Try Handmade

Have you seen Try Handmade? It is only one of the most darling sites out there in the world wide web. They highlight items from different people that make handmade goods. And the best part? They’ve asked me to do interviews for them.

The first one with Kitty Empire is up today. Go check it out!

A Decision

And then he started yelling No! His face turned dark red and his hands squished his cheeks forward, moving all around his head, messing up his hair, then back to his cheeks. He was so overcome with emotion that the only word he could get out was No! No! He nearly lept out of his skin – I saw it begin to happen and then recede. His body could have charged a car battery.

I watched in disbelief, then horror. And then I refused to see it anymore.

Drink Up, Los Angeles

Speaking of social events (weren’t we?), I went ahead and booked the uWink in Hollywood for June 13 at 8pm. They are open until 1am.

I know it’s early to plan this, but my summer gets filled up real fast with kid activities, so I have to be all Ms. Planaheader to make this happen. I can’t wait to meet you! Invite a friend or two!

If you want to sponsor the event, email me here.

PLEASE RSVP over here.
xo

But, I Didn't Pee My Pants

I started this week by inhaling the essence of the Queen of Sheba up my left nostril and was all, Oh, I only walk on 3inch padded long nap ecru Persian rugs and If you don’t peel my grapes, I’m going to banish you to a life of only reality television and morning radio shows and I’m thinking we’ll paint the walls golden bronze, straw, ochre, saffron or amber and it’s really important you tell me which one you like the best because they are ALL SO DIFFERENT.

In other words, I was awesome to be around.

This could be because I was overcompensating my lameness of the weekend previous. The one where I drove to the OC with my son, Devon. And it took three hours and I had a soda. A very large Dr. Pepper that went straight to my bladder and starting dancing the Hustle at the speed of light. But we were almost there! And there was nowhere to pee! And there was traffic! Never have I wished so hard for anything as I did for an adult diaper at that moment. And then we turned on some roads and passed some signs and stuff and OMG I had to go pee!!

So we finally got to the street in Laguna where Heather and Jon were staying and I saw their condo on the left and went PHEW! DEVON PARK THIS HEAP WHILE I RUN IN AND GO PEE! So Dev makes with this really heavy sigh (BUT HE HAS NOT HAD 4 KIDS so he doesn’t know what that does to your body. KEGELS!!) and a few eye rolls and says Really? NOW? but I didn’t even notice because ZOMG THE PEEING I needed to do. I swung open the door and jumped about a foot down to the ground. (FORESHADOWING) But I didn’t trip and fall and I was very proud of that. And then Devon climbed up a few feet (AGAIN FORESHADOWING) closed the door and I started walking away and then I heard this awful noise like tires spinning. Because the TIRES WERE SPINNING. Because the streets in Laguna go up and down the hills at about a 50% grade. Just kidding! It’s only about 25%. (REALLY) And I had pulled into this driveway that had more major angles than Blagojevich. And only one of the back tires and one of the front tires were touching the ground and the back one was just touching enough to make this really awful burny smell.

So, I looked at the van, perched and wobbling as it was, and I almost forgot I had to pee. Almost. And I looked at the van some more. And I realized that I had left the van in the MOST awkward and unsafe position possible and in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the van toppled over on its side. (REALLY) And in fact (AGAIN), I believe Devon said something like MOM THIS VAN IS GOING TO TIP ON THE SIDE! And I just kept staring because I remembered I had to go pee but I knew if I left, my son would end up lying on his left side, head in the gravel or he would try to move the van backwards again and the van would IN FACT move forward and slam into the truck about 6 inches in front of him. And the van, that beast that weighs about a million pounds, would just go faster and faster and careen out of control, crashing into cars and houses and people on both sides of the street including a baby in a stroller in there somewhere and then slam into the busy 101 where the van would kill a family of six, (a RELIGIOUS family of six, that included a 13 year old piano prodigy that was on his way to a concert where he was raising millions of money for a cure for cancer and THEY WOULD HAVE DONE IT, TOO!) and then roll over and over until Devon was almost dead and with his last breath he would ask Why didn’t you just go at the Shell station in Irvine, Moooooooommmm…….

