My Thanks

* For a network of the smartest, most kick-ass girlfriends a girl could want

* For having a strong, genuine love in my life that I waited a long time to find

* For Papa Christos' babganoush

* For the alleys in downtown LA where anything can be had for under $30

* For my new idea for world domination. Women's Money Monthly.

http://www.papacristo.com/

Watch Out World

I got myself a digital camera

Parts and Parcels

The holidays it seems, are marked by unhappiness as much as by joy in this the "most joyest time of the year". snicker. sneer. Two years in a row now someone I've known has committed suicide. The timing of it all fascinates me--how could you mark your family and your friends and even mere acquaintences with this act for the rest of their lives? But trying to force a rationale onto an irrational act does no one any good. I suppose that even for the best of us, the holidays can be hard to bear. (Hi Mom, yes, still mad. No, not being overly dramatic.) Perhaps its the build up or the expectations or just the hollow chasm of your self-perceived failures lit up by the family christmas tree. (ok, maybe that part was overly dramatic.) Whatever the reason, a fair amount of unhappiness come part and parcel with all that shiny wrapping. So now, in the aftermath, again, I say let's cling to the joy that we find. In our friends and lovers and family and wheezing little dogs because who knows what we will unwrap tomorrow.

And check out what the Nepalese were pissed about back in '03.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/3143020.stm

Seven Days and Some Money Matters

We spent seven days deep in the Georgia woods. And I mean deep. An hour's drive to anything deep. Also eerily quiet. So while I love my family, I was elated to be hopping a plane back home to good old Los Angeles. I stopped in the magazine shop at the airport to pick up some reading and was busy looking at finance mags (an odd personal habit) when I noticed it. All magazines that had anything to do with money were in the "men's interest" section!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How is it possible that the entire publishing industry thinks that women are not at all concerned with our financial well-being? And then a scarier thought....what if that's true? I know too many fan-tabulous women who are drowning in debt, who aren't saving, who are creating a recipe for financial disaster. So what to do about that? Let's take control of our finances ladies and let's not be quiet about it. Men's interest my foot.

It's That Time

The bags are poorly packed, the taxi is scheduled for 3:15 am and soon enough we'll be squashed like sardines on a plane to the east coast. Jingle jing a ling ling. It's Christmas.

Snow Globes in Belgium

I've sifted through stacks of mail that have been sitting on the table for months, mopped the floors, done the dishes and PAINTED the bookshelves. Why? Because I don't want to pack. I hate packing. I'm terrible at it. How is it that while packing I decide a snow-globe, the sweater I've never once worn and a pair of too-small pants will suddenly be perfect in Beligium?

Credit to whomever took/photoshopped

this oddly perfect illustration for this entry.

The Things I Am Thankful For This Week

* I am done with my Christmas shopping
* Avocados are available all year round in Los Angeles
* Soon, very soon will I get to see my family
* I can leave work knowing that I'm more than halfway through my staggeringly high annual fund goal for the year
* The US delegate to the UN Summit on the environment in Bali was bullied by the delegate from Papua New Guinea into action. Lead or get out of the way indeed.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Guinea

Thank you Mr. Meyerowitz

For introducing color as art

What Would Newton Have Made of Caramel?

Last night I made caramel and chocolate apples for the office. Every now and again some strange urge comes over me and I think I'm channeling Martha Stewart. I am not. If this same urge overtakes you, a word of caution. "Simple caramel apples" are not simple. Nor can you "whip them up in half an hour." That said, I felt especially proud today to pass out my treats. Because I made them with my own hands. In only 4 and a half hours. C'est la vie.

One more bit of advice: a quick dip in boiling water will take the wax off of your apples. And this is good because caramel does not adhere to wax. At all.

Shazaam!

Brobdingnagian.

Magritte

I'm Official Now

Our cafeteria is the depository for weird things no one wants, gotten from unbeknownst places one could hardly guess. Put em in a cardboard box, write a sign that says "free for the taking" or something like that and plop them on the communal table and guaranteed, someone will take them home. That's how I picked up a couple of Star Trek soundtracks, on CASSETTE just the other week. Mind you I don't like Star Trek and I don't have a cassette player. But hey, it was free.

Today there was a calendar made somewhere where English is not the primary language spoken. It's made to stand on your desk and when you flip over the months, there's a little sign that says, "I'm out to lunch" or "I'm in a meeting." And then there's the third one:

I'm to an official

The possibilities of what this could mean boggle my mind. Mr. Trotsky (photo) also seems nonplussed. Course, he thought he was an official too.

Diet Schmiet

Is it wrong if every meal I ate today was made up almost entirely of cheese?

The Things I am Thankful for This Week

* My orchid is still alive with no help from me
* Reunions at smokehouses in Koreatown
* That I found an old and much missed friend through this blog.
* I have a puppy. Have I mentioned my puppy? I may have gotten a puppy.
* That A. is finally going to meet my family very soon. It's silly that he hasn't yet.

