe it to ourselves.

Wistful, Wasteful or Wonderful ?

I remember when Christmas was some type of relationship barometer. Will I met my partners parents? Will I get an expensive or thoughtful gift? I would bounce around in the energy of love and sharing and giving and general enchantment. I don't have that now. Now, there are bills, and shopping lists, and decorations, and travel plans, and Christmas cards, and address labels, and Christmas bonuses for everyone that helps make "the machine" roll. I have to believe most of my stress relates directly to my last-minute approach to everything.

But then I get struck by memories. Thoughts about people from the past, people from the present, distant relatives, old friends. There is something ingrained in us. Some sort of expectation about the holidays that creeps up and reminds us to think fondly of the people we love and and have loved. It hits randomly and without warning. In the car, I might remember running around with my cousins in the snow and staying up late drinking cider and playing "quarters" on Christmas eve. I can recount exact holiday dates, and date movies: "Serendipity", or "Lord of the Rings" (ugh), "Cast Away"? Really?
(Wistful)

I then, categorically start berating myself for being selfish enough to complain about anything at all. Who am I to bitch? I have a beautiful, healthy, smart little girl, a home, fresh food, a good husband, a great group of friends, and I start to stress about how I should be focusing more towards the greater good of humans, of life, or family. How people all over the world have nothing. Children in Africa are fighting for shoes to cover their feet, soldiers are fighting a war they can't define, long-term illness is taking lives by the minute. I am a bourgeois suburban pig. ( Wasteful)

What if instead we tried to keep it simple. Be good. Give Love. Spend Time. I think if I were to follow these three little motto's. It could be a meaningful holiday. If I try (with every agro-stressed-spread-thin fiber of my being) to be generally good to everyone. Be in a good mood, let things slide. Maybe if I worried less about what people will think, and just love with all my heart, share love, express it and exude it. I bet if I commit ( and I hate doing that) to spending uninterrupted time with people I love, the rest will sort out. This is my holiday wish. ( Wonderful)

Even if it only last as long as it took to write this....The intent is there, perhaps the execution will follow. So today, no matter how you feel, no matter if you are wistful, admittedly wasteful, or already wonderful, try it anyway. What can you lose?

Be good. Give love. Spend time.

"Once" out on DVD!

So, I saw this movie twice in theatres, and was a little worried it wouldn't deliver on DVD. You know, maybe I was hormonal both times I saw it, or in the place where movies can over affect me, but no. It was just as lovely.

If you haven't seen it..read at your own risk.

Once stars Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. Directed by John Carney. A story about a guy who is riffing out the pain of a cheating ex-girlfriend who befriends a Hungarian girl just trying to make ends meet in Dublin, Ireland. I love the simplicity of it all. I love the story and more importantly the modern-day musicality.

She is a persistent musical gypsy. He is an aggressively-nonchalant force of brilliance dealing with misplaced, confused love. Both of them with complicated stories. Yet, somehow, through the love of music, a pure relationship ensues. I loved pretty much every single second of it, but if I had to narrow it down to a couple of my favorite things/scenes:

- His silly guitar string dangling upright off the end of his guitar.
- The "Eh? It worked" face he gives her at the piano during "Falling Slowly".
- The way his furrowed brows seem to sing for themselves.
- The silly vacuum dragging behind the girl.
- The camera work during her solo (even though I don't like the song)
- When the digital sound-mixer-guy double takes after the drum/base line comes through on "Your mind's made up."
- The entire father-son sequence. I cried (scratch that) balled. All three times.

Again, Glen Hansard has the mastery of seeming lonely and desperate but also completely detached from the outcome of any of it. I love how he steals his "Da's" bike and spontaneously shows up at her place to take her for a ride, and she can't go. He says: "It's cool yeah? Another time then?" He is agreeable, but heartbroken all in a two-second frame.

It's friendship, love, heartbreak and collaborative creativity at it's most vulnerable.

Check it out. Its hauntingly good.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAEB53-QILA

"Take this sinking boat and point it home/ We've still got time..."

Holiday Shopping Hell.

5 Things that make me want to hibernate until January 2nd:

1.) Flag men, red cones, and people wanting to make LEFT turns in a shopping mall entrance or exit.

