Day 31: What NaBloPoMo Has Taught Me

Well, this is it. I feel like I've just schlepped the last box to the car and returned to gather up the pizza boxes, vacuum into the corners, and then stand wanly in the foyer, surveying the empty shell of my past before I close the door forever.

Wow. If that sentence doesn't suggest a gift for melodrama, I don't know what would.

But this is not forever, Readers. It's just that today is...

THE LAST DAY OF MARCH NABLOPOMO!

This is my 31st post in 31 days. I set out to do it, and by gum, I did.

I laughed pretty hard when I read Cheri's emphatic refusal to start all over in April ("Will I do April NaBloPoMo? Not on your life.") even though it's oh-so-tempting because the April theme is "Letters," and I am and always will be an epistolary kind of girl. Who knows, maybe I'll be inspired to do a letter post once or twice. But I am looking forward to a little break. Many days I write feverishly through Jarrah's nap time, desperate to finish before she wakes up because there is no concentrating after that. I miss the good ol' days of knitting and watching Gossip Girl during nap time, not to mention surfing the internet for porn.

I want to take a moment to thank, from the bottom of my heart, my loyal readers and commenters this month. You have no idea how often you made my day. Cheri is so right when she says all bloggers are "comment 'hos." There's nothing like a little validation that someone is out there, receiving these transmissions.

A special shout-out to Cheri, who has inspired me every day of this month. I shamelessly stole from her, laughed with her, shed a tear at times over her warm and moving posts. Most of all, she kept me going, not only with the daily posting, but with the list theme, even when I worried I couldn't enumerate one more item.

Today I am beginning a new adventure. This evening, I'm starting an acting workshop that will culminate with a series of performances in June. No doubt that will bring fresh material for the blog. And now:

WHAT I'VE LEARNED ABOUT BLOGGING (AND MYSELF) THIS MONTH:

1. The more I ruminated about a "concept," the longer the post became. A few times, I was shocked to see how long. (Brevity may be the soul of wit, but if Polonius was a rambler, at least he got laughs--I'll take my comfort there.)

2. Short posts get more comments. Short posts about Jarrah get the most comments of all.

3. Blogging as part of a contest is a great way to get to know people. I've been introduced to some fab blogs (and their owners) along the way. Tonight, I'm even (sadly) missing a get-together of San Diego bloggers.

4. It's possible to turn anything into a list. It's all in the formatting.

5. I often think in lists now. "How many reasons can I name for getting the Mint Chip? How many reasons for the Rocky Road?"

6. Writing every day is good exercise. For the brain. I haven't been forgetting stuff as much this month. I feel like my vocabulary is sharper (it had taken a serious plunge in the last couple of years.) And I have to think on my toes when I need a fresh idea every day. (Why oh why didn't I ask you smart people for suggestions sooner?)

7. Adrienne Rich was right. Mothers who write seriously are fighting the good fight. (I read "When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re-vision" when I was in college, and had no clue what she was talking about. It's dated, but it still resonates.)

8. My life seems more interesting when I read about it in the blog.

9. When I write every day, I can dispense with telling a lot of people what's up with me, and get right to what's up with them. (Hey, "Samantha" does mean "The Listener" in Aramaic.)

10. I had yet another opportunity to learn how much my husband loves me, from his tireless efforts to take, tweak, and post my photos, HTML pointers, and Jarrah-wrangling so I could "just finish this sentence, puh-leez!"

11. I'm paying more attention to everything Jarrah says--after all, she's easy material.

12. I really enjoy writing. It makes me happy. I could do it for a living. (Maybe that's what I wanted to be when I grew up!)

Day 30: List about Lists

I think tomorrow I will reflect grandiosely on the profound experience of blogging lists for 31 days, so today I will reflect on lists in general.

I have started many lists that did not get finished this month. And I have contemplated many lists I couldn't even begin.

For instance, while I love Jennifer's idea of "Guilty Pleasures," I got as far as:

1. Reading trashy mags with no redeeming social value.

Then I realized I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. I'm not sure I have guilty pleasures. Guilt, yes, I've got by the truckload. But not with pleasure attached.

I also love Mary's idea "Things I Wouldn't Be Caught Dead Doing."

1. Going to Chuck E. Cheese.

Oops, already did that. Like a dozen times. So clearly when I'm caught dead I will be in the middle of most of the things I swore I'd never do.

I also love Joan's idea of "Cultural Misunderstandings Between Myself and My Australian Husband." But while I can vaguely remember...

