chicken ravioli

Born in Reno, NV

2012-01-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

In terms of coolness, claiming that they were born in Lake Tahoe probably would be a bit more fancy, but since we were completely uninterested in testing the medical savvy of the tiny hospital in this town, we opted for a one-hour-drive for both kids. And interestingly, the drives -- totally different for each soon-to-be-baby-boy -- were lovely and crazy, all at the same time.

We're clearly way beyond infancy and have now reached an age where both Axel and Curtis thrive in their settings. They've come to know and love the outdoors, something we hoped to find as we left the smog and filth and unappealing-ness of LA many years ago. If given a choice, they would play outside all day: digging, scooping and sorting dirt; looking for hidden treasures amid giant pinecones and sap from scented trees; riding bikes and plastic zebras up and down the driveway; or tooling around in their little Jeep, learning how to spin and reverse and navigate regardless of how cold the thermostat claims it to be.

Life with boys means tasting and touching and feeling and playing for every moment. Life with boys in Lake Tahoe's majestic paradise is all that and then some.

Dear Boys

2011-12-29T16:09:00.000-08:00

You both absolutely love watching "Elf" with Will Farrell. At 4 and almost 2, you know exactly what parts are funny and which moments to mimic. Your favorite popsicles are branded by Dora and aside from the ever-popular Skittles, the miniature chocolates from the somehow-still-full Advent calendars are your preferred sugar treats.

Axel: Elmo and Barney viewed on the TV in Curtis's room is part of your morning routine. That, paired with a sippy cup filled with Vitamin C and a bowl of yogurt-covered raisins, and you're perfectly content.

Curtis: Our own little super-hero, you've recently discovered the magic of a treasure box with a lock that your little brother has yet figured out how to pry open. It's contents? Darth Vader and Storm trooper figurines, a container of Lego guys, your fake mustache stash, a Lego headlamp, and a pirate gold coin purse.

Every day you delight, amaze, and refresh our lives. You're both blessed with a luxurious love of life and -- thanks to Spiderman, Batman and Superman -- speed. And though you're obviously brothers and share many of the same passions: rolling down the driveway on a plastic Zebra, jumping off the coffee table and dancing with music turned to the max -- you're also developing individual tastes and preferences.

It's almost a new year.

And I can't wait to see what you've both got planned.

Love,

Mamma

2007-09-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

Mormor

2007-03-08T21:51:00.000-08:00

What makes me the happiest is knowing that you finally are where you always wanted to be: with Morfar.

That, and knowing that you lived your life to its fullest, for as long as you possibly could.

Thank you, always, for:

making me feel like a Slalom champion in Are
Swedish summer golf rounds
baked chicken with cheese
chocolate cookies
your fantastically, whimsical and ever-so-confident approach to clothes
warm water with honey
cheese and crackers before dinner
in your own way, always pushing for family
stressing the importance of comfortable shoes
morning gymnastics, long before yoga was cool
buying organic before anyone else knew what it meant
your elaborate lunches
driving me to golf camp and making sure I had a friend before you left
always being so, so happy to see us
being my very own, special Mormor

I'm sure we'll play another round someday.

Air Claim

2007-01-29T14:00:00.000-08:00

Turbulence aside, I'm not much of a flyer. In my fantasy dream-world, every location on the planet is accessible by car. Or train. Bus would even be fine.

Anything but that giant bird in the sky.

No matter when I travel, I always get stuck on the "flight-attendants-please-take-your-seats-due-to-choppy-air" route. And despite being ipod-equipped and in possession of a dramatic page-turner, I'm anything but relaxed.

Though all of a sudden it seems that those in charge of puddle-jumping might be on to a new concept: air ownership.

Seriously. At least 20 minutes prior to landing, someone proclaims throughout the plane: "Thank you for flying with us. And welcome to [insert city name]." Evidently, city residency now includes the thousands of feet of vast blue sky, hovering above.

Which is great news to me. I assume that means we'll have floating townships in mere decades. Followed by a fancy, new high-tech way of commuting, sans airplane wings.

Old School

2007-01-12T10:12:00.000-08:00

Two things:

I used the phone book the other day. Despite my super-fast Mac and having "the world at my finger-tips," flipping through the Yellow Pages still won the race. And while I did for a split-second marvel at the very out-dated-ness of that behemoth directory -- it worked. Like a charm.
Yesterday, I spoke with the nicest man in America. Theoretically he was a customer service rep for a card company, but he was just way too friendly, polite, and helpful to be anything run-of-the-mill. He even called back a few moments later, to revise the previously agreed upon $-total, and chit-chat about the beauty of the Sierras.

Learnings: Letting your fingers do the work is not such a bad slogan after all. Playing nice pays off -- which is probably why sharing toys in the sandbox continues to be our kindergarten mantra.

The List

2007-01-03T18:41:00.000-08:00

Yoga, three days per week.
Make tarragon-and-grainy-mustard crusted rack of lamb.
Purchase more wine from ACME.
Design thewineplanet.com.
Update Out of the Frying Pan.
Buy as many books as possible by Anna Gavalda.
Send a 'reader's tip' to Cooking Light, have it published and win a Capresso coffee maker!
Try not to purchase any more PJs.
Buy more PJs.
Train the dogs to not jump on exciting, new guests.

Piper-Lame

2006-12-21T16:10:00.000-08:00

I was pretty excited at first.

Since 99% of my shopping is done online, hearing the news of Piperlime -- the newest addition to the GAP family -- was a definite highlight.

Side note: not that anyone could compete with Zappos, but still, a little green-hued variety can never be bad -- or so I thought.

Today, I got the following enticement in my inbox:

"As one of our best customers, Banana Republic is pleased to let you know about a special sale from Piperlime, a fresh new online shoe shop from Gap Inc."

Cool, I thought. I'm totally in need of a new pair of Uggs. Pink or chocolate.

The actual email (the part above was just the intro) continued to promise things like free standard shipping, easy returns and brands galore. So I clicked. And realized that the "website is temporarily closed?"

Um. Isn't that the point of web shopping? 24/7, 365? Clearly, the pipers have some development work to do. Like building a fuctional online presence.

Tidbits

2006-12-18T16:11:00.000-08:00

It seems that fans of list-mania must adore the month of December. Books, music, quotes -- everything has a top-10. I'll happily join the band-wagon-crowd, mainly because snippety blurbs are so much more appealing for the mind to digest.

And so, without further ado:

A college whiz kid -- with an uncanny knack for the failures prevalent within the TSA -- created a Northwest Airlines boarding pass site. And although not possible to board simply by presenting his home-made concoction, it did get scores of people through security. Scary? A bit. But more insightful, really.
British psychologists briliantly tested the "honesty" of their fellow co-workers. Above the "help yourself to a cup of joe, but please leave 50 cents in the jar" sign, they added a pic of a watchful eye one week, and a soothing flower bouquet the next. Evidently, even the idea of being fakely watched compels us toward truth. Caffeine-addicts were twice as likely to deposit the half buck when watched by paper eyes.

Nice to know that some people still wear their thinking caps.

It's Just Better

2006-12-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

I'm secretly hoping that all the creepy news about Taco Bell and Olive Garden will finally lead people to healthy (or -ier) food. Sadly, the organic produce section at my favorite grocery isn't nearly as popular as the pro-pesticide aisle.

So perhaps baby steps is the best approach.

If I had to pick one, singular item for a desert isle scenario, it would definitely be organic milk. Preferably Horizon. (Completely realize that breakfast cereals and dairy-spiked coffee would not be available, but just go with it.)

It's hormone-free. Produced by farmers dedicated to making you better products. And aside from the adorable logo on the carton, my favorite brand has a great, informative website.

Go ahead. Toss that white stuff you got at 7-Eleven and splurge.

Critically Not

2006-12-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

Eric Asimov, the wine critic for The New York Times, opened his Wednesday column like so:

"What's the best thing to happen to merlot in the last few years? Why, 'Sideways,' the movie that so roundly trashed merlot while genuflecting before the new god of red wine, pinot noir. The movie gave shape to and inchonate movement away from American merlot in the marketplace, and spoke the truth in caustic terms: namely that most merlot produced in the United States is not very good. As a result, the anti-merlot trend accelerated. Fewer people bought it, and producers bottled less of it."

Clearly, Mr. Asimov has not made a trip to Napa in recent months.

While it's decidely true that the movie bashed the m-grape, it actually had the opposite effect on some vino-buyers. A recent visit to Shafer -- whose claim to fame is of the hillside variety -- highlighted that the film, ironically, piqued the interest of would-be buyers and really didn't negatively impact their Merlot sales at all.

So there.

Still. He does get to write a wine blog for a fancy-pants newspaper. Guess that gets him one point.

Diss the Bird

2006-12-11T13:09:00.000-08:00

For years, I've insisted on purchasing only organic, free-range chicken. I've avoided it in restaurants (in addition to usually being the bland "chick-dish" -- a double-entendre for sure -- the thought of somehow ingesting even a sliver of a made-for-groceries Tyson brand has been enough to gag.)

Imagine my horror/shock/when-was-the-last-time-I-sampled-a-wing-or-thigh-or-breast panic attack when I read the following:

"Tests by Consumer Reports show that supermarket chicken has an 8 in 10 chance of harboring campylobacter, salmonella, or both, bacteria that can cause illness and even death if the chicken isn't handled carefully and cooked thoroughly."

Nasty.

Aha, you might be thinking. Just more ammo for purchasing the more expensive, fancy variety. Think again:

"Overall, chickens labeled as organic or raised without antibiotics and costing $3 to $5 per pound were more likely to harbor salmonella than were conventionally produced broilers that cost more like $1 per pound."