But I still had to pee. And then, suddenly Jon was there. Yay! It’s Jon! It was better than the 2nd coming. And he asks how it’s going and I almost want to pinch him because HELLO! How does it look like we’re doing? But, actually, I’m SO GLAD TO SEE HIM that I almost forget I have to pee. But not really. Because although it’s awesome to have someone like Jon on your team when trying to get your van that is teetering like it’s on top of a spike out of immediate danger, your body, when you REALLY have to go pee, won’t let you forget it. I actually considered just letting it go. You know, whizzing in the street. Letting the yellow river flow. Watering the plants with my electrolyte leftovers. But then I didn’t, because it would totally ruin my boots.

SO THEN. I realized that Jon had actually come from the other side of the street. (How fun would that have been to run into the wrong place, frantically trying to use the bathroom? Eh??) From further up the hill. And I could see Heather, glowing (pregnancy looks so good on her!), in the window looking out and giving me the strangest look. AND THEN. I realized I was going to have to walk up the hill about 50 feet, not peeing. And then Devon is really concentrating and I’m telling him to turn the wheels all the way one way and Jon is telling him to turn the wheels all the way the other way and Devon is getting frustrated and we’re all a little freaked out and the smell in the air is like we’re lounging around a tar pit on fire and finally Jon goes – Hey Leah! How about you go up to the house and go pee already. – and I can see in his eyes that he would really like it if I wasn’t telling Dev all the wrong stuff to do (JUST MAKING HIS JOB HARDER) (REALLY NOT HELPING) and I heard in his voice that uber-patient tone that you use on the nearly deaf and very young children. The same voice he used when I got lost on the way to their home in SLC and he had to guide me in. Every time. And so I turned around and carefully/quickly walked up the hill and found the right door. And Heather was all Hey! How are you? What’s goi……. And I ran past her and into the bathroom and THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE ANGELS REJOICED!

As I sat on the throne, my arms wrapped around my knees, my head resting on my legs, relishing every last drip, I tried to remember what I had been so concerned about just a few minutes ago. Hmmm. Was it something about the economy? Or…..maybe I forgot to pay the electricity bill? And then suddenly, I remembered my son was about to die, the van was about to crumple and Heather was in the hall wondering what the hell was going on, her hair blown back from the speed at which I’d passed her.

By the time I’d finished with the bathroom things, (ahem) and run into the hallway, Dev and Jon were back inside. Everything was going to be fine. No one died. The van didn’t crash into anything. (The solution? Leave the van parked haphazardly half in the street and inches away from the truck in front of the van and wait for the owner to come home and move it 10 feet forward. And it worked.) And then we all held hands and swayed left and right while singing Kumbaya.

Leta, who is secretly a fairy, pronounced that my favorite princess was The Princess and the Pea and used her magic to read incredibly long and complex words that no child her age should be reading. Unless they are a genius. Which she is.

The Burrito King came and we got the most delicious food we’d ever tasted. Even our taste buds sang. And we laughed heartily and merrily with our heads thrown back and our hair flowing down our backs and thought how lucky we were to be lottery winners and how much fun we were going to have when we all owned our new Vespas and buzzed around town in our matching purple Polo shirts and Birkenstocks.

And later, when Dev and I got ready to leave, I used the bathroom. Twice.

True Mom Confessions

I have an essay, a confessay, if you will, in the book True Mom Confessions coming in early April. It started as a website created by my friend Romi and grew from there. It’s nice to sometimes have an anonymous place to put your innermost secrets that you can’t tell anyone in real life.

I’m pretty proud of my contribution to this book. I think this essay is one of the best things I’ve ever written.

Eavesdropper #2

“Let’s do the whole cocktail thing, shall we? Hello! I’m Drake. I’m 36. I’m a scientist and I build things that don’t exist and won’t exist for years. I actually work in the future.” Drake thrust his hand forward in an attempt to look confident. It was at the precise moment his hand accidentally jabbed her breast and he looked more perverse than confident, or worse, clumsy, that he wished he could rewind about seven seconds and have a do-over.

