This time of year the media inundates us with various Best and Worst lists, as if somehow a year isn't complete without their particular stamp on its events. So, as with all fun ideas, I figured I'd steal it and use it for my purposes.
Craziest thing I did this year:
Surprisingly, this was a tough category. I say surprisingly because (as most who know me can attest) I'm not someone who does crazy things. But I narrowed it down to the following:
- 36 hour trip to New York
- 24 hour trip to Chicago
- finishing my novel
The NY trip narrowly wins out, and that is only because there was snow involved.
Most shocking moment of the year:
For me, it has to be when Michael Jackson died. There are certain pop culture moments in life where you always remember where you were when you heard the news. For me, those pretty much boil down to the day Reagan was shot, the day the Challenger exploded, Princess Diana dying, and now this. What makes all of those moments stand out is the unexpected nature of them, exposing the unforgiving nature of the capriciousness of fate, and forcing an examination of our own mortality.
Biggest new addiction:
3 months ago the answer would have been Bejeweled Blitz, but I somehow managed to get that out of my system. So I gotta go with Twitter, even if I still don't entirely get the purpose of it. Besides, I love announcing things like "Mark Sanchez is having taco bell for dinner right now," and not be considered a stalker for knowing it.
Biggest achievement:
The fact that, in a crazy year that has been so difficult for so many, my husband and I still have our home, our jobs, our family and our health. None of those things can ever be taken for granted.
Biggest disappointment:
The LA season of Project Runway. No, seriously. What was that?
Song I'm most embarrassed to admit I listen to without kids in the car:
Tie between Miley Cyrus' The Climb and Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me.
Most surreal moment:
Seeing the trends of my childhood make their way back. Am I really old enough for this? And who exactly was clamoring for the return of stirrup pants, Smurfs and Rubik's Cubes?
That's all the creativity I've got for 2009. Happy new year people, and see y'all in 2010.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes...
Since Hanukkah came (and went) early this year, and my extended family had our annual Christmas celebration today (to accommodate holiday travel schedules), for the first time I can remember Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are all mine.
Don't need to go anyplace. Can honor our own traditions without rushing through them to get someplace else in time. Simply put, I can do what I want to, not what I have to.
Which means we'll start tracking Santa and his reindeer early via the Norad website. Finish baking our cookies for Santa. Take a drive down nearby Candy Cane Lane to see people that are far more creative with their holiday lights than I can ever dream of being. New pajamas for the kids and a reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas. Followed by putting our wired children to bed, the annual viewing of Love, Actually by my husband and myself, capped off by us swearing at each other as we attempt to interpret ambiguous instruction booklets and assemble toys at the very last minute in order to put them under the tree before we collapse in utter exhaustion. Sounds like heaven.
Wishing a happy holiday season to all!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas
My husband is Jewish, so when we had kids we decided we would celebrate all the holidays. A great idea in theory, but when you realize that you are buying presents for 2 kids, over 8 nights, PLUS enough gifts to provide an insanely overindulgent Christmas morning....well, let's just say that it's another one of those ideas that looked much better on paper. Especially when you allow for two super-competitive kids who have in intrinsic sense of fairness when it comes to the perceived value and amount of their loot. The excel spreadsheet I've developed to keep track of it all (and not go to the poorhouse in the process) has become the stuff of legend among my family and friends.
After starting off the weekend with the first nights of Hanukkah, Sunday meant it was time for one of our Christmas traditions-- visiting Santa at The Grove with good friends. The place is truly magical at Christmastime, and they have the best Santa for at least a 500 mile radius. Sadly, we're not the only ones who think that, because by the time we arrived (after securing one of the 12 remaining parking spots left in the 3500 space parking garage) it was a 3 1/2 hour wait to see the Big Red Guy. Thankfully, they instituted a "pick a number" system this year, like at a deli, so you didn't have to physically wait in line that entire time.
Or maybe not so thankfully. Given that Santa's cottage is right across from American Girl Place, my daughter (in the red coat in the photo above) and her friend subjected all of the adults in our group to endless whining about how they wanted this or that and how "it wasn't fair" that we would dare to say no. And then my son, who after 30 minutes was done with dolls and their accessories, begged to go to the Apple store and play with the laptops. Only to then complain that "it's not fair" that we told Santa he can't have his very own laptop for Christmas.
Somehow we survived the wait. And the kids' reactions to finally getting to the front of the line made it worth every minute. Especially my son's 2 minute diatribe to Santa about how he shouldn't make his naughty and nice lists until Christmas Eve, because he needs to give kids enough time to turn their behavior around.
We capped off the evening with hot chocolates, "snow" and hanging out amidst the twinkly lights. Couldn't have asked for anything better.
Except for elves to finish my remaining holiday decorating and baking while we were away.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Holiday madness
Once upon a time, I put a lot of effort into my holiday cards.