So yeah. So long cacciatore, curry, stews and anything else remotely calling for chickadees.

Got Milk?

2006-12-06T18:27:00.000-08:00

Admittedly, it's a pretty funny idea: thieving from the always-present eau-de-whatever ads in fashion magazines and adding an olfactory element to your standard bus-station advertisement.

The idea, clearly, being that pleasantly scented stimuli might in turn result in addictive consumerism. You smell rose petals and honey dew, you might purchase Lancome's latest essence. If your sniffer detects pina-colada, it might just propel you to a near-by travel agent for a tropical get-away.

That's pretty much what a milk-lobbying group was hoping for when they associated chocolate-chip-cookie smells with their billboards.

Understandably, it back-fired.

Instead of drawing in idle bystanders it evidently caused moral digust by those fighting for the rights of allergy sufferers and -- dead serious -- the obese.

I totally get it. Seems like a fine line we don't want to cross. Just thinking about what advertisements for laundry detergent and football jerseys would smell like is enough to hold your breath.

Competitive Combination

2006-12-04T17:49:00.000-08:00

I'm totally a Blogger fan. Not sure how I feel about the big G, but this little application-schmation makes it super-easy to share my clearly fascinating dribble with my devout fans.

(Not an oxymoron.)

But. For my next project -- a much-needed guide to all things Tahoe -- I decided to cheat. I'm opting for WordPress at the moment. Debated using Dreamweaver, but giving this a shot at first. Support ingenuity, and WP definitely falls into that sphere.

Want a sneak peek?

And who said addictively refreshing this site doesn't pay off ...

Shoulder-Perched Parrot, Anyone?

2006-12-02T21:27:00.000-08:00

Most likely, one day I'll be a rare, glasses-wearing breed. Despite the fact that I could wear invisible eyewear on a daily basis, I'm rather fond of my diamond-studded Chanel frames.

But yeah. In order to fly down the slopes in my previously mentioned pink helmet, I need something slightly less breakable.

I decided to get my conctacts at Costco. They called the other day, letting me know that my 3-month supply was ready. Cool.

PrincessMalin: "Hi. I'm here to pick up my contacts."

CostcoDude: "Yep, here you go."

Mere moments later:

PM: "Umm ... I just opened these in the car and it looks like these are 6 lenses for my left eye."

CD: "Yes, that's what you ordered."

PM: "No, pretty sure I ordered lenses for both eyes -- so I can see."

A few more moments later later, I exited the super-security-enabled bulk-foods warehouse with refills for both eyeballs in hand. It seems a teensy clerical snafu almost landed me with a pirate patch.

In other news: They're opening a TJs down the hill. Next Friday. Super-exciting.

Current Adorations

2006-12-01T20:40:00.000-08:00

In completely whimsical order:

lobster macaroni-and-cheese
otto's ice-cube fanaticism
oskar's intuitive-ness
remembering that we live minutes from the ski lift
my new pink helmet
and matching goggles
the durability of uggs
glittens: mittens & gloves made into one
having high enough ceilings for an insanely tall christmas tree
realm red and whitehall lane anything

I clearly have been under-using lists of late. Luckily, New Year's is around the corner ...

Edible Musings

2006-11-22T10:02:00.000-08:00

I think it's crazy.

This morning, a psychiatry-something was seriously instructing Americans how not to "needlessly eat." Tips and tricks to end holiday grazing. Top of the list: "Try not to eat if you're not hungry."

Um. Yeah.

In other news, here's what's on the hoping-for-snow-any-minute menu:

brined, then roasted organic, free-range turkey
garlic mashed potatoes
green beans
roasted vegetables
cranberry sauce
chestnut, sausage and bread-crumb stuffing
sweet potato & anaheim chili gratin
rosemary baguette
pumpkin pie

And of course, a favorite Napa vintage. Possibly Realm, Chateau Boswell, Behrens & Hitchcock or the last bottle of Biale.

Dear Otto & Oskar

2006-11-09T15:10:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty certain that you guys can't tell time -- which completely explains why you get so excited when I return from the "trek" to the end of the driveway for the morning NY Times.

And while I know you adore your cedar-stuffed dog pillows and favorite spots on the couch, the yellow and black fleece blankets I plan on bringing for your kennel appear to be almost as cushy. Almost.

But I know you'll miss the early-morning lake-front walks. And sniffing your way through the forest opposite our house. And tooling around the backyard, trolling for squirrels, hoping that any one of the neighbors will show up with a bacon-flavord treat.

So how about this: You both agree to spend 10 days at the vet (while we sip pina-coladas on Kona), and I promise a home-coming filled with rawhides, a table-scrap or two and new "indestructible" toys.

Oh and I almost forgot. Yes, you'll get to go swimming the very day we pick you up.

Leading Ladies

2006-10-24T15:02:00.000-07:00

I have two new feminine favorites. Girlie girls with spunk, pizzazz, and a general knack for sass.

1. Veronica Mars: she's perfectly mismatched and totally able to pull off striped knee-highs with a plaid jacket. She's super funny and always well-equipped to impress, stall, break-and-enter, and solve any and all crimes that come her way. I'm totally hooked, and we haven't even made it through the season one DVDs.

2. Penelope from "Criminal Minds": addictively fast on a computer, always scribbling with a pink, sparkling pen and an obvious key player in every psychopath's capture.

I'm considering purchasing a fancy secret-eye surveillance camera just to show my support.

The Power Of

2006-09-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

"The City of Angels" reminds me of the "Time Traveler's Wife." Unusually poignant love stories. True. Real. Based on something so incredible -- which most likely is what makes it so believable.

Sort of like encountering solid earnestness and remembering that, most of the time, what you see is what you get.

Which is exactly the point.

Eyesight, and the miracle of seeing, is completely within our subjective control.

So. Believe. It's just much more magical.

Le Free Ride: C'est Fini

2006-09-18T17:18:00.000-07:00

Twelve years is a long time.

But at this point, not sure Goran Persson thinks so.

Mr. P was officially given the boot by 80% of the Swedish voting population. Well, he actually leaves his fancy-pants seat in March, but still, not sure he'll be able to rest on his laurels any longer.

Good-bye life-long unemployment. Hello, hopefully, some form of social responsibility. Adios leaving things be. Hola, embracing -- or perhaps just slowly acknowledging -- change.

Hejda Social Democrats. Hejsan Moderates.

Not sure I ever would have thought I would lean slightly more right than left. Keep in mind this is Sweden: the most non-stance-ical place on earth after Switzerland. This kind of "upheaval" can only be good.

Especially if it means the middle shrinks, if even by a smidgeon.

Bake It

2006-09-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

We finally decided on veggie soup. Simple, delicious, and ideal for a chilly, 45-degree-evening. A few minced garlic cloves later, we realized the inevitable: no bread. Love bread. Adore bread. But honestly, the store-bought version -- while usually fresh -- is clearly not the same as a loaf pulled straight from the Viking oven.

A quick inspirational call to my sis, a few notes jotted on a sticky -- and the venerable Kitchen Aid had everything it needed to spin, knead and mold to its heart's content.

Here's how:

Mix the following: 1/2 teaspoon yeast, 1 cup flour, 1 cup luke-warm water. Leave alone for 15-30 minutes.

Next, add: 1 teaspoon yeast, 3/4 cup water, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 3 to 4 cups flour. Knead.

Cover with kitchen towl & allow to rise for 2-3 hours.

Divide dough into three equal parts. Form into baguette shapes. Place on cookie sheet. Use serrated knife to score. Cover with same towel for an additional 30 minutes, or so, depending how hungry you are. Dab loaves with water, place in 500-degree oven for 15-20 minutes, or until golden brown.

Serve -- with plenty of butter, obviously.

Breaking News

2006-09-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

"Fast-food eaters underestimate calories," reports CNN.

"....over-weight people ... tended to buy larger meals," continues this fascinatingly 80-s-eque reminder of how *clueless* people are when it comes to food, fats and the fabulousness of friendly greens.

You can read the rest here.

Instead of waxing and waning on the benefits of cooking at home, shunning the unappealing burritos and "100% beef" patties purported to be "burgers" along highways across this *huge* land, I'll let you leap to your own conclusions.

But honestly, is it all our fault?

My brand spankin' new night-armour Nissan Xterra comes with super-size cupholders. Luckily, I'm Swedish. So instead of feeling forced down to Circle-K for a mega-slurpie, I'll use it to stash my spare clogs.

Kidding. Kinda.

Salmon-ize

2006-09-06T10:14:00.000-07:00

It's going to sound decidedly obnoxious. Unappealing. But definitely not un-appetizing: I'm a culinary rockstar. No, really. Clearly inherited from my Cordon-Bleu-trained Mamma and fine-tuned, refined and unceremoniously polished by cooking dinners. Nightly.

If you're remotely connected to the addictive world of eats, you might remember that girl Julia from NY. She spent one year cooking everything from one of Julia Child's tomes. And while the latter J was certainly a whisk-bearing figure to be reckoned with, I was never that impressed with the former's resolve to cook recipes that were already developed. Imitate, if you will.

Instead, I'm a devout follower of the opposite. Read recipes for inspiration. But add your own whimsical pinches and dollops and at-will drizzles. It's definitely more fun. And delicious.

Need a starting point? Grab a salmon fillet. Marinate it. Garlic, ginger, OJ -- all good fish-flavor enhancers. Perhaps a dousing of balsamic. Spicy herbs. Sea salt. Pan-sear. Ideally in a grill-pan. Serve with blue-cheese-speckled risotto and steamed broccoli.

