Just Another Day

As an aside, here is a peek at some of the items Oscar presenters received. Also, I was waaay too conservative on the estimated value, it's more like $100,000, not $20,000 worth of loot.

So, I watched the Oscars last night because I'm a sucker for that type of thing. I thought Chris Rock would be much better than he was, although there were some funny moments. I'm not too sure about presenting people their Oscars in the middle of the aisle, although the people who received them that way reacted with better aplomb than I would have. For some reason, my mind wandered to celebrities and why we are so fascinated with them, myself included. I got to wondering why in the world these Oscar presenters were getting so much "swag" just for standing up and reading off a few names. "Swag" is the term used here in Hollywoodland for freebies. Like these people, who make millions of dollars per film, need freebies. And, as they say, there is no such thing as bad publicity, so why the need to give them presents worth upwards of $20,000? Are you telling me that Halle Berry cannot afford to pay for a watch with her own money? Then I thought, what a n

When flicking the light switch: "Mama, I turn the dark on!" It takes a two year old to change your perspective!

Last Sunday, my friend and I visited a tearoom for a chance to chat and catch up. This friend, whom I will call J, is a person I very much admire. She used to be my boss, and we actually became friends as she was supervising me on a project. J was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in her mid twenties, and actually had to have her thyroid removed. There was a period during her treatment where she literally thought she was going to die within six months or so. The entire experience changed her outlook on life, and she is one of the nicest, most upbeat people I know. I have never understood the pricing behind tearooms. We had something called the "Queen Elizabeth" tea, which consisted of a pot of tea for each, finger sandwiches, a cup of fruit, a cup of soup, scones, and little cupcakes for dessert (as if the scones weren't already sweet enough). So it was about 19 bucks for that, and while it sounds like a lot in print, the sandwiches are exactly what they sound like (rea

Ok, so Mr. Personality has been not napping lately. He is not fighting it at all, he will lay down, he just will not fall asleep. This morning at the grocery store, he was yawning, and I thought to myself, oh no please don't be tired! You see, I am totally obsessed with "Lost" and was quite pissy last Wednesday when he did nap and didn't fall asleep at night until 8:45pm. Get TiVo, you say? Too expensive. Figure out how to tape the damn thing, you say? I have tried and tried, to no avail to tape shows on our stupid DVD/VCR. So, lets just say when it was obvious that there would be no nap for the fourth day in a row today, I breathed a tiny inward sigh of relief. Pathetic, I know.

So here we are sitting in the middle of the 5th highest total rainfall season in recorded California history, which is rapidly closing in on numbers 4 and 3. So, I can honestly say that I can never remember this much rainfall, living all of my 33 years here in SoCal. Huge sinkholes are opening in the streets, swallowing and killing utility workers there to help fix it. Teenagers are being killed by boulders rolling into their bedrooms, and swimming pools are sliding down the hillsides. Our townhome is situated on the edge of a ravine, actually. The thought of us sliding 7 or 8 stories down has crossed my mind quite a few times in the past couple of months. But, the growth on the sides of the ravine is mature and we also have a retaining wall to help us out. It has definitely crossed my grandmother's mind, as she called my father (why she didn't just call us, I am not sure) to ask if the hill we are on is safe. My dad reassured her that it was, but who can really say? No

A few months ago, a couple that we know well suggested that one day we take our two families and go camping together. Hubba-hubba has let slip that he intends to one day take Mr. Personality camping. Let it be known that I am not a camper. While I love nature and the outdoors, my preference is to view them from a balcony while sipping the tea that room service has delivered, not shivering in a sleeping bag in a tent with a "bathroom" addition. (I know they make these, I have been told by quite a few people!) Actually, I have never been camping. The closest I ever got was taking a vacation with my parents in Lake Tahoe. It was a privately owned cabin that was mostly used as a ski-lodge, and it was wooden and short on amenities. I remember being highly disappointed by the room that had five cots on creaky wire frames, and little else. It just didn't fit my idea of "vacation." So, all I can say is that I have heard about camping, and what I have heard doesn&#

I thought I would let you (yes, you're the one) know that you now no longer need an account to write a comment. Release the hounds!