1. Being confused when he said some computer software was "stuffed" (translation: broken)
2. Not knowing what he was talking about when he said "alu-MIN-yum"
3. Smiling every time he calls (to this day) ketchup "sauce"

...it's been a long time since I've had a jarring cultural misunderstanding with him (or maybe just a long time since I've been able to remember one.) After 10 years together, he's more American and I'm more Australian (and we're both more Chinese.)

Miss J suggested Sei Shonagon, and though my rainy Sunday morning brain couldn't get a list out of it, I did have a fascinating hour reading translations from the The Pillow Book. Thanks, Miss J! And in breaking news, here's "What's Under Our Couch Cushions:"

1 cheddar bunny
1 knitting needle point protector
1 hair-covered sticker featuring Yi Yi from Ni Hao, Kai Lan

Not bad for two couches, huh?

Cheri and Jenn, I am going to save "What I Love About David and Jarrah" for my long, bloviated posts--don't want to strip the mines just yet!

Caroline, I got started on "The Second Shelf of My Pantry," then scared myself by how fascinating I found it. "By gum, it's an ethnographic wonderland! Why DO I have two unopened bottles of Sweet Chili Sauce? Some unrealized yearning from childhood?"

In no particular order, here are some other lists that never got off the ground.

"Classic Movie Lines"

1. "Yo, wastoid! You can't blaze up in here!"

(E.C. if you can guess this one. I had it mounted above my desk when I worked in a law firm one summer. All the lawyers walked by and read it aloud, pronouncing it "WAHS-toid." I decided that lawyers have a vowel problem.)

And that was all I could remember.

"What I Thought I'd Be When I Grew Up"

1. A waitress at Coco's. (I really liked the faux-Bavarian dirndl frocks they wore.)
2. A secretary (according to my mom, because "all they do all day is paint their nails.")
3. An artist (I wasn't picky about what kind.)
4. A psychiatrist (because my dad said I could get paid for chatting with people.)

Then I got depressed.

And the ever-popular "7 Random Facts About Me:"

1. My first major in college was Religion. It lasted a semester.
2. My Hebrew name is Etta.

Then I realized that this whole blog is random facts about me, and there are precious few left that I haven't milked in the extreme. I couldn't even think of five more that you didn't already know.

Thank you, Dear Readers!

Day 29: Some of My Favorite Places

Today's list comes courtesy of Jennifer, who gave me the idea. Thanks, Jennifer! I love all the other ideas, too, and will find a way to fit them in!

It was really hard to choose from the many, many glorious trips I've been lucky enough to take so far. So I decided to pick places that I fantasize about returning to.

The Oaks at Ojai - Ojai, CA

No designer track suits, no fake boobs, no cell phones. From the second you shed your bag and clothing in your "cottage" at this spa (which is no flashier than a Motel 6) you feel your blood pressure starting to drop. You put on your suit and slip into the big rectangular pool that forms the centerpiece of the Spanish-hacienda-style property, ease onto a body raft, and let the desert sun warm your bones. Then you lounge poolside with glass after glass of frosty water (there are carafes everywhere), reading magazines and dozing until it's time for Veggie Break or Fruit Smoothie break. Soon after, your digestion is better than it's been in years. For fun and virtue, you also have your little schedule, handily provided at check-in, so you know when it's time for Broadway Musical Dance class, or Relaxation Yoga, or Aquafit (which involves some very special pool noodles) and when it's time for the fabulous meals, served family style so you whoop it up with interesting women, and totaling not more than 1,000 calories a day even though you are somehow stuffed to the gills with their clever combinations of fresh veggies, fruits and whole grains (even sublime desserts like banana splits and apple turnovers.) In the evening, you can attend one of the hilariously-themed (I don't think that's intentional) "programs" such as "Bra Fitting Techniques" or "Appetizers For Your Next Cocktail Party" or "Cruise Jewelry Shopping." Or you can glide from dinner table to massage table and finish out the evening being rubbed in aromatic oil and pummeled with hot stones. It's your choice, darling. By the time you're done, all the gals will be gathered around watching today's movie with their carefully portioned bags of popcorn. But maybe a late-night dip in the jacuzzi sounds more alluring: after all, it's still 90 degrees outside. In the morning--if you don't sleep in--you'll be able to hike into the glorious Ojai foothills at sunrise, and follow it up with fresh-baked muffins.