Tasty?

Santa Monica: Preparing for the Worst

2006-07-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

Life will most likely never be the same.

This morning's Grape-Nuts-and-coffee ritual came to a stand-still as I sat, riveted, trying to digest the already-smudged newsprint:

"Residents in the 310 zone will soon have to dial four extra digits."

Add to this the evident trauma of Crack-Berry-Heads having to reprogram cellphones all over the Westside, and you soon realize that this will clearly result in all kinds of psychoses, disorders and phobias among the shrink-happy beach clan.

"I just never really thought of how much of an inconvenience this is going to be," said one unhappy resident.

"It's a nightmare," echoed another.

Luckily, the Redondo Beach Chamber of commerce is prepared. Their president pretty much sums it up:

"We're telling people, 'It's coming, it's coming. Are you ready?'"

It's obvious, people -- we're mere moments away from a complete melt-down. Quick! Grab your bottled Evian, Louis-Vuitton doggie carriers and run for the hills in your patent Manolos!

Find It

2006-06-20T10:27:00.000-07:00

Six years of journalism-themed week-days have clearly paid off. If only Dr. McCorkle could see me now -- employing the five w's and one h without referencing anything but memory-based file cabinets.

WHO: Us & the Otters.
WHAT: Residing in proverbial paradise.
WHEN: 20-something commuter days from now -- but who's counting?
WHERE: 10 minutes from the cleanest, clearest, pristine-est lake.
WHY: Because we can.
HOW: Dreaming. Believing. Doing.

So ... what's your master plan? But more importantly, what are you waiting for?

June Must-Haves

2006-06-02T15:56:00.000-07:00

Lewelling cabernet.
Beaded flip-flops.
TJ's peach juice.
Snap peas.
Smoked almonds.
Casa Bianca pizza.
Floral-print skirts.
Open-window-mornings.
Breakfast outdoors.
Luxuriously knowing that your dreams are always within reach.

Poop Watch 2006

2006-05-15T16:26:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, it's not quite stock-ticker-worthy, but almost.

Puppy poop. For the last month, its quanity, quality and over-all appearance has completely usurped our lives.

We discuss frequency. Consistency. We coax and encourage. Chastise and reward. I've even tried engaging the little guy in "strenuous" activity -- including chasing the rubber tire, running after the orange, fuzzy worm and doing laps around the back-yard quadrant -- to see if it would lead to ... something.

Sometimes we spot pieces of bathroom drywall. Mostly it's just salmon-and-rice flavored dry food -- but the other day I realized he's not that good at digesting sliced carrots. Or slippery mushrooms.

Stay tuned. Giraldo is next.

Daly Beer

2006-05-09T14:54:00.000-07:00

He's politically incorrect, prefers tank-tops to collars and most likely would rank brewskies and smokes on his top-10-list of must-haves.

He's decidedly un-fit. Wouldn't dream of bending for a crunch, much less a squat, jump or stretch.

He's massively present. Speaks his mind. And is -- unarguably -- one of the PGA's most talented golfers. Unless he's tossing his 7-iron, bogey-ing the 18th or choking in a play-off.

John Daly is to golf what flip-flops are to me. Necessary. No-frills. Not always appropriate. And available no matter what the mood.

Sure. He's battled Jack Daniel's and our dear friend Nic O. Tine. But he lives, and plays, and laughs. And no matter what -- he'll give it his all. Flavored with a touch of sass, a shake of contempt and a healthy dose of "love me or leave me."

In a world of corporate same-ness, he's a breath of smoke-filled air.

I Heart HD

2006-05-02T13:22:00.000-07:00

new front door
new back door
hinges
locks
mushroom-shaped knobs for bathroom cabinets
bathroom faucet

That was the initial list. Sixty-five minutes -- and many aisle perusals later -- we self-scanned our items. And realized. We lost the card. The no-interest-for-six-months Home Depot bit of orange-colored plastic.

Enter Jackie.

Tiny in a rotund, spunky kind of way. Pleasantly chatty, with a glimmer of brilliance. "Credit Captain," her crayola-ified apron proclaimed. Little did we know that included magical powers and other-wordly customer service.

After mere moments of phone calls and smartly-punched keyboard shortcuts, we had a new card, a $25 discount and a shot at the freebie table. Really. Laden with goodies galore, Jackie insisted we choose something. Anything. A gift, if you will, for losing our card.

And voila: removing the backyard deck now sounds dreamsical.

Mini-Naps: We Adore You

2006-04-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

You arrived home smelling like Pantene Pro-V mixed with Moose-the-puppy and water-bowl drool. Tumbling across too-shiny hardwoods, we carried you to the backyard and your first sniffing session with Oskar.

You cried a bit. Then realized that your new big brother was just a gentle giant, super-excited to have an itsy-bitsy-but-soon-to-be-ginormous playpal.

You eat. And poop. And snooze -- but only in passionate fits. You disliked your crate, until we figured out you just wanted a perview of the bed. And ocassional reassurance throughout the night.

You're so-so about eating. Honestly, not sure we blame you. Watered-down puppy kibble can only be that appealing.

You love to chew. Luckily, you're a huge fan of focused energy: seemingly fine with chewtoys, UGG boots or flip-flops -- allowing us a few super-quick switch-er-oos.

Above all, you're insanely cute. Even Oskar admits that. Except when you're dragging Scooby across the floor. And peeing on his bed. Or biting his tail.

Fatty and Tubby

2006-04-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

Our lives are about to change, completely. Tomorrow, at 2pm PST, at the end of a windy, dirt-covered, AWD-road, we pick up Otto. Or Tubby. Soon-to-be-brother of Oskar. Or Fatty.

Thinking ahead, we contacted the breeder for directions. Quite possibly, in the world of right-hand-turns and stop lights, this one takes the glittery cake:

"....please dont go by the google ones as you will end up about 50 miles off. same with mapquest... it really is easy from the ___ north to san luis obispo, take the highway ___ north to ___ exit. go through the town of ___, aprox 12 miles from san luis , before you come to ___ there will be a stop light on the freeway called ___ road/ it only turns right head west ___ miles up a hill there will be a lake on the left, then down the hill you will come to a right turn, ___ rd turns only to the right it is a very windy, narrow diert road, go 3 miles to a fork in the road stay left on ___ the other way is a dead end. one mile you will pass a white barn with a green roof and 3 horses in the field right past this are 7 mailboxes. this is our driveway, it only goes to the left, over the creek and straight up,, you will see avocados on the left keep going and stay t! o the right at another fork our home is at the very top... it is a 4 wheel drive only in the rain so let me know if the weather is bad and ill meet you at the mailboxes and drive you up.. dogs are out so drive slow... please.. katrina the adress is ___ rd.. cell phones do not work once you leave highway ___ at the stop light"

I'm predicting many future posts a la chocolate-lab-newfoundland escapades. Assuming, of course, that we don't miss the avocado trees.

Yearning for Punctuation

2006-04-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

Dear [last name] [first name] [middle initial]

My experience in selling expired listings ,has shown me that 99.99% of all real estate agents out there market their listings passively. Do you know the difference between passive marketing and active marketing. If you still want to sell and you haven't relisted yet, I appreciate the opportunity to explain my plan.

Sincerely yours

[first name, uppercase] [last name, lowercase]
Realtor

Dear Malin:

I noticed your home came up on on the computer as an expired listing! Naturally, this time you will hire a powerful agent like myself to use a different approach to sell your home for the most money possible, right?

I would like to apply for the job of selling your home. All you need to do now is simply call me immediately to set an appointment so I can show you the techniques I used to sell many homes.

I look forward to hearing from you soon!

Sincerely yours,
[first name] [last name] [period]

Sometimes You're the Windshield ...

2006-04-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

and sometimes you're the bug, and other observations from driving to South Lake Tahoe -- and back.

Ninety-five percent of drivers would most likely benefit from a re-edification around basic rules of the road.
Cows out to pasture appear to have a care-free existance, albeit short-lived.
I'm in favor of a national policy mandating cleanliness in public restrooms -- or at least the option of functional soap dispensers.
Highway 16, Nashville and X Country are the most compelling satellite radio options.
If the car ahead of you is speeding, it's OK for you to do the same.
Mud slides are unpredictable.
However, the DOT frequently over-estimates road-clearing-times.
Which is good news.
Snow-capped mountains and year-round Christmas trees are addictively appealing.
RV drivers are pretty gutsy.
Eddie Rabbit rules.
Relaxing weekend road trip essentials: glasses, cork screw, luxurious wine, iPod.
Relaxing weekend road trip non-essential: 118 steps to the front door.
Silver lining: super-quiet snooze time & breath-taking mornings.

Perk-Ville

2006-04-05T16:09:00.000-07:00

Turns out that LA's City Council is considering incenting a few lucky peeps to live in the city. As many with little kids and kaboodles are opting for greener pastures -- and more reasonable debts -- those running the official show are evidently concerned that our badge-carrying friends might get stuck in traffc during an emergency.

I'm cool with that.

But can those of the non-gun-toting sort apply, too?

I promise to:

Spend less time in the car
Reduce my Element's pollution contribution
Make fancier meals -- possibly even a souffle or two

A compeltely viable proposal, if you ask me.

Hot Off The Press(es)

2006-04-04T15:32:00.000-07:00

People are amazingly fascinating.

Additionally, everyone -- no matter how foreign or funky -- appears to have quirky je-ne-sais-quois that are especially elevated at garage sales.

