Mahout: The Keeper of Driver of an Elephant

I've been remiss, redundant, recalcitrant! Okay, maybe not redundant. But remiss, yes definitely.

Sadly there's no fantastic story to tell as to why. I haven't been vacationing in Zimbabwe or immersing myself in Portguese. I did manage to raise a million or so at our annual gala and also gave A. a black eye on Easter. Poor guy. I was billowing out the blankets just as he was sitting up and I put my elbow directly into his eye socket. You know how they talk about a sickening thud? Yeah, that was the sound it made.

And I've been working hard on my next story. I've finally wrapped my brain around the Uzbekistani mahout so now I just gotta get him to do what I want him to do. But he's turning out to be awfully stubborn. I've named him Ramil.

Photo: Mary Ellen Mark

Prostitutes and Political Wives

I'm not at all surpised that Eliot Spitzer was caught in a prostitution scandal. I barely even blinked. What surprises me now and has always done so, is that his wife STOOD BY HIS SIDE. We've seen it time and time again. There he is, making his "heartfelt" apology, and there she is, wearing the conservatve suit, sometimes even holding his hand. I can't help but think her insides must be ripped to shreds. Her life, dignity, marriage have just gone to crap and yet, she still stands there and supports him. I suppose some must think its admirable, but I find it just a little bit disgusting.

Macarons and Mutual Funds

They say that each person has a limited quantity of self control. Ie you may not buy the stupidly expensive but guaranteed to make you feel fabulous shoes, but that same day, you'll probably go ahead and eat the fries. To that end, I've finally set aside enough to buy some international blue chip mutual funds (hello diversification) but those macarons, well, they didn't stand a chance.

To pick up some practically perfect, proper French macarons, try Paulette's on Beverly Drive and Charleville.

http://www.paulettemacarons.com/

Drivin a semi through the plot-holes

How is it that Hayden Christensen can star in both Shattered Glass (fantastic, amazing, go rent it now if you've not seen it movie) and Jumper
(one of the worst movies, oh, ever)? This confuses me and makes me sad for him.

But She Didn't

Los Angeles

Little man and the girl were out walking. The police slid round the corner easy and slow. That street kid got caught off guard. Copper blinded him so bright that kid couldn't see nothin for days. Just shrugged his shoulders up real tight and looked at the ground. Hoped it all'd go away.

The girl just stared. No business with a girl like that in a neighborhood like this. Sides there were more kids on the next block and them coppers had an itch to look in the eyes of each one that night.

The girl went home. Shoulda said something, she thought. But she didn't.

I got pissed on today

I was all set to write a lovely dovey, oh so happy post. Little man and I had just gotten abck from a glorious walk. It wa finalyl warm and breezy outside and there was honeysuckle in the air. Just brilliant.

Then I got back inside and had to call the customer service department of So Cal Gas Company. They like to take my money, but they don't like to credit me for it. Bastards. And then LITTLE MAN PEED ON MY FOOT. Lifted his leg and pissed right in my sneaker. Double bastard.

My Best Dixie Carter Impression

So I went to go buy a new ball gown because my old one no longer fits. See the lemon curd post. I found a LOVELY one in BCBG, half-off. Sha-zaam. Then I saw another one that was the most gorgeous color of blue green. I tried it on.

The salesman said to me "I was afraid of that. See how it accentuates your hips."

Excuse. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?

"See, it accentuates your hips." He says it again. 20 year old piece of ....

Because the thing is, I have hips. Boy, do I ever. But I in no way feel the need to HIDE them. I have hips. Hello, I'm a WOMAN. We have hips.

I told the 20 year old as much, doing my best Dixie Carter I told him that women have hips and they should never be told to hide them and he should be ashamed of himself for saying so to me or anyone else.

He said, "I just want you to look your best."

My best I say, includes hips.

I hate him. I don't think he cares.

The Stupid Thing I Did Today

Well actually, the stupid thing I did yesterday, but I discovered it today so it goes on today's post.

I was trying to make proper Italian soup you see. White bean and Rosemary. The problem was that the corner store did not have canned white beans. This forced me to be a real human being and soak them myself overnight. I didn't have any idea how long one should soak beans, so I looked it up on the internet. No harm, no foul.

In the process, however, I also found this little tidbit: The water that you soaked your beans in will be full of nutrients. Put it on your plants, they'll love it. Great, fantabulous, wonderful I think and straight away pour all the leftover juice on all my house plants.

Here's what they don't tell you. A day later, the water has gone off and your entire house will SMELL LIKE GARBAGE. And I can't quite think of any way to make it go away save throwing the plants out which I refuse to do. So I suppose we'll just have to suffer through stinkland until the smell wears itself out. Bleah.

Lemon Curd

I helped myself to a second piece of lemon curd tart. I know, I know, a SECOND piece. But its lemon curd you see, made with fresh lemons and sooooooooo good.