One of the best things is going to a nice salon and getting your hair done. It had been five (count em, five )months since my hair was last cut and colored, and boy was it in need of attention. This was my birthday present from Hubba-hubba, just a little early. So, I spent two hours being foiled and colored and cut. Why is it that when someone else styles your hair, it turns out so much better than you could ever do yourself? I hardly recognize my own hair when I leave the salon, it has body, it curls under with a flirty lilt, and it just moves better. Is it the angle they are at, or what? I have tried using those large round brushes, and I usually wind up screeching because I have accidentally rolled my hair in it and I need help getting it unstuck. Although, at $125 for the entire procedure, she had better make my hair look damn good. Even if all I am going to do is go home and take a nap with Mr. Personality. Oh, the price I have to pay for beauty. Well, at least I try. OK,

Somehow in his already brief life, I have become passe to Mr. Personality. Just being "mama" is no longer good enough. I am constantly being told, "Talk Santa, Mama," which means I must lower my voice and heartily speak to him as old St. Nick. "Talk Winnie" of course is Winnie the Pooh. The list goes on and on. Today was a new one, "Talk rock, Mama, talk rock." So I had to impersonate the rock he was holding, having no idea what the hell a rock sounds like. I did my best to sound gravelly and as if I had spent the last couple of months wallowing in the dirt outside our patio. Sybil has nothing on me, let me tell you. Deep down I get a little bit offended that I am not good enough, but the plus is that he is more than willing to do things for "others" that he will not normally do for me. For instance, if "Santa" wants him to get out of the tub, he is more than willing to comply. I don't know if it is my fault for an

My mother gave Hubba-hubba and I the best Valentine's day gift- the gift of time alone together. We had six wonderful hours where we saw "Finding Neverland," had a dinner of grilled fish, and then over for some frozen yogurt. But for some reason, my mother seems to think that when she comes over to my house to babysit, she has some sort of duty to do my laundry. I didn't mind it so much when Mr. Personality was a little baby and I was still recovering from my C-section. And don't get me wrong, I'm not mad at her or anything, just a little exasperated because it is so very unnecessary and I don't know why she feels her day would not be complete without running my washer. We came home to two loads of clean and folded laundry, as well as her folding some of Mr. Personality's clothes that I had just taken out of the dryer before we left. Hubba-hubba grabbed a shirt and said, "God bless your mother for doing our laundry." And I said, "Do

I'm not sure when exactly I got fed up. Perhaps it was when I looked in the mirror while riding King Arthur's Carousel at Disneyland and wondered what Jabba the Hut was doing on a carousel. Perhaps it was seeing the irrefutable evidence of quadruple chins on our Christmas pictures. Or perhaps it was even when I began refusing to wear shirts that didn't go down to the knees. Whenever it was, it wasn't that long ago that I decided it was high time to be losin' some weight. I had begun gaining some serious weight about 10 years ago after I was in a serious car accident and tore my ACL . I couldn't walk for about 4 months, and needed a heavy, awkward brace for months more. After that, it was easy to find excuses to not exercise. "My knee hurts too much" or "The sun is shining too brightly" were popular refrains. Having grown up eating delicious food lovingly prepared by German and Italian grandmothers, I kept on eating as if I was still the

I don't care if it's too mushy, I am going to do a list of why I love my Hubba-hubba. We don't really get into Valentine's Day as a rule, but hey, this is perfectly free so why the heck not? - He loves to shop. (Ladies, eat your hearts out, outlet mall shopping is his fave) - He really does have the cutest butt. (that may fall under the "too much information" clause, but this is my blog and I don't care) - He is very cuddly and tries to tell me that he loves me every day. (He probably says it more than I do, actually) - He is the best father I could ever hope to have for our son. (Mr. Personality is very lucky to have a father like him, I hope he realizes that one day) - He actually left law school in order to have our family. He felt that continuing school as well as the long hours a new lawyer must keep would be detrimental to our marriage and our family. (How could you not love a man like that?) - He can light up a room in an instant, and knows ho

