This evening I went to retrieve my bike from the roof (which is the place where my neighbor and I store our bikes...we figure it's such a pain to get them down, they are safe) only to find it stolen?! I was pissed! So, I dug out my old grungy roller blades and followed my boyfriend on his bike down the path, feeling angry and self-pitying all the way. Anyway, some neighbors passed me on the bike path and I said hello and then went back to feeling sorry for myself...meanwhile, NOT NOTICING that one of them was RIDING my bike! Anyhoo, as it turns out, my neighbor had lent it to him. Since she is the one who gave me the bike free of charge (being as she had too many of her own), I accept the communal nature of said bike. I don't mind that he "borrowed" it or that I even failed to realize that could be the case, but I do mind the depth of sorrow I was in for over an hour. All because of a free bike?!

I am attached to my bike.

Just for today, I love to ride my bike.

When is asparagus officially to old to be opened from the plastic wrapping, let alone be eaten? For some reason, it's not something I want to learn from experience.

My thoughts in yoga class can sometimes diverge from the spiritual realm.

"...If I see one more Buddhist statue at the yoga class pre-store (which oddly enough reminds me of the merchandising stores you walk through on the way out of a ride at Disneyland) I'm going to complain to the management. I'm sorry, but you can't sell enlightenment with a chintzy statue made in China....Ok, now I'm in class...what's up with the movie soundtrack music?...There sure are a lot of women in cute yoga outfits in this class. Somebody should really jump on a magazine for yoga fashions, I'm talking strictly clothes...enough on this different schools of yoga thought, let's face it, it's the new 24 Hour Fitness, only instead of weights and stair masters we have buddhist statues and mats...Ok, the teacher's voice is starting to grate on my nerves. Is he trying to sound like Alex Trebek????...This class is easy....OK, I take that back, my arms are tired. No, I am not doing another vinyasa! Enough! What time is it? Oh, damn he's coming over to me. What am I doing wrong? He said dolphin, right? So embarrassing. You can't tell me he's not checking out all the women in this class....He smiled at me...OK, he's nice. Did he say pigeon pose? We're almost done!!!!

I love the pose where we just lie there and do nothing.

I love yoga."

Just for today, I accept my inner monologue.

Last night I attended a small soiree (does anyone know how to add accents with Safari...please inform!) at a house that had been occupied by Robert Blake (the acquitted defendent of the murder of Bonne Bakley...in case you've been living in a cave). I won't say when he inhabited this abode, but let's just say that a name tag survives as proof of his occupancy. After I used the commode, I asked the owner, "Did Robert Blake sit on that toilet seat?" Apparently, he did not. What was stranger than almost having sat on a toilet seat once sat on by Robert Blake, was my dissappointment that this was not the case. I hid it well, though.

Robert Blake interests me not because he seems to have reached some high plateau of spiritual evolution (why you might think that, I have no idea...but we're dealing with a bizarre reality here), but because people who live lives that veer so far from what Americans call "normal" or (from what any culture would call normal), really interest me. For instance, take Carrie Fisher. How does one get to become the daughter of two famous actors and go on to star in one of the highest grossing, most-publicized, phenomenally seen films of all time (not to mention that she woke up next to a dead gay Republican a few months ago...was I the only one who read about that?). I won't even get into Michael Jackson (but oddly enough, he did enter this very same house at one point in time). THE POINT IS (and I do have one) that there's gotta be some force (no Star Wars pun intended) working here to create the hyperbolic lives these people live while I sit here in my boring life and write about it (I did splurge on a de-caf latte this week - which DOES have caffeine -...bad, bad girl, that I am).

Perhaps these people make me feel better (isn't that the point of famous people, to make us feel better or worse about ourselves?) during those times when I wonder why I was born into difficult circumstances. They make me realize that what I had was small fries; alcoholism, divorce, and parental disputes are one thing, but throw in being famous and having enough money to buy a lot of drugs...and having people you've never met want things from you. That sounds way harder!