2.) The old bags working "holiday part-time" during the day at the retail locations. They take 4 times as long to look up a PLU or SKU. I could go home, order it online and pick it up from your store in the time it takes her to write it down on her little shaking piece of paper. ( Seriously, you couldn't pay me. Not even at 72)

3.) The inevitable cashier who has the audacity to be annoyed with ME for appearing in front of HER at the counter she chose to work at. Worse: that she doesnt understand my description of the gal that helped me. "Tall, brown hair, I dunno..she didnt say, or really help for that matter."

4.) Songs by Burl Ives, Bing Crosby, or any version of "Silver Bells".

5.) Knowing that whatever you bought will most likely be returned or greeted with a half smile because you either over-thought it, or missed the mark completely.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

The O face.

I was watching John Mayer playing guitar at the "Crossroads" festival on WTTW. His faces were unsettling. I realize all great artists make funny faces while playing instruments ( and its accepted, as it should be.) But it makes me think: "What does it look like when he is...you know..."

There is no real winning at the "O face" game. I have realized in my extensive research that it is never really a good moment (aesthetically speaking) for anyone....

I have seen men make faces that simulate an infant beginning to cry.
There have been side-angle look aways as if to say: "Enough, its too much." Sometimes men have looked at me with utter surprise like they are equally scared and happy to be approaching this moment. Others, give you an "I'm sorry" look. Most, just end up mimicking some strange facial contortion that they once witnessed in a Cineamax movie.

The best was a guy who screamed my name long-and-drawn-out. It sounded like an epic seperation scene where the man is being hawled away by authorities, or a boy losing his dog. I remember staring at him blankly. I was making an effort not to blink or look away, so he wasnt as embarrassed as he should have been for such an obnoxious foul of sex-noises. He was eliminated from the roster from that moment on.

In any event, I find it impossible to say anything about it. What is the alternative, a positive, serious, eye-to-eye stare of intent and completion? No, that seems worse. I can't even imagine what mine looks like, Ive never seen it. Who has? Wait,now that's a funny idea. Forgive my judgement, but if you have seen your own o-face in a mirror, you had better be in the "industry" or saving a small country by your contribution of humility.

I think, while I'm trying to figure out how to manage something I can't control, and certainly can't change, I will continue to just, well. Look away.

Happy O-faces people. Don't be over- conscious now....

10 questions people ask but don't want answers to

1.) How are you?
2.) Do you want to go?
3.) Am I bothering you?
4.) Do I look fat in this?
5.) Can I make a suggestion?
6.) Did he/she look good? ( when referring to an ex-sighting)
7.) Can I ask you a question?
8.) Do you have a minute?
9.) Would you mind?
10.) Are you mad at me?

Good answers I suggest:

1.) Terrible most days, but surviving with wine, good friendship and avoidance.
2.) No way. I'm lazy. You go.
3.) Yes. Most of the time, with most of the things you do.
4.) Not really fat, but kind-of.
5.) No suggestions unsolicited. Seriously, that's what moms are for.
6.) He/She looked unhappy.
7.) Depends. Can you tell me its pertinence to this moment, and how long it will take to answer?
8.) I have tons of them, but I like to strategically use them.
9.) I usually don't. I'm helpful, but I reserve the right to be annoyed by it all later.
10.) I'm usually not. But if you ask me two more times, my answer will change.

You Rock! - a generalized personal pep-talk.

Do you remember yourself as a child? The innocence and purity with which you viewed yourself? I'm talking about the days you danced like a spastic punk-mosher, and you thought you were the best. I'm talking about when you rode a bike at high-speeds and thought you could beat any bastard on the block. I'm talking about the innate belief that you had a major added value to everyone. It wasn't debatable. You were 4, and you rocked!

What has changed? Somewhere along the way we let the tides of the years diminish that feeling. Like an ocean rolling over a great sense of who you are, it erases that confidence with every shocking knowledge of other incredible people. Like the girl in 3rd grade who fearlessly spoke in front of crowds (I think she was an only child). Or that kid who was born to play every sport and win MVP every year. So what! Time passes. We grow up and it gets harder to be in touch with that unwavering self-acceptance, but when did we stop trying?

