It's November, Are You Feeling Thankful?

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20/20: Simpson Deposition Tapes

Timing can be an ironic bitch, can't it?  I can think of a handful of times that things didn't work out for me (sometimes in my favor, sometimes not) because of some very minor timing.  It makes me wonder "what if" and what my path might have been had that timing been different.

I know, you're probably wondering what the hell this has to do with O.J. Simpson and the so-called trial of the century.  I'm getting there but, as always, I like to talk.

It's been twenty years since the verdict was rendered in the criminal trial.  Like 9/11, like Princess Diana's fatal accident and JFK Jr.'s plane going down, I know exactly where I was when the reading of the verdict happened.  Like the infamous white Bronco chase, which I also remember in vivid detail, I recall with exact clarity my feelings at the time and my emotions in general because I was in an unhappy relationship and time has allowed me to equate the Simpson case with that relationship.

Being one of the lucky that deals with Southern California traffic on the daily (and I say that with heavy sarcasm), I listen to audiobooks as a way to cope and not commit a felony.  In a bizarre touch of irony, I downloaded How I Helped O.J. Get Away With Murder last week.  No idea the twenty year anniversary was rearing its ugly head or that 20/20 was airing previously unseen deposition tapes of Simpson on Friday night.  Nope, just a weird coinky-dink.



Ron Goldman on 6/12/94, the last day of his life

Watching 20/20 brought back a minefield of frustration, anger and disappointment.  Back in June of 1994, I knew of O.J. Simpson but mainly as an actor of sorts.  I knew very little of football then so had no idea of his iconic status in the sports world.  No, I felt no connection to O.J. Simpson or his history; I felt connected to Ron Goldman. 

I had never met Ron, never would, but we were the same age.  In fact, Ron was born twenty-four days before I was.  Hearing of a vibrant young man, the same age I was, being murdered - - a victim of unfortunate chance, guilty only of being in the wrong place at the wrong time - - filled me with a horrible sympathy. 

Throughout the last twenty-one years at various times I have thought of Ron Goldman.  I have had many life events, moments, that he has not had - - happy, sad, traumatic, joyous.  He will never have them.

Watching his killer's nonchalant and dismissive attitude on the deposition tapes aired on 20/20 brought all those feelings back to the surface.  This appeared to be a game to him, nothing more and nothing less. 

While I believed he was guilty of those horrible murders from the beginning, I do wonder if those people who believed in his innocence can still hold on to that after viewing the tapes.  Never mind the physical evidence, which led to no one else but Simpson.  Never mind the evidence of Simpson's abuse.  Never mind Simpson's eventual incarceration in Las Vegas.  If Simpson were truly innocent, wouldn't he have commended Ron Goldman?  This young man attempted to save the mother of Simpson's children.  He should have been a hero in Simpson's eyes and yet he, and his family, are met with nothing but contempt by the killer. 

Ron was a hero, he still is.  He may be the only person who ever stood up to Simpson, stood up for Nicole, and he died for it.   He won't be forgotten; he will be remembered for being an honorable, heroic young man.  I hope at least this small bit of knowledge gives the Goldman family some measure of comfort, knowing Ron has not been forgotten.

What do you think?  Did you watch 20/20?  Are you surprised by the tapes?  Disappointed?  Justified?

Advance Screening: "The Intern"

I love Nancy Meyers.  I've been a fan since Baby Boom and can watch that movie (along with the Father of the Bride remakes with Steve Martin, The Holiday, It's Complicated, et al.) on repeat.  She's witty and she just gets relationships so well which translates in her movies.  The gold medal casting is a bonus.

When I was offered the chance to screen The Intern in advance of its opening date this week, I quickly jumped at it.  And I am certainly not sorry I did.

The Intern is a different type of relationship movie.  It's not a rom-com although it centers around the professional relationship between Robert DeNiro's Ben and Anne Hathaway's Jules.  Ben, a widower who has been retired for two years spends his days at Starbucks and attending funerals but still feels that he has something to offer and can be useful.  Jules is a young wife and mother and the brainchild behind About the Fit, a booming e-commerce business she forsaking sleep and food to run.  From the start, Meyers threw us a curve ball by having the 30-ish Hathaway be the 70 year old DeNiro's boss.  There are gestures to Ben's old school ways of working (suit and tie, an attaché case) and to Jules' new age way of working (riding a bike around the office, very long hours.)  Some differences are remarkably subtle, others played very much for a laugh.

Anne Hathaway does a wonderful job playing a character that could be brash and ultimately unrelatable but while Jules is driven and focused, she is also allowed to have a soft, emotional side that is revealed at exactly the right time.  Rather than becoming a Miranda Priestley knockoff, Jules is more of a Devil Wears Prada Andy, after a few years in the trenches.  We understand Jules, feel for her when the judgy moms at the playground are being, well, judgy, over her career and, even better, want Jules to succeed. 

As well cast as Hathaway is, Robert DeNiro is even better.  He is the heart and soul of The Intern, with a performance so achingly sublime it's miles away from the intensity of Taxi Driver and the in-your-face comedy of Meet the Parents.  He makes the movie for me and any time he was off the screen (fortunately not often) was wasted in my opinion.  I'm glad that Meyers didn't go cliché or stereotypical with his Ben - - no romance with Jules, no health crisis, no mourning over his situation.  Ben keeps it moving and that's refreshing. 

The chemistry with DeNiro and Hathaway was true but I also enjoyed seeing his interactions with the younger (i.e., twenties) interns he was working with.  Their confusion over his attire, his customs was humorous and it was gratifying to see that while they picked up some tips from him, he also learned from them.

Nancy Meyers not only wrote the script but was at the helm of this movie.  To repeat, she is a nuanced writer who understands relationships, whether they be romantic, platonic or familial.  You name it and she nails it.  She did a splendid job here, writing and directing, showing the relationship between Ben and Jules developing organically, with the seeds of a real companionship taking root. 

If you're familiar with previous Meyers movies, yes, there is a nice bit of house porn and even office porn.  I always notice this - - love Jules' brownstone, which reminds me of Meg Ryan's in You've Got Mail.   Even About the Fit's office is a sharp space, a modernized former factory that reminds me more than just a little of Steve Martin's Sidekicks factory/office from Father of the Bride.  And the flowers we see scattered here and there are gorgeous.

Will everyone like The Intern?  No, probably not.  It's about a relationship but not as talky as When Harry Met Sally.  It's humorous but there are also some deep, emotional scars that need to be tended.  Nothing explodes or blows up and there is no nudity. Part of Jules' struggle may be difficult for some or offensive to others.  If you're not a fan of Hathaway or DeNiro, you may want to take a pass.

I enjoyed it and felt that it was pleasing to the majority of the audience in attendance.  Sure, I heard a man behind me say that he was glad he didn't pay but overall, the movie was sprinkled with laughter from the viewers and a satisfied round of applause upon the conclusion.  While I couldn't help but wonder if Meyers' muse Diane Keaton would have been cast if Ben had been written to be a female, I left The Intern feeling content, satiated and yes . . . wanting to move into that brownstone.

