Stuff People Toss

What is it: 3 books (the best of Henny Youngman, A Stillness at Appomattox, How to Write Like a Pro)
Where I found it: Cardboard box on a neighborhood curb.
What I will do with it: Recycle them (after discovering once I brought them home that they were a bit moldy.)
Other commentary: I always have to look and see what people are discarding. I hate seeing useful things go into the trash or on the curb, instead of being reused, recycled, re-purposed or donated. It's a habit I cannot break and it is the reason I cannot get through my garage. I will purge soon, but I will not stop rescuing stuff.

Blah

So tomorrow is my birthday. I know I am not a kid and I really don't like how quickly the years are adding up, but I was looking forward to this one. My husband was going to take the day off from work, I was going to keep J out of school and we were going to go to Disneyland. I had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks. A chance to see my daughter experience the Magic Kingdom for the first time and just goof off for a day in the middle of the week. Last week J came down with a cold. I thought nothing of it. She'd have enough time to recover before the big day. Well, she did recover. But, R and I are sick. Coughing, sneezing, stuffy head, can't rest kind of sick. No Disneyland, no day off, no happy birthday. Just cold medicine, tissues and bad case of the waaahhhs. Yes, we can go at the end of the week. Yes, I am lucky that J is not sick any more. But boy did I feel like being a kid again on my actual birthday. Blah.

A Simple Wish

With all the mind-numbing things that are happening in our country and world, like natural disasters, political uncertainty (or should I say, insanity?), a global economic crisis, fall of the housing market, rising costs and the continuation of homelessness and poverty in our own backyard... I take joy in the innocence and wisdom of children.

Last night, while leaving J's grandparent's house, she looked up and saw a star. Even the city lights could not diminish its glow. J said, "a star, a star. Make a wish." I told her that she saw the star so it is her wish to make.

"What is your wish?" I asked her.

She paused for a second, then said "ice cream."

"That's a great wish," I told her "I think we can make your wish come true tomorrow."

She smiled and said, "now your turn Mommy, do you wish for ice cream?"

"Yes," I told her, "I wish for you to have ice cream too."

A simple wish from a small child. A bigger more complicated wish from her mother.

"Igor" and the purple carpet

It was 9:30am on Hollywood Blvd. as my husband R and I drove up to the Grauman's Chinese Theater for the world premiere of the animated film, "Igor." The sidewalk was closed off, security guards milled about and the paparazzi were setting up their cameras. Instead of pulling up to the front - no "purple carpet" treatment expected of guests like us - we made a turn and entered the parking garage. After navigating through the tourist mecca of Hollywood & Highland (complete with Kodak Theater), we grabbed our tickets at will call and joined the special guests, investors, friends, family and staff of the film.

There is a slight thrill in seeing all the tourists pressed against the steel gates, cameras and autograph books in hand, hoping for a glimpse of what is going on. For a moment, I feel like one of "those" people on the other side. The pre-party was a scientist lab set atop the cement impressions of Hollywood legends. At one point, I stumbled on Meryl Streep's footprint - literally. The tables were dressed with numerous brains in jars and other gooey paraphernalia. Waiters brought sweet treats and drinks and booths were set up to grab bagels, hot dogs, ice cream, etc. When the doors to the theater opened, R and I went in so we could grab a good seat. We missed the purple carpet parade, but luckily didn't have to watch the film from the front row.

After loading up on popcorn, drinks and Icees, we settled in for the film. The Chinese Theater is a classic. No stadium seating. No fancy amenities, but an interior to die for. The classic movie theater. I said to a friend of ours attending with us, that I hoped when our daughter is old enough, that theaters like that will still exist in L.A.. Heck, we'll be lucky if polar bears are still around when she gets older. I digress.

What makes a movie (and an event) like this unique is that this is a lower-budget, private investor-funded, animated, major feature film; not made with the usual hundreds of millions from a big studio, but a lot less from real people who invested their own money. John Eraklis, producer and founder/CEO of Exodus Film Group (and our old friend who put this whole thing together) gave a speech and ended with the lines, "We're Exodus. This is our first film. It's called, 'Igor'... "

It was cute and funny and I really enjoyed it. It looked great. John Cusack, Steve Buscemi, John Cleese, Sean Hayes, Eddie Izzard, Jennifer Coolidge, Molly Shannon and Jay Leno were great. I am a fan of John Cusack, so that made his Igor character even more endearing to me. He was at the screening, but not near my seat. One man stood up before the show started and pointed to Sean Hayes, yelling at his wife across the aisles, "There, Sean Hayes, Sean Hayes, over there." The woman plowed through the row Sean was sitting in and spoke to him briefly. I could not hear what she was saying, but she returned all excited and out of breath for having met him.