So there I am, eating my second piece, when it occurs to me that in less than a month I have to attend a formal ball. For work. Which makes the getting dressed a bit tricky: no excess cleavage, high leg slits or deep v necked backs allowed. So one must be glamorous and entirely covered up simultaneously. Rough.

BUT, I rememer, sitting in my closet is the one single bridesmaids dress in the world that could actually be worn again. Thick silver satin, floor length column, a cowl neck, no more no less. Perfect. I should try it on I think, in case I need to take it to the tailor.

I got the zipper about, oh, half way up my back before my back fat held its ground and rendered zipping impossible. Christ. I had somehow forgotten, in my lemon curd fed haze, that a much thinner version of me had already altered that dress. And only if I had stopped eating before I even conceived of that lemon tart could I have dreamt of fitting into it.

Damn it.

Today I will run, tomorrow I will shop.

If, by chance, you want to also be sucked into eating way too much of a good thing, here's the recipe:

http://www.joyofbaking.com/LemonCurdTart.html

The Most Interesting Thing I Learned Today

Our Administration likes to refer to torture as "Enhanced Interrogation." Nice. But they didn't coin this little phrase. No they didn't. It was coined in 1937. By the GESTAPO.

Allow me to translate

I'm going out for a walk, I'm going out for a walk, I'm going out for a walk, I'm going out for a walk. With perhaps a little, I'll eat your face off when you die thrown in for good measure.

I Didn't Vote

That's right, I said it. I didn't vote. Which is odd, because I'm one of the more politcal people that I know, and I still didn't vote. I'm now trying to figure out why.

I had plenty of excuses. I was busy at work. There was a Board meeting the next day. mmmhm. yeah. whatever. yawn. The truth is I didn't vote because I didn't know who to vote for. Obama is energizing, promising change, rallying young Democrats. But Hillary is smart as a whip, proven, strong. And while she shouldn't be judged on her husbands characteristics, the woman does happen to be married to one of the best political minds of this or any generation.

I didn't vote because I couldn't say no to either. I've said yes to both essentially. This is not to say that not voting was good thing. I do strongly believe it is an honor; nothing less than a duty for those of us who were born with all the priviledges that an American passport brings. We owe it to ourselves to vote.

But I didn't. Because in the end, I just couldn't decide. Nothing between Obama and Hillary, except for their outer wrapping, differentiated them enough to get me to the ballot box. That's an interesting quandry indeed.

MMMMMM.......pie

Make this pie. Its de-liiiiiii-cious!

http://www.ehow.com/how_2173935_blueberry-crumble-pie.html

He emailed me...and I so don't care

Ick. Ack. Argh. Its been an entire week and I've nothing to say. Partly I supose because I've been working like a mad woman. Fundraising during a recession (thats right, I said the "r" word, is hard work indeed.) And partly because A. has been home at nights all week so my attention has been eslewhere. But mostly its because nothing all that exciting has gone on this week. Considering what the rest of this month has been like, I should count my blessings.

I did get an email from an old boyfriend. The first boyfriend, first love, first man who broke my heart. When he dumped me I thought I'd not actually be able to go on. I cried for hours on end, didn't sleep, wandered around my college apartment at night, hoping I'd hear him knocking on my door. But he never did and we went out separate ways. Now he sells artisanal cheese in Brooklyn. huh. I write too many posts about cheese.

A good tomato sandwich

The priest at my grandmother's funeral kept going on and on about tomato sandwiches. For two weeks now, I've been thinking it must be a metaphor that I haven't figured out. The key, she said, as my grandmother knew, was to put the salt and pepper on the mayo, not on the tomato. If you put season the tomato, it all just slides right off. Now I think there was no metaphor. She meant exactly what she said: "A good tomato sandwich is a blessing indeed."

Will acupuncture cure my split-ends?

"Lady you have problem." That's what the unbelievably old Chinese man said to be as he was about to stick current conducting acupuncture needles into my back. "You got big problem."


And yeah, I did. The 16 hour combined sit-fest of last weeks funeral services back in SC (5 flight, 10 hours in the car, 1 in the airport, yeesh) did something very very wrong to my back. I kept thinking it would get better. It thought otherwise and got worse. So much so that by the end of most of the work days last week, I practically had to limp home.


After much berating from A. I finally agreed to go get a massage at the cheapie place up the street. A benefit you see, to living so close to Korea-town. But there weren't any massages on Saturdays the surly receptionist told me. Monday-Friday. "Is there anything else that might help me?" I oh-so-naively ask.


As a matter of fact there was. Acupuncture, electricized. "But it's going to hurt," the receptionist tells me. I think she's smirking at me so I boldy say "No Problem!" A. swears to me that she wasn't smirking, but he was clearly mistaken. The woman had it in for me. Anyway...


