A Little Too Much of Everything


I didn’t write much last week because I had too much free time. It sounds strange but it’s true, mostly. Jane is away at camp and Alexander came home over the weekend. I spent the week alternately working too hard and playing too hard, each method was a failed attempt to not miss the kids too much.

On more than one occasion I went to the gym and yoga. That’s a solid 3 hours of “me time” which historically has been enough to hold me over for a week at a time. Twice I had two yoga classes in a day. I still cannot touch my toes without bending my knees. I’m an enthusiastic yet underachieving yogi. I went to Las Vegas and won enough at the blackjack tables to pay for my plane ticket. Everyone says you should always split 8’s. I’m not sure who everyone is but I think that everyone is wrong.

When I wasn’t gambling, working or exercising I was eating and reading. In Vegas I dropped into Nobu which left me yearning for Katsu-ya. My jaw about dropped when I sat down to a table with disposable chopsticks wrapped in paper. The service was good but missing the near silent attentiveness of the Los Angeles and San Diego restaurants. Also at about $150 a person I don’t want to walk through a casino to use a restroom. I’ll be sitting and sipping sake for hours, I need a real restroom in a real restaurant. The food was almost as good but eating from splintery chopsticks ruined it for me. Of course here in LA we celebrated our anniversary with our son at one of my favorite lunch spots, Crustacean. I think I’ve learned my lesson and Crustacean will remain a lunch spot. We love the crab and the noodles are good too but frankly there’s a really great dive in Reseda that makes it better at about an eighth the price. I’ll never stop loving the lobster and mango salad so anyone who wants a snooty lunch with me can always meet me there.

While we were waiting for our table at Crustacean I saw a mob of tourists outside of Sprinkles with their cameras trained on an SLS convertible and a silver haired man. So I looked at Mr. G and I’m like, “Isn’t that your dad’s car?” And he’s like, “Oh my god they think he’s a celebrity.” And we watched the Senior Mr. G wave to his fans while he grabbed a cupcake. Alexander’s eyes were like saucers, I’m still not sure if he thinks his grandfather is a genius or if every tourist in Beverly Hills is a little bit stupid. I suspect the latter.

Never underestimate the power of good hair and a snazzy car.

During the week I’d been sort of limping through three books, flipping from one to the other. One was a bust so I won’t even mention it, but the other two were perfect reads for me. There was Afterbirth: Stories You Won’t Read in a Parenting Magazine. Well, the tagline is 100% honest… I’ve never read about a bloody jockstrap in a parenting magazine but they stories are all magazine length. Most are 4 pages long and easily digested. It’s a good summertime book to leave in your purse, enjoy a story… take a nap… read another… have lunch…obviously I’m living in a fantasy world.

The absolute perfect kids are at camp book has got to be Getaway Mom. I don’t want to ruin the whole story because it unfolds so nicely but in Getaway Mom a Long Island mom trades places with her unattached LA sister for part of a summer. It’s fun, readable and uncomfortable all at once which is the trifecta of a good novel. I wish that some of the dialogue rolled off the tongue a little better but the story was so good, it captured the LA conundrum so perfectly that I happily forgave one too many I will‘s and in my head substituted them for I’ll because I’ve decided that is how these characters should speak. It looks to be a 99 cent kindle purchase right now which is a great buy but can’t rival my penny dress. 

DVF dress for a penny

The time before last when I popped into Bloomingdales I found a great black and white DVF wrap dress that I thought was 40% off. I was understandably excited to get the dress for under $200 and over the moon when the cashier asked me for a penny. It’s now my favorite dress and I think I’ve worn it twice in June.

I made my way to the mall again while the kids were gone. Since I’d been the beneficiary of a $364.99 sale I had cash to burn and managed to snag a Tory Burch sundress that wasn’t covered in T’s along with a matching cardigan that was. I’m torn because I love the pale pink but I want to bring to a close the days of wearing someone else’s initials on any part of me.

The week. It was well spent in every way.


School is Out For Summer (in an hour and a half)


This morning the students (well the Kinder through 7th grade) had their final chapel of the year. It’s the moving up chapel and traditionally it’s sweet but long and dull. Well, maybe it’s not long and dull for other people but for me it’s a little tough to sit still in the mornings so anything more than three and a half minutes is tedious and not at all interesting.

Unless two new teachers decide to do a rap. Not just any rap but a full fledged three minute rap about the kids and the school complete with dancing, the robot and a little pop and lock. It was awesomely awesome (I is a writer).

Each grade ceremoniously moved from one set of pews to the other. My daughter is now sitting in the 8th grade section and my son is in the 6th. I find my personal pendulum swinging between boredom and snively sentimentalism. I’ve both loved and loathed that school, and the past two years have been fabulous. I’m happy we stuck with it past the loathing years.

Tomorrow morning my eyes will open slowly with no alarm clocks and nowhere to be. My kids will be with me (mostly) and that’s the way I like things around here.

Also, I know it’s summer time because I just put on a light brown belt and my stomach and the belt leather are the same color. Someone send a vat of sunscreen quick.


School. Must. Start. Soon.


Enough with this family time. We’ve had two weeks of no school, no camp, no alarm clocks and no schedule whatsoever. Jane, Alexander, I love you, but it’s time for you to go to school.

It’s not what you’d expect either. I’m not feeling suffocated. I’m not craving adult company. The house isn’t a mess and I don’t care that I can’t listen to Howard 100 when you’re in the car. I adore your company.

Kids, when you’re home I get fat.

This is unacceptable.
You see, kids, Mommy pretends like she’s not shallow and that it’s what on the inside that matters. I think we all know better. Mommy likes to work out. A lot. It’s not because Mommy loves the endolphin rush, it’s because Mommy likes to eat. Mommy loves brie and white truffle olive oil. Mommy loves ice cream and not that fakey fro-yo that people try to pass off as a good substitute. Mommy also knows that ice cream tastes best in your nightgown whilst watching TV. Mommy takes food seriously, and Mommy can fry a chicken that will make you propose (it
totally worked on Daddy). But kids, we have problems.

When you’re home from school and camp and whatnot Mommy cooks and eats with you and then I sit and watch you play. I light up watching you play tag or basketball. My heart soars when you make forts in the backyard. Sadly, during these blissful moments I’m still, so sedentary that sometimes I doze off in the August heat. The naps are glorious, don’t get me wrong. To be perfectly honest, there’s just too much Mommy
to love right now. So, it’s time for everyone to get on a schedule.

It’s time for you to get back to school and for mommy to waddle get back to the gym. Your summertime jaunts for ice cream and the four PM cocktail hour have turned me into an apple.

It’s not that I don’t adore the family time. Really kids, but you’re getting the boot before I need boot camp.