Some say, "Where's the beef?"... I say, "Where's the color?!"

This past week my friend and I treated ourselves to lunch. Expensive lunch. At one of our favorite close-to-work-expensive-treat-ourselves-for-any-variety-of-bullshit-reasons restaurants where we both usually enjoy (read: salivate) over the $15 cheeseburger. On this particular day though, we went out on a limb and both ordered that which came with the highest recommendation, the stuffed baguette.

Twenty minutes later as lunch was placed in front of me, I bit back the urge to politely tip the plate off the edge of the table and launch into a shameless Pretty Woman monologue... "Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now!" Instead, I looked up at my friend, leaned over the offensive food substance and muttered out of the corner of my mouth, "this is the most monochromatic meal I've ever seen."

It was beige, stuffed into a hollowed out beige baguette, topped with beige and served with a side of fried beige. It looked about as appetizing as licking the beige sidewalk outside...and unfortunately, was just about as dry. Never before had I so deeply considered the rule of making sure your plate was full of color. Where in the world had the color gone? Where were the vegetables that were promised to also be stuffed into this damn baguette? What natural food is the color of office paint? Even a friggen potato has a brown skin when plucked from the earth!

I can see it now...Sunday morning...wads of bills stuffed into my handbag...losing my mind and savings at the farmer's market. Fast forward a week to find half of the purchases turning into new, mushy colors in my fridge, as clearly I was too busy dining out and therefore too busy to prepare vegetables at home!

That's reality though. And for now, I just want the lovely, hypercolor fantasy of juicy, jewel-toned foods...

Teen's kitchen is so ridiculously sterile & clean...I could've taken this shot in a labratory!

The lesson to be learned in all of this? Eat your vegetables - or I will.

Happy February 13th to You!

Happy Birthday, my longest-lasting friend!

When your hair cares enough to reach out & touch someone...

May you... continue to believe for the rest of your life that I am the very best at making music mixes... always have conversations over the phone with your dog in which you speak baby-talk (ha!)... love your hubby more and more with each passing Fargo day... and forever be my friend - if for no other reason than for me to be able to brag to passersby that I'm still friends with someone I met in kindergarten.

xoxo,
Me

P.S. Sorry for the lack o' birthday card... I'm hoping this will suffice. *Grin*

Because no mention of you this year would be complete without beautiful you in your beautiful white dress...

Friday joy at The Viceroy

One of the simple joys in life is meeting your best friend for an after-work drink on a Friday night. An icy cold beer, bar stools, dim lights and neon signs decorating the walls... yes, I am a fan of dive bars. Toss some writing on the walls and ceilings and I'm in love.

Yesterday, however, was pure LA sunshine with temperatures warm enough to kick spring fever into overdrive, so a confining dive just would not do. No, on a day like that the white leather chairs, cabanas and cocktails of The Viceroy were calling out to me and Teen long before we'd even left work. How could we possibly say no?

Laughing with Teen and sipping my refreshing $15 mojito, I felt my shoulders unclench and my breathing slow down. I love those moments where it suddenly hits me how lucky I am to be exactly where I am. Sometimes they're too few and far between all of the other moments where I'm wishing this or that was different somehow.

Who new that an overpriced cocktail and a trendy setting could bring one a slight moment of inner peace? I'll chock it up to what I know to be true: life is funny.

Oh brother!

I love having sibblings. I know that that seems obvious, but what I mean is that not only do I adore them for the women that they are, but I love that they have been with me for the entire span of all of my memories. I love knowing that no matter where any of us move to they will always be just a phone call away, because they are obligated by blood to talk to me.

Loving them so much makes me also love to watch Shelley's brood of three dumplings figure out that these other kids around them aren't just visitors. Or, as Charlie seems to be realizing here, "You mean this potato-looking kid is still here? Mommmm, why is he wearing my pajamas?! Oooh, this is fun being bigger than someone else!"

And of course, there is the burning of future revenge in Gavin's sweet little face and clenched baby fists. "Just wait... one day I won't be so small and you're gonna get it!"

I never would have survived brothers. As Shell and Teen can attest to, I was (and probably still am) a big wuss. Best of luck to these two!

Prague funnies

I was flipping through folders of pictures when I came across this one and laughed. Again. Every time Mom and I passed one of these posters in Prague I would crack up and the locals would look at me like I'd lost my mind and manners.

Oh, I just love it so!

Don't stand so close to me

Teen has always been...cool. She goes her own way, has her own style and is seemingly fearless.

Me? Not so much.