Galiano Island - The Gulf Islands, British Columbia

David and I went here as part of a trip to Vancouver and Victoria. We loved it all, but Galiano Island was its own slice of heaven. The Galiano Inn is about 10 steps from where the BC Ferry disembarks, and our balcony overlooked the ocean. Dinner at the Inn featured all local produce and wines. We took a boat tour and were surrounded by orcas and verdant green islands. Then a hike in the light rain under a canopy of trees, with no sound but the scratching of small waves over the pebble beach, as a seal watched us from just off shore. My favorite part was walking around the island, picking wild blackberries, and standing on a rocky point where we could see a couple getting married by the lighthouse. At night we lit the fireplace in our room and drifted off to the sound of its crackling and a CD of a local harpist.

Read and see more about our Galiano Island trip on www.samanddavid.com.

Rottnest Island - Perth, Australia

As the Australian branch of my family knows, I was smitten with every place I went in that country. But the day on Rottnest was truly magical. We took a one-hour ferry ride from downtown Perth to a place only locals go, an island populated with the world's only quokkas--a marsupial like a tiny kangaroo (or a giant, soft-eyed rat--hence the island's name.) They are everywhere, and practically tame--I even fed one. The water is baby blue, the sand like sugar, and the snorkeling pristine. The whole island is fully traversable by bike, and it should be--no cars are allowed. I can still feel the wind in my hair as I sailed down a hill in the late afternoon with absolutely nothing in sight but David and the ocean. And I can't forget the sumptuous warmth of a ridiculously simple but divine creation: the baked bean pasty (like a turnover, with beans and cheese inside) from the Rottnest Bakery, which I sampled directly after emerging from the cold, fishy blue. As evening fell, I watched the folks who were there for a week traipsing from the local grocery back to their cottages, bare feet sandy and wine in hand, and wished feverishly I could stay there forever.

See more Rottnest photos on www.samanddavid.com.

Costanoa - near Santa Cruz, CA

I read about it in Vanity Fair, I think. I liked that it was described as "camping for people who would never consider camping." That would be me. Call me high maintenance, but I like my vacations with plumbing. Costanoa is a "campsite" on a wild stretch of Hwy. 1 that does not permit commercial development, so there's nothing else for miles except driftwood-covered beaches and redwood forests. Each "tent" features windows with screens, a platform bed with heated mattress, down comforter and a mosquito canopy. Plushy robes and a basket of spa goodies await your trip to the "comfort station," which has outdoor showers and spotless bathrooms with heated floors for those late-night treks under blazing stars. In the morning, you stumble out of your "tent" and walk 100 yards to the "general store," where a hot breakfast and superb coffee await you--all included. And if this is too much roughing it, you can stay in the "lodge," with your own bathroom and a private hot tub. During the day, we strolled the empty beaches and hiked through the silent woods--gawking at giant banana slugs--and at night we admired the stars from our Adironack chairs while sipping local wine from the general store.

Day 28: Embarrassing Moments

So, I'm doing this 60 Day Challenge from the blog Ask Moxie, and every day I send a report to some friends who are doing it, too. Fascinating stuff like "I did cardio and weights today" and "I drank some water, but wish I drank more" and lots of other scintillating details. A couple weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a stranger: "Re: Tuesday: 'Hi, I don't know you. I think I got this by accident. But I certainly admire your commitment!'"

Oof. That was pleasant. At least my e-mail was simply boring, rather than rife with scandal.

But it put me in mind of several times in my life when I've been mortified. So, instead of sharing my workout habits with one stranger, I'll now share some of my most embarrassing moments with the internet. Next, I'll pour Bosco and baked beans on my naked torso on stage and call it performance art.

1. When I was a grad student at UMass Amherst, I interviewed to teach in the writing program: twice. Both times I was rejected without explanation. I screwed up my courage and showed up unannounced at the director's office, with the mature intention of asking for specific advice on how to improve my chances. Instead, I opened my mouth to say "I'm here to talk to you about a teaching job..." and then burst into hysterical, hiccuping sobs. I cried for about 15 minutes while she tried to comfort me (looking like she'd rather be cleaning up vomit) and never really got a coherent word out. I went away thinking, "Well, I can kiss that job goodbye." One week later, she called me herself to say a position had "suddenly opened up." The rest is history. Unfortunately, I may have imbibed a message that all things in life are there for the crying.