Robert Blake, Michael Jackson, Carrie Fisher...and all others (Oprah, all the kids from "Different Strokes"...) God Bless their humanity. I'm not arguing their innocense or guilt, I just feel for a pain more painful than my own.

Just for today, I can have compassion.

One thing my mom and I like to talk about is movie actors. However, invariably this conversation turns into a discussion on the issue of men's growing heads. According to my mother, men's heads grow with age. The reason why Tom Cruise isn't as cute as he once was is because his head grew. While women have to contend with changes in their skin, men have the unfortunate plight of facing the ongoing expansion of their head and features. I don't know if this is true because I've never never measured a man's head who I've known for any length of time. But according to my mom, this is a problem worthy of multiple conversations. While I agree that some men and women age better than others, I never thought that this was a byproduct of Big Headedness. Perhaps this is an illusion that only my mother see's through her own "fractured prism" (my new favorite cliche), but I suppose we're all entitled to create our own fears of the aging process.

Just for today, I allow my mother space to worry about men's growing heads.

(Note: If anything, I'm REALLY beginning to understand why I am the way I am...I love you mom ;-)

My mom is visiting me (again) because her God-son graduated from UCLA this weekend. However, I secretly think she just likes coming to Los Angeles because it's more exciting than Northern California (oh, I know, you like to THINK that you're so superior and more evolved up there...but that's what makes you BORING...). One thing that makes Los Angeles exciting to my madre is the chance occurence to spot movie stars. As I have written before, for some reason we always see Alec Baldwin when she's here. I am now convinced that my mother is having a not-so-secret-affair with Mr. Baldwin.

I took my mom to a party last night and she spent the whole time talking to a young professor. One more mojito and she would have passed him her number. Then I took her to a 12-step meeting and she spent 20 minutes talking to my friend Mike about his "hatred" towards his mother. And she keeps telling my boyfriend about how I liked to take my clothes off and run around naked in the back yard when I was two (what can I say? I was in touch with my inner-hippy at a very young age).

I love that my mom's a free spirit, she just keeps getting freerer with old age.

Just for today, I can visit with my madre.

1. Win an Academy Award.
2. Win an Emmy.
3. Buy a new bra.
3. Own a house on the beach in Mexico.
4. Take a trip around the world.
5. Learn how to change a tire.
5. Have two kids
6. Find someway to become a millionaire
7. Wash comforter.
6. Learn to cook like a gourmet chef
7. Have floors of house (or mansion) redone with Brazilian wood.
8. Learn to appreciate the flavors of kale.
9. Save the country from fascism.
10. Learn how to play "The Rainbow Connection" on guitar.

Just for today, I have many goals for my life.

I just attended my sister's graduation from high school where I did the requisite crying at the first chords of Pomp and Circumstance. The day before my mom picked me up at the airport and shocked me with a head of white hair (she stopped dying it). That night, my best friend from high school and her husband had me over for dinner in their sparkling state-of-the-art renovated kitchen where my friend tossed a salad in one of her eight fabulous salad bowls (having a wedding pays off) and patted her burgeoning belly.

One thing's for sure. Sister's Graduation + Mom's Gray Hair + Friend's Baby = Things Have Changed.

Most changefully, My S.O. (significant other) and I have decided to (drumroll....) move in together....we'll see when exactly this decision manifests into reality.

The point is THINGS HAVE CHANGED. Strangely, I've been feeling nostalgic for the era of my life that seems to be coming to a close. I'll call it the Sex and the City Era, or the My Own Fabulous Apartment Era, or the old cliche "my twenties...(and early 30's)." Let's just say that there was this space of time between college and the place I am in now which is oddly enough at the doorstep of making a commitment to love, family, and house (I'm humbled by how boring my goals sound). This time can be anywhere from 6 months to an eternity. But I think a good solid ten years of being single and solo out there in the great wild of an urban center is a healthy growing experience. It was also, for me, the motivation that ultimately led me to want to make the kinds of ties and community that make people's lives meaningful.

I'm grateful for those years and yet I'm ready to move on with a vengeance.

Just for today, I feel like a graduate.

I'm grateful today because...