The Intern opens nationally Thursday evening.     

Let's Talk Sports Movies

Mark Wahlberg as Vince Papale in Invincible

I was raised on baseball, bred to be a diehard Atlanta Braves fan no matter what.  I supported my team back when Joe Torre was manager and the Braves couldn't win a game to save themselves.  That was back when they finished in the basement and the few people that showed up at the old Atlanta Fulton County Stadium wore paper bags on their heads because being a Braves fan wasn't something to be proud of. 

Later on I would add Nascar and hockey to the sports I enjoyed watching, and thanks to an ex, football and basketball.  I guess it's true that he did do something good for me.   Okay, I jest.  I did get a Kindle, auto start for my car and my dog from him.  But I digress.

I love sports movies.  I'll watch any and all of them.  I don't care what sport so long as it's a underdog type tale and then I'm in.  I can't remember the first sports movie I fell victim to - - maybe it was The Bad News Bears (the original with the great Walter Matthau) or maybe it was being an extra in The Slugger's Wife (which is quasi-sports.)  Point is that sports movies are a mean master to me.

Invincible was on cable last night.  I own it on DVD and yet I still stopped what I was doing to sit and watch.  And cry.  I cry when Mark Wahlberg, as Vince Papale, is told he ran a 4.5 from Greg Kinnear as Coach Dick Vermiel.  I cry when Kinnear tells Wahlberg "Welcome to the Eagles."  I cry when Vince tells his best friend Tommy, the underrated Kirk Acevedo, he's a Philadelphia Eagle.  I cry when Vince rips up the note his ex wrote him, telling him he was nothing and would never amount to anything.  I cry when Vince picks up a fumble and scores a touchdown against New York.  I cry at the end when we see clips of the real 1976 season and the real Vince Papale.  Yep, I love this football movie.  I love Mark Wahlberg in the role and I love the feel-good nature of it.  And let's be honest, the soundtrack kicks some ass.

And it's not just Invincible.  Major League, Remember the Titans, Draft Day, The Replacements, The Pride of the Yankees, Rocky, Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, 61*, Miracle, Rudy, Eight Men Out, We Are Marshall . . . the list could go on and on.  They all require me to have tissues handy while watching, even those that are comedies.  Is it a hormonal imbalance?  Weak tear ducts?  Improper diet?  No idea but these flicks make me an emotional mess.  And I love them.

I dare you to watch The Pride of the Yankees, with the amazing Gary Cooper portraying Lou Gehrig, and not cry.  It's simply not possible.  Or how about the closing scene of Field of Dreams where Kevin Costner has a catch with his dad?  (Although I start bawling when Archie "Moonlight" Graham steps off the field to become Burt Lancaster's Doc Graham and then walks off into the cornfield amid a variety of "good games" from his fellow players. It's a heart tugging moment and it's Burt Lancaster so there you go.) 

So talk to me, friends.  What do you think about sports movies?  To cry or not to cry?  Which is your favorite?

Chill Out, September

My parents visited for Labor Day weekend and that was fun.  It's always good to show your parental units that you are doing okay, you're not eating Top Ramen and sleeping on a futon over the age of thirty-five and you do have some good friends.  The weather was decent and (surprisingly) the SoCal traffic wasn't cringe-inducing.  Did everyone leave Cali for the holiday? 

So with Labor Day over, that means summer is over (although not officially until the end of this month.)  Normally I love summer but I am ready for it to end this year.  August was not the kindest month (boo, August!) and the heat . . .

I know, I know.  We Californians complain about the weather incessantly. It's either too hot, too cold, it's not raining, it's raining.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I really think weather complaints are a Californian hobby.  But ninety degree temps at the beach suck.  Unacceptable.  Especially when you don't have a/c - - because you shouldn't need it at the beach! 


I am ready for autumn.  I am ready for chilly nights.  I am ready for fall clothes (although we really don't have much use for them until winter here.)  This time of year reminds me of two things - - the huge fall/back to school issue of Seventeen magazine from my adolescence and the line in You've Got Mail about wanting to buy school supplies ("Don't you just love New York in the fall?").   As much as I love Southern California, I do miss the obvious change of seasons you see on the east coast.   Who else considered the fall issue of Seventeen magazine their bible? 

Speaking of - - well, relatively - - watching movies like You've Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally, Serendipity . . . and even shows like Sex and the City make me crush on New York.   Who wouldn't want a gorgeous brownstone like Meg Ryan's Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail?  (Not to mention that beautiful little bookstore.)  Or Carrie Bradshaw's completely unrealistic rent controlled writer's paradise with a closet full of Manolos?  Sign me up. 

Back to Labor Day.  Quiet low-key day for me, since my parents flew back home.  Not that I minded since I was pretty beat.  I flipped channels and ended up watching a Kardashian marathon.  Don't judge.  What I took away from the episodes I saw?  I liked the Jenner house from the early seasons much better than the larger one they upgraded to later on.  The first house looked homey and comfy.  I also thought Kim K. looked so much better pre-Kanye.  Sorry but there it is.  She looked more natural and I thought her clothing choices were better.  Sorry, Kimye. 

Hard to believe the show has been on for what?  Seven or eight years?  They certainly did a stellar job creating an empire out of a family that really didn't do all that much initially when you think about it.  Kris Jenner is most definitely a shrewd business manager.

Anyone else get stabby over traffic today?  First day of school gives us Californians a legitimate gripe.

Happy Hump Day!

Why Keanu Reeves Should Call Me

I don't much go for writing fan letters (or fan emails, as the case may be) - - and I'm not labeling this a fan letter because I'm not the president of a fan club, I'm not asking for an autographed picture and I'm not going to show up in someone's pool (not uninvited anyhow) - - although I did send Scott Baio a birthday card when I was nine or ten.  I used my hard earned chore money to go into Revco Drugs to buy him a card and I never received a response, not even a publicity still with a stamped signature.  If by chance Scott Baio is reading this, I'm still waiting.

In all seriousness though, I do have a group of people that I greatly admire.  Basically all of them are on social media, whether it be Twitter, Facebook, Instagram (am I practically the only person not on Instagram?) or have a webpage.  Yet the one person without the social media presence is the one I feel drawn to address.  (Quite naturally, I rarely take the easier path.)

I have liked Keanu Reeves since seeing him onscreen for the first time in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure.  The movie is great goofy fun and watching it now, nearly thirty years later, makes me giggle and gives me warm fuzzies.  (I still bust out with "something strange is afoot at the Circle K" because it's that classic to me.) Ted Logan, as portrayed by Keanu, made me laugh, leading me to keep an eye on him.  I followed his career throughout the years, finding that even if I didn't particularly care for the movie itself, I always enjoyed his performances as he always managed to entertain me at the theater. 