2. I decided to ask this guy in one of my classes on a date. I wrote him a note. He wrote back, saying yes. I wrote another note with my phone number. He wrote a note with his phone number. I called. He wasn't in, and never called back. I finally accosted him in the hallway, asking when he wanted to go out. He wouldn't look at me, and kept rocking on his heels, saying "How about during the day sometime?" I was a bit daft, even when I said "We could talk on the phone" and he said, "Oh, that's probably not a good idea." We made a vague plan for the following Friday and I left, perplexed. To cheer myself up, I drove to the mall, intending to see a movie and eat junk food. I stopped at a pay phone, where apparently someone stole my wallet. I thought maybe I'd dropped it, so I ran around the mall, searching crazily. I ran outside to check my car; it had started hailing. I ran back in, looking like a wet dog, tripping over my unlaced boots, bangs plastered to my face, starving and movie-less. As the automatic doors opened, I ran SMACK into Cagey Guy...with his arm around a dry and attractive woman, just like in a bad romantic comedy. I looked up, we made eye contact, I looked away and ran. I never found my wallet or got any food that night, and I never saw Cagey Guy again.

3. I had a bad break up. I got a therapist. At my first appointment, I tried to explain to her that I just didn't feel like myself these days. She nodded and wrote stuff down, looking like she agreed that I might be crazy. I left, feeling somewhat unburdened, and walked to my car in the warm sun. Things would get better. I stretched, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something odd. I looked down at my shirt. It was buttoned wrong. Not just a little wrong. I mean, so wrong that bits of my belly were showing.

4. I was in college, and called Jill, an old friend from high school, to see what she was doing. "Guess what! I'm with Jason right now!" she said. Jason was our BFF from senior year--we used to hang out with him every weekend. He was tall, blond, gorgeous and a total sweetheart. My mom used to say, "What's wrong with that boy?" "What do you mean, Mom? He's perfect." I said. "Right. I can see that. But he spends all his time with two pretty girls and doesn't want to date you. I think he's gay." When she said that, I was speechless. I couldn't understand how A+B=C in her mind. I told Jill about my mom's crazy theory and made her swear not to tell Jason.

Now, years later, Jason was as adorable as ever. "So," he said right away, "Jill tells me your mom thought I was gay." I had been bending down to adjust my shoe and froze in horror. I looked up slowly. He was smiling. "Anyway, your mom is a genius! She knew before I did. How did she do that?" I just stared at him like a deer in headlights. Then he started telling us about his boyfriend.

5. I was on my way to teach Nia when I suddenly turned my car around, realizing I hadn't packed a clean outfit for afterwards. I was meeting friends for dinner later, and knew I'd want to shower. I showed up late, frazzled and out of breath. I'm never late. I dashed in the room to find my boss with a clip board, waiting to evaluate me, a stealth attack. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" I gushed to everyone. "I wouldn't have been late, but I forgot my underwear!" There was a short silence. My boss furrowed her brow.

"I wouldn't have needed it, except I'm going out afterwards!" I yelped. "I mean, of course I wear underwear when I TEACH." The whole class cracked up, and I could not get my mouth to form any more words. My boss made a lot of notes, and I was close to passing out for the next 30 minutes until she left.

**********

Dear Readers: Please help! Give me some ideas for lists you'd like to hear. The well is running dry.

Day 27: "Have a Nice Day" List

Some days I'm a bit haggard after getting up early and hangin' with a three-year-old. Today has not been one of those days. Get back to me tomorrow, however--so far she has been resistant to napping.

1. Got up at 7:00. For once, did not feel like warmed-over hell. Must have slept good.

2. Jarrah was being kind of cute. And we were able to do a lot of tidying (aka, throwing stuff into closets) in anticipation of it being "Irma day" and book club tonight.

3. I showered, dressed and performed all my ablutions in blissful solitude. Dora must have been especially riveting today.

4. Mary called. So nice to hear her voice. Hi, Mary!

5. Jessica, Yea-Yea and Irma arrived all at once. And off we went, to return to a sparkling house. Woohoo!

6. Played at Toby Wells park. Relaxed in the sun. A lady and her little girl (looked about nine) murmured "Look how cute that little girl is!" MY little girl.

7. Checked the girls into KidsPlace. They never looked back. (In fact, they were both highly annoyed when we came to claim them.)

8. Yoga class, relocated to the basketball court while they resurface the studio. Huge room, lots of space and light. Challenging class, but still felt nice and noodly at the end.

9. Time for lunch! Headed down the street to Fusion for Korean BBQ and slushies. Mmmm, slushies. Mine was strawberry-vanilla. Jarrah got green apple with about 100 boba balls in the bottom. Everyone feasted.