The movie ended to thunderous applause. We then milled about in the lobby until we were eventually ushered out into the sun. We picked up our souvenir poster and milled about some more until the security people finally managed to escort the throngs away. Why they wanted us of the theater so badly made sense, but why they didn't want industry people loitering at the front doors is beyond me.

We grabbed a quick lunch at the Hollywood and Highland center and drove away from that cinematic institution with a smile on our face and a little bit of "Igor" in our hearts.

Ready, Set, GO!

My daughter J is in preschool from 9am to 1pm, twice a week. That gives me a bi-weekly window of opportunity to do what I want. Getting her out of the house with a packed lunch, into the car and over to school by 9am, has not happened regularly. I used to pride myself on my punctuality, but with a 2 1/2 year-old, that is becoming a bygone trait. After dropping her off and convincing her that I AM coming back, I have dwindled my 4 hour reprieve down to 3 1/2. If I count the time it takes me to go back and pick her up, then my available time has now become 3 hours.

Now what do I do with those precious 3 hours all to myself? Well, I have to go shopping for food, otherwise my husband and child will start trying to eat the actual refrigerator. There goes hour number one. Now I have two hours left... Do I vacuum, mop, dust, wash, scrub and rearrange? Do I finally find order in the paperwork that has been stashed in strategic spots since we moved in February? Do I start a craft, finish one I started or come up with my umpteenth business idea? Should I make pudding, grind bread crumbs and/or make fresh lemonade? How about catch up on emails, make phone calls, pay bills or open mail? My backyard needs serious attention and my garage needs a path carved through it to get to stuff.

Hmmm, I just killed a half hour more deciding what I should do. Now with 1 1/2 hours left I'm down to two ideas, blogging or TV. I blog some and put that aside for later when J is napping. Ultimately TV wins out and I plant my ass on the couch and catch up on my shows. G-d bless DVRs. When I put J in school for more days, then I can spread out my obligations and still steal a little time for myself. Until then, I'll do nothing and feel guilty later.

To blog or not to blog? (aka what the hell am I doing?)

It is Day 3 of my blogging endeavor and I am trying to figure out if writing (in what seems to be a vacuum) is a waste of my time or smart use of a over-toddlered brain?

I have gotten ridiculously enthusiastic about the possibilities of blogging... I could just write parent commentary, post recipes, talk about life in Los Angeles, give advice to people I think might need it, display my art/photography/crafts, explore topics like procrastination, married life, TV, movies, recycling, etc., etc.,

Then, I come back down from my self-righteous cloud and wonder, who the hell is going to read it? And why would they care in the first place? Can I create a community in a city that runs from community? Where "let's do lunch" really means "I'm too busy, but I'll make you think that I am interested in seeing you again." Who wants to take time out of their day to read what I have to say?

Well, I am thinking that people will. So I will continue to put on my little dog and pony show and hope that the readers of the world (like you) will gravitate in my direction. Hello? Hello?

Squashed Blueberry Sandwich

When I was a little girl, my father introduced me to a sandwich. Yes, a sandwich. I remember sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table in Vienna, Austria, watching my father grab some ingredients and telling me he was going to make me the best sandwich I've ever tasted. It was sandwich he ate as a little boy in Poland. I was skeptical, but I went along with it. He took a warm, crusty roll and slathered it with butter. Then he added some sugar and topped it off with beautiful, juicy, blueberries. He wrapped it in a cloth and handed it to me, "sit on it" he said.

"What? Why would I sit on my sandwich?" I replied.

"It's part of making the sandwich. Just sit on it." he insisted as he put his wrapped sandwich on the bench and sat down.

I reluctantly sat on my sandwich, thinking my father is the craziest person alive. After a little while he told me to get up and he put the sandwiches on the table. He slowly unwrapped them and proudly showed me our work. Two flat rolls, oozing with blueberry juice. I took one bite and WHAM!, I was hooked. It was the most amazing thing I had ever tasted. It was warm, sweet, crunchy and just plain delicious. Every time we visited Vienna after that, my father made me a squashed blueberry sandwich. I looked forward to the time spent with my dad making this culinary delight.

Years later, in fact, just yesterday, I was at my parent's house and my father said he had something for me. My daughter J was playing in the other room and he hands me a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel.

"Just sit on it," he told me.

I laughed and sat on it. A few moments later I jumped up, fearing the blueberry juice would be all over my pants. Crises averted. I had lept up in time to avoid the juice oozing through the paper towel. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. It is usually difficult to relive a memory. The butter, rolls and blueberries in California today are not the same as Europe 30 years ago. My grandmother has long passed and age has made me a bit more cynical. But, for a moment, I was transported to a time when everything was a possibility, adventure existed in the little things and I wasn't worried about getting blueberry juice on my pants. It still tasted good, and when I offered a bite to J, she just looked at it and said, "No thank you, later in the afternoon" and she bounded off. When she is a little older, I will introduce her properly to the squashed blueberry sandwich. Until then, it belongs to my dad and I.