Back when my list was smaller and my life not quite so hectic (read: before kids), I would write lengthy individual notes to everyone inside their cards. And this was back in the days when you still had to lick your own stamps, so bonus points to me. Then, as time went on, the notes turned into the dreaded Holiday Letter (aka "trying to make my life sound as exciting as possible to people I talk to once a year"). But I hated the impersonal nature of such things, so I always made sure to still include a brief personal note as well, before ultimately abandoning the Letter concept altogether.
Then the kids were born, and the focus of the card switched from the quality of the message to the quality of the photo of my little rugrats on the front of it. The time I spent writing personalized messages turned into time spent hiring photographers, finalizing wardrobe and selecting final images. Given that I also do that as part of my day job (but on a much larger scale), you can only imagine the full-scale production this became each year. What can I say, I'm the same girl who brings in the proofs of my kids' school pictures and makes the entire creative department vote on which ones I should buy. But I digress.
Even with the increasingly large-scale photo shoots, I still made sure to take the time to personally write each recipient's name on their card, a brief "Happy Holidays" and sign our names. But that has all changed this year.
I am ashamed to admit that I joined the Dark Side.
First off, you have to understand that I hate to be late with anything, and I was late with my cards this year. Yes, I know what you're thinking, it's only December 11. But given that I'm usually obsessively early with everything, being on-time for other people is late for me. Every day we received more and more cards from friends who weren't behind like I was. Including the awesomest card ever from my friend Leslie-- made to look like a movie poster, with photos of her kids photoshopped into "Balloon Boy's" jiffy pop hot air balloon. The pressure was building.
So as I sat down last night with a ridiculously large pile of Shutterfly holiday cards and faced the prospect of an all-nighter to get these things out, I decided to take the easy way out and not personalize a thing. Just send the card, as-is. Heck, if I could have found someone to address the envelopes for me, I would have done that too.
My mom would have been horrified. I'm horrified. After all, I'm the same person that made my 2-year-old daughter make her own thank-you cards by painting a watercolor on each one. Everything I send comes from the heart.
Hopefully my recipients will forgive me. Given that I made major cuts to the list this year (goodbye random person I met at Gymboree 3 years ago but haven't had a playdate with since), the people who receive my cards this year represent the 125 people that matter the most to me. Or, at least, the 125 people that matter the most to me and whose addresses I have handy.
At least the photos on the front are adorable.
Back when my list was smaller and my life not quite so hectic (read: before kids), I would write lengthy individual notes to everyone inside their cards. And this was back in the days when you still had to lick your own stamps, so bonus points to me. Then, as time went on, the notes turned into the dreaded Holiday Letter (aka "trying to make my life sound as exciting as possible to people I talk to once a year"). But I hated the impersonal nature of such things, so I always made sure to still include a brief personal note as well, before ultimately abandoning the Letter concept altogether.
Then the kids were born, and the focus of the card switched from the quality of the message to the quality of the photo of my little rugrats on the front of it. The time I spent writing personalized messages turned into time spent hiring photographers, finalizing wardrobe and selecting final images. Given that I also do that as part of my day job (but on a much larger scale), you can only imagine the full-scale production this became each year. What can I say, I'm the same girl who brings in the proofs of my kids' school pictures and makes the entire creative department vote on which ones I should buy. But I digress.
Even with the increasingly large-scale photo shoots, I still made sure to take the time to personally write each recipient's name on their card, a brief "Happy Holidays" and sign our names. But that has all changed this year.
I am ashamed to admit that I joined the Dark Side.
First off, you have to understand that I hate to be late with anything, and I was late with my cards this year. Yes, I know what you're thinking, it's only December 11. But given that I'm usually obsessively early with everything, being on-time for other people is late for me. Every day we received more and more cards from friends who weren't behind like I was. Including the awesomest card ever from my friend Leslie-- made to look like a movie poster, with photos of her kids photoshopped into "Balloon Boy's" jiffy pop hot air balloon. The pressure was building.
So as I sat down last night with a ridiculously large pile of Shutterfly holiday cards and faced the prospect of an all-nighter to get these things out, I decided to take the easy way out and not personalize a thing. Just send the card, as-is. Heck, if I could have found someone to address the envelopes for me, I would have done that too.
My mom would have been horrified. I'm horrified. After all, I'm the same person that made my 2-year-old daughter make her own thank-you cards by painting a watercolor on each one. Everything I send comes from the heart.
Hopefully my recipients will forgive me. Given that I made major cuts to the list this year (goodbye random person I met at Gymboree 3 years ago but haven't had a playdate with since), the people who receive my cards this year represent the 125 people that matter the most to me. Or, at least, the 125 people that matter the most to me and whose addresses I have handy.
At least the photos on the front are adorable.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tis the season for tv reruns
As an unashamed television fan, we've entered a depressing 6-8 weeks. No real good tv is on again until mid-January (the occasional episode of SYTYCD notwithstanding). My DVR is quickly emptying, and during the hour or so I have between the kids going to bed and me slipping off into dreamland myself, there are some slim pickings out there. A girl can only watch her Buffy Season 2 DVDs so many times, so I've found myself becoming more adventurous in my choices.