10. Stopped at Daisao Japanese market, which is kind of like a dollar store where NOTHING is crap. I wanted everything, from the tiny fruit-shaped erasers to the stationery that read: "Happy Happy Fruit" and "Doggie and Chick felt in love with this room at first sight" and "Lovely Duck: I feel more refreshed than anyone."

11. Home for nap. Jessica was a peach and dashed to the store because I forgot to buy some things for tonight, and Jarrah was no longer manageable due to tiredness. Thanks, Jessica!

12. I'm hosting book club tonight. I don't think I've hosted in a year. We probably won't talk about the book, but we'll have lots of time to dish, and I'm excited to present my three book choices. (Whoever hosts gets to pick.) They are: The Post-Birthday World (Lionel Shriver), My Horizontal Life (Chelsea Handler) and Then We Came to the End (Joshua Ferris.) I'll get back to you on the winner.

And guess what, Readers? I think Jarrah is finally asleep. Off to cook. We're having penne ala vodka, sweet corn vegetable salad, marinated green beans, bread with "special" cheese (that's what Jarrah calls it--it's cheddar with pieces of apricot and fig inside) and brownies.

P.S. Book club was fun. They ate all the food, which makes me happy. And we chose The Post-Birthday World, which I really wanted.

Day 26: Songs That Make Me All Verklempt

Brenda Russell - "Piano in the Dark"

Russell’s voice is as heavy as velvet curtains from the very first note, and I can actually picture this fractured couple, wishing they could love each other again. “I cry just a little, when I think of lettin’ go…” Who hasn’t been there? And the fact that she can hear him playing the piano without really seeing him just gets to me.

Tom Petty - "Learning to Fly"

I wrote about this one when I first started the blog, on the eve of becoming a parent after a five-year quest. “Well, the good ol’ days/May not return/And the rocks might melt/And the sea may burn.” There’s a quiet acceptance for whatever the future brings, yet a sense of agency to the struggle: he’s going to learn to fly, it just won’t be easy.

Janet Jackson - "Control"

I believe Miss Janet and I were both having a coming-of-age moment when she released this song, and I still get a thrill of possibility when I hear her snarl “I’m in control/And I love it.” Yeah, baby. I love it, too.

The Beatles - "In My Life"

I put this in the dinner mix for our wedding reception. But even when I was 13, I felt the gravity of the sentiment: “Though I know I'll never lose affection/For people and things that went before/I know I'll often stop and think about them/In my life I love you more.” Nothing like aging a bit to really bring this one home.

Cat Stevens - "Two Fine People"

The instrumentals are so buoyant, it’s like the proclamation of love can’t be contained. It’s not a subtle song, but the ending is so simple and perfect: “Two fine people should love each other/Two fine people should help each other.” It just makes sense—a great message of hope.

Bonnie Raitt - "Nick of Time"

Beautiful and wistful, yet sung so intimately it’s like she and I are having coffee and she’s confiding me. “I see my folks, they’re getting on/And I watch their bodies change/I know they see the same in me/And it makes us both feel strange.” Some of the most natural, yet relatable, lyrics ever. The other verses work just as well.

Rent - "Seasons of Love”

I saw the movie Rent, and hated it. I never saw it on stage. Maybe I would have liked it better. The first time I heard this song was during a slide show at a wedding. Corny, I know, but I was sobbing. It still gets me every time. It was my favorite moment in the movie, and all they were doing was standing in a line on the stage. “525,600 minutes/How do you measure/A year in the life?” The song helps me to be grateful.

Louis Armstrong - "What a Wonderful World"

My dad and I danced to this one at my wedding, so I’m kinda biased, and yes, I know it’s a bit of a cliché. I don’t care, because it’s so lovely when he sings, “I see babies cry/I watch them grow/They’ll learn much more/Than I’ll ever know.” I can’t adequately describe the quality of his voice—luckily, lots of other people have already done it. Let’s not even discuss the Kenny G version—it’s a shanda, as my people would say.

Van Morrison - "Cleaning Windows"

This one reminds me of the year after college, when I wasn’t doing much, but life still had low stakes, so it didn’t matter. I was working at an ad agency—making copies—and the rest of the time I was dancing, dining, drinking and falling in love with Boston. I loved how he conveys the simple pleasures, “paris buns and lemonade,” books and music. “I’m happy cleaning windows”—I believe it. “I’m a working man in my prime.” Something seemed noble about that—I embraced it.