If this doesn't send a clear message to you about Wal-Mart and their tactics, then I am afraid not much will. I read in the Los Angeles Times yesterday that instead of dealing with a worker's union that was this close to legally forming, they decided to shut the store down. This store is in Canada, and they were only a few weeks away from starting a union. Oh, but wait, Wal-Mart is against paying its workers a fair wage, fair overtime practices, and providing decent health care, so they decided to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Way to go, Wal-Mart! Apparently in the US, the closest they ever got to a union was a group of meat-cutters that were also about to unionize, and they decided to eliminate the position of meat cutter altogether. Good grief, people, stop shopping there! Is it really worth the extra 4 dollar total savings on your entire bill? It isn't for me, and I refuse to give them ANY of my hard-earned money. OK, well, my husband's hard earned mo

So, as Mr. Personality and I are driving home from the accountant's office, I decide to get in the carpool lane as it was about 4pm and traffic is always dicey around that time. Not too long afterwards, I see a motorcycle behind me, coming up fast. Then I happen to see a highway patrol car behind it, lightbar flashing. I am thinking, oh crap, what am I supposed to do? If the CHP guy is chasing the motorcyle man, do I get out of the way, or do I break the law and pass over the double yellow lines that demarcate the carpool lane? Well, motorcycle man solved half of my dilemma quite handily by passing me on the right, ON the double yellow lines, going at least 90 mph. The CHP car is coming up fast behind me, and then he also makes the decision easy for me by getting out of the carpool lane and going around me. I am filled with outrage, who the hell is this freak on the motorcycle, and why must he put me and my son in danger? It doesn't help that I already loathe motorcycles a

Just being the paranoid mommy that I am, I am going to link you to the Megan's Law website for California . Even if you are in another state, this page has links to other states' Megan's Law pages. I believe the West Coast and Western states have full access at this point, I am not sure about anything east of let's say, Arizona. I am pleased that they finally got this database up and running so that people could access the info from their home computers. I think it should have been done years ago. Lo and behold, there is a registered sex offender not a quarter mile from my house. Some of the offenders are listed with photos, which is extremely helpful. There are physical descriptions as well as the offenses they were convicted of. The one by me does have a photo on file, so I feel slightly better. Although, as Hubba-hubba pointed out, any of them may have moved and not given notice, or some may have never registered as they were supposed to. It is so sad th

Today is Ash Wednesday, the day that begins the most holy of seasons in the Catholic calendar, Lent. For those of you unfamiliar with the ritual, the ashes are smeared across the foreheads of the penitents. Supposedly in the shape of a cross, although each priest has varying degrees of success, proportional to the amount of people he has waiting in line. When the ashes are smeared on your forehead, the phrase, "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust" is used to symbolize our fleeting life on this planet, a reminder that Jesus died for our sins, and our quest to live as sin-free a life as possible during our short stay on earth. Even though I will not be participating this year in the rituals of the Catholic Church, they remain ingrained in my psyche. Although as a child enrolled in Catholic school, I am afraid that my love of Mass translated more into looking forward to getting at least 2 hours relief from schoolwork since we often celebrated Mass during the school day. The p