Recent learnings:

Irons are in hot demand. So much so, that you might consider a black market resale business.
Pink-seam Seven jeans are worth about a buck.
Cedar-lined dog houses are lucrative for ChiHuaHuas.
Spoons are more popular than knives or forks.
Not everyone has read "The DaVinci Code."
"Seabiscuit" is too advanced for Elementary School book enthusiasts.
Garlic presses deserve intense scrutiny -- even when priced at 50 cents.
Marketing. It's all about marketing.
Candle holders aren't all they're stacked up to be.
When in doubt throw in a freebie or two.

Coffee, Tea or Avian Flu?

2006-03-28T16:34:00.000-08:00

Life's little spurts of progressive luxuries certainly add sunlight -- and ease -- to the everyday.

Things like perfectly ground coffee beans, toasted rye and rice cookers. TJ's 21 seasoning salute, red pepper flakes and delectable saffron. Creamy cambozolas, gruyere-topped-gratins and the always-available gourmet olive bars in most markets.

Culinary creations have jumped amazing hurdles -- long before Emeril convinced middle America to drive by McDonald's and opt for healthier fats.

Which is why I'm continuously perplexed -- whether seated in 36B or 12A -- by this simple, yet unappealing question: "Chicken or beef?"

If the rest of the globe has caught on to the magic of simple-yet-delicious foods, why does American Airlines insist on residing in the 1970s?

ps. for obvious reasons, I'm a fakey vegetarian within the realm of the friendly skies. At least until they begin catering Wolfgang Puck.

If You're ___

2006-03-21T16:27:00.000-08:00

... hungry: there's mushroom-and-pepper pizza in the freezer. It's right next to the frozen chili and the left-over barbecued ribs.

... thirsty: we may still have some secret Pacificos stashed behind the plastic bowl in the cabinet below the fancy toaster.

... antsy: Oskar's your buddy. If you time it just so you won't even need to bring a plastic bag -- just coax him right by the dumpster next to the barber shop.

... sleepy: try my pillow. It's tried-and-true and completely conducive to magical rest.

Back in a flash. Just in time for a deliciously lazy Sunday afternoon.

Found: Chapter Excerpt

2006-03-14T17:05:00.000-08:00

Junior-year high-school English pays off in Crescenta Valley Park, and I'm able to identify Chapter IX from the Cliff's Notes version of The Great Gatsby.

Underlined snippets, courtesy of anonymous studier:

"....Nick is the only person besides 'Owl-Eyes' who has enough real feeling for the man to take an interest in giving him a decent burial."

"...Tom and Daisy who had fled to New York even before Gatsby was murdered, carelessly leaving the chaos they created to be straigthened out by others."

"In contrast, Nick expresses a desire to 'leave things in order' rather than just hoping they will take care of themselves."

"...but the essential element of the man, his intense spirituality, is missing."

"Mr. Gatz's copy of Gatsby's 'schedule' is especially important in that it places his son squarely in the American tradition."

And my very favorite:

"The word 'pandered' connotes the corruption of this 'last and greatest of human dreams,' the final moral that the ideal can never be realized in the gross materialism that has made a moral valley of ashes of the green freshness of America."

Huh. If Cliff's Notes is hiring, evidently all it takes is a fondness of hyperbole and extraordinary run-on-sentence skill.

Board Education

2006-03-06T14:11:00.000-08:00

Recently garnered from a snow-inspired Trivial Pursuit session:

Evidently, there is an FDA-acceptable threshold for rodent hair within packages of boxed pasta.
Southerners like to call their greasy biscuit-lathering concoction redeye-gravy.
"The Mezzanine" is a popular work of non-fiction focusing on ... shoelaces.
The Seychelles might one day be engulfed by water.
Sixty-eight percent of purchased novels reside in the Romance category.
Manicurists sometimes have amychophobia.
The Pathfinder was sent to Mars for a probe.

Soon there-after, gleaned from a bout with Scattergories:

"Ambling" is deliciously under-used.
Beer and butts are both cold.
Fish that begin with the letter "i": ink-squid?
Ligers are official animals.
D-inspired terms of endearment are clearly not limited to "dear" and "darling."

Farmor Maja

2006-02-28T13:06:00.000-08:00

Secret-seasoned ground beef patties with oodles of onions, thin-as-can-be pancakes with lingonberries and sugar, miniature shots of whiskey, home-made rolls with raspberry jam and the inspirational rhyming guest book.

Tulips and roses and lilies galore, old-fashioned table-cloths laden with silver, coffee cups and matching saucers and plain white envelopes with blue ball-point cursive script.

Radio as entertainment, newspapers devoured in their entirety, sunrooms filled with greens and perfectly sized cushions, and photos, photos, always photos.

Nine decades plus two-and-a-half years of infinite wisdom, savvy and grandmotherly brilliance.

Dangling earrings, heart-shaped jewelry and fingernails painted red.

Laughter. Smiles. And always knowing that you're there -- no matter where we are -- only a phone call away.

Nothing's changed, really.

We'll just whisper through the moonlight and dancing blooms instead.

Groucho Says

2006-02-17T10:15:00.000-08:00

Even the most picture-perfect sunlit days can turn gray-ish and super-seriously-somber. Mostly, I think, to help us revel in the other 364.

Next time you're feeling a touch of old-man-Marx, smile -- if only briefly -- at his most fabulous -isms. You never know ... it might make you reconsider your brief spell -- if only involuntarily.

"Military intelligence is a contradiction in terms."
"Marriage is the chief cause of divorce."
"Those are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others."
"A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five."
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."
"I worked myself up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty."
"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it, and then misapplying all the wrong remedies."

Monday Madness

2006-02-13T18:29:00.000-08:00

... And then there's the non-serendipitous little things that add sunlight to mayhem.

Pandora.

Today's list of music I-already-love-and-only-just-discovered:

Talk to me then -- The Mysteries of Life
Cold roses -- Ryan Adams & the Cardinals
Four eyed girl -- Rhett Miller
Drama queen -- The Jason Sinay Band
Lee Anna -- Johnny Lee
One for the road -- Portastatic
Careful what you say -- Rodney Crowell
It's too late to say goodbye -- The Cash Brothers
Aphorism -- Collin Herring
All the best -- John Prine
You win again -- Hank Williams
US steel -- Tom Russell
You -- Nils Lofgren

Non-Fat Chai Latte

2006-02-09T13:10:00.000-08:00

The good news is that even without a kitchen countertop and accompanying percolating coffee pot -- there's a Starbucks around the corner.

Little did I know that my morning beverage would also attempt to make me ponder. Printed on the side of my venti cup-a-joe, was this:

"True story. Recently, I eavesdropped on a conversation between two twenty-something employees at a local Starbucks. I listened as the barista mused about his taste in music. Then the cashier asked him if he had ever heard the song "Strawberry Fields Forever." After a pause, the barista answered, "No, can't say I ever heard that one before." That's when I knew there really was such a thing as a generation gap." -- Mary Chapin Carpenter

I'm putting all age-related thoughts on hold. For now, I just want to listen to "Down at the Twist and Shout".

Mommy Knows Best

2006-02-07T14:08:00.000-08:00

It's a toss-up.

Not sure what is less appealing: the logic resulting in driving with a baby in your lap, or the silly fact that this is evidently news-worthy enough to be jammed among budget talks and nuclear qualms.

Naturally, the obvious solution would be real-life-TiVo.

Imagine breezing through days, fast-forwarding the gray bits and zooming and pausing and replaying everything sparkly and pink.

Brings a whole new meaning to personalized content.

Just Say No

2006-02-06T11:45:00.000-08:00

I confess: I wish I was preaching to the choir.

But sadly, it seems that mis-information spread by gargantuan "food" empires may sway those few teens who have successfully avoided the predatory call of fried-chicken-on-a-bun and burgers laden with trans-fats.

I know.

Fast is easy. Fast is quick. And fast is decidedly simple.

But fast is also fat.

So, time it: tossing mixed greens from a bag with miniature tomatoes and vinaigrette vs. idling at the drive-thru.

Me: 1; fast food of your choice: big fat zero.

Bits and Bites

2006-02-03T15:19:00.000-08:00

So though I can't say I'm a fan of deconstructed Caesar salads with their miniature piles of Romaine lettuce leaves and minced anchovies -- music is a completely different story.

Recommendations are easy to come by. Especially the uncreative kind.

But taking apart the notes, peering between the accoustics and analyzing the countrified beats, now that's close to brilliance.

At least theoretically.

I'm thinking an Ebert-esque like approval should arrive only after thorough testing.

For now, I'm salivating at the thought of applying it to edibles. If a formula can divine what other crunchables I'd enjoy as much as Grapenuts, I'd purchase stock. Immediately.

Spring Cleaning

2006-02-01T09:16:00.000-08:00

"Important Information For Shopping Cart Users

For cleaner, healthier neighborhoods free from abandoned shopping cart blight:

Glendale stores are now required to keep their shopping carts on store property. Customers are NO longer able to take store-owned carts home with them. This means, some customers may need to purchase their own personal carts, which can be found at many local stores.

For more information, call Neighborhood Services at (818) 548-3700."

I sense a pending revolution.

Ummm ...

2006-01-27T09:00:00.000-08:00

So Oprah interrogates James Frey.

He sips water, slowly. Or so the Times reports.

He let her down. She apologizes to her loyal Book Club fans.

He sips water, slowly.

Fancy, national book critics say truth is important.

Of course it is.

