Just Another Day

It's taken me two years, one wedding anniversary and one upcoming wedding anniversary to realize that I'm not a fan of anniversaries.  This has nothing to do with my wonderful husband.  It has to do with the fact that I am just not a fan of special days.

I feel the same way about birthdays (my own, anyway) and New Year's Eve.  I hate them.  Despise them.  They always get built up in my mind (thanks to the society bandwagon) to be some big deal but really, it's just another day.  As a result, I either go all out go make an super uber deal about it so it seems like it's really a special day...or I ignore it all together and try and make it go away. 

So, as our 2nd wedding anniversary is approaching (whoa, time flies), I sit here and ponder for hours what we'll do.  Then I realize, hey, what if we don't want to do anything?  What if we just want to sit around and be lazy?  What if we just went to our favorite dive bar?  What if we go out to a fancy dinner?  What if we want to lay out at the beach (in October) to continue to work on our tans?

The truth of the matter is, we can do whatever the heck we want to do and it's okay.  Why, oh why, do the pressures of society try so hard to take over in these situations?  I mean seriously, if I want to go do something special, I'll do it when I want to.  No need to wait for a special day to be special.  It's all just another day. 

When I feel like celebrating, I'll celebrate.  And that usually happens on a weekly basis.  For simply no reason other than to celebrate life...as it should be.

Falling Into Fall

As it turns out, Fall is the only season I have really missed during these five years of living in Los Angeles.  I suppose that's why I got married in October, which to me, is the essence of Autumn.  The leaves begin to change...a chill creeps up in the air...the fireplaces begin to burn the wood that has been dried all summer long...the sky turns a crisp blue hue...

At least, technically.

In LA, it's pretty much 75 to 85 degrees all of the time during Fall.  In fact, last week it was 113, which was a record breaker of a day in history of hotness in this city.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good, hot day at the beach in the Palisades, but 113 had me cowering under the umbrella like a vampire hiding from the sun.

This is why I welcome this cloudy, gloomy, rainy, freezing weather.  Mind you, freezing to me (and any Los Angelean) is anywhere between 55 and 65...and that's about what it's been.  Finally I get to pull out my boots, sweaters, hats and jackets, and scarves!  I've been cozied up on the couch in a blanket, kitties snuggled up against me.  I'm burning my Apple Cider candle while sipping on some hot, spiced cider.  This is the epitome of Fall.

I take it all in, as this weekend it will be back into the upper 90's.  LA, I love you, but c'mon.

A Flower Was Born Today

Her name is Lydia Rose.  Born on April 6th at 4:06p.  And...she's my very own goddaughter.  I've never had one before. I've also never been so surprised, flattered and honored all in the same moment. I'm a godmother! And I will strive to be the very best.

Glamour Shot

Here are the top five reasons why I already know Lydia is going to be the coolest (and cutest) godkid ever:

1.  She has family blood...good genes on both accounts.
2.  Her name is Lydia.
3.  Her mom and dad are pretty freakin' cool
4.  She was born on 4/6 at 4:06p.
5.  She's an Aries.

Now, if only I could hold her!  I am currently 2,200 miles away with no hope of seeing her for at least another few months.  It's torture.  I know she's already got Skype (via the 'rents) so we're going to have to rely on that for now.  Thank God for technology.

Welcome to the world, Lydia Rose.

Addendum (Note to Lyd):  From what I hear, you're already working on a pretty awesome soundtrack of your life.  According to your dad, the first song that played on your way home from the hospital was Raspberry Beret.  Only to be followed up by some Bob Segar while I was simultaneously rocking out (cross country) to Queens of the Stone Age.  One day you will understand just how perfect that was.

Shake, Rattle & Roll

That's what us SoCal-ians have been doing this past month.  A few weeks ago there was a 4.4 "shaker" at 4:04a that about tossed me out of bed.  Then yesterday there was a 7.2 "roller" that originated all the way down in Baja, Mexico.  I prefer rollers to shakers, but really, I'll take a tornado any day over an earthquake.  At least there's warning and you can hide from it.