Now this could be true for a handful of actors or actresses, right?  Sure.  So I have tried to put my finger on what it is exactly about Keanu Reeves that drives me to make this post and why he is a person I would genuinely like to meet.  And I've come up with the fact there isn't just one specific thing that I like and respect about him.  If you know me, you know this is me being true to form.  I can sum up very little in a few words so why would I be able to explain something quickly and easily?   Exactly, I probably can't.  But I will try.

He seems genuinely nice and there is something infinitely appealing and fascinating about a truly nice person.  Can we ever know enough nice people?  I say no.  I'm always amiable to adding someone to my circle who is kind enough to give up their seat on the subway (Google it) and be charitable without the fanfare.  I'm pretty sure that's being humble and I don't know enough of those types of people either.

I greatly respect and connect with creative people; I never tire of chatting with them because we get each other and understand what we're passionate about.  He's a writer and so am I.  He's creative and so am I.  I love to read and I've heard that Keanu is a reader.  I definitely enjoy talking books, authors, plotlines, characters . . .  There is a reason I call Barnes & Noble The Mother Ship.  I never tire of the bookstore.  We would not lack for conversation.

I used to be extremely introverted when I was younger (stop laughing, this is 100% the truth) so I understand the nature of the introvert. (Writing is generally a solitary endeavor as well.)  Keanu is reportedly introverted so I get it (if said reports are true.)  In the past I've been called stuck up and aloof from people who didn't know me or understand my then-shy personality so I can relate to people making an assumption that isn't necessarily true.  The Sad Keanu memes are bullshit in my opinion.   Just because the man eats a sandwich by himself does not mean he's sad and the nation needs to go into overdrive to make him happy.  He doesn't mind being in his own company and he's secure with that.  Hell, if going solo at times or looking serious equates to being sad, change my name to Eeyore now.

Not to brag but I have a pretty good sense of humor (okay, I'm bragging).  I do like to laugh, make others laugh and surround myself with people who appreciate it as well. Watch the YouTube clip of Keanu being "interrogated" as Mark Wahlberg for proof that he also has a sense of humor.  That bit will never not be funny to me.   No way could he poke fun at himself if he didn't have a sense of humor - - something I appreciate and is so underrated in life.  We should all laugh more.

Speaking of laughter, Keanu wants to make (another) sequel to Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, at least according to word on the street.  Okay, Bill & Ted wasn't Shakespeare and any proposed new sequel certainly won't be either.  But it will be entertaining and it will surely be funny and don't we go to the movies to be entertained?  Keanu seems to embrace the quirkiness and campy love people have for Bill & Ted which would make him awesome on its own.   Sign me up to see it because I cannot wait.

These are just a few reasons why I admire Keanu Reeves and yeah, he should call me.  And to be totally shallow, I love a man on a motorcycle.  One day I am going to learn to drive one myself (see my bucket list) but for now I am happy to enjoy the ride. 

Keanu, if you'd like to meet someone who enjoys a good conversation, laughter and is a catch according to her dog, and you're not trapped under a heavy piece of furniture, call me!  

"Bride Wars" - What Went Wrong

Last weekend I was being a slug and watching Bride Wars on one of my handful of cable channels.  Even though I own it on DVD.  Don't judge either statement.


I like Kate Hudson.  She seems like a cool chick, someone you could hang out with, have a drink with and kick back with.  Truth be told, I'm jealous of that hippie vibe she gives off - - laid back, easygoing, hair that always looks good, pretty skin.


So . . . Bride Wars should be good, with Kate's presence, despite the name (not a fan) and yet it doesn't quite reach its potential for two main reasons.


The first should be fairly obvious if you've seen the film because it's a relatively large plot hole.  The characters of Liv and Emma go to see wedding planner extraordinaire Marion and are told there are three openings in the month of June at the exclusive Plaza, two on the same day and one a couple of weeks later.  Liv is going to take one of the days and Emma the other.  All is fine and good.  However, Marion's not so intrepid assistant mixes up the dates and gives Liv and Emma the same day.  If you're a man you may not think it's that big of a deal but for these two best friends, each of whom wants the other to be their maid of honor, this is a nightmare.  Marion tells the besties this and suggests that one of them change their date (with the next available June date being three years in the future) since the other available date was given to a third bride. 


And herein lies the first problem.  Since this was a technical/computer entry foul up, why wouldn't Marion tell the third bride that date was not available but this other June date is?  Someone as in demand and well respected as Marion is supposed to be surely would have no problem doing just that, rather than simpering to Liv and Emma about the mix up and how she can't possibly share the third bride's name with them due to confidentiality (while also having binders with brides' names on them located on a shelf in full view of everyone walking in but that's another issue.)   Candice Bergen, who plays Marion, has probably never simpered a day in her life.  If this was a 1930s screwball comedy, it would be believable but for today?  Hmmmm . . .

Of course if Marion had done that, the movie would have been over because there would have been no conflict.  So what should have happened?   Why not have only one date available in June at the Plaza from the start?  Liv and Emma could have reserved it together and then tried to figure out who would get it - - coin toss, house of cards, arm wrestling, rock, paper, scissors, whatever.  They could have discussed the double wedding scenario and then could have acted like crazy women.


And that leads me to the second issue with the story.  Liv and Emma are lifelong friends, absolute besties.  The thought that these two would immediately begin backstabbing each other and going to lengths such as tampering with hair dye, spray tans and pregnancy rumors is farfetched, even if we suspend reality for the enjoyment of entertainment.  Wouldn't it have made more sense to have the two of them be frenemies or roommates or something like that, in order to somewhat explain why they went absolutely BSC on each other? 


I know some women hate this movie with a passion, mainly because they feel it makes women in general look petty and unhinged when it comes to getting married.  Look, this is pure entertainment and I hardly take it as a course in reality.  Have you ever seen the show Bridezillas?  There are truly people out there that lose all capacity for reasoning and logic when planning a wedding.


That said,  Bride Wars does have entertaining spots (Kristen Johnston is hilarious in a supporting role) if you look past the plot hole.   I liked  Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada (anything with Meryl Streep is gold) but didn't care for her as much here.  Let me correct that - - her character didn't resonate quite as well with me.   The film overall does have some cute and funny moments and it's not a terrible way to spend two hours of your time. 


Any opinions from those who have seen Bride Wars?

When Jury Duty is the Best Part of My Week

"We'll get a funnel cake.  It'll be the highlight of my week." - Nicholas Cage as Jack Campbell, The Family Man

Whenever I can quote The Family Man, I will.  I can't believe the movie isn't more beloved.  Let's just say I'm more than a little obsessed with it.  I may have to watch it after writing this.

This week has been the kind that makes me look forward to the calendar rolling to Sunday so we can call an official end to it. 

If you're in the SoCal area, you know that we've had unseasonably hot weather.  I know Phoenix is hotter, I know the East Coast has gotten it badly too (and with the added bonus of humidity) but coastal SoCal is not used to temps pushing (and into) the 90s.  Especially when you have no a/c. 