Seriously? Sure, you didn't personally save a child's life. Okay, you didn't find a skin graph stem-cell solution to save degenerative disease from killing millions. I'm not judging you. We do what we can, and at the very least we have intentions to be better. That counts. It really does. It is the beginning of doing something great. So accept it, and start breeding more positive recognition now.

You have had so many small and big pitfalls. Life looked you in the eye this year and said: "Let's see what you are made of _(your name here)_? " You didn't run away crying! Okay, well fine, but you came back. Come on, This life is nuts sometimes:

o Your mother( or mother-in-law)?
o The incessant pressure to be outstanding in this do-it-all society while smiling and seeming comfortable in your own skin?
o Your job where few people understand your true capabilities no matter how many times you save your boss's ass in a possible snafu?
o Being accosted by massive media to eat right, look like a size zero, and be manically happy, but calm and healthy all while being wildy successful and knowing the latest wine, youtube video or "hot spot" downtown?

More importantly, you have survived. Another year of being lonely and then finding a way to enjoy the little things YOU like. You have managed another non-stop balance of multiple responsibilities, social functions and needy friends. Maybe you weathered a major life change that you thought would break you. Um...sorry to prove your past forethought wrong...but you are a better person TODAY. And, I gotta say...I'm not sure you would be; had you not gone through all that. Do you?

Be positive. Picture a soft glowing spherical presence of hope inside you. Centered. With every positive breath you take in....with every kind attribute you appreciate yourself for, it expands and lights a little more. It's glow becomes a little brighter, until you are beaming sunshine from the inside out. Try it. The hard stuff is easy to believe. I know this. Shite, I could write a book on all the terrible things about myself. Secrets, horrible mistakes, past judgements, present shortcomings...etc. But what do they do to serve me? Nada. So, since you like a nice challenge...take this: Try thinking only good things today.

Think of how it's OK that you have a little muffin top hanging over your jeans, its the holidays. You are being GOOD to you. Think how a lot of people would crumble simply dealing with the overwhelming stress you highly-function with on a daily basis. Think how beautiful you are regardless of anything having to do with a mirror.

Think back to the days of your pure sense of self. The acceptance that came with it...that was you. It still is, just more seasoned, better equipped to ruminate the idea that you are innately worthy of all things good, and ( at the risk of debunking Stuart Small's affirmations) God damnit....YOU like YOU. The rest can figure itself out. And it will.

Be you. Love you, and glow...like a fucking four year old!

Who's Your Celebrity Look-alike?

I (clearly) needed a self-esteem boost and a good laugh. So. I went to the below link and played around...

http://www.myheritage.com/FP/Company/tryFaceRecognition.php?morph=1

After being in a stinky sassy bad mood yesterday...I tried seeing what celebrities I look like when in a bad mood? Audry Hepburn! I love Helena Bonham Carter... I should be crabby more often!

Then, I tried seeing what celebrities "Happy-Lulu" looks like? Um. I don't agree. Cameron Diaz was an 80% match. I don't think so. Where's Jenny A?!

And...lastly, I had to see/be reminded why I married the man I did. Who does he look like?! How does he have a likeness to both Paul Walker (frequent on my "top 3 ") AND William H. Macy? I do love John Denver, but not for his looks.

Try it.....It's Friday. Go ahead. Get crazy.

Moody Boo. Give up already.

There comes a point where you have to simply commit to not knowing WHY you are in a bad mood. The day started out fine. Shower, good music, a funny voicemail from a friend. It progressed as any work-day would. A co-worker told me a blog post was horrible. I deleted it. My lunch was mediocre and I got bogged down with the minutia of corporate world. I took a few conference calls. I packed up my notebook, nodded good-bye, made a joke. Walked out. (drone-like) It's a tough call. No one likes to admit it.

I think there is a mild misconception that being in a bad mood is weak. It isn't. It just...well, is. Men struggle with this bad mood thing (not that I am pointing fingers or generalizing, but I am.) A man can snip at every word you utter. He can grunt, sigh and sit, silently brewing during a good soft-porn-comedy while eating greasy food with no adverse effects and still say: "I'm NOT in a bad mood." Right.