Cutest damn dog in the world

Not that I'm objective, or anything like that.

100 Percent Responsible

Interesting comment and interesting question.

Are you 100 percent responsible for the interaction between you and another person? Can you be? I think yes, you are. You must be. I am 100% responsible for the peace in my home. So is A. He is also 100% responsible. Why? Because I can 100% make a situation bad, worse, untenable. So then why can I not 100% make it better, peaceful, bicker-free? And why can't he?

I don't mean to say that I am the sole arbitir of moods or peace in my house. That's ridiculous. No one is. But I do say the onus lies on my shoulders, as it lies on every one of us, to remember that how we act affects every moment of our lives. And if we don't want to bicker, if we disengage, if we take it upon ourselves to PERSONALLY put an end to the stupid, then absolutely yes, peace is to be had, however momentarily it may last.

Withering Glances Aside

So my fiance A. and I spent ALL weekend together. This is rare. We generally spend most of one day and part of another but almost never do we hang out together for 48 straight hours. And that is mostly because he works Saturday nights but also partly because we bicker. Nothing big or huge or life shattering, just a little bicker.

But this weekend we didn't. Nada. Nothing. I think because I swore to myself I would try really *really* hard, and I did and we didn't. And that felt awesome. But not a little disheartening because it also made me realize that crap. its all in my hands, isn't it? If I keep my withering glances to myself (and i've got a pretty good witherer if I don't say so myself.) anyway, if i keep the wither to myself, we all get along. we go to sleep all snuggly and then he goes out and buys Sunday breakfast.

Damn it. Now I have to be good.

the things I'm thankful for this week

Cuz its Sunday. And that's what I do on Sunday. Ahem. Starting right now.....

* That I'm going home to see my family for Christmas soon
* Tamales for breakfast on Sunday morning. mmmmm.....good.
* I'm done with my christmas shopping. woohoo!
* That one day pancho will realize that just because his front legs are on the paper, does not mean his bottom is on the paper. sigh.
*Renew pomegranate scrub.

What's Religion Mean Anyway?

It's raining today in Los Angeles. A cold, yicky kind of rain. My yoga teacher very very nicely saw me heading out and offered to give me a ride. Thanks! And during the ride we got into the most interesting conversation. I suppose that's what happens when you ride around with yoga teachers. Anyway, the question is:

What is it that constitutes a religious experience?

I was taking one of those "what's your real age?" quizzes. I'm "really" 24 it tells me. Rock n roll. One of the questions was whether or not you go to a church or other place of worship once a week or more. The answer to that of course is no. But is that to say that other expereinces don't qualify? To me sitting meditation is a religious experience, so can be reading a book or knitting or writing. Anything that transcends my brain and puts me in "that other place." Maybe if the quiz counted those, I'd really be 22!

No one is pithy when they're this tired

But some little pup sure is damn cute.

Course, I may never be pithy--I just quite like to say it. The little man is doing really well today. He seems pretty healthy but we'll take him to the vet asap to make sure. I think there is a little something wrong with his bum bc he keeps rubbing it along the ground. We had quite the night last night. Tonight, new system. He sleeps somehwere else.

And his name is Pancho

So I had to give away Estrella today. Well, give her back anyway, much better trained than when I got her if I don't say so myself. And wonder and behold, my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law pulled out of their truck a wee little puppy they picked up in Mexico. She's for you they said, if you want her. If not, we'll happily take her home. Has anyone ever been faced with the wee-ist smallest little dog and turned around and said no? I know it's happened, but I just can't fathom it.

So now I have a puupy. woohoo! Here's the problem. The breeder told them this little guy was a three month old maltese. From the looks of him, I'd say he's no more than a month and he's got brown spots which makes me pretty sure he's NOT a Maltese. Not that it matters much. I like a good mutt, but I worry for the poor guy. He's obviously much too young to be away from his mom. I've got him all bundled up in my lap right now and I'll post pictures as soon as I get a handy dandy digital camera. For now, you'll just have to belive he's the cutest damn thing you've ever seen. Pancho, that's his name. Panchito.

Pysanky. That's right, I said Pysanky

Pysanky, according to Wikipedia, is a Ukranian Easter egg, decorated using a wax- resistant Batik method. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pysanka. These are extraordinary.

I've decided to give it a shot this year. Perhaps for Easter. Not that I'm religious, but I know people who are. Blast that I didn't find this a few months ago and I could have practiced for Christmas. Sadly, I didn't, so everyone I know is getting a scarf because I already know how to knit.

Vincent and the Teddy Roosevelt Terrier

There are days when my brain works. And days when it does not. Today, sadly, not much is happening up round the cranium. That's fine. That's cool. I'm going to watch dancing with the stars, the finale. Latin boys with dimples make me happy.