It's been uncomfortably hot, making sleeping a chore.  This kind of heat also brings out the fleas and my dog apparently is the tastiest little morsel on the block.  He's had four flea baths in the last two weeks and I'm trying the second flea preventative in the same number of weeks.  Worse, fleas also apparently love carpeting (mine especially) and various bedding and blankets.  I discovered this on Monday night and had to wait until Friday morning to get an exterminator here.  Lovely.

Two days before I moved back in June, I received a jury summons.  Lucky me, I got called for Thursday.  It turns out that jury duty was the best part of my week.

For a writer, reporting to jury duty offers a wealth of possibilities.  The people watching potential is off the charts.  Can a bathing suit cover-up be considered "business casual?"  (Apparently it can based on someone in the security line in front of me.)  Why do some people bring a rolling suitcase to jury duty?  They do know they will be going back home by the end of the day, right?  Am I the only person who had no idea there is a game show called Catch 21 on the air?  And that Family Feud still airs multiple times during the day? 

I wasn't chosen or placed on a panel - - making for a long and boring day - - but I took plenty of notes on my fellow potential jurors.   Traits of some of them will make for fascinating characters.

Today I am doing very little, other than laundry and writing.  And I'm good with it.  Some days you just need to relax and recharge. 

How about you?  What are you doing this quiet Saturday?

Weekend Check In

I have a guilty confession.  If you know me personally, this isn't a surprise.  I love Bravo's reality programs.  They are the visual equivalent of tomato soup and grilled cheese for me.  Nothing I love better after a long and/or hard day at work than to curl up on my sofa (which is super comfy, by the way) and watch a Real Housewives franchise or a Million Dollar Listing franchise.  I cannot express how thrilled I was to hear that Ladies of London will be back.  I haven't been to  London yet (looking at you, 2016) so watching just for the scenery is a win.  Caroline Stanbury, between your wardrobe, hair, business and home, I want to be you.

Speaking of television, I am an Ink Master addict.  I love seeing how creative the artists can be and I have this secret puppy love thing for Dave Navarro.  I guess it's not so secret anymore.  I appreciate how soft spoken he is and he seems very kind and considerate.  Anyhow, imagine my frustration when I saw that Spike wasn't airing on Tuesday night (thank you, TimeWarner) and didn't record that night.  Why, God, why? 

Thursday took the cake for a day full of barfiness.  At least until 5 p.m.  I wanted to get into the office early and I overslept.  Strike one.  Woke up (late) to see that G puked all over the floor.  (I told you barfiness.)  Strike two.  Leaving for work late and in a panic, I backed into the side of my garage.  Strike three.  Can I be out and stay home?  Or start my day over?  Get to work and hit the ground running from the moment I walk through the door.  Don't leave early, as I hoped, but did leave to go to the Orange County Fair.  Woot!  Perfect evening - - the steaming hot weather cooled a bit, I indulged in a cinnamon and sugar crepe (seriously yummy) and then went to see Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo in concert.  Opening act - - Dennis DeYoung and the music of Styx! 

Awesome, awesome, awesome.  I cannot come up with enough words to say what a great show it was.  A bit surreal to think that "Babe" was the first song I ever roller skated with a boy to and "The Best of Times" was the song we sung during my seventh grade graduation.  More frightening was that I was actually in the chorus in seventh grade.   Really though - - I'm sure "The Best of Times" was chosen because it was popular at the time but how depressing to think that the best of times were happening in seventh grade.  Was it all downhill from there? 

Can I be Pat Benatar?  I honestly love that woman.  Her voice is spectacular, she and her husband have been together forever and clearly are simpatico and I'm guessing she's pretty feisty.  Her music is soooo good - - I had forgotten how good she was/is.  And man does she still have a set of pipes on her.  She opened her set with "Shadows of the Night" one of my favorite Benatar tunes and by the time she got to "Promises in the Dark", my other big fave, I was dancing around so much that my brief video I took with my phone is reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project in its jerkiness.

For a day that started on such a sour note, it ended pretty well.  Friday was busy, I was tired since I got to bed late and I was wiped out by the time I got home. 

Today has been productive, although not as much as I'd like - - isn't that always the way it is?   I'm working on getting some Adirondack chairs for my balcony and I need some flowers and potted plants.  Any suggestions?

Ready for a quiet evening.  Happy weekend!  

A Note From 17 Year Old Me and My Response

Dear Future Me,

So I'm writing this to you thirty years down the road . . . thirty years, wow!  That makes you forty-seven.  Forty-seven.  God that's old. 

Where do I see me/you in 2015?  

Living in California.  If not, I'll die.  The beach would be nice but Hollywood/L.A. is even better.  A nice house that is gated, something that others would be jealous of.  I hope that you're a successful screenwriter with a few Oscars to prove it.  At least.  You should have picked up your first Oscar by twenty-five.  If you haven't done it by thirty, it's over. 

Maybe even a novelist.  That would be cool too.  As popular as Stephen King or V.C. Andrews, with a full-fledged library in your home and a pretty room for your typewriter.

Surely no job working in an office.  Barf.

Married?  Maybe.  Only if you found an incredibly good looking guy that swept you off your feet.  Like John Taylor from Duran Duran?  Sigh.

You would be living without a care in the world, life is excellent and easy.

Sincerely,
Me


Dear Youthful Me,

First, yes . . . forty-seven.  Get a grip.  It's not that old.  Fifty is the new thirty these days.  Life doesn't even start to really get good until thirty.  And don't roll your eyes at me.

I live in California but not in Hollywood or even L.A.  I do live at the beach though so that should make you happy.  Not in a big home that's gated but it's still wonderful.  Don't be afraid to move and try something new.  Don't worry about having a big house because downsizing will be popular when you hit your forties.  So many incredible experiences are awaiting you - - new things, new places, wonderful friends.  Savor them, don't wish the time away by pining to be older.  On that - - while you may be aggravated now that you look younger than your years, in the future this will thrill you to no end.  It's a good thing.

Some of your friends you will lose over the years.  Don't fail. to appreciate them and tell them how much you love them.  They can be gone in an instant.  This holds true for your family, too - - they are incredible and you are blessed.  Don't ever forget that.

I work in law at an "office job" so I'm not a screenwriter.  Stop crying.  It's never too late.  (You will take a writing seminar one weekend at UCLA.  It will be an amazing experience and it will lead you to take other writing classes/seminars that are worth their weight in gold.)  Do I wish I had followed my dreams and went full on with screenwriting?  Yes, I do.  I don't want to regret anything but I am curious as to what would have happened if I had.  I fell in love instead and got divorced.  It happens.  It's going to happen to a lot of people you know.  It's going to be one of the hardest experiences you will endure but here's the good news about that - - it's going to make you stronger.  You may not realize it now but you have a pretty solid backbone in there.  Use it.  Stand on your own two feet.  You don't need anyone to complete you (that's going to be a tagline in a Tom Cruise movie in the future.  The movie you will like but Tom Cruise is going to get a bit crazy pants in the future.  Make a mental note now that if you pass by any buildings or people that offer you a free personality test, especially in the L.A. area, keep right on walking.) 