Elton John - "A Word in Spanish"

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I think I understand the idea-- wanting to reach out and make someone understand exactly how you’re feeling, but not quite getting there. “And there's a word in Spanish I don't understand/But I heard it in a film one time spoken by the leading man/He said it with devotion, he sounded so sincere/And the words he spoke in Spanish brought the female lead to tears.” The melody is haunting—it makes me think of someone doing a melancholy dance around a dim room. Or maybe I’m just remembering me doing that when I first heard it.

Bruce Springsteen – “Tunnel of Love”

I’m especially touched by this one because I know that Bruce’s first marriage was cracking up when he wrote it, and he’d only been married a few months. Sometimes you mean well, but you make a mistake, so stand back: someone’s gonna get hurt. “Then the lights go out and it’s just the three of us/You, me and all that stuff we’re so scared of.” It’s got a powerful bass line, and what sounds like wailing in the background. No wonder—the song is about real pain.

Day 25: Dishing and Dancing

By the time you read this, two of them will be gone, forever banished to the land of Tom Bergeron's one-liners. But right now, before the first elimination, I can list all twelve hopefuls and break down their potential for you. Don't mention it--it's what I do.

In alphabetical order, the stars of Season Six of Dancing with the Stars:

Adam Carolla

Strangely, I was not familiar with this purported comedian, but I do like his self-deprecation in rehearsals with the fresh-as-the-flowers-of-Utah Julianne Hough (a two-time winner whom Adam has grimly informed will not be eligible for the "three-peat.") His fox trot had a Lurch-like quality (and he looks spookily like Jon Turturro) but I found his mambo rather fun. It was entertainment-dance of a higher caliber than Jerry Springer's, but in that same mode. He's going for it, I'll say that for him. He'll probably scoot by on his charm for a couple more weeks.

Cristian de la Fuente

I was like, WHO? But I did recognize him from the clip from Ugly Betty. I was surprised the judges were so ga-ga over his Cha Cha the first week. Yes, the man can move his hips, but I agreed with Bruno that his shoulders were distractingly Quasimodo. For some reason, I don't remember his Quick Step at all, but I know the judges are still digging him. I do think he's teachable (and doesn't seem like an idiot) so he'll probably stick around.

Shannon Elizabeth

Now she has been a big surprise. I love that she looks so genuinely thrilled to be there, and this week her Quick Step was a massive improvement over the Cha Cha. Even that benefited from her balls-out enthusiasm. For such a big, lanky gal, she's light on her feet, and works the audience. I told David that Jennie Garth from last season could learn a thing or two about how to manage her facial expressions from Shannon. A few more weeks like this (and unless she succumbs to "The Model Curse," I think she'll stay) and I'll be able to completely forget her crazy balloon-like boobies from American Pie.

Steve Guttenberg

The last time I saw "the Gute," as they call him, he was scaring the hell out of me with his frozen clown face on Veronica Mars. Now, his face seems to have thawed, and he's kind of--dare I say?--adorable. I don't think his dancing is as bad as the judges imply. He's fairly light on his feet, and performs up a storm. He also seems like an audience favorite, so I'm sure we'll be seeing more of him.

Mario

I don't know who this guy is, but he's cute, he's game, and he's got Karina. If she could propel Billy Cyrus to the finals, she can do anything. And he's competitive--you can tell. He got his hips moving a bit in the Cha Cha, and then he flew around the floor in the Quick Step to the point where I couldn't tell if it was good or just fast. (Also, I was distracted by his caveman tuxedo.) I think Carrie Ann is in love with him, or just wants to get Mario-ized.

Marlee Matlin

I read in the paper that she was good, so it wasn't as much of a shock to see HOW good. Wow. She might be deaf, but she's musical, and an Oscar winner. She performs the hell out of those dances. It's intriguing me that her partner, Fabian Sanchez, is the only non-vet of the professionals. Were some pros skittish about working with her? I also love her wry sense of humor, like when she put her hand over the mike that Samantha Harris keeps dopily shoving in her face. And my favorite quote ever is when she explained that the fans have been great, if a little confused, like the one who asked her "Will you still be deaf at the end of the show?"