My denial is a bit more complicated. I find ways to let my mood slip out sideways. Like a musty green-brown cartoon portrayal of sewage waste, it seeps through my pores. I start getting hints when a bubbly song illicits a quick radio station change. I know I'm being difficult when I can't make a simple food choice because everything "sounds processed and full of pig guts" ( Hint #1). Today, I wrote about sex. My favorite. I wrote about describing good sex, and I couldn't make the words link. Worse, I didn't care. ( for me, that's bad. Hint #2)

Then I wrote about my intolerance of other people's sad stories, if they aren't as sad as mine. How can I possibly feel empathy for someone feeling sad about the THOUGHT of losing a parent? You are using "present tense!" That means your father is still alive! (Hint #3)

I ranted about relative survival, pain and loss. I got angry, really angry. Suddenly, I heard a loud ear-drum cracking whistle. I stepped back from my own hot mess and saw three different red flags fall to the field from the referees of my mind. It's unanimous. (Thank God those guys are in there!) They fell in slow motion as if to really drag out the point. A distant whistle lingered and faded out.

What's the point Lulu? Let me tell me: Being in a bad mood is going to happen. We often seek reasons, explanations for these types of temporary emotional "blahs". The problem is sometimes, like today, there is no perfectly packaged source. No block-letter answer sitting on a pedestal to be discovered. "It" is more meshed, and interwoven. Loose and wild. So if seeking the clarity doesn't help the cause, then why keep looking?

If the very existence of my bad mood had me in a double-chicken-wing, bone-crusher- tendon-tight-lock-hold. I silently and FINALLY say:

"Ugh..(sigh)...Mercy. Not sure how we got here, but...I give up." and I move on.

Tomorrow is another day.

No bust. Pretending to work tips.

10 Things you can do to appear busy while Holiday shopping at work:

1.) Say a random number under your breath and shuffle through papers. "Two hundred...and...thirty eight. Cool. Where is that invoiceee?....."

2.) Make a grimace or confused face at your computer screen. Even if it IS your hotmail in box. Shake your head and curl your lip for added plausibility.

3.) Deep breathe as if annoyed.

4.) Ask someone near by a random question about a project/deadline you think might sound pertinent. "Chris? Did you get that Creative brief from the agency?" Ignore his "WTF?" face and act like your question is relevant.

5.) Get up swiftly and walk to the printer. (or print a random paper at your desk) Hum or sing like you are as busy as a Snow White drawf. "Hi hoo...Hi hoo.."

6.) Say some one's name out loud with disdain, while looking at your computer. "Seriously, Michelle? Geez..."

7.) Pick up your phone and answer: "This is Lulu? Yes. Hi. I just got it...I know. I know. Well...I've been working on it for an hour now." (Caution: this can backfire if your phone isn't on vibrate.)

8.) Grab a pen and start circling things and making notes on paper you have at your desk. Do it hurried and nervously, so it looks like you HAVE to get the specific urgent fact out.

9.) Always have a spreadsheet or industry specific document open behind whatever you are doing(online). Close Internet short cut is: "CTRL + W"

10.) Lean in to your computer ( hunch a little) and squint your eyes as if to look closer.

That's fine. You can look aghast.....but ... You know it. YOU do it.

5 Things NOT to do in a communal restroom:

1.) Answer the phone and talk.
2.) Laugh for no reason.
3.) Scream: "What the hell is that!?"
4.) Fake cough to muffle the sound of things.
5.) Just wait, and wait and wait (doing nothing) until I leave.

Stages of Regret (emotional misdemeanor)

Examples: Drunk-dialing/texting/emailing. Saying something like: "What? You are a terrible boss." (to your boss). Confessing love to a current unrequited crush or past love.

The steps -I'm guessing here-I don't make mistakes remember?

The Drop - Embedded in random useless information, numerically.
1.) I ate eggs for breakfast. I never eat eggs.
2.) Did you hear the new Cat Power song?
3.) I wrote a (soul-baring) email to a past love from like 10 years ago.
4.) Oh, what time are we having lunch?

The Disclaimer - Whatever. No one notices what I do. "Quick, what did I wear yesterday?" See, no one is watching. It's nothing really. People are so busy with the mundane, hell, I'm mundane.

The Bucket - "Well, he was a total jerk. I mean, like textbook narcissist. He might notice, only because it was, well, addressed to him, about him, from me. But it was sweet and fuzzy and cutely self-depreciating. If there were a "good bucket" and a "bad bucket" it's in the good. Well, maybe half and half. Depends on his mood. If he was taking a shite, and just fought with his girlfriend and hates all women....More bad. If he is lonely. Its good. Hm. Its bad.