But honestly, why all the hoopla? Leave the guy be. It's not his fault that he can write.

Just like Emeril turned couch-potatoes into masters of au gratin, perhaps Mr. Frey has encouraged a few to actually read.

Oskar-isms

2006-01-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

If the old adage is true, then I'm brilliantly fortunate to be tied to my slobbering chocolate lab.

Usually mellow, sometimes deliriously happy and always exuberantly inquisitive -- his days are filled with a magical slow-ness that, I suspect, must lead to hourly epiphanies.

A few slivers:

Anything can be a toy -- including aluminum foil and athletic socks.
If all else fails, bark loudly.
Adding little, black bows to your attire works miracles with the ladies.
When in doubt, help out. A little white paint only adds sparkle to your appearance.
Hog the couch -- it's generally worth it.
Make sure you have a comfy bed.
If not -- it's OK to share with others.
Act super-excited for everyone that walks through the door.
Even if they've only been gone one minute.
Little luxuries are worth it -- especially if they're smoked.

On the menu: Casa Bianca.

Intoxication

2006-01-23T16:33:00.000-08:00

If you've never worked with primer before, consider applying two coats.
Allowing kitchen doors to dry alongside billowing grasses and dog hair is less than ideal -- especially if the dog-as-culprit takes gingerly steps *not* to avoid the fresh coats.
Life without a kitchen provides refreshing perspective.
For example: it's possible to make a smoked turkey toasted bagel sandwich without using an actual utensil.
Pacifico is by far the most drinkable beer.
But red wine goes down easier.
Grizzly bears were not meant to befriend man.
Evidently, foxes were.

On the menu: Whole Foods miniature delights en masse.

Luxury

2006-01-19T12:50:00.000-08:00

I think brands run the world. Or at least remind us -- far from gently -- that if Susie Q is wearing Sevens then Daisy O should reconsider her affinity for the Gap.

Fine.

But ponder this: desert islands and music selections aside, what if you had to choose one item, one thing, one subjectively miniature delight -- and toss the rest?

Think it through.

Tricky, isn't it?

I'll go first: fancy hair salons. Can't live without them. And yes, I'd trade a Saturday morning pampering session for my Prada bag any day.

Treo, anyone?

2006-Snippets-to-Date

2006-01-18T17:51:00.000-08:00

An over-abundance of flashlights is an oxymoron.
Rx for perfect sleep: turn the heater off and wear chenille socks.
Adding fresh oregano and thyme to rising pizza dough is brilliant.
Best time to shop at Costco: 930am.
Simplify. Simplify. Simplify.
Taking home-improvement measurements is tricky.
If a geographic location could talk, Lake Tahoe would gently whisper: "Live. Breathe. Love. Be. Here."
The universe sometimes sends you literal ducks in a row.
Sunday morning scrambled eggs and buttery toast are impossible to beat.

On the menu: broccoli pasta with basil-infused olive oil and red pepper flakes.

Verbatims

2005-12-13T16:52:00.000-08:00

Princess Malin: Hello, I'm calling to follow up on my forwarded mail.
Disgruntled Office Post Employee [scrambled for obvious reasons]: What?
PM: I'm calling to check up on my forwarded mail.
DOPE: OK?
PM: I'm still getting mail at my old address, but I received the change confirmation at my new address.
DOPE: So?
PM: Well, I'm just concerned that it's not working properly.
DOPE: Oh. Well, yeah. Your mail carrier was out "sick" and he forgot to tell his sub that your mail had to be stopped.
PM: Um, OK. So now it's fixed?
DOPE: Yeah.
PM: OK, what about junk mail. Nobody is living at my old adress, so I don't want any junk mail delivered either.
DOPE: Why?
PM: Because it will be obvious that nobody is home.
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: What?
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: I don't understand what that means.
DOPE: The mail carrier will decide if someone is living there or not.
PM: Um, but I'm telling you right now that it's my house and I'm not living there and I don't want junk mail delivered.
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: So please let me know if this assumption is correct: my mail will be forwarded starting today. And my old address will no longer receive junk mail.
DOPE: Yeah. That's what I said.
PM: So what ... [insert dial tone.]

The DOPE hung up on me.

Think that means he's telling my mail carrier to start the determination-making-process?

Once Upon a Time

2005-12-10T17:59:00.000-08:00

I think I was eleven. Uneven pigtails and big pink bows were my trademarks. And any pastel-colored Lacoste shirt that I deftly tucked into my plaid pants or jeans.

Back then, everyone participated in school plays. It was a given. Probably because most of us were too young to be super-shy or -- in my case -- too happy-go-lucky to even consider that acting would never be my forte.

But thanks to Het Nederlands Lyceum, this abruptly changed the day I was cast as a policeman. Not a cop -- but a tall-hat wearing, good old fashioned British enforcer for the law.

In the first scene, I was told to "patrol" the stage. So I did. Not even seven steps into my exaggerated and decidedly over-the-top march, the "director" sighed, covered his face with his hands, and as gently as possible, instructed me to just stand still.

To this day, I'm terrible at feigning anything. I'm ridiculously easy to read, insanely chatter-box-like and definitely in the camp of putting it all out there. And although I'll never make it on the big screen, I'm deliciously thankful for what I learned in The Hague: be how you are.

Alluring magic, star-studded glitter and inspirational characters will naturally come your way.

Edification

2005-12-07T20:45:00.000-08:00

Airport stores actually process returns. Seriously.
Top three in the soup world: roast herb-and-olive-oil seasoned veggies; mash or puree; add 3 cups of water and a bouillon cube. Simply superb.
Spanish frittatas taste better generously sprinkled with red pepper flakes.
Bath-tub non-slip-mats should be hung up to dry after each use. Trust me.
Chocolate labs have bad days, too.
There is such a thing as too many Christmas songs.
Salvation Army bell-ringers really, really love their instruments.
Take the high road.
Spa-pedicures are so worth the extra four bucks.
Red wine and garlic salami pairs exceptionally with multi-grain bread.
Trader Joe's honey mustard beats Gray Poupon.
We're not the only species addicted to down comforters.

Malin-Ized

2005-12-01T12:27:00.000-08:00

With princess spin:

Evidently, I neglected to leave a key under the mat for my un-invited guest. He stood on the stoop -- in the dark -- for moments on end, before he realized he might be able to gently shove the front door. He tried it, carefully. And it popped right open. Then he probably got hungry, and thought that I possibly kept some crackers or chocolate-pecan Luna bars in my dresser drawers. He didn't mean to emtpy all the contents on the floor -- but a loud noise must have scared him. And guess what? In his rush to leave, he forgot to leave a good-bye note!

Without princess spin:

Someone busted into my house last week, rummaged through my clothes, and bolted with some fancy jewelry.

Moral of the story: Life is much more fabulous as a princess.

Little-Bitty-Thanks

2005-11-22T11:23:00.000-08:00

My favorite first-grader spent the morning sharing her whispered thanks with all the other pink-and-blue-and-glitter-wearing kids in her class. Funny how learning what gets filed and treasured in the brilliantly adorable head of a 6-year-old reminds us of what really *is*.

Thankful snippets:

"My dad driving me to soccer practice."
"My mom helping me with my homework."
"Cookies."

So. Tomorrow. When you're stuck with 4.8 million California drivers on the 10, ponder that. And immediately start your own list.

Mine goes a little something like this:

Brilliance.
Wishes.
Sleep.
Oskar.
Inspiration.
Dreams.
Time.
Possibilities.
Generations.

God Is a DJ

2005-11-18T14:33:00.000-08:00

Just read that quote, emblazoned on a black T-shirt.

Not sure my goddess spins records, but she most certainly bakes apple cobbler and considers a life without cheese and butter u-d-d-erly pointless.

Religion isn't the point. Actually, I rarely think it is. What's much more interesting is how and why and when you believe.

Maybe it's heaven-inspired or related to the silly-looking guy in the red suit with horns.

The crux -- or crucible -- is that it's completely and delightfully personal.

For me, tonight's Paradise will definitely include a very specific bottle of Whitehall Lane cabernet. Find yours. Immediately. It's Friday.

Novembers

2005-11-14T15:26:00.000-08:00

Inspiration lives.

Granted, it's generally easier to spot it on pink-painted days peppered with delicious delights. But if you remember that clouds only temporarily shroud anything blue, you'll immediately find that it's possible to exude magic just by breathing.

Not convinced?

Consider the following bite-sized tid-bits:

The power of breakfast.
Portable music.
The very concept of the barbecue.
Slobbering, exuberant dogs.
Warm towels.

Life is good. And just think: it's only Monday.

Remember ....

2005-11-11T22:10:00.000-08:00

That little things pretty much run the world.

If you add frozen corn, stewed tomatoes with green chilies, and finely diced green bell pepper to long-grain white rice -- you've created an excellent accompaniment for home-made chicken enchiladas.

Bigger, fancier and more elaborate doesn't always translate to better.

Who you are means staying true to that, no matter what.

Dote on those you love. But don't forget that you deserve constant love and admiration. Why? Because you glitter in the dark.

Always sample at least one special.

If you dislike onions, go ahead and skip the shallots.

Wear pink.

Be funny. And laugh at other people's jokes. You can always find at least a sliver of hilarity.

Think About It

2005-11-10T13:40:00.000-08:00

I was slightly nervous. Even debated bringing a number two pencil -- you know, like for the GREs. They never have enough and it always seemed like the super-collegiate and responsible thing to do.

In the end, I opted for pigtails and my "You Can't Get This In The States" t-shirt -- which in hindsight seems worthy of some kind of John Stewart comment.