You have a sense of humor that's going to carry you through a lot of shit.  Embrace it and be grateful for it.  Don't be timid about keeping your thoughts to yourself but always remember to be tactful. 

What other advice can I give you? 

Go read Pride and Prejudice.  Now.  It's never been required reading in school and won't be for you in college either (sadly) but it will change your life.  It will lead you to love Jane Austen and many Regency works and historical fiction.

Don't quit playing the piano entirely.  No, you won't go to school and major in music but quitting full stop after ten years of instruction is a mistake.  Piano gives you great joy and would probably continue to give me great joy today if I had kept with it.

Floss. Really, just do it.  You're going to have those dreams about your teeth falling out no matter what but flossing is a good habit to start now.  Exercise too. You won't be 100 pounds forever.  And let's talk about your body for a moment.  It's perfect the way it is.  Next year, you're going to wake up with hips.  It's just the way it is.  Quit focusing on what's wrong with your body and accept the incredible and fluid machine it is.  Use it more.  As you get more mature, things that were so easy at seventeen won't be quite the same at forty-seven. 

Drink more water and less soda.  Mr. Pibb and Dr. Pepper are awesome but terrible for your health.  Try different foods.  You will be amazed what foods you will like as you get older.  There's more to life than burgers and fries.  (A little secret for you - - you are going to stop eating red meat in the future and live to tell the tale.)  Get out of the sun.  Stop tanning.  It looks phenomenal right now to be golden tan and it's incredible to lie in the sun with a good book.  Keep the book, ditch the sunning.  Your skin will thank you.  Sunscreen.  With a high SPF.  Hats are good too.   Your face will be relatively free of wrinkles at forty-seven but you can't start too early.   Moisturize every day while you're at it.  I know you have oily skin now but oily skin needs moisturizer too.  One day in the future, you will have normal to dry skin and moisturizer will be a necessity. 

You will grow out of your bad boy phase.  Not soon enough but bygones.  Learn from it.  Being soft spoken is not a crime and it doesn't make anyone less virile.  A gentle and kind heart is pretty damn spectacular.  Always stick with someone who makes you laugh.  The same way that your sense of humor is going to be a saving grace at times, you will need a man who can bring a chuckle or even an unapologetic snort, tears and a belly ache from laughing so hard.

You can be kind without having to be nice all the time to everyone.  It's okay.  No one is going to think any less of you when you say "no."  If they do, they don't think much of you to begin with.

You are always going to love sports, reading, music and old movies.  Anyone who puts them down or makes you feel bad for liking them, cut those assholes out of your life.  You are going to encounter a few people who are going to tell you that writing is stupid, a waste of time or say you don't have what it takes.  Keep it moving, sister.  Put those people on mute.  Cut them out too.  Never apologize for being YOU.  Because you, with your quirks and your weird little heart, are pretty awesome, all things considered.

Smile more.  Laugh more.  Worry less.  Take chances.  Aim high.  Celebrate.  Everything is going to be okay, I can assure you of that.  You're smarter than you think.  You're stronger than you think.  You're funnier than you think (okay, maybe that one's a draw.)  You are a survivor. 

Most importantly, don't settle for anyone or anything.  Be You.  Don't wait for your life to start.  Start it yourself.  Make it happen.  You got this.  Carry on.

Love,
Me

What The *&$%?

Do you ever feel as though the universe is conspiring to either hit you with a 2x4 to get a message across or you have really pissed someone off in a past life?

This week has really hit the suckometer for me.  My commute is really trying my patience (the price we Southern Californians must pay), I am still dealing with post-move fall-out, my dog woke me at 2 a.m. one morning barking at . . . something (and he is not a barky dog generally), work has been hectic and I dropped my iPad and shattered the screen.

The last one is a dagger through the heart. I love my iPad.  It goes with me everywhere.  Okay, it went with me everywhere.  I have tons of books downloaded to it, audio books for my commute, pictures, I check my email and do my banking on it and I have downloaded my favorite music to it.  I do have days where I need to listen to the Stones, Fleetwood Mac and/or Metallica on repeat in order to start my day.  Now my iPad looks as though I hurled it at someone's head (according to a co-worker.)  Sigh.

To add further insult to injury, I am finding that I don't have the time I used to have to devote to writing reviews.  I still love writing them but the process is becoming more of a chore than an enjoyable task and I hate feeling as though I have let someone down because I haven't posted a review or it's late.  I am thinking that maybe it's a sign that I need to step away from the scheduled book reviews.  I'll still read (of course!) and I can post reviews on those books I feel like reviewing or have the time but put more of my time into my own writing.  (So why do I feel as though I'm being soooo selfish right now?) 

Any thoughts on this?  Please share.

I did just order a desk for my new writing space (formerly known as the dining room.)  It will go next to my floor fountain, which is supposed to provide me with some much needed feng shui awesomeness.  I'm excited about the desk and having a dedicated area to work on my creativity versus just wherever I happen to plop down.   That's the silver lining to this week.

Notice my picture above - - that's the Minion that sits at my desk at work.  Yes, he came from a Happy Meal.  I didn't buy the Happy Meal but one of my co-workers, knowing of my adoration of all things Minion, gave me the one that came from her son's Happy Meal.  And yes. . . it does sound like the Minion is saying "What The *&$%?"  Making him a perfect Minion for me and the title of this post. 

Is it Friday yet?

A Thank You to Ann Rule

If you're a true crime buff and/or literary fan, you likely heard the news that the wonderful writer Ann Rule passed away.  I had been keeping up with her daughter Leslie's posts on her mom's hospitalization and was praying and rooting for Ann to pull through.  I was immensely saddened to hear that we had lost her (for added sadness, on my birthday.)

I cannot give Ann full credit for turning me on to the true crime genre, as Helter Skelter was the first true crime I book I read, but Ann's insightful and thorough The Stranger Beside Me was the second and the one that sealed the deal for me.  From the moment I finished that work, I not only made it my mission to read every book on the subject of Ted Bundy but also to read any and every book Ann wrote.  Mission accomplished.   

Every October or November I would anxiously await a new Ann Rule book, with that excitement and anticipation only an author as adept and strong as Ann could give you.  She made me fully realize that the victims in her story were more than just names on the page or the collection of pictures in the center of the book.  She wrote about them with the grace and respect they deserved.  In many cases, she kept in contact with the victims' families long after she attended trials and wrote books on their cases.  I recall reading an interview with her once where she had stated (and I'm paraphrasing here, so please bear with me) that she would never forget that she was dealing with actual people and the grief their deaths had on their surviving families and friends.  I think that sums up so much of Ann's character - - people and their emotions came first.

I never had the honor of meeting Ann in person although I was Facebook friends with her and she was kind enough to respond to a message I sent her through her website, where she did interact with her legion of fans.  I was impressed with how quickly she responded and how friendly she was.   I always particularly enjoyed hearing of her lovely Washington State home and her precious furbabies.

While I am sad over the loss of Ann, I am grateful that we have a large library of her books to enjoy and learn from.  She touched a lot of people during her lifetime - - as a police officer, a social worker, a struggling crime writer (writing under a male pseudonym during a time when female crime writers were not the norm) and then a bestselling author but perhaps most of all as a mother and friend. 