Penn Jillette

He of the monster feet makes me feel a bit bad for Kym Johnson. She always seems to pull the short straw and get matched with a good ol' boy who can't really dance but wants to show everyone how much FUN he's having. It actually IS kind of fun to watch them dance together, especially when he scoops her up in his meaty paws and her feet actually leave the ground. But I don't find all his "humorous" interruptions of the judges and Samantha very amusing. He's kind of strident, and it makes me tense. I think he'll be the one to go this week. Either him or Adam.

Priscilla Presley

About three seconds into her fox trot on the first night and I was totally smitten. Last night's mambo only clinched it: I have a crush on the 60-something former child bride of Elvis. And I admit this AFTER having announced to David (before I saw her dance, mind you) that her waxy visage and painted-on mouth reminded me of The Joker. What can I say? Cupid is a mad scientist. It's not just her dancing (although that is spectacularly sultry)--it's also her languid modesty. She's the one to watch.

Monica Seles

Aw, sweetie. I'm sure you're an excellent tennis player. And there's something about the worried furrow of your brow that makes me feel protective of you. But the second you start dancing, just the look on your face makes me almost spew my Dr. Pepper. Then you add your thrusting arms and the bounce that makes it look like it's your serve, and I totally lose it. I know you're working hard--no one doubts your commitment. But a merciful God likes to spread the wealth around, I guess. I'd start saying my goodbyes, if I were you.

Jason Taylor

I don't watch football, so as far I'm concerned, this guy could be a florist. And I was surprised to find him strangely alluring--his soft puppy eyes, his southern drawl, the delicate extension of his fingertips. The guy can dance, and isn't afraid to get a little sissified in the name of ballroom. I think he's better than what's-his-name, the football player who won the whole thing a few seasons ago.

Marissa Jaret Winokur

Man, that name is a mouthful. But she is cuter than cute. They could use her face as a generator in the next NYC blackout. I'm rooting for her. And I couldn't stand it when Carrie Ann changed her tune half-way through her review last night to say she was disappointed. The quivering lip, the eyes abruptly averted. I think the judges are being a bit tough on her. She makes dancing look fun. And Tony Dovolani is my new hero for that sweet pep talk he gave her. I believe him. I'll bet she is a blast to work with.

Kristi Yamaguchi

I'm one of those girls who grew up thinking ice skaters are gods descended to walk among us, so I did have high expectations for my girl Kristi. Then she raised the bar to the heavens with her two performances thus far. In her face, I recognize the stamina and determination of Apolo Anton Ono--you don't get Olympic gold by trying kinda-sorta. But Kristi has an edge that Apolo didn't, and that's that her sport actually required her to be graceful. Don't think I'm comparing dancing to skating--they require a completely different musculature, for one thing--but they do share the "light as a fairy princess" illusion while, like the duck, you have to be paddling furiously underneath. I told David that Kristi is risking it all each time she gets on the floor, and why not? "Unlike on the ice, she can put it all out there, hold nothing back, and there's still very little chance of her landing on her ass." She's the one to beat.

Day 24: Because She Makes It Too Easy

On seeing me wiggling my hips while mopping yesterday:

"This music not for dancing, Mommy--only for cleaning."


On discovering that although centrifugal force was plastering her to my armpit on the Himalaya Deathdrop at the indoor amusement park, from an analytical perspective, it was kinda fun:

"I thought I didn't like rollercoaster, but I DO like rollercoaster!


On being offered a single representative of her Easter loot, and finding it lacking:

"Can I have ALL jelly beans now?"


On seeing her mommy in a white nightgown (beneath a very cranky face) late at night when she should have been sleeping:

"You look a beauty!"


On the taste sensation that is carne asada tacos:

"It has cheese on it, and crapcake."


On the necessary preparations for going to the park:

"I'm ready!" (naked as a jay bird, except for flip-flops and a ladybug backpack)


Coda: Today after preschool, Jarrah's teacher Janet beckoned me over to tell me that Jarrah had been getting loud with her friend Alex during lunchtime. When Janet came over to investigate, she asked "What's going on here?"

Jarrah: "We're just having a bit of a chat."

Janet told me she had to turn around quickly so the girls didn't see her laughing.

Day 23: Spring Shout-Out to Some of Our Peeps

I got a package from my Secret Blog Pal! And she is a Mistress of Stitchery, as you can see from the Phabulous Photos of Jarrah and I in our MATCHING MONOGRAMMED APRONS! And my SBP couldn't have known that Jarrah and I just had our first successful Joint Baking Venture a couple of days ago--we made banana muffins, and I swear all I had to do was put them in the oven! In future, we will be baking together in Matchy Style. As icing on the polka-dotted cake, she also included a monogrammed back pack for Miss J--all the better to haul her Beanie Babies wherever she goes! Many thanks, SBP!