Last night I tried the new TNT drama, Men of a Certain Age. Aside from having some good critical buzz, my friend LisaGay Hamilton plays Andre Braugher's wife in the show, so I had to check it out.
So far, so good. It's definitely a very LA show, and not just because they film scenes in the coffee place a block from my house. My husband (being a man of a certain age himself) definitely related to it, laughing out loud on several occasions. And while slow at times, it definitely captured my interest enough to want to watch again.
Which is definitely something. It's no Mad Men. Or Glee. Or Modern Family. Or 90210- Kai the Yoga Instructor Years.
I'll just have to console myself with one thought:
Lost. The final season. February 2010. Let the countdown begin!
Last night I tried the new TNT drama, Men of a Certain Age. Aside from having some good critical buzz, my friend LisaGay Hamilton plays Andre Braugher's wife in the show, so I had to check it out.
So far, so good. It's definitely a very LA show, and not just because they film scenes in the coffee place a block from my house. My husband (being a man of a certain age himself) definitely related to it, laughing out loud on several occasions. And while slow at times, it definitely captured my interest enough to want to watch again.
Which is definitely something. It's no Mad Men. Or Glee. Or Modern Family. Or 90210- Kai the Yoga Instructor Years.
I'll just have to console myself with one thought:
Lost. The final season. February 2010. Let the countdown begin!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Rainy days and Mondays...
Maybe it's because I'm a California girl, but I love the rain. The sound of it on the roof, the way it clears out the air and makes everything feel fresh, or maybe just because it means I get to wear clothes with sleeves-- it makes me happy.
It also means that I don't have to rush around like a crazy person for once because everything slows down. Soccer practices are canceled and weather-related traffic gives me an excuse to show up to things a little late. It's a nice change of pace.
Rain in southern California is a major event. All the news stations anticipate it for weeks in advance, with round-the-clock "Stormwatch" coverage, which usually nets about an inch or two of rain when all is said and done. Hey, it's LA, we know how to make things seem more exciting than they really are.
So I'm going to take this rare opportunity to wear my cute boots and Burberry trench coat, and imagine I live someplace where it's winter for more than 3 days a year.
And then begin the countdown until I start complaining that all this rain is terrible for my hair and when is it going to stop already.
What can I say? I'm a Gemini.
It also means that I don't have to rush around like a crazy person for once because everything slows down. Soccer practices are canceled and weather-related traffic gives me an excuse to show up to things a little late. It's a nice change of pace.
Rain in southern California is a major event. All the news stations anticipate it for weeks in advance, with round-the-clock "Stormwatch" coverage, which usually nets about an inch or two of rain when all is said and done. Hey, it's LA, we know how to make things seem more exciting than they really are.
So I'm going to take this rare opportunity to wear my cute boots and Burberry trench coat, and imagine I live someplace where it's winter for more than 3 days a year.
And then begin the countdown until I start complaining that all this rain is terrible for my hair and when is it going to stop already.
What can I say? I'm a Gemini.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
In memoriam
You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." - Mae West
We found out yesterday that my husband's great-uncle George passed away at 106 years old. To put this in perspective, it means he was born in 1903-- the same year of the first World Series, the start of Ford Motor Company, and the first-ever plane flight. And before the invention of the comic book, cartoons or color photography.
In other words, he saw a lot.
And while it's wonderful that he lived such a long life, I can't help but mourn the loss of another member of (for people my age) "the grandparent generation." The people who told us stories of the Depression and WWII, sent $10 checks for your birthday and who would have been Don Draper's contemporaries. My life has been made undoubtedly richer for having known them all.
I always felt like George knew the secret to how to live a life. I only knew him for the last sixteen years of his, but he always had a smile on his face and a kind word to say about everyone. According to family legend, he never stressed out a day in his life. He enjoyed every minute of every day, always with a story and a smile at the ready for anyone who might need one.
My husband carries George's lucky golf club in his bag. And I will try to carry his outlook on life in my heart.
We found out yesterday that my husband's great-uncle George passed away at 106 years old. To put this in perspective, it means he was born in 1903-- the same year of the first World Series, the start of Ford Motor Company, and the first-ever plane flight. And before the invention of the comic book, cartoons or color photography.
In other words, he saw a lot.
And while it's wonderful that he lived such a long life, I can't help but mourn the loss of another member of (for people my age) "the grandparent generation." The people who told us stories of the Depression and WWII, sent $10 checks for your birthday and who would have been Don Draper's contemporaries. My life has been made undoubtedly richer for having known them all.
I always felt like George knew the secret to how to live a life. I only knew him for the last sixteen years of his, but he always had a smile on his face and a kind word to say about everyone. According to family legend, he never stressed out a day in his life. He enjoyed every minute of every day, always with a story and a smile at the ready for anyone who might need one.
My husband carries George's lucky golf club in his bag. And I will try to carry his outlook on life in my heart.
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