I voted. I cast my ballot. Punched the little holes with the intriguing machine. Lined up the ballot with the plastic propostion card. Debated for split seconds, even though I'd already memorized what my responses would be.

So here's the thing.

It worked. Nobody tried to kill me or steal my vote or picket my cute little booth, plastering the area with propaganda. Nobody was unfriendly. In fact, the whole experience was refreshingly reminiscent of tea-with-grandma. Minus the cookies and squares of milk chocolate.

So next time you're in the whining mood, remember that we have choices. And power. And reside in a country where opinions count. At least most of the time.

A for Effort

2005-11-07T16:05:00.000-08:00

We had high hopes.

Moments after diced carrots, celery, red-and-blue-potatoes and organic beef finished simmering in a hearty Cabernet -- we reclined, eyes peeled, ready to be impressed. Shocked. Awed. Surprised.

Alas, what could have been an intriguingly inspirational moment in TV history -- the West Wing's "live" debate -- turned into an almost disastrous debacle.

They had 60 minutes to cast their spell. To forever change -- or at least slightly alter -- how the little boxy tube impacts our lives. In a world where everyone breathes for the iPod and entertainment-on-the-go is the next big thing, Sunday nights could have been NBC's moment to take back their audience.

Oh well.

At least they stayed close to party cliches. Republicans advocating tax cuts and the Dems lobbying for reform. Maybe that will compel at least one person to vote on Tuesday.

Mom-e-ology

2005-11-06T13:57:00.000-08:00

Eat half the muffin -- save the rest for later.
Splurge on good coffee. It's always worth it.
Keep a stash of dual-use sponges underneath the bathroom sink.
Muesli rolls are great for left-over-chicken-salad sandwiches.
Buy organic.
Take time to go through the Sunday coupons.
Buy nice clothes -- if you change your mind, return them.
Layer. You never know how cold it's going to be.
Make your bed before you leave the house. You'll love it 'round 10pm.
Call those you love. Often.

Moms rule. Especially Swedish ones.

Thanks, I'll Wait

2005-11-04T16:35:00.000-08:00

If everything has an opposite, then does that mean that somewhere in the universe exists a happy-go-lucky mini-world that embraces long lines? Where queues of all sorts are hailed as pure sunlight. And grocery stores and banks and post offices translate to whimsically happy crowds, patiently whiling the afternoon away?

Not sure.

But pretty confident that security lines at airports are potentially on many least-exciting-past-times lists.

So at first glance, Big Brother's latest missive -- the "registered traveler" concept -- seems close to brilliant. Zipping through LAX, sprinting by those not in the know, or not deemed trustworthy enough.

At first glance, yes.

But come on. If Osama can ellude the sharpest minds and most genius intelligence groups for this long, chances are he and his cohorts can manipulate the TSA.

So I'm going on record. Bring on the crowds. I don't mind adding 2 hours of wait-time to my travels. Peace of mind is worth it.

Just Add Wine

2005-11-02T07:50:00.000-08:00

Give it everything you've got, always.
Be patient.
Listen.
Remember why.
Share.
Open your soul.
Search for magic.
When you find it -- hold on tight.
Communicate.
Even if it seems impossible, it's not really.
Relish every moment.
Believe in what you have.
Mostly, remember that sunlight lives in the little things, and moonbeams watch over you when you close your eyes.

In Spite Of Ourselves

2005-10-31T13:49:00.000-08:00

The woman at the grocery store, with the oodles of Snack Wells, cases of Diet Coke and umpteen Kleenex boxes.

The super-chatty guy on that cross-Atlantic flight, who insists on sneaking your salt packet before every meal.

The little-bitty old couple who amble through town, squinting through the windshield, braking at imaginary objects on the way to Ralph's.

They've all got it: a passion.

A zest for something real, imaginary or dreamed-up. A convinction, dedication, or un-wavering desire revolving around that which they know and love and believe.

Treasure it. Embrace it. And try to remember that when you're stuck on the 405, crawling through a parking garage, or questioning who people are.

They're just like you and me. Only with differently intriguing twists.

That's What You're Wearing?

2005-10-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

Support individualism.

If you're on the glitter bandwagon and want to sparkle day and night -- go for it.

Same with mis-matched hair-accessories, frayed jeans and funky belts, and generally, anything that shouts YOU.

This does not apply to the black trenchcoat.

In fact, of all the possible wardrobe options available universally, I think that symbol of everything-that's-wrong-with-America needs to be banned.

Or at least, if you really must wear it, dye it pink or blue or green or something.

Yes, They Used To

2005-10-27T20:54:00.000-07:00

"Hello, I'm Stuart Smalley."

1988. A mere months until highschool graduation -- and though I probably should have been consuming keg beer en masse, I nerdily opted for Dr. Pepper and Saturday Night Live.

"Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!"

Sadly, that was then.

Now?

Al Franken evidently professes profound and 'insightful' knowledge, including (but not limited to) 1) George 2) Terry Schiavo and, shockingly, 3) Iraq.

I'm OK with that.

Not so into anyone capable of scrounging up a budget for a Costco bestseller, disdainfully mocking those in the political know-how, only to fall short on actual substance, all the while plugging their Senate run in 2008. A sampling:

"Health care should be universal."

"He gets impeached, convicted and starts drinking again that same afternoon."

"And Cheney has seven heart attacks."

Umm ... OK. Ignoring, momentarily, the completely inappropriate and almost embarassing mockery of the health of others -- thanks for the brilliant medical coverage thought.

Swirled peas, anyone?

May I Health You?

2005-10-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Wal-Mart, in addition to proliferating small-town America with a never-ending supply of Cheetos Big Grab Bags -- has evidently invented a new form of exercise.

Shopping-cart-gathering.

In an Onion-esque internal memo, the super-fascinating VP for Benefits, encouraged the musically conservative conglomerate to hire more fit workers, in an attempt to cut health care costs.

Just wondering how many dysfunctional band-aids we're going to plaster across the nation before we admit that the real issue may be -- drumroll -- ourselves. Remember the old adage: we are what we eat? It's true.

Not sure if McDonald's addition of "nutrition" information to greasy wrappers is going to curb the intake of mono-saturated fats.

Luckily, if you're considering a career move as a blue-vest-clad-greeter, you may be forced to stop super-sizing your life.

Sadly, they might have a point, as ridiculous as it sounds.

Have A Little Faith

2005-10-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for romantic comedy. Love anything with a happy, cheesy ending. Completely go ga-ga when two lonesome souls realize that they've met their match.

So. That's my disclaimer.

Should be no surprise that my radio dial is often tuned to FM 93.9. And while I'll always be partial to Willie and Merle, I'd be the first to profess my love for a new country artist lyric or two.

Why?

Because aside from singing tales of weeping widows and dogs howling at the moon -- they have an uncanny ability to focus on the miniscule. The little things. And even the whine-ey ballads have a way of leaving little bits of magic behind.

Seriously. When was the last time that you admitted that the secret of life is a "good cup of coffee," "mom's apple pies," or "tryin' not to hurry"?

Yeah. Thought so.

Conundrum

2005-10-21T08:15:00.000-07:00

I don't get it.

Clearly support stirring things up a bit, nominating a woman out of the non-literal left-field. Adding the curve ball of zero judicial experience definitely contributes intrigue -- and if nothing else, might draw the general public to C-SPAN on November 7.

But really.

Insufficiently answering a questionnaire is distractedly reminiscent of failing a take-home test. How does one do that?

And why-oh-why wouldn't whoever's in charge of this whole quagmire at the White House provide feedback, coach, or at the very least, proof-read Miers' responses before it hit the presses?

"What did he do in the middle of all this gloominess? He just blotted out the sun," said one Senior Aide.

Not really sure how this one is going to end.

But as an aside, who hasn't flattered their boss? This, to me, is the equivalent of CNN announcing that Jennifer and Vince smooched in public. Who cares?

"Hi, I'm Andy Manning"

2005-10-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

For once, I was actually not running late. Lunch packed, Oskar excited about daycare and Red-Headed-Stranger ready for my commute.

Doorbell rings.

And there, Mr. Infamous himself.

I knew it was him before he even said hello. Secretly, I was super-thrilled that Oskar was growling and barking and behaving like the enormous guard dog that he so brilliantly is.

"I used to live here," he began.

"Yes, I know."

"So you should be getting a letter for me. When you do, could you call me at this number?"

At this point, he even pushed his driver's license in my face, as if I needed confirmation that the owner of the poorly dyed tresses really was Mr. Fakey Business himself.

"Um ... what kind of envelope do you think it will be in?"

I was stalling, thinking of the countless pieces of mail I had already trashed. I get at least 8 things per week addressed to the guy.

"Oh, like a good-sized legal envelope."

"OK."

And so he left.

Did I even consider asking him WHY after two-and-a-half years he is still using my address?

Of course not. I don't think I've ever been that close to someone-I-perceive-to-be-a-felon.

Well. Unless you count that guy I moved in with during grad school ....

Snippets

2005-10-19T07:15:00.000-07:00

For obvious reasons, I feel compelled to read Nobel Prize winners. Mathematical prejudices aside, I still have faith in what I imagine to be a silver-haired gaggle of Swedes, contemplating stanzas, punctuated paragraphs and unconventional characterizations.

This time, I've found a gem.

It's "Soul Mountain" by Gao Xingjian:

"Reality exists only through experience, and it must be personal experience.... Reality can't be verified and and doesn't need to be, that can be left for the 'reality-of-life' experts to debate. What is important is life.... Reality is myself, reality is only the perception of this instant and it can't be related to another person. All that needs to be said is that outside, a mist is enclosing the green-blue mountain in a haze and your heart is reverberating with the rushing water of a swift-flowing stream."