My thoughts are with Ann's family during this difficult time.  I hope they will know how much she was loved by her fans and fellow writers.  Thank you, Ann, for sharing your stories with us and giving us a glowing and elegant example of compassion, refinement and talent.  You will be missed.

The One Where I Was Naked in Public

Another night, another dream of being naked in public.

Ha, you thought I meant I was in public au naturel and not in my dream.  What?  Do you think running around naked in public is a normal Friday or Saturday night for me?  It's not.  Anymore.   In case you're reading this, Mom, I jest.  Mostly.

Back to my dream.  It's amazing to me how many times I've had dreams about suddenly being naked in public.  I've read that it's common to dream that you're arriving at school and realize you're naked.  Surprisingly, I've never had that one although I still have dreams on occasion that I have a test I haven't studied for or I can't remember my schedule, the way to my classroom or my locker combination.  Might be normal to me if I was still in school and had been out a relatively short time but Reagan was in office when I graduated so you would think that anything school related would not be in my subconscious.

This dream had nothing to do with school.  I was walking around somewhere outdoors, although it seems that I was in a movie theater prior to that, and while everyone else was clothed, I was not.  And no one seemed fazed by it at all.  Maybe my dream self has a flatter stomach and is naturally tan. 

Anyhow, I did a little internet sleuthing and Google says that naked dreams are a manifestation of not having the upper hand in life.  Ummm, doesn't everyone feel they don't have the upper hand in life at times?  Or most of the time? 

So if that's the case, what's up with my dream?  Do I secretly want to run around naked in public?   Do I want to shock people?  Should I have been a nudist?  (Ha, no!)

On an unrelated note, we are now three weeks past July 4th.  I think the random fireworks can stop, at least until New Years which is the next socially acceptable holiday for fireworks in my opinion.  (Good grief, I'm opinionated, aren't I?)  I suppose this is one of the side effects of living at the beach.

The One Where My Dog Is A Jerk

Annnnnndddd . . . he looks so innocent

You ever notice how a week following a holiday and/or three day weekend is particularly brutal?  Traffic sucks (does everyone lose their mind after a holiday and drive into call boxes, ditches, medians and/or each other?), it's hard to get back into the groove of work, the days inexplicably can drag despite work onslaught and the universe screws with you.  Today I actually wanted to tell the universe to back off and find another sucker.

I am a Victoria's Secret gal (as in I like and wear their merchandise, not an actual VS girl - - don't I, and everyone I have dated, wish.)   I considered running to my local VS during my lunch break yesterday to make a payment and pick up a bra or two.  A quick online scan showed me that my bra of choice had very little selection, leading me to another online search that stated it was being discontinued.  No!  Why must this always happen?  You find a bra you like, a polish color that jazzes you, and it always seems to get canned.  Why, why, why?  I called the local store only to be told that they no longer stocked my bra and I would have to buy it online (while supplies lasted, of course.)  I immediately jumped online to order and used to VS card for payment.  Within two hours, I received an email telling me that the payment did not process because I had gone over my limit with the purchase (oops.)  No worries, I figured I would go by the store on the way home and drop off my payment.  No harm, no foul.  The computer said it would continue trying for up to 14 days so it didn't seem to be an issue when I would drop off payment that night. 

I went to Happy Hour with some coworkers at 5 (hey, if Friday at 5 at the end of a full week after a 3 day weekend doesn't call for margaritas, I don't know what does) and stayed longer than I had planned.  Again, no worries.  I had to run errands Saturday and going by VS then was not a big deal.  Fast forward to my happy-after-two-margaritas self coming home to find that my dog had an accident.  Of the non-urine kind.  On my bedroom floor.  Barf.  Glad it was relatively easy to clean but no one likes coming home to smell an issue before you actually see it.  Was upset but figured it was because I was home 2 hours later than normal and clearly he had to go. 

Check my email to discover that my VS order, which allegedly had up to 14 days of attempts, had been cancelled.  So much for 14 days.  I decide to make my payment over the phone so that the order would be reinstated.  I was assured that my payment would be credited immediately so the $15 charge for this "convenience" seemed okay as a one time deal, given that my order would have free shipping, a free tote and even a free cheeky panty (God, I hate the word panty.  Is anyone else with me on this?)

So after I make my payment, I call VS and get my order reinstated.  I explain the sitch and am assured that my order will be fine.  I hang up feeling that all is right with the world . . . until I go to get into bed, where I plan on snuggling in and catching a Facts of Life rerun (don't judge.)  I go to climb into bed and smell . . . something.  I also notice that my sheets feel . . . damp.  Pull back my comforter to check the underside and yep, you guessed it.  Wet.  Very wet.  My dog didn't just leave  me a present on the floor, he also apparently jumped up on my bed and relieved himself the way a beer drinker after a pitcher or two would after holding it and the dam breaks.  You know what I mean.    This was no little dribble. 

My comforter was wet.  My top sheet was wet.  My bottom fitted sheet was wet.  Heck, even my throw pillow was wet.  All on my side of the bed.  Obviously my dog was a bit miffed that I was late and decided to show me what for.  In other words, he decided to be a little shit.  I love my dog, I've always loved my pets but if you are a pet owner you know there are times that they are little shits. 

So instead of snuggling up in bed to slumber off to 80s tv, I had to get up, strip my bed, put the fouled up comforter, sheets and pillow on my patio since I no longer have a washer and dryer in my place and blot my formerly pristine mattress with a beach towel, while turning on a fan, an air purifier and plugging in my aromatherapy diffuser.  My dog is lucky I like him and nobody knocked at my door around midnight inquiring as to whether or not I had a dog to donate to their home.  And yes, he was put in the pokey (i.e., his crate) for the night.  Mama wasn't happy.

Soooo . . . I wake up this morning feeling exhausted and aggravated and have to Yelp a good local dry cleaner that can deal with my comforter and pillow.  Found one - - nearly $60 to get my bedding cleaned.  Sigh.  While I'm online Yelping I decide to check on my VS order and see that while my order is still active, it's showing no payment.  I check my account and discover that my payment has not been credited.  I call customer service and the friendly woman I speak with assures me that my order will not be cancelled as my payment is pending.  She also informs me that her son and I share the same birthday.  Huzzah!  

I leave to drop off my stinky dry cleaning  and run a few errands.  The time I mentally allotted these errands needed to be doubled as it turns out.  Ugh.  Check emails and see nothing about my VS order, cancelled or otherwise. Figure no news is good news.

Until around 10 pm, that is.  Get an email telling me that my reinstated order has been cancelled.  Of course it has.  Universe, sometimes you blow.  I call VS yet again (I have their number memorized, I really do) and ask that the order be reinstated AGAIN, only this time I will be paying with a different card since payments are not credited immediately despite what you are told.  Order reinstated.  I mentally tell myself never to pay my VS account again over the phone.  Out of curiosity (or  fear), check my account online to verify order reinstatement.  See that the wrong freaking bras have been ordered - - not the ones that have been discontinued and not the ones that are the sole purpose of this order, reorder and reorder.  No, no, no, no, no!!  The universe hates me.