She was taken aback for a tick or two, but recovered nicely. “I’m Cynthia. Cindy. Whichever.”

Her detachment to what someone might call her spoke volumes to Drake. After all, Drake was a name he had given himself after pouring through books and online forums and author’s names. He had carefully considered Chance and Chase and Shane before deciding on Drake. And for someone named William but forever called Willy, the name Drake made him feel instantly strong and in control. Like a man should feel.

Cindy continued, “I’m 28. I have two kids under six. I love being a mother and during…” But, Drake had stopped listening. A mother? Of two kids? Under six? Um, sorry to be so judgmental, but no. Just, no. She probably took two years off to drive around the country like a hippie and then went to only half a year of community college before getting knocked up and stuck at home with babies. Her dreams and aspirations probably include someday knitting an entire outfit from blue yarn and decorating the older kid’s room in a jungle theme. Plus the guy, (or guys!), had obviously left her. What’s up with that? What else was wrong with her?

No, not a good match at all, he was positive. And as Cindy continued to talk, his eyes wandered to the two chairs on the right to see the lady coming to his station next. She looked cute. Pretty, even. And she seemed nice. Just look at the way she gazed at the guy across from her. Like she was really interested and really getting whatever he was saying. And she wore glasses. He couldn’t wait to meet her and hoped, prayed, crossed his fingers, that she would be interested in science or at least be really smart. He needed someone almost as smart as him to be with for the rest of his life.

Drake checked the timer on the table between them. Thirty seconds left. He looked Cindy in the face and realized she had asked him a question. “Oh. Sorry. What was that?” It was a shame she wasn’t smarter. She was one of the prettiest women here. “I just wondered what you were doing at work at the moment. In the future, I mean.” Cindy smiled. “I’m currently working on significantly raising the temperature by forcing deuterium gas under pressure into an evacuated cell containing a sample of palladium dispersed in zirconium oxide, which causes the deuterium to be absorbed by the palladium sample, resulting in a denser deuterium, with deuterium nuclei that are close enough together to fuse! My last test resulted in a temperature increase for almost 50 hours.”

Ding! The timers went off, resounding and echoing around the room, chattering in his ears. He stared at Cindy, unable to speak. He had been so wrong!

Cindy, taking his silence for disinterest, grabbed her purse from her lap and stood up. “Well, nice meeting you, Drake. Good luck with….whatever you’re doing.” And as Drake watched her, mute, she walked to the next station on his left and started talking to a man in an Armani suit. A man named Peirce. A man with manicured hands and shined shoes and undoubtedly a large stock portfolio. A man that was everything Drake wished he himself was. (Peirce? PEIRCE? Why hadn’t he thought of Peirce?)

His attention was suddenly pulled to the woman in front of him. She giggled and brushed her long bangs out of her eyes with her cherry-colored acrylic nails. From this close distance he could see that her glasses were for show. A part of her outfit. “I’m Bitsy.” she giggled. “I’m starting an internet business. I make these really, really adorable doggy sweaters. Everyone loves them and my Aunt Cherise says I’m gunna make a ton of money.”

It was at the precise moment when she asked if he liked karaoke night at the bowling alley and told him she had a glow-in-the-dark bowling ball with the phrase ‘Here’s a bit-O-Bitsy‘ on it that he wished he could rewind about two minutes and have a do-over.

Editor’s note – This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone you know is purely coincidental and kind of cool.

LA Metblogs Interview (Two Things)

David Markland from la.metblogs.com did a fun email interview with me the other day about my involvement with Tara. You can read it here.

There is something about this Neil Patrick Harris site that is really, really funny to me. (Nato, don’t click that link. Liberal use of the F word ahoy.) If you don’t mind salty language, this is one of my favorites. And this one, too (because I hate that word and that somehow makes it hilarious). This one? Makes my brain explode.

Eavesdropper #1

I gave up on climbing the corporate ladder with hard work. I just want to get laid now. I’m ready to sleep my way to the top.” he said, leaning back in the red velvet covered, 18th century replica Wing Back and crossing his legs, slowly, foot dangling and wagging ever so slightly.