1) My bladder infection is on hiatus. I'm hoping it's permanent and so am drinking asparagus tea as if I'm in the throws of self-care mode. However, yesterday I did break down and buy myself a chai tea latte [you know you're getting old (i.e., boring) when buying one caffinated drink a month sends you into a world-wind of vice-ridden shame...(I love brackets...)]
2) I just pulled my new jeans out of the dryer and was able to peel them on (after a semi-vigorous struggle). The guy at the store swore that if I could fit into them AT ALL, I should buy them because they would definitely stretch. OK, told him. Just know, if I die from lack of blood circulation, it's your name I'm going to whisper out with my last breathe ('cept I forgot his name).
3) After weeks of agonizing on the Los Angeles traffic web site and after spending forty minutes in line, the state of California has graced me with the opportunity to pay my traffic violation. Why it's so difficult to pay traffic tickets in Santa Monica, is beyond me! However, I'm just grateful I didn't get whiplashed with late fees by the efficient (fascist) traffic division of state governemnt (why can't those people work in education?).
4) I'm grateful that the cop who gave me the ticket didn't nail me for not wearing a seat belt (I usually get off easily...one benefit for being scared and female).
5) Southern California has now started to feel like Southern California.

Just for today, I am grateful.

Ok, so maybe Russell Crowe isn't the quite the strong humble silent smoldering type in real life. Throwing a phone at the concierge is not a nice thing to do, Russ. That really put a kink in my illusions...living in reality is such a buzz kill.

The city of Los Angeles can be a veritible sea of temptation. Financially responsible women have to be clever to avoid the areas populated by the ubiquitous "cute store." However, when you WORK in such a neighborhood, temptation poses a great financial risk. The neighborhood where I now work is one such place; a paradise of "cute stores" and pituitary gland stimulating coffee shops. Going on lunch breaks is now an exercise in desire management.

First of all, we'll start with the small stuff...coffee. I work one block from five coffee shops, including the grand-daddy coffee house, Peet's Coffee. Due to urinary tract issues (read blogs below), I cannot drink coffee for at least three months. So, every morning is a slight torture curbed only by the occasional danish.

Now let's get down to the main issues, the cute store factor. It's killing me...

Despite the fact that most of the items in these store cost the equivalent of my monthly grocery allowance and the fact that some of the items are a little ridiculous (like tops that have some weird piece of fabric dangling awkardly down the side...), I'm attracted to these bastions of color and price tags like a moth to the flame. ACROSS THE STREET from me is the Michael Star store (while I'm currently in detox, I have been known to consume an unbalanced quantity of these shirts). On the other side of the street are two of the most fabulous stores in Los Angeles. Not to mention that up the street are a couple of skin-care stores where I could easily spend the equivalent of my car-insurance premium on exfoliation, and all around me are restaurants where I can spend a lot of money eating out.

Just for today, I can hang tight to my spending plan.

I'm watching the Eagles Farewell Tour and getting ready to drink another delicious cup of asparagus juice. I know what you're thinking. Where does one buy asparagus juice? Well, as it turns out, not everyone finds the sound of asparagus juice as appetizing as you and I. Some accuse it of creating a foul stench after urination (yes, I did just use the word "urination" in my blog)? Well, there is my old friend, Bladder Infection, of whom I speak of so frequently that I have just about bored or grossed out every human to come within my circle of casual conversation. To know me, is to hear of this ailment. ANYWAY, as it turns out, there is a reason why asparagus produces such an unfavorable smell after...uh, urination (yes, I did just use the word "urination" in my blog AGAIN). As it turns out, is asparagus cleans out the kidneys and bladder (I don't have any "facts" on this, but think about it...it smells so bad, it's gotta be doing something right). I can vouch for it as natures miracle cure for bladder infections. And I shamelessly write about it so that other men and women suffering from this same pain in the ass problem will benefit from God's cure (I've decided that antibiotics are the fast food of remedies). I also love having another excuse to speak/write the words BLADDER INFECTION (take that one Google Ads)...

Just for today, I love the vegetable of asparagus.

(I'll chill out about this issue...now that it's going away ;-)