The oddest thing about earthquakes is that really, you have no idea when they're going to hit.  I think that when I first moved out here, I missed the little ones because I didn't know or understand the sensation yet.  But now, the more seasoned Cali girl in me knows exactly when it's happening.

You feel the vibrations and then just pause...maybe it was all in your mind...and then again, maybe not.  You freeze for a moment and instantly think, yep, this is what I think it is.  Then you find yourself holding your breath for what seems like several minutes (really only several seconds, it varies) until it's over.

The smoother ones are better, I think.  Sort of feels like your house is on a small, rolling wave and you're just sailing along.  The TV shakes and things sway, but they're virtually harmless.  I'm not a fan of the shakes.  The one we had a few weeks back felt like a giant had our apartment in his hands and was just shaking it back and forth...everything in the house was rattling, the wall hangings were all crooked and my water jumped out of the glass even though the glass did not tip over.  That one didn't go over very well in my book...and it didn't help that it jolted me out of bed in the middle of the night.

I suppose it's all in the experience that we grow by, but I'm not sure how much better of a person I'll be having been through a quake (or three, or five).  I just pray they stay low key.

YouTube is the new MTV...

just as iTunes is the new record store.

Likewise, Alison is the new Meg, just as The Dead Weather is the new White Stripes.



And The Raconteurs? Well, they were just a transition. A beautiful one, at that.

And more to come from this one.  The new PJ Harvey, if you will.

St. Party's Day

I never really understood the hype of St. Patty's Day.  I guess if you're Irish it makes sense to celebrate, but otherwise, it's just an excuse to party.  To me, why wait?  If you want to go out and get your drink on, just do it.  No need to wait for a special day.

The older I get, the busier I get and the busier I get, the less I can just tear it up on any ol' weekday.  Tonight, I will be spending my time working late at my day job and then going home to work on my personal business.  Not very exciting for a supposed drinking holiday, but I'm cool with that.  I am just as happy in my PJ's...husband, kitties and laptop nearby.

However, despite my lack of Irish blood, I used to partake in the celebrations year in and year out.  Here's a little something in honor of my St. Party's days past.

One Degree of Separation

I thought I was going for another routine eyebrow wax from my favorite esthetician.  Then I quickly remembered that nothing is routine when you're living in Los Angeles.  As if the bottle of Chianti (which I helped myself to) and the good company was not enough, I hung out (and made out) with Orlando Bloom's dog.  Her name is Lilly and she is awesome.

One Degree of Separation

Just a few weeks ago, this ferocious little beast was walking alongside the one and only Legolas.  In a nutshell, Orly rescued her from Animal Advocates Alliance in Los Angeles.  Evidently, his model girlfriend disapproved of the pitbull action, as she thought her dog might turn into Lilly food.  So, Orly brought her back to AAA and, having had some dog drama over the past year herself, Liz came to the rescue and is now boarding and training her to be quite the loveable little thing.  I've never seen a happier pitbull.  She was grinning ear to ear the entire time I was there.

The sad part is, Lilly obviously feels so at home with Liz.  But...she can't stay for good.  Liz is training another pitbull (also the love of her life) and he won't have any competition and is going through some serious trauma therapy.  The problem with these poor dogs is that so many are bred to fight and kill from such a young age.  This video pretty much says it all (and might be one of the saddest videos ever). 

So, while Orly had good intentions and Liz has even better, Lilly still doesn't know where she'll end up being able to call home.  The challenge will be to keep her out of the hands of the bad guys.  It's so so sad...because Lilly is a perfect example of how, if saved at a young enough age, they can turn into a sweet little lovebug who jumps up to cuddle while you're getting your facial.  Like all the other poor puppy souls out there, we just don't want her to end up like this.  I guess the moral of the story (besides the fact that I now have one very up close and personal separation from Orlando), is not to judge and give these little gals and guys a chance.  Someone has to.

P.S. - Remember this?  I was obsessed with it back in the day...