Case in point: we went out for a birthday party and drinks in Hollywood a few weekends ago. All dolled up in our snazzy duds and designer jeans, we had reached the point of the evening where you're contemplating sprinting the blocks back to the car if it means you can get out of those stilettos one minute sooner. But I was given another reason to contemplate running when a group of punk kids and one lonely-looking, middle-aged weirdo started following us a little too closely - close enough for me to realize that they were entertaining themselves by making horse noises at us under their breaths and then bursting into laughter at their own cleverness as our heels click-clacked on the sidewalk even more. I muttered my discovery quietly to Teen, who replied with, "Are you kidding me? What a bunch of bored losers!" At the intersection of Sunset and Vine, the punks went one way and Mr. Weirdo continued to follow...soon making the mistake of laughing when I stumbled in the middle of the intersection.

Teen whirled around so fast the guy almost walked right into the finger she was now pointing at his face. "What exactly do you find so hilarious about her stumbling in the street?! We're just minding our business! Who do you think you are?!" It went on from there... with me worrying that the light may change and we'd all still be standing there: Weirdo fumbling for the words he'd lost to shock, me reaching for my phone to call someone if needed and Teen looking like she was ready to rip a clump of his hair out and toss it to the wind just to show him she wasn't kidding. As he finally stammered that the hilarious part was that we were both wearing high heels Teen guffawed loudly, stuck her hand in his face to shoosh him and stated, "We're done here," before spinning around again with me trailing behind her and Weirdo purposely staying at a long, long distance back.

People can pick up on cool just as easily as they can detect that they may be about to get their ass kicked by a 5'7" spunky beauty. That's why I wasn't at all suprised when the paparazzi were so clearly tracking her down at the Brentwood Farmer's Market back in November while we shopped for Thanksgiving ingredients.

Wouldn't you know it though?... The one chance I've had at peripheral tabloid fame and Marcia Cross and her babies jump in the shot and totally block me!

Don't you hate it when Marcia does that?

Where to draw the line?

I officially have a work-wife. We've joked about it for months now as our projects have continuously intertwined, keeping us here till all hours of the night, forcing us to call each other even after we leave to talk about which vendor is sending proofs for approval to our personal emails at what time in the middle of the night. We eat together, text each other when stuck in morning traffic and basically spend more time with each other than we do with family. It's an uncommon relationship to have with a co-worker; lucky for me she's first and foremost one of my favorite friends. I've often wondered if it's because of our work situation...or in spite of it...that we continue to enjoy each other. Really though, I don't dwell on it too much because I'm usually too busy laughing at whatever it is that Stacy has just said.

A few weeks ago, close became on top of. Certain areas of the company are now under construction and as a result Stacy and I became refugees, relocated to a small conference room on the other side of the office for about 2 months.


I took this picture of Stacy and our...stuff...to show a friend of ours that we weren't exaggerating when we said we basically sat on top of each other. Upon closer inspection I realized that the sqaure foot of table we each have as a work space can quickly become a complete disaster. Also, we consume a ridiculous amount of beverages.

Today, the excessive number of cups, plus the fact that I'd lost my mind, resulted in Stacy asking, "Is this mine?" We'd recently come back from The Coffee Bean, she with a medium coffee, me with a small americano. With eyes glued to my monitor, my right hand had reached out and grabbed the wrong coffee, leaving my small cup on her side of the table. As I'd gulped down that sip of coffee, I had thought to myself that it tasted strangely different than the previous sips, but clearly I'm very busy and important...too busy and important to pause and wonder why exactly my tastebuds were telling me something was wrong.

Stacy: Is this mine?
Me: Whaaa?
Stacy: Huh?
Me: Oh, for crying out loud. I just drank your coffee! Sowrry!

Cups are exchanged and then Stacy removes the plastic lid and tosses it in the trash.

Stacy: It's not that I think you're yucky, I just don't want to take any chances with getting sick.
Me: I'm not at all offended. I drank your coffee because I'm a brainless imbecile right now, so you do what you gotta do.

Stacy giggles and seems to be inspecting for any cooties that may have jumped from lid to cup. I pretend not to notice and secretly wonder if it's because my lips feel particularly dry just then... Do they look as dry as they feel? Can she tell? And where's my bleep-bleep lip balm gone to?!

Me: No wonder it tasted funny...it had Splenda in it!...yuck!...and non-dairy creamer!...ugh!
Stacy: AND I have the tickle of a sore throat! Hahahaha! That'll really teach ya!