I call back.  Yes, again.  I explain the disgusting story to the person who answers (how many times have I explained this?) and she correct the mistake.  I go online pronto to check and yes, she's not only corrected it but marked them FREE.  Could the universe be shifting? 

I have to hope because the last 24 hours really have been a bitch.  I should go to bed but truly . . . I'm afraid.  Murphy's Law has been too alive and well around here.

Here's to Sunday. 

Life's Little Mysteries

I was talking to a friend about things that are just a mystery and she suggested that I make a post out of it.  So here it is, Julie, my current list of "It's a Mystery":




How does traffic on the freeway completely stop?  If everyone is moving along at a decent speed and continues moving, even with more cars, how does it stop?  It's a freeway.


Where exactly does your luggage go when it's "misplaced" by the airlines?  Confusing enough when it's missing for days or even a week or two, but when it falls into the Bermuda Triangle of Baggage, how does that happen?


Who would want to invent Cheez Whiz and why?  Just why?


A Del Taco next door to a 24 Hour Fitness.  Is the Del Taco there as a reward after working out or is the 24 Hour Fitness there as punishment for eating Del Taco?


CVS and Walgreens across the street from each other.  Literally across the street from each other.  Why?  Are people so lazy they won't actually cross the street?  Or is the concept that people driving on one side will go to a certain drugstore, similar to the gas station?


This is a bit morbid but it is me so . . . how do we not run out of land for cemeteries?  Isn't land finite?  Are bodies (or just headstones) being moved a la Poltergeist?  Do I want to know?


How have I not yet met Robert Downey, Jr.?  No . . . really.


John Cusack has never won an Oscar.  Mind blowing, right?  Shame on you, Hollywood.  


Who thought it was a good idea to remake Beverly Hills 90210?   


That's all I've got right now.  How about you?  Anything to add? 

What I Learned From This Move

I survived my move!  (Barely, but I did.)  I have moved many times - - heck, half a dozen of the moves have been cross-country - - and this may very well have been the most trying move I have ever dealt with. 

In order to get through it, and without being under the influence of alcohol, I told myself the harder the move, the sweeter the life at the new place.  Don't rain on my parade and tell me otherwise, I'd like to live in my fantasy world a little longer, please.

I did discover these interesting facts from my move though:


Take a day or two off from work before your move.  You'll need it.

Do not take a second shift move.  Under any circumstance.  Ever.  It's hotter, your movers are not as fresh as they were first thing in the morning and without a move following yours, they may not hustle the same way to get the job done.

Always make sure your movers take the washers/nuts/bolts they remove from your furniture with them to your new digs.

Not everyone unplugs tvs and DVD players from the wall - - it's a good idea to double check to make sure your movers didn't unplug those items from the base of the unit.  And leave the cords behind, still plugged into the wall.

Having replacement bed slats next to your bed is no guarantee the movers will know what they are for.  In fact, they may assume you simply collect pieces of wood and leave said slats leaning against your living room wall. 

No matter how prepared you think you are, you aren't.

Two days without the internet and cable can feel like a lifetime. 

An extremely attractive man is certain to become a resident at your old complex the day you are moving.  And you will see him while dressed in an old t-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, sweaty and cursing like a drunken sailor.  (Or so I've heard . . . )

It's perfectly acceptable to purchase alcohol at 6:45 a.m. on the day you move.

It's a good idea to pack an overnight bag with spare pairs of underwear and changes of clothes in the event your movers put your boxes, oh, wherever.

You will have more stuff than you thought.

Regardless, you still can't have too many books.

Never underestimate the power of a hot shower or of a garage.

Not being able to cook for a week seems like a nice break but you really do get tired of take out.

My dog has a pretty damn good life (actually I knew this before the move.)  But hey, he did a stellar job following me to make sure I unpacked each box exactly right.

Being two blocks from Trader Joe's has its advantages. 

Three days of going up and down three flights of stairs in 90 degree heat while carrying boxes/books/totes will kick the ass of any gym workout.

Moving is the perfect time to purge items you no longer want, need or use.  You may find yourself giving stuff away just so that you don't have to move it.



How about you?  Any moving tips or horror stories you'd like to share?

Can You Get a Packing Hangover?

No, really.  Can you?  Because if you can, that's what's ailing me.  I woke up with a headache, body aches and completely exhausted.  My stomach even felt testy. 

Yes, I'm moving.  Isn't moving a joy?  I actually don't mind moving itself, it's the packing up for the move.  All together now . . . UGH.  My biggest gripe is that no matter how much you prepare, you're never fully ready for it.  I guess that's my fault but you can only do so much before you get your boxes or crates.

I did elect to go with plastic recyclable boxes this time around versus the traditional cardboard box.  The good is that they are delivered to you (and picked up from your new destination), they stack inside one another when not in use and you don't need tape.  I repeat YOU DON'T NEED TAPE.  No "installation" whatsoever.  Yes!  You also don't have to worry about breaking them down once you're done or having them collapse while in use or being stacked.  Or worse . . . having some rogue spider come crawling out at you.  There is also no secondhand embarrassment because you are carrying your kitchen wares into your new place in a KY or hemorrhoid cream box (which you, of course, took from behind Ralph's.)  Plus the recyclable boxes I got are pink (pink is for girls!) and pretty.  And it is so important to remain stylish while moving (ha).

The bad is that they do take up a bit of room, which I did not consider when I selected how many to rent.  Oh well, bygones.

So my home currently looks like a Bebe Gallini factory (shout out to The Brady Bunch - - anyone get the reference?) although not in the shape of a powder puff.  Just pink.  Everywhere.   

My mind is also everywhere, trying to remember the last minute things I need to do in addition to my usual daily activities.  And oh yes, work.  Work too.  Yesterday I left my house without my mobile phone.  Not good. 

Today I left and went to the gas station because once I get close to a quarter of a tank, I get edgy.  I pulled up to the pump, popped my tank cover and reached for my bag.  No wallet.  NO. WALLET.  Close the tank cover, jump back in the car and go back home to retrieve my wallet from my sofa, where I left it last night after having to dig out a credit card.  Return to the gas station where all the pumps are now in use.  Of course.  Wait.  Get a pump and notice that previous plan to check the air pressure in all tires with my new device while gas is pumping must be scratched because a garbage truck is currently idling by the air machine.  Finish pumping gas and notice the garbage truck leaving.  Hooray!  Not so fast, Will Robinson.  A sleek BMW slides into its place, a man gets out and walks away.  To where, I'm not sure but it doesn't appear he is actually putting air in his tires.  Hmmmm. 