If you are interested, I will tell you how you can make a fortune. Design a line of boys clothing that is a step below This Little Piggy Wears Cotton and Ralph Lauren and a step above Osh Kosh . That is all you have to do, my friends. Mothers of boys across the United States will stampede stores in order to buy your clothes. Do manufacturers of boys clothes think that just because we have boys we are no longer interested in shopping? To me, boys are the most underserved population out there when it comes to clothing choices. Fellow moms of boys know exactly what I am talking about. How many times have we walked into a store, only to see racks upon racks upon RACKS of adorable girl's clothing. A million variations on dresses, jumpers, pants, shirts, even socks, those lucky moms have it all. Then, over to the boys corner, and I mean literally a small, desolate corner in the back of the store wherein we can find baseball-jersey type shirts, shirts with ugly bugs or weir

Last weekend some friends of ours were over with their daughters, and they hadn't been over to our house for about six months. J: Hey, did you guys get new carpet? Hubba-hubba: No, it's probably just three shades dirtier than when you last saw it, so it looks completely different. Why, when we were getting ready to buy this place, did not ONE person call attention to the fact that having white (excuse me, oatmeal ) Berber carpeting SUCKS THE BIG ONE?

I have to admit it- I just don't get the allure of football. Now, before you say anything, I am a big sports fan. I have been a baseball fan since my family first obtained our Dodger season tickets when I was in middle school. I cheered the Lakers (of Magic, James Worthy, and Kareem) when they won their championships. I adore watching professional and collegiate volleyball, my love affair goes back to when I used to play club volleyball and was on my high school varsity team. I like to watch hockey, tennis, soccer, and pretty much almost anything except football and golf. Don't even get me started on televised golf. Oh, it's not that I don't know the rules and such, Hubba-hubba was on a state championship football team in high school, so I have been well-versed in the intricacies (or really lack thereof) of the game. It's not that I don't have an appreciation for the cute butts in the tight pants, but that can only carry me for so long. It's not th

I used to belong to the world of the gainfully employed. I would have my alarm clock set to a specific time, I would shower, eat breakfast, dress, and off to work I went. Now I wake up to the sounds of a toddler talking excitedly to himself, then bursting into my room with a "WAKE UP, MAMA!" I used to be able to count on the fact that people would obey my directions, or at least have the courtesy to pretend to be listening to me, unlike my current situation of downright defiance at times. I used to be able to quantify how much I was worth when I got a paycheck every two weeks. It was there in big black numbers how much I was valued, so I could measure my success by my growing bank account. Now I feel like an almost invisible member of society. I used to direct a staff of up to 20 people, now I am down to one rather disgruntled two year old. Although for some employees (a man I will label GG comes specifically to mind) it takes a bit of effort for me to tell the

Nope, this isn't going to be about being confronted by your parents as a teenager, although goodness knows I have heard that question too many times to count. I wasn't going to write an entry today, because I couldn't think of anything particularly exciting to write. But then I thought, perhaps I should explore just where I am going with this blog thing, as all 5 of you who are kind enough to read really want to know. (Insert laughter here) I got to thinking about who the heck am I to think that people would actually want to read what I write? Who cares? Am I really writing this blog for an audience or just for my own self-gratification? (now, now, get your mind out of the gutter) But, I am the type of person who is into all kinds of self-gratification (seriously, GET IT OUT) and I enjoy seeing my thoughts put up on my computer screen. It makes me feel important and special when I view my blog, and that has been a type of therapy for me since I began writi

I admit it, I am a bad breaker-upper. After my first boyfriend and I broke up, I decided he didn't deserve the Billy Joel concert tickets I had bought him mere weeks before, so I took them with me as I left his house. Another guy I was casually dating implored me that even if we stopped dating, to please keep speaking to him. Well, he sent me a salacious card that offended me at the time, and I just simply stopped speaking to him, despite my promise. But probably the worst break up I've ever had was with my former hair stylist. She was the sister of my former college best friend, and I just kind of fell into becoming her customer since I saw her all the time at my friend's house and such. Not that she wasn't good, she was fine, but over time, little things started to annoy me. She was an intinerant hair stylist, always changing her salon. I think during the ten or so years that I went to her, she must have changed salons at least 6 times. She kept selectin