So there I am, stomach down on an old mat, curtained off from a bustling Saturday market with this old man sticking electrical needles into my back. "How did this happen?" I think to myself. He inserts them all and they zip and zap at me and create the oddest senation of relaxation and pain. I lay there , on my stomach, pants partly pulled down, thinking things like "Am I wearing a thong? I hope I'm not wearing a thong" and "I wonder if the bottom of my socks are clean?"


Fifteen minutes pass and he takes them out and here's the thing. It worked. Like a freakin' miracle it worked. My back is back thank you very much. So much so I've spent the last 2 days trying to come up with other reasons to go visit the acupuncturist. Cramps? Arthritis? Acne? Split-ends? Do you think he can do anything about my split ends?

Just do it already

Why is it that when you come up with a fabulus new idea, you then DON'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT? What's up with procastination anyway? I suspect it has something to do with fear. Most things do, but it seems so silly and irrational to stand in your own way. I suppose instead of writing this I could just go on and do what it is that I'm not wanting to do. But maybe I'll just do the dishes instead. Or hey, a cup of tea would be nice...

Be Happy Today

BE HAPPY TODAY!

Little Man, In All His Glory

It's been getting awfully gloomy round here in blogland. Well, in my blog land anyway. So I'm putting up a picture of the cutest damn dog in the world and deciding to be a bit cheerier.

Steps

And the world keeps going round. As I watch another friend struggle with the suddeness of disease and how unfair it is to watch one's child suffer, I wonder at all that we can ever just be here now. That we can really let such horror in. But she does, because she is my strongest friend. And perhaps my truest. So now I will sit in awe of the power of people to overcome even the most debilitating of circumstances and celebrate each wee step towards recovery.

Photo credit: Tods

I'm not calling it a cycle

Today I was gonna write about the difference between a caucus and a primary. Why Iowa has one, New Hampshire has another and why these two states carry so much weight. But then my grandmother died. And I was gonna talk about that. But then my dear old friend who was told she could never have children called me and...yep, she's pregnant. Naturally pregnant at that.

So what I think I'm gonna talk about is that moment when we get shocked out of our stability. We roll along, happily, merrily, or hopefully so. Perhaps bored or stuck or feeling uninspired. But we roll along and then every once and again life kicks us in the ass and makes us FEEL something more, something different. It shakes us up.

I marvelled on the bus ride home, how different it felt in mid-day. There were different passengers, wearing different clothing. There were a lot more children at 11:30 as oppsed to 5:30. And the world looks different, not in a tangible, explainable way, except perhaps a bit too bright, but then again thats Los Angeles. As another good friend of mine says, "it's worse to be sad in Los Angeles than anywhere else. All the damn sun lights up the wretched parts and there's never a good thunderstorm to hide behind."

So there you have it. I'll roll along, call Delta for a bereavement package and just *feel* the wretchedness for a bit. And K. will have the baby she's always wanted to have. And Super Tuesday will decide the democratic nominations in February. And that is life. cyclic and all, but I'm not going there.

Bring it Obama

"I know that an invasion of Iraq without a clear rationale and without strong international support will only fan the flames of the Middle East, and encourage the worst, rather than best, impulses of the Arab world, and strengthen the recruitment arm of al-Qaeda.
"I am not opposed to all wars. I'm opposed to dumb wars. So for those of us who seek a more just and secure world for our children, let us send a clear message to the president."

Bring it Obama. God I wish I lived in New Hampshire. (not really, but still)

Standing Knee Deep in Crap

I saw the movie Atonement last night and was surpised at how much I enjoyed it. It got me to thinking about intentions and what they really mean. How much of life is based on intent? If we're smart, I think a majority. Because let's face it, things often turn out to be crap no matter what we meant, and they often turn out to be crap not just for us, but for those around us too. I think its probably vital then, when we're standing knee deep in our crap,

or our loved ones' crap, to think about our/their intentions. More often than not, they were probably quite decent and well meaning. And we can go from there, which is a much nicer starting point than just standing in crap with no idea why and being pissy about it.

Photo: Walker Evans

Polka Dot Wellies

I've got me some new ones. The bright yellow ones died in Costa Rica. And now I get to wear them (sometimes a feat in bone-dry Los Angeles). Rain on I say!!

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=7544959

Resolutions Schmesolutions

They're just not my thing. All I got is some stuff that needs to be finished up sometime before this time next year:

* Do the final polish on Dream with the Angels and finish writing the second script already. The jilted Uzbekistani elephant trainer has been rampaging through the Depression area settlement site for months and I've not done anything to resolve the matter
* Launch the Women's Money Monthly website (so we can all have our houses and shoes too!)
* Keep my money plant alive. I think its got root rot. Sigh.
* Hang the curtains in the living room and put down the rug in the bedroom.
* And oh yeah, unpack my suitcase from Christmas