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

Decide that it may be best to deal with my tires after work, given that I did not bargain for returning home to retrieve wallet.  Will make up time to work by speeding a little bit on the toll road.  (Yes, I was going 75 . . . okay, 80. Tops.)  Fly by one of California's finest.  No, no, no.  Slow down, place hands at the ten o'clock and two o'clock positions while simultaneously watching for flashing lights in the rear view mirror and praying that the officer doesn't come behind me to pop me for speeding. Prayers answered!  Officer either sitting on the side of the road to intimidate and screw with people, napping or eating a donut.  Regardless, I am relieved and happy that I did not get pulled over and therefore forced to embarrass myself by the crying jag I surely would have slipped into. 

That was my day before eight a.m.  And it's only Tuesday!  Tuesday!   

So don't tell me there is no such thing as a packing/moving hangover because I surely am suffering with one.  What is the cure?  Please don't tell me hair of the dog.

Why Do I Do This to Myself?

Cryyyyyyiiiiiingg  . . .

I know what will happen.  I know before I make the choice to sit and subject myself to it.  I know that no matter how happy I feel before I start, I'll be in tears by the time I'm done.

Yes, I'm talking about Undercover Boss.  Damn you, Undercover Boss.  You get me every time.  Well, maybe except for that episode with Armando Montelongo because he's a snake oil salesman if ever there was one (and can someone please tell him that Jesus Christ Superstar hair is wrong on so many levels?).  But I digress.

Undercover Boss follows a script, sure.  Somehow they always manage to find employees that have hit particularly hard times and/or have a gut wrenching emotional saga that they willingly share to a stranger in front of a camera.  Hey, it happens. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the show's format is designed to create that Hallmark moment that will make you feel weepy, guilty and grateful all at the same time and then maybe even feel as though you should patronize whatever business is being featured that week.  Excellent marketing strategy, ABC. 

Maybe I should watch The Walking Dead to man up. 

Where are those Kleenex?

Time For a Bucket List

Image: hercampus.com

I am not one for New Year's resolutions.  I generally figure that most people make them either in a mad panic or because they are going through some sort of emotional upheaval (guilty!) and they rarely stick (guilty!).  The last time I made a New Year's resolution (other than "It's all about me," my standard New Year's motto) I drove myself crazy with guilt over not sticking with it, which really does little to start your new year off right, know what I mean? 


I've never made a Bucket List.  Sure, I've had little mental checklists of things I'd like to do but I've never put it to paper.  With my aunt's passing, it's made me realize that life is too short not to do things that are important to you, or to put them off for some indefinable time in the future.


It got me to thinking about things that were somewhat light and fluffy (dancing in the rain) to a bit more serious (I know, I know, I should floss on the regular) to absolute game changers (meeting someone that loves me enough to not want to suffocate me in my sleep . . . and vice versa.)  


Making the list was challenging (do I really want to say that?  Will I look like a shallow ass?) and fun (hey, I forgot about that!)  It was rewarding to think of things I have accomplished and inspiring to think of things that I still need to do.


So without further ado, here is my current (and sure to be revised repeatedly as my mind has been known to change more than a few times) list!


1.  Laugh every day (check!  Okay, this is somewhat of a cheat because once I thought of this I realized that I do laugh every day.  Often at myself but laughter is laughter.)


2.  Practice yoga and meditation daily (this involves more than just putting my yoga pants and t-shirt on while I'm unloading the dishwasher)


3.  Floss daily - - or at least more often


4.  Finish my book and get it published (must do THIS YEAR)


5.  Take a hot air balloon ride (this goes with a "facing my fear" theme since I have issues with heights that comes and goes . . maybe dependent on who I am with at the time.)


6.  Drive a NASCAR stock car.  Fast.  (Yes, I know.  This is impossible unless you really know someone.  But hey, a girl can dream.)


7.  See Jane Austen's England -- and all of England (from one red to another, look out Prince Harry!)


8.  See a game in every MLB stadium in the country (road trip!)


9.  Listen more, talk less  (so very hard sometimes)


10.  Move back to the beach (check!  Yes, I cheated - - I'm moving within the month - - but it makes me feel good to check something off)


11.  Find that special someone who makes my heart flutter, doesn't make me apologize for who I am and who loves me unconditionally, even when I say something silly (and who doesn't drive me crazy)


12.  Make others laugh


13.  Create a home I love


14.   Be completely debt free


15.  Learn how to ride a motorcycle (scary prospect for those who know about my San Diego moped story)


16.  Visit Paris


17.  Make the New York Times bestseller list (YES!)


18.  Start playing the piano again


19.   Learn a form of dancing (Ballroom?  Salsa?)


20.  Take martial arts again


21.  Swim with the dolphins


22.  Make my home more feng shui


23.  Plant a garden/grow vegetables


24.   Be the change I want to see in the world (thank you, Gandhi)


25.  Achieve closure on any past unhappiness that may still linger


26.  Dance barefoot in the rain (I've run through the rain barefoot but I'm going to say that doesn't count)

27.  Get a sporty car (Mercedes S63 AMG 4matic in black is my fantasy car - - dream big!)

28.  Hold a koala (this is really a two-fer since I'd probably have to go to Australia to do this!  And yes, I know koalas will bite, scratch and pee but my ex did too and it didn't stop me)

29.  Fly first class at least once

30.  Visit Scotland (Highlanders, here I come!)

31.  Procrastinate less, live more!


So there it is. 


How about you?  What's on your Bucket List?  Let me know -- so I can relate, laugh or edit mine.

The Perks of Being a Writer: You're in My Book!

Any fellow writers out there? 

Being a writer can be a lonely business.  You spend hours by yourself, stressing over what you're putting to the page (or stressing even more if nothing is being put to the page), second guessing everything from your characters' names and motivations to your choice to write in the first place.  You may find that your back aches and your ass spreads (standing desks are awesome) and your eyes get weary from staring at the screen, thinking what you've written is crap or utter genius.  Or somewhere in between.

One of the perks to writing fiction is the creative license.  If I'm writing a character based loosely on myself, for instance, I can cherry pick those qualities that I feel are my best and even shine a golden light on those that are less than stellar.  As an example, while I may be the most impatient person in the world in reality, my fictional heroine is quirkily impatient and it pays off for her - - she may have the winning lottery ticket or meet Mr. Right because she's impatient.  Something that was said to me by someone else may have been meant with contempt or general jerkiness but I can write it to garner laughs.  And whereas the real me may have taken ten minutes to dig up an adequate comeback, if at all, my fictional character is quick and has an acerbic wit. 

I take the qualities I love most in my friends and will often combine them to create characters in my stories.  Have a friend that will drop anything when you need something?  A friend that will organize the trip to the craft store when you think your best option is to make a voodoo doll of your ex?  Someone who won't remind you of the time you thought karaoke was a great idea (right up there with dancing on the bar) after a few cocktails?  Yup, he or she is going to find their way into my book.

This goes for people you don't particularly care for as well.  Piss me off and guess what?  You're likely going to be in my book and I may even kill your character.  Ha!  Not only that but while I may not see or give you a comeuppance in real life, in literary life, it's going to happen.

I love this about writing.  It's like therapy, only cheaper and without Kleenex.