SQUASHED BLUEBERRY SANDWICH RECIPE

1 Roll (crusty, French roll works the best)
Butter (as much as you enjoy)
Sugar (enough for a thin layer)
Blueberries (as many as you can pile on one side of the roll)

Slice open roll.
Heat if desired.
Spread butter on one half.
Add a layer of sugar on butter.
Top with blueberries (just enough so they don't roll out).
Cover with other half of roll.
Wrap in a paper towel, napkin or cloth.
Squash. The preferred method is to sit on it.
Unwrap and enjoy!

Fried

So after an unimaginable amount of procrastination, I have finally gotten it together enough to start a blog. My husband (let's call him R), 2 1/2 year-old daughter (let's call her J) and I ventured to the L.A. County Fair this weekend and it seemed a suitable topic for my first blog.

After getting on the road and having to turn around to get J's stroller, we finally arrived in Pomona at the L.A. County Fair. Considering we were taking the freeway in Southern California, I was amazed it only took us 40 minutes to get there from the LAX-ish area. Not wanting to spend an extra $10 to park near the entrance, we hoofed it from a parking lot that could have been in another county. By the time we made it to the front, I was ready to pitch myself into a vat of Icees. We breezed right in with our pre-bought tickets and a swarm of photographers descended on us to snap that lovely "you spent way to much on a bad picture at the fair" photo. We took one anyway, hoping that J would for once look at the camera during a family photo. More on that later.

I am always in awe of the amount of things they are able and willing to fry at the fair. Frog's legs, Snickers bars, White Castle burgers, even Coca Cola (what?). I of course, being too fried myself from the 80 something degree heat that was radiating up from the asphalt, had no desire to try one of the fried delicacies. We were on a mission and we were not going to stop and eat or drink until we completed it... the pony rides.

Having walked in circles and being sent in 6 different directions, we finally made it to the pony rides and petting zoo. I would like to say that I was sympathetic to the animals going round and round in the blazing heat, but this time I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to get J on a horse. If they would've let me, I would have jumped on one too. I love animals and seeing J experience them trumped all bad feelings I might have normally had. Besides, they are not mistreated, in fact, they are just walking round and round in circles like we were earlier to find them. J didn't want to get off the horse, but the temptation of the petting zoo made that a little easier. Before we could cavort with the pigs, goats, donkeys, deer, llamas, wallabies, sheep and chickens, R went over to a Star Wars-esque, home-decorated car complete with Yoda and R2D2. I found myself shaking a Jedi's hand and trying to make a storm trooper seem cute instead of scary to J (I think she bought it).

After my little Dr. Doolittle was done feeding the animals in the petting zoo, playing a pink guitar in the Barbie house setup, watching a sad and misguided magic show by Ronald McDonald, it was finally time to eat. I thought I would gorge myself on all things fried, but I ended up with a roast beef sandwich and half of J's fries. J had her first hot dog and R had a Philly Cheesesteak. We even bought some fruit so we wouldn't feel like we were destroying J's eating habits for life. I would say that is pretty tame for a fair. I think the one thing we did overindulge on was drinks. No matter how much we drank, we could not quench the insane thirst we had. Iced tea, Coke, orange soda, lemonade, water (yes, we drank water) and an Icee (cherry of course). We cooled off a bit in the enclosed shopping area where people battled to buy chamois, shower heads and portable coolers.

J flew in a little kiddie plane, rode the jumbo slide with me and went up on the ferris wheel with R. We checked out the animal barn area and J started saying"cock-a-doodle-doo" over and over again to a group of roosters in one pen area. Suddenly one of the roosters looked at J, walked a few steps towards her and let out a loud, "cock-a-doodle-doo!" J freaked out and ran behind me. A few onlookers were saying to each other "Did you see that? That little girl made the rooster crow, etc." I was oddly proud of her and wanted her to continue talking to the rooster. She would not have it. She had turned her sights on group of kids riding plastic John Deere tractors on a track instead. Yee haw.

We got soaked at a misting/cooling station and explored the Hawaii exhibit (one can dream, can't they?) and decided that we had finally reached the point of exhaustion. We purchased a bag of popcorn, watched people play the carnival games and headed over to the photo booth to see our picture from the beginning of the day. The guy pulled up the photo, looked at us and without hesitation and offered us $2 off the $12 price. J wasn't looking at the camera.