She looked across the table at him, amazed at his obvious swagger, and thinking she would never say such a thing. Especially so loud and in public. It seemed like a statement best whispered. In the dark. Maybe in a closet and to no one.

“I’ve stumped you, have I?” He chuckled and made a movement to grab his Pal Malls from his jacket pocket, realizing a little too late that they weren’t there. He had quit, again, two days ago after promising his girlfriend to ‘participate in saving his own life.’ He then clicked open his briefcase and found the emergency pack he had tucked in the bottom. Only three left. Lighting up, he coolly looked her up and down. Exhaling a smooth white ribbon he said, “Listen. I’m not going to climb across the table and jump you right here. I just want you to know the option is there. You have something I want and I’m willing to pay you for it.”

The air made its way slowly through a small O her lips had made. A tiny, quiet whistle escaped and mingled with his smoke. Embarrassed, her cheeks and neck warmed and she looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. She smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt across her knees and wiped off some of the sweat accumulating in her palms under his scrutiny.

She remembered the time she had driven in the silver convertible with the love of her life to the top of the lookout. Trees covering them overhead, leaves making their dancing way to the damp earth and a breeze blowing, at one point so hard she lost her scarf. The one with the tiny blue flowers and made from fancy silk. The one her love had given her. She had cried out and grabbed for it, just a little too late, but he had laughed and kissed her and told her not to worry, he would get her a new one. It had been almost 8 years now since he’d left her. She hated cancer.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I just notice you’re always alone. I’ve never seen you with anyone the entire time I’ve been with the firm.” Leaning forward and looking at her, just inches from her, he reached out one hand, slowly, carefully, and set it next to hers on the table, just grazing a finger.

She left her hand where it was and contemplated the tingle she felt shoot up her arm. Then she thought about her scarf with the tiny blue flowers. She smiled at him, meeting his eyes and putting on her piercing look. The look she’d practiced for years in the mirror. The look she used with problem clients in her office and with colleagues intent on taking more than they gave. The look she would never, ever use on her daughter. “I thank you for your kind proposition.” she offered, “And I’d love to pick up the tab for our drinks.” She said nothing else and made no move forward or back.

He felt confused after a few minutes had passed, uncomfortable, and leaned back a bit, removing his hand and straightening up in his chair. “Thanks.” He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, but she saw it. She noted the unsure look in his eyes and smiled a bit bigger, showing a few more teeth.

Editor’s note – This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone you know is purely coincidental and kind of cool.

Shrine

shrine

There is this table in the kitchen that we never use for eating and while I was unpacking boxes and organizing everything in the kitchen and art room, I kept placing all my favorite things together, collecting them on that table.

After all the rest of the house was done, I looked around and didn’t really see a great place to put all this important (to me) stuff so I just kind of lined things up in rows. Then the next day, I leaned the larger stuff against the wall. And I just kept moving stuff and arranging little by little until one day, I walked in the kitchen and there was this shrine sitting there, showcasing all my favorite family and friend things.

I keep looking at it and wondering what I’m doing with it there, covering a perfectly good table that someone could be using for, I don’t know, a puzzle? Or a holiday craft of some kind? But they can’t because I’ve carefully placed all my stuff on it, arranged just so. And if someone so much as looks at it sideways, my heart starts to race and my neck turns red and my hands kind of fist and un-fist. Because – Hey! That’s my stuff! All over the table! Including a blanket! And a plate of green glass! So don’t even think of eating there. Or, using it like a table….oh, man, I feel like a dork.

But I can’t seem to take it down, so, if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to come over and check out the shrine I built in the kitchen eating area. But don’t want to sit there and eat. And don’t look at it sideways.

Detailed notes when you click through to Flickr.

Yellow Circles

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I was completely obsessed with yellow circles for a few days and the result was somewhere around two hundred 2″ circles of varying colors of yellow that I strung up to be a some-kind-of mobile or chandelier or hangy-down-from-the-ceiling thingy.

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I was wondering what to do with it and then Diablo Cody climbed on a chair and put it on a hook for me. And I love it right there hanging from the living room ceiling.

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