The Ledge - "He will think I am the dumbest, most inarticulate human alive. And for what? I didn't even like him, I like the guy he pretended to be. Man, I was blind. Maybe I can just go get that "spotless mind" procedure, forget who I was, raise cats for a living or something."

The Glimmer Ray - No carnage, no foul play, no bad karma unleashed. I was silly. Emotional overwhelming moments are just that. Simple. Seriously? On my death bed, will he even make a pass at my "life recap"? Okay well....if I don't die soon?

The Resolution - Far graver things happen daily. Britney is a mother. Darphur, Bush..etc. We all know the answers to the self deep-dive question we ask for validation. Sometimes, you just need someone trust worthy to say what you already know festooned in simplistic terms that make it seem "new" : "You had a moment, moments pass, your grand compilation is not just what comprises it, but the intention and genuine love and passion its made from. That is more than most people even attempt." And I sigh with relief that it really just doesn't matter... At all.

The true lesson here is: Try, Try and fail. Fail and Fail, then stop trying. No. No.No.

I honeslty believe that which is founded in positive intent leads to beauty unfolded (shor-term or long). It may just have nothing to do with the person/place/thing you released it to. So...

Let go. Forgive yourself and be open to the gift of mistakes.

Six-word-memoirs...

This looks good. SMITH Magazine turns a contest into a book!

Mine could be:

Writing career blooms, ends for blog.-L. Notes

What goes up, must come down -L.Notes

Old soul makes same mistakes anyway - L. Notes

Three hundred pages, three novels started. -L.Notes

Check it out:

Never really finished anything, except cake. —C. Perkins

Not quite what I was planning… —S. Grimes

Jew-born. Yeshiva-educated. Date goyim. -A. Ellin

Savior complex makes for many disappointments. —A. Schubach

Found true love, married someone else. -B. Stromberg

Mistakenly kills kitten. Fears anything delicate. —S. Henderson

Bad brakes discovered at high speed. —J. Baumeister

After Harvard, had baby with crackhead. —R. Templeton

Caring for parents. Life is circular. —T. McGrath

Nerdy girl smutmonger. Now, baby fever. —R.K. Bussel

Being a monk stunk. Better gay. —B. Redman

Why do you DO that?!

I read something that stayed with me today.

"Do what you will, but NOT because you must." -Koan

I love it! I love the permissive nature in it. Something about it begs me to test the water, allow myself the indulgence, but then questions my intention. All of that in under ten words! A calm yearning to be better(maybe), but also to be confident in what you are now.

Just for the exercise of it, I am going to question (internally-for the sake of those around me...God that would be irking) my reason for doing everything for the remainder of the day. Just to stay aware. To see if "I must." It might seem trite, or fantastically wasteful of my (otherwise very obsessively forlorn) thoughts. Examples:

Question. 1. Why watch TV?
Answer 1. To block out a days worth of crazy-thoughts, guilt and worry.

Question 2. Why blog?
Answer 2. Better out than in, I say.

Question 3. Why question my intentions of everything?
Answer 3. Good question. Why question that I'm questioning?

And so on...

( Circus music starts...)

Ever notice how you don't seem quite as koo-koo until you play a thought out and commit it to paper? Hmmm...I need to revisit Answer 2.

Wait? What if you must swim or die. Do you die? ( I dont think so). Damnit. Koan was wrong.

Cinnamon Girl

My color: Beaming cinnamon red.
My smell: Woodsy tones with fresh breezes of peony flowers.

Interesting.... "Cinnamon Girl" - I am both the literal color of it, and the mood color associated. Cinnamon is BROWN, not RED. Weird that we (read:I) think: "red" ?

I was listening to Neil Young today (obviously). I pondered his voice. How weathered and seasoned it is, how he seems to have a contemplative whine. He seems to care so much, yet detach from the outcome of it all. Now, portrayed or real, that is awe-worthy.

I noticed his music makes me feel such different things:
Note: I am not speaking lyrically so much as I am merely knee-jerk reacting to the sound of it. Like word association, but song-association.