Today we had an egg hunt and yummy brunch in Jessica's backyard. I know what you're thinking: what's a nice Jewish girl like me doing celebrating Easter? I'll tell you what I'm doing: eating the first leavened brunch foods on this particular holiday in my entire adult life. (Passover is late this year.) And mighty fine leavened foods they were, too. But never fear--the bacon was turkey. Many thanks to Jessica and her family for a perfectly lovely event.

The theme of today's list: Sweet, Adorable and Yummy Things:



This is our first official iris of spring.


Jarrah modeling her adorable SBP gear.


Jarrah and Mommy gettin' a little jiggy with oven mitts.



Adding a little of that ol' razzle-dazzle.

Olivia showing Jarrah her Easter basket--I am very excited about the pink Gerber daisies, the pink Peeps, and the seeds. Jarrah was all about the chocolate. Check out her hand-smocked Australian gown, a gift two years ago from Nana and Granddad. It finally fits!

And the hunt is on!


Getting the hang of this egg thing. At one point, Jarrah discovered a chewed doggie tennis ball and was about to stuff that in her basket along with the eggs.


Can you resist these pink chicks? I can't. And doesn't my husband take a nice photograph?

Some of the fabulous booty.

A full basket means a successful hunt.

Hunting eggs is tiring--time for some Belgian waffles with fresh fruit compote. (Jessica is an incredible cook!)

A big hug after a refreshing dip in the kiddie pool.

Awwww. I can't stand it.

Day 22: Seven o'Clock Train to Georgia

Last night I had dinner with friends at Pomegranate, a Russian-Georgian (their modifier, not mine) restaurant on El Cajon Blvd. It's a small place, and I would have driven right by had I not spotted "PECTOPAH" in the window. I visited Russia in my youth, and the Russian word for "restaurant" is one of the few I mastered.

Inside, it was cramped and cozy, and the servers struck matches on the sides of furniture to light our table candles. It was dim, so I never really saw what I was eating, but it was all delicious. I couldn't really tell you what was in the food, since the menu descriptions ranged from saucy to poetic, but rarely mentioned actual ingredients. But who needs ingredients when it all tastes good?

We started with a vegetarian appetizer platter--six dishes we were instructed to eat "clock-wise" so as not to pound our palate to a pulp with the ever-increasing ratio of garlic to other ingredients. Mmmm, garlic. I'm not sure what any of these were called, but perhaps they were:

Ikra Badrijannaya: "The poor man's caviar. A vegetarian's dream of heaven when in hell." (Okay, I think I'm sensing some anti-Vegite sentiment.)

Georgian Eggplant Salat: "Try this dish once and your wife will never see you again...grumbling." (Now this one fascinates me. Your wife won't see you again because...you'll be invisible? Or because you'll smell bad? And who will be grumbling...you or your wife? There may be a dangling modifier alert here.)

Later (much later--the service was, shall we say, leisurely) there were various main courses. I had some kind of meatballs with pomegranate sauce. Two of my companions ordered:

Shashlik - "It is said that this dish saved the accord in 1944 in Yalta between Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt." (I guess those guys really dug kebabs. And these were particularly good.)

Another ordered a chicken stew--perhaps this one:

"A strong Russian tea or a bottle of Cabernet will put you in a pensive mood. 'How wonderful the world is!' Allow approximately 20 minutes for us to catch a chicken first." (They had plenty of time, since someone else was out spearing the shashlik.)

Full, but determined, we split three desserts, including a yellowish layer cake, a hot chocolate-y cake, and a baked apple stuffed with stewed fruits. I'm not doing these any justice, however. Here are the menu descriptions:

Babushka's Surprise - (That naughty Babushka--what is she hiding? I think maybe prunes and apricots and sultanas, inside her warm, appley bosom.)

Napoleon Torte - "Escape with this sinful retreat." (More cream, baby. Seven layers of it.)

Zhukov Torte - "Overwhelms the defenses of all your senses." (Those defenses were down, let me tell you.)

Toad Sweat Ice Cream - "Not for the faint of heart!" (Actually, we didn't order that one. Our hearts are faint.)

I only wish I had finished like this:

Turkish Coffee - "Our Turkish coffee is black as night, hot as love, sweet as sin, and powerful as damnation. The perfect way to end your evening meal."

Oooh. Does anyone have a cigarette?