And I made a friend today. His name is Vincent. Actually, I don't know what his name is, but in my head, I call him Vincent. He has a Teddy Roosevelt terrier of which he is inordinately proud.

Let Us Now Praise (Not So) Famous Men

I had the most interesting fight with my fiance today. One of those that blows away your conceptions of how you think you are and what you "know" about relationships and how you act in them.

There are several concepts of relationships that we all know very well. Maybe the best known is this: Do not try to change your partner. Something we've all heard time and again. We get the *concept* of it completely. OF COURSE I wouldn't try to change my partner. I love him just as he is blah blah blah. But what happens when the person you love looks you right in the face and delivers this line "Please don't try and change me." Well then, that makes you sit down a minute doesn't it? That makes you back up because whether or not you realize it, you have clearly been trying to change someone else (or at least they feel like you have, which is tantamount to the same thing) and you didn't even know you were doing. But clearly, obviously, you were.

So here's the scenario. It was the smallest, weeist, not so important issue. My fiance and I are dog sitting. Let me be clear: I love dogs. Love em. Have always had one and am itching to get another as soon as the dog we are sitting leaves our house and goes back to her real family. My fiance does not love dogs. He's not cruel or abusive or angry with them. He's just not a dog person. And I want him to be. In a nutshell, that was the basis of our little screaming match. I want to change the way he feels about dogs. Even as I type this, I realize the absurdity of it. But not then. No way. In fact, I was absolutely certain that if I just kept pushing, he would begin to feel exactly the same way about owning a pet as I do.

Which leads me to this. How do we stop ourselves, or even be self-aware enough to realize, when we are crossing a boundary as simple as "Don't try to change your partner"? You know it intellectually, but how do you not do it? I don't have an answer, I'm just posing a query. Self-awareness fascinates me in a way I'm sure is purely egotistical but fascinates me none-the-less. How do we cross the dis-connect between what we know and how we act?

I have no idea. But I am thankful for the minute of clarity. For having someone say the exact words to me to make me step back and re-evaluate. So let us now praise (not so) famous men for giving us exactly what we need when we are least expecting it to be delivered.

Lost Connections

I've been thinking all week of last Saturday night. Last Saturday I had dinner with a good friend of mine, one I hadn't seen in ages and that I always wish I see more of, but I don't. We had a lovely dinner the two of us, nothing special--Kate Mantolini's, at the bar no less. If anyone out there knows the secret to scoring one of those gorgeous window booths, please let me know. I've never sat in one but always wanted to.

Anyway, so I had dinner with a friend. No bells and whistles, no movies, no shopping. Just a simple dinner and lots of talking and that reminded me how much I miss seeing my friends, one on one, no activity involved, and how little I get the chance to truly connect with them. Which also got me to thinking about how often I miss the chance to really connect with anyone and how sad that is.

As a practicing Buddhist, that's supposed to be my gig--connecting. Empathy and kindness with yourself and by extension with the rest of the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm quite good at it and sometimes I see that I am full of hubris and ego and that not only should I not be judging good or bad, but that alarm bells should go off whenever I get that smug feeling of self satisfaction. That's an indicator that my ego has gotten in my way and that I'm not connecting at all.

So today I will feel gratitude for a dinner out with my friend and for a wake up call (how many there are out there when we are listening!) going into this holiday season. I will concentrate on connecting--with my friends and my fiance and my family who all live so far away. The time I spend with all of them will be paid attention to and will be cherished. Or at least, that will be my aim.

-TG

as good as it gets?

Welcome to my blog!

Hope you had a brilliant Thanksgiving. Ours was lovely. Though my signifigant other being Mexico-city born, I did feel a certain amount of (self-induced) pressure to make the best Thanksgiving day dinner ever for his first experience.

Which led to 9,000 lbs of stuffing for 2 people. And undercooked pie crust. But whatever, the bird was grand and that's all that counts right?

It was after the meal that things got interesting. We watched a movie. A movie that's been out for ages but that I've not before seen. As Good as it Gets. That's right, Oscar winner, best actress blah blah blah. Did no one else find this movie insulting as hell? I'm not, I swear, particularly easily insulted, but the premise of this movie is actually that because Helen Hunt's character is poor, the best mate she can find in life is CRAZY!! Actually, certifiably, crazy. That's just straight up ridiculous. And more shockingly, no one seems to have noticed. How can this be, that this is what we've come to?

Believe me, I was single and dating (lots of crazy involved there) for a long, long time. But never once did it occur to me that as good as it gets was someone with actual mental problems on a scale large enough to impede social relations.

Now listen, I don't mean to stigmatize the mentally ill. But what does it say about classism and sexism in our society that all we equate poor and crazy? That somehow these two are a match made in heaven? Think about it, if the waitress had been a lawyer, would the story have made sense?

Anyway, enough already. Ranting done. I'm off to finish my wine, knit a scarf, and hope you all are having a fabulous Friday night.

-TG