Definitely ponder-worthy. Especially during those conference calls and meetings, clogging your calendar.

Plan-Less

2005-10-18T10:04:00.000-07:00

Friends rule. Family always is. And your extra-favorite peeps will never decline wine-inspired evenings peppered with tasty treats and contagious conversation.

But between trips and travel-planning, wedged alongside crazy commutes and late-night laughter, snuggled amidst the lovely luxuries of life -- there's you.

Tricky to remember, and decidedly easy to forget that we all need quiet. Space. Room to think. Moments to chill. And time to ponder, reflect and look forward to that which makes us tick.

So.

Plan your week empty. Don't ignore your posse or stop thinking of your clan. Just allot a few slots here and there for y-o-u.

It's the secret key for a dancing soul.

I Knew It

2005-10-16T00:15:00.000-07:00

Clearly, I'm a trend-setter.

How else do you explain the dramatic increase in low-and-highlights combined? Or the delightful abundance of T-shirt-over-T-shirt wearers cropping up at work?

It's me. Really. I started it all.

Just ask the New York Times.

Martin, my brilliant and oh-so-Americanized German hairstylist was just announced as the best in LA in the "transformative haircuts" category. Super appropriate, too, since I just got a new 'do.

Now I'm just waiting to see when the personalized, hand-painted clogs will catch on. Go ahead. Be the first cool kid in your 'hood.

Birthday Wishes

2005-10-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

Plenty of California Cabernet.
Perfect snow.
Sandy beaches at sunset.
Poolside. And then more poolside.
Peroni and herb butter.
TiVo moments.
Fabulous non-fiction.
Super-short commutes.
Impeccable lakes.
Tahoe.
Framed prints -- on the walls.
Tangerine sorbet with raspberries.
More chocolate chip cookies.
A new bed.
Black Chicken.
Free tix on Southwest.
Mini-vacations, as many as possible.
More Lynchburg. Less LA.

I just blinked three times and wished on the setting sun for you. That means it will all come true. Happy 30. It's a magical decade.

I Heart Rumsfeld

2005-10-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

I'm not a Republican. But, can't help but share these smile-worthy snippets. Brilliant or not, your call. At the very least, does make me appreciate that people -- regardless of silly party affiliations -- are what matter.

That, and a lovely ability to insert slivers of zany into otherwise mundane topics.

Oh, everything quoted is from "Pieces of Intelligence" compiled and edited by Hart Seely.

"It takes far too long for
Anything to happen, as
Far as I'm concerned."
-- Nov. 12, 2002, Pentagon town hall meeting

"Nothing we have,
Nothing in the defense establishment,
Nothing you own in your homes
Is perfect.
Your cars aren't perfect.
Your bikes aren't perfect.
Our eyeglasses aren't perfect.
We live with that all the time.
Does that --
If you cannot do everything,
Does that mean that you should not do anything?"
-- Dec. 13, 2001, Department of Defense news briefing

"Anyone who knows nothing isn't talking
And anyone with any sense isn't talking.
Therefore:
The people that are talking to the media,
By definition, people who don't know anything,
And people who don't have a hell of a lot of sense."
-- Sept. 22, 2002, media availability en route to Poland

"Anything that I say
That I shouldn't have
Is off the record.
I want you to
Understand that
Right now, up front."
-- Jan. 12, 2002, interview with the Washington Post

"I'm brusque.
I'm impatient.
It's genetic.
I can't help it."
-- Dec. 18, 2002, interview with Larry King, CNN

"Needless to say,
The president is correct.
Whatever it was he said."
-- Feb. 28, 2003, Department of Defense briefing

"Opinion polls go up and down,
They spin like weather vanes.
They're interesting, I suppose.
I don't happen to look."
-- Sept. 8, 2002, media stakeout following CBS's Face the Nation

"If you're walking towards a wall,
And you decide you want to go to the opposite wall,
The sooner you make the correction,
The easier it is.
If you wait until you're right face up against the wall,
Then you've got to make a sharp turn."
-- June 24, 2002, interview with Bloomberg News

Slivers of Time

2005-10-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

830pm: Spend eight minutes reminding Oskar and Pippi that though they seemingly have an insatiable appetite, going after my luxuriously home-cooked meal is, quite frankly, simply rude.

1030pm: Dogs pass out after running around like maniacs for an hour.

1134pm: Oskar wakes me up. Despite my feeble, sleep-induced attempts to ignore him, I fumble my way to the kitchen assuming someone needs a potty break. Um, yeah. Ten seconds later my left foot steps into a pool of pee.

601am: Dogs are hungry.

805am: Dogs eat one of the bright yellow couch pillows.

Think they just didn't like the color?

Huh?

2005-10-11T19:28:00.000-07:00

(insert radio jangle-ey tune)

"Stop by anytime for a $1.24 cheeseburger!"

(exit radio jangle-ey tune. insert uber-serious sounding, speed-talking voice-over)

"For a limited time only. While supplies last. Prices subject to change."

This, apparantley, is why we need lawyers.

Nothing -- not even slimey corner-store pre-packaged burgers -- is what it seems.

Let's Go

2005-10-10T10:17:00.000-07:00

Red tail lights. Screeching halts. And out of the blue, we were crawling along at 20 mph.

Welcome to Los Angeles. Sadly, not unusual. But for whatever reason, the appealing scale never rises above a one point three. And that's only thanks to Shooter song number two.

As my Element's over-due-for-service little engine hob-knobbed with Hummers and sedans larger than my living room, I spotted it. A brand-spanking-new, shiny, silver Porche. Oddly crumpled in the car pool lane, it's bumper somehow cradling the divider.

The barely-old-enough-to-drive starlet was on her cellphone, still strapped in, calling either Daddy or Triple-A. Possibly both.

Thing is, nobody even batted an eye.

So where is that place? That simply divine spot where people wave and smile and amble down the road, instead of cursing when the light turns red. Where green means mosey and sunlit mornings translate to a luxuriously slow pace.

We have to find it. Immediately.

Pin-Point-ist-i-cally You

2005-10-08T15:14:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's how you wear your jeans. Or prefer plain, old Ivory soap. Perhaps it's the glittery speckles you add to your cheeks, or the way you over-accessorize for no apparent reason other than the fact that you can.

Some people wear only black. Others romanticize the color pink. And then there's the mysterious crew who always seems to find the odd, the strange and the hypnotically appealing -- and wear it just so.

But that's neither here, nor there.

What is?

Herb butter. Secret ingredients, addictive results. Perfect for grilled filets, roasted chicken, sultry baked potatoes and red-pepper-flaked broccoli florets. A mere dab will transform your meal.

The little black dress, if you will, of the kitchen.

I'd share the recipe but that would be like divulging where to buy light-blue-seam 7s. Besides, it's more appealing to make up your own, anyway.

Confused

2005-10-07T10:14:00.000-07:00

So I totally support airport security. Completely fine with removing shoes, unhooking belts and sending my fakey-pink-diamond covered watch through in a special plastic bin.

Every now and then there's some foolish peep who scribbles jokes about bombs and knives on the miniature cocktail napkins. Not funny.

But, this? Really?

Super disappointing. Makes me wonder if I should stop traveling in my 'You Can't Get This in the States' t-shirt. Or if blatantly flaunting 'Pippi Rules' is going to get me kicked off an airbus.

Lame.

Who We Are

2005-10-06T08:30:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's mostly chromosomes. Paired with continental exposure, translated convictions and assumptions that transcend generations.

In any case.

Sometimes brilliant moments arrive, that illuminate that which might seem odd or crazy or out-of-the-blue. And while many may opt to question your actions, the very core of your innermost being senses that you've been poised for this since the notions of a beginning.

Take Jacquelyn Sherman, for example.

Displaced by Katrina, she scrounged up all the spare change she could find and played the lottery. One point six million buckaroos later, she's happy as a clam. Think she's relocating to hurricane-free lands? Putting a massive downpayment on a mansion on the opposite end of the country?

Nope. She's going back to New Orleans. Because that's what's in her soul.

Seriously

2005-10-05T08:37:00.000-07:00

Evidently, my dogs are sneaking around in the middle of the night, taking hot showers. That's clearly the only feasible explanation for why I have zero hot water on some mornings. Sound dubious? Consider a few other labrador-golden-retriever highlights:

They've mastered the art of detecting a perfectly brewed cup of coffee, slurping most of it without a single spill.
Every now and then, the paper is mysteriously missing from the driveway. Coincidentally -- or not -- those are the very mornings that Oskar chooses to sleep practically cradling the front door.
Ghosts. They sense them. Why else would they make mad rushes for the back of the yard, barking at absolutely nothing?
Just when I think I couldn't possibly time my departure any later, they sneak off with the pillows from the couches.

In related fabulous news: they're expert fly catchers and insects-in-the-house-detectors. Brilliantly luxurious. Especially in soon-to-be-cricket season.

Waffle Not

2005-10-04T07:54:00.000-07:00

Epiphanies evidently arrive in taxi-cabs.

Last week, bustling toward LAX, I remembered what I'd filed away and forgotten:

You are your own CEO.

So, definitely ask. Inquire. Consider recommendations. Listen to analogies. Contemplate curious tidbits. And ponder perceived brilliance.

But ultimately, it's up to you.