I guess this means that we're extremely close friends, but not to the point of sharing hot caffeinated beverages. Considering our current arrangement of sharing whatever is on our monitors, whatever is said during phone calls, every yawn and outburst of frustration, and that - horror of horrors - there is someone there to watch you as your mind goes blank and you stare at the wall...well, I'm ok that we appear to have drawn the line at beverage swapping. I really do hate Splenda and non-dairy creamer.

Hot, sweaty & out of breath

I've done it again. I've puffed up a bit too much...maybe a lot to much. Pants are too tight and my cheekbones and collarbones have disappeared under soft layers of lightly freckled skin. I don't look great and I don't feel great, so something's gotta give.

Yesterday I took the first step and signed up for yet another gym membership. Clearly the last gym didn't stick...or rather, I didn't stick to it. In my defense of pure avoidance of that hellhole though, I'll share that I was once the unfortunate witness to a rat running across the gym and the manager chasing after it with his bare hands. As if huffing and puffing in a place that smells like an old sock wasn't bad enough, now rodents were in on the act. The blonde wood, personal televisions and stadium-style bicycles for spinning give me hope that the new gym will be a pleasant enough atmosphere in which to constantly feel like I'm gasping for breath.

Today, I took the second step and actually waddled on in and got my bootie moving. Sweet heavens, I'm out of shape. If only I could put on some tight stretchy pants and a sports bra and look like a gazelle while quickly skimming the surface of the treadmill.

And maybe one day I will, but first it's going to take an awful lot of sweating while looking like my true self...which is a lot closer to Bridget Jones. (Trust me on that. I caught my own reflection today.)

I only share this here because publicly humiliating myself is a tactic for a better bod that I haven't yet tried. Success is the only option - I don't relish the idea of shopping for larger pants.

Rejuvinating a slightly stale life...

Rut (n.) A track worn by a wheel or by habitual passage of anything; a settled and monotonous routine that is hard to escape; lately...my life.

When the good intention of penny-pinching combines with the winter chill and rain, it turns into a lot of nights cooking dinner at home and watching movies. And that's not a bad thing, but the predictability of a repetitive routine is starting to wear me down - just a bit.

Really though, a little rut is nothing I can't soon find my way out of. And I won't complain about a legitimate reason to buy more sweaters, such as this "dark clementine" little number (also known as the item of clothing that has garnered the most compliments ever).Paired with some long trouser jeans, the boots and a cute little clutch, I was ready to comfortably indulge in plenty of free wine at The Viceroy.

While sweater purchases and a few extra minutes of sunshine each day are great, a girl needs needs a little more to indulge in...a little more to make a winter rut not only endurable, but almost enjoyable. At least, that's what this girl needs. Luckily, I've found a few such things...

1) Jo Malone's spicy Pomegranate Noir cologne - the perfect scent to accompany chilly winter days. Lately, I've been a purist wearing just this scent alone - as opposed to my usual routine of layering it with the French Lime Blossom for a fragrance I like to pretend is strictly my own. And for the record, I also highly recommend the White Jasmine & Mint, Grapefruit and Honeysuckle & Jasmine fragrances from Jo Malone. Right now though, it's all about the Pomegranate Noir.

2) As a chocolate devotee I've spent a lifetime shunning fruity candy, finding it to be totally pointless. But in the past few weeks, I've happily bit off the heads of what must be pounds of these tasty little Haribo bears. Not overly sweet or rubbery, those Hungarians prove that they know what they're doing when it comes to sweet treats.

3) Ahh, the joy of finding a sleeping mask that is not only adorable, but tres comfortable to boot. Who says you can't find something fabulous and inexpensive in Malibu?

4) I can't say enough about my deep love and awe of The Office. Season two on dvd is start to finish pure genius that I can watch over and over again - always laughing, always swooning over Jim's puppy-dog sweetness and always wishing that I was smart enough to write something that funny.

5) This summer I finally gritted my teeth and bought the highly recommended (and none too cheap) Dr. Hauschka face products...and fell head over heels in love. So when in Germany this September, I stocked up on the stuff while patting myself on the back for noticing that it was substantially cheaper in it's native land. Just for fun, Mom and I threw into the basket a couple of the Dr. Hauschka Lip Balm. I now know that in that little white jar, there is lip heaven. Silky and soft, it feels like smoothing satin over your lips. The fact that it leaves my pout looking soft, not shiny, is just a huge bonus. (Now, if only I could go back to Germany, rather than fork over $15 for it here.)

I hope you've also found plenty of ways to smile through the winter days.