"Harvest Moon" - Old love that waits. Patiently and delivers like a story-book ending of two people walking over a hill at sunset with the wind lightly blowing.

"Helpless" - African babies swatting flies from their mouths. ( wow. I live a charmed life) -Now I feel guilty.

"Only Love can break your heart" - Two old people (mid-80's) doing a four-point Texas two-step/waltz very slowly and then speeding up...then slowly again, in a 1920's kitchen with very stoic faces.

"Southern Man" - Some dude working hard in a blue collar job and then getting on his Harley. He has a handle-bar mustache and the wind is blowing his whiskers and long hair in the wind as he rides...angry.

"Needle and the Damage Done" - Sad. Trainspotting. pointless loss of life.

"Cinnamon Girl"- If I ever decided to practice pole dancing....I would try it to this song.

"Old man"- How much I dont know, how much I have to learn. How great it must feel to think: "Ive been first and last"...how living a life, and looking back must be so rewarding.

I have to ask myself (per my exercise of the day): IS this CHANGING anything in a positive way? Does my useless rambling on about Neil Young make me or you better? Does it help my writing career?

Not sure how long this "Why do I do it" will last...

Unexpected combinations (that work):

1.) Salty popcorn and peanut M&M's

2.) Champagne, orange juice and pomegranate spray

3.) The Weather Channel music and light petting. (try it...you'll see)

4.) Army Green, and lime.

5.) Ex-boyfriends and divorce - for that matter: Ex-husbands and good sex. (just guessing)

6.) Peanut butter and grilled bread (grilled PB)

7.) Ashtanga yoga and 2 year olds.

8.) Chili and Chocolate

9.) Death and laughter

10.) Fat jokes and pregnant ladies (caution: tricky)

11.) Forever 21 blouses and True Religion jeans

Escalator Face Plant

If the word "personally productive" was used to describe my morning so far, it would be an understatement. I have managed to sleep in ( until 7am), wrangle a toddler into dressing, eating and going to the gym with me. My only concession- she got to wear ski-boots all day, everywhere. We then ran three errands, and drove to the mall. (ugh).

Once at the mall, I could feel my skin begin to tighten and slowly crawl back toward the entrance. We walked past the piano playing in the department store. The sounds of Christmas music serenading all the sleeping 73 yr old patrons hunched in chairs with smokey grey coats, furry hoods, and ortho-shoes on. (I'm sorry. Its an accurate description, and you know it!)My child actually pointed and said : "Look, mommy, he's sleeping" It was a woman. C'est la vie. I have to shop. No apologies.

We stopped by the school band playing "Drummer boy" and "Frosty the Snowman" on the upper level, right next to the coffee cart. Her attention stayed as long as my tolerance for children (who are not mine) poorly playing anything-let alone Christmas music. I quickly darted her into yet another over-priced children's boutique to look for holiday dresses. At this point, I am carrying the following things:

-her coat
-my coat
-my diaper bag/purse (gross)
-her new socks
-her new shoes
-HER.

Ladies and Gentleman- I am officially a middle America suburban cliche.

We leave ( with a dress) as quickly as we came. I am in full forced get-me-out-of-here-speed as we approach the escalator. I am trying to watch the mound of bags to ensure nothing falls over, or gets stuck in the "moving parts" that I didn't notice my sweet little girl's face looking up at the two-story tree, not to the sliding hand rail divider.

"BUMMMMMMMMFF!" Her nose smashes into the synthetic, germ ridden black acyclic railing. It keeps moving, taking her poor smooched face with it. Our hands unlock because I am still moving forward and up. I let go of the bags, jump down in the opposite direction and swoop up my child (and all her shock from the pain) in less than a second. The silent, breath-holding stare is always a preeminent warning of what is to come. And it does. She belts her best visceral yelp for all the mall to hear.

While calming her, and trying not to laugh at my mind's replay of the event, I look over her shoulder at the bags hanging and falling down the escalator. People are annoyed. I don't care. Poor thing. I realize in that moment, I am pret-ty hard to keep up with. For anyone, let alone a mini-person just trying to see a Christmas tree. In that moment, I wished I could be the one that got the face plant. Not her. She was just along for the ride. What choice does she have?

I do.... Have a choice: to SLOW DOWN this holiday season. Jimanee(sp?) Christmas! I will.