As the inhabitants of the Magical Forest so eloquently put it: stop drowning your decisions in syrup -- if you remember what you love (a dab of butter and a hint of raspberry jam), you'll find what you're looking for.

Easy-Peasy

2005-09-27T08:01:00.000-07:00

Matt doesn't really cook.

Toast and hard-boiled-eggs aside, his bachelor-hood days weren't necessarily filled with trips to the produce department at Ralph's or casual contemplation in front of the fresh seafood counter.

But a couple of weeks ago, Filippa was running late and he -- with the aid of the telephone and a couple, I'm sure, improvisational moments -- prepared pizza dough from scratch. Measured the yeast, added the water and flour, let it proof. Added the remaining goodies, covered with saran wrap and let it rise.

Honestly, I thought that would be it.

And then I got the phone call.

"Matt made stir-fried chicken with sugar-snap peas and pineapple salsa," Filippa practically chirped.

He found a cookbook. Pounced on a recipe. And followed it, step-by-magical-step.

So ... what is it you're saying you can't do?

Analyze This

2005-09-26T07:51:00.000-07:00

I'm in Munich, staring at fresh-from-the-oven rolls.

Pumpernickel touched by sesame seeds, sourdough speckled with green and black olives, poppy-seed everythings, and loaves upon loaves of every possible heavenly combination.

It's almost my turn.

Everything is clearly and neatly labeled, block-letter-cards adorning each miniature shelf, heralding every item released from the oven's inferno.

Then it hits me.

The labels are all wrong. I don't know what anything is called. And though my German was once perfectly gut, that was 12 years ago.

So I panic. Stall. Try to eavesdrop as other natives place their orders.

The smells are intoxicating. My head begins to spin. I don't know what to do.

And then I woke up. Here's how I see it: I'm either a) overly-obsessed with really great bread; b) insanely excited about the prospect of an amazing sandwich; or c) have an inexplicably secret and hidden fear involving ordering in a bakery.

Sunday Night Luxuries

2005-09-25T18:47:00.000-07:00

An addictively fabulous novel.
Two sleepy, snoozing dogs.
Back-yard sprinklers.
Orangina from the bottle.
Salted almonds, peanuts and cashews.
Italian parmesan, red and yellow cherry tomatoes, and yummie olive oil.
Rose-scented candles.
Open windows.
Brand-new, super-cute, slightly funky black boots.
Light-blue glitter-pocket jeans.
Waiting for Altville.

Lightbulb-Like

2005-09-24T12:26:00.000-07:00

In addition to having a fabulous first name and a knack for inventions, Mr. Einstein was also sagely wise:

"There are only two ways to live your life -- one is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle."

Rocket-science knowledge isn't required to figure out which path is more appealing. Still, little-bitty reminders never hurt, even if your soul is magically drawn to things glamorously other-world-ly.

Mozzarella never fails to perfectly melt on pizza.
Sunshine usually finds a way to sneak itself in.
You made it.
Time has a way of stre-e-e-e-tching when you need it most.
Wishing upon a star evidently works.

Idiom-atically Yours

2005-09-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

Straightforwardness rules the universe. Speaking in circles only brings confusion and -- clearly -- never aided anyone trying to concisely capture a crystaline thought.

So if you'd like to add just a sliver of allure and mystique to your brilliant modes of expression, try a sprinkle of Euro-Thought. You know, bizarr-o expressions that appeal precisely because they're not possible to literally translate.

"She slipped in on a banana peel."

"I was working against the windmills."

"We were stuck in the yogurt."

Translations? Oh, use your imagination. It's time you added some rhetorical spice to your already-poignant persona.

Meine Schwester

2005-09-22T09:46:00.000-07:00

Funny how five freezingly-sunny days can turn perspective on its pretty little princess head. But mostly, it's clear that a cross-Atlantic flight to the land of beer and bratwurst is as magical as swaying stars and purple moon-beams.

She's 30 and blonde and brilliant. She's patient and kind and perfectly coordinated. She glitters and sparkles and never leaves a soul untouched.

Clara. My middle sister. Here's but a sliver of her wisdom, which hopefully will osmosis-ti-cally stick with me.

Persist. Never relent. Finish what you set out to do.
If you're thinking it, speak it. At least most of the time.
Always include.
Stay true.
Inquire. Figure out. And understand.
Believe.
Only do that which makes you feel like a princess.

Whatever Works

2005-09-13T09:10:00.000-07:00

Depending on mood, moonlight and degree of magic, I might opt for honey-infused Earl Gray, a glass of favorite California Cabernet, or a teensy nugget of milk-chocolate covered Lubeck marzipan.

And while an early-morning run certainly does wonders for the soul, donning worn-in sneaks and pink-striped sweats isn't always an option.

But that's not really important.

Knowing how to bring sunlight to cloudy days, is.

"If you have your makeup, your cleanser, a razor and a gallon of water, everything will be OK," said Bonnie Irby, who despite Katrina, is trying to focus on life's little luxuries.

Wow.

Think about that, next time you're pining for gold. Clearly, it's at your fingertips.

Ticket-Less Travel

2005-09-12T11:51:00.000-07:00

You don't really need a tropical island. And while cramming toiletries and pink bikinis in an overhead-compartment-friendly-bag is certainly compelling, it's much more luxurious to gingerly pack without worrying about airport security rummaging through your fancies.

Instead: vacation here. Now. Immediately. If you're confusingly impaired, select one of these pre-made itineraries. Magical moments guaranteed.

Lazy, lovely pool-side weekend. Comfy lounges and pina coladas are definite pluses. But anything garnished with orange slices or cherries will do just fine.
Cab it. Transform a regular middle-of-the-week-night into an immediate mini-get-away. Dine, drink and devour.
Pour your favorite red. Make easy-as-pie lasagna. If you add enough oregano & garlic you might trick yourself into thinking you're in Italy.

Never let a day go by without fun. Even better: sprinkle your days with fakey-vacations. It's deliciously addictive.

Lesson One

2005-09-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Everyone wants to tackle the quarterback.
Eleven players per side.
New England is looking for a three-peat.
The Raiders are a bunch of gangsters.
Something about 10 yards and 4 downs.

That's pretty much all I know about football. Ever since college, I've tried to understand the cultural fascination with this weird-o game. Ask any Swedish ex-pat, and you'll quickly realize that I'm not the only one who has trouble keeping their eye on the ball.

But this year, things will change.

I'm delightfully determined to master -- or at least gain a perfunctory understanding of -- this Fall obsession. I want to know who to root for. What plays are tricksters and which ones are foul. Which teams are the underdogs and what the sports-punsters will predict and postulate in the morning's paper.

I am ready for pig-skin-related maven-hood.

What Do You Recommend?

2005-09-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

Brewpub. San Jose-ish. Party of 16.

"So yes, I have a question. Is the 'spice rubbed whole chicken' really an entire chicken?"

"Yes."

"Um, OK. So it's insanely large, then?"

"Oh, well no. See it's actually a cornish hen. But when we described it that way on the menu, nobody ordered it. So we changed it to chicken."

Interesting.

Perception, in all it's glory, seemingly runs the world. Labels -- for all their fabulous pro-categorization appeal -- don't really mean a whole lot.

So go ahead. Sprinkle your days with 'magic' and 'dreamsicles' and 'sunlit-thoughts'. Make up words. Add alluringly appealing adjectives to your every-day prose.

But please. If it's miniature and marvelous, don't change it into something extra-large and mundane. Be pro-flair. If not clear, it's at least intriguing.

Say It

2005-09-06T07:30:00.000-07:00

Remember the cliche that reverberates so well for anyone a little too addicted to work? The one that fittingly reminds us that once your hair turns gray and your birthday candles out-number 70, you'll look back and wish you'd spent more time with those you so adore?

Yeah.

So live it. Be it. Think it. Breathe it.

But most of all: whisper, shout, share and dream that which makes you -- so deliciously and fabulously -- you.

I promise, someone out there wants to hear.

Stay True

2005-09-03T09:01:00.000-07:00

"We don't want to put any money down and we'd like the payments to stay below $400," said my sister and her ever-doting fiance.

As they sat in the spot we've all sat: window-esque office behind an-almost-sterile desk at a local dealership, the floor-guy "chatted" with his manager.

"OK," he finally, undoubtedly beamed. "Here's what we can do for you: $4,000 down and $601 a month."

Laughable? For sure. Ever-so-frequent of an occurrence? Pretty much.

Know what you want. And once you've deliberated, debated and decidedly made up your mind: waiver not.

Besides. Things -- even dreams of that new-car-smell -- have a delightful way of working themselves out.

Back-To-Remember

2005-09-02T07:40:00.000-07:00

In the first grade, I learned that saying "thanks for the day, everyone" before piling flower-ey notebooks and glittery pencils into handy-dandy rucksacks, provided lovely and fitting closure.

Third grade translated to even more universally applicable lessons: "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." I think I was the only girlie girl not invited to Amy's birthday-party. Evidently she figured fakey-Americans wouldn't understand the games.

That first bell is about to ring, again.

Those miniature nuggets of elementary wisdom are still fittingly appropriate today.

Are you living by yours?

Hope

2005-09-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

Samuel Thompson had a violin. Confined within the Superdome, surrounded by stench, chaos and profound sadness, he played.

Not sure what that was like.

But I'm hoping his notes somehow reached the shooters and looters and insanity-inspired actions taking place outside the arena.

Calling it a silver-lining seems much too sunlit. So instead let's pay tribute to the amazing resilience of the human spirit. To those that find the good amidst a down-pour. And especially the lucky few who experience -- if only for an instant -- a sliver of happy.