I have fallen in love.   With a new to me band.  They are called Oceansize and I love them so much I want to have their collective British babies.  I would birth fat little sixteenth notes of passion and bright, swollen with so much angst and joy I would tickle them nonstop to keep the gorgeous noise coming.   Music has such different effects on people.  For me it's like a drawing salve.  Anything that's mushed or clamped down in me gets released when the right musical remedy is applied.  My favorite music, like this stuff, pulls my guts right up against my skin giving me goosebumps and making me feel my heart beat in my ears.   If it doesn't make me want to move or cry, it's not worth listening to.  This song does both, it's not for everyone but is does it for me.



If one is going to spend their life in a state with earthquakes, riots, knife wielding ex-football stars and the Bret Michaels, there must be some perks somewhere.  There is of course the great weather, (although, and trust me on this, 90 degree temperatures in October can start to get to a girl from mountain states who just wants to wear wool and boots already!), lots of good restaurants and the opportunity to go to small intimate events like the one I went to last night.  Recently I joined an organization called Women In Film.  They are all about mentoring, educating and supporting, women in ...film.  Page to Screen is a monthly program they host where a book that has been made into a movie is discussed.  You read the book, see the movie, and talk about it with someone involved in that creative process.  Last night Catherine Hardwicke, the director of Twilight, was the guest of honor.  Maybe Stephenie Meyer wasn't available because they were learning glass etching at Homemaking or was she was swamped with scrap booking her red carpet photos with thousand dollar bills.  Or maybe she just lives in Arizona.  In any case there were about thirty of us in a small room with our copies of Twilght, mine brand new from Costco looking pristine, and some others who had gone with their owners to the tub, the doctors office, math class, and little league practice; dog eared and obsessed over.  And Catherine Hardwicke.   She is the world record holder for the biggest box office weekend opening for a female director, ever.  She is interesting looking, kind of a punk rock cowgirl vibe, and has a voice like silk with a slight Texas twang.  She is extremely creative and I am sure a little coo coo.  Following are some tasty bits from her comments:

- She thought Stephenie was very cool and respectful of her job as a filmmaker.  Stephenie liked most of the changes Catherine made in the script that were different from the book.
- When Catherine would reference some movies to Stephenie in conversation, she hadn't seen them.  She doesn't watch rated R movies!  (I loved this, Catherine actually said "not allowed."  She's "not allowed" to watch R movies).
- The original script for Twilight the movie included Bella as a high school track star, FBI agents, an island and jet skiis.  Jet skiis?  Creative Execs....  Catherine put a stop to that madness and made them start over from scratch keeping truer to the real story (about real girls and real vampires).
- Paramount Pictures sold the script because they didn't think people would want to see girls & vampires, and it wouldn't make any money.  Ouch.
- Catherine was terrified about the "sparkle" scene where Edward reveals to Bella why he cannot be seen in the direct sun.  She was afraid it would look goofy and stupid.  Also FYI, making a boy sparkle like that, very expensive.
- Rob (if you know him, I guess you get to call him Rob) was really feeling the pressure of having to live up to Stephenie's incessant insistence that Edward is sooooo hooootttt, to die for.  It's hard to have to be that pretty ALL the time, right y'all?
-   Rob was invited to the final call backs with three other candidates and Kristen who had already been chosen.  There was no money in the budget, so Rob had to get himself there from England, on his own dime.  Catherine likes to do her casting sessions at her house, not at an office.  (That's a stalker story waiting to happen).  After all was said and done, Kristen insisted that it must be Rob, even though at the time he had bad dark bangs, bad teeth and a belly born in a pub.  There was chemistry.   Catherine agreed, and made him go into training straight away (and take a trip to the dentist).   I think that plane ticket paid off.

If you are truly a Twihard (and you know who you are), you may not be thrilled by these details, but there is something about hearing it straight from the horses mouth.  She went on for a couple of hours and I was never bored.  It's unbelievable how much thought goes into every little thing with some Directors.  You can see for yourself in Catherine's book Twilight:  Director's Notebook:  The Story of How We Made the Movie Based on the Novel by Stephenie Meyer.

If I had more energy I would go a little more into detail of the moderator who asked if the "topic of the sexual behaviour between Bella and Edward wasn't a little too naive, kind of brushed over, and not very typical of today's teen."  I thought, dude.  Let a twelve year old be a twelve year old and allow the rest of us the creative space in our own minds to recall the slow dizzy simmer of our own first seductions (however innocent they were) and how crazy and most probably stupid and clumsy they made us. 

At the end of the night I asked Catherine to sign the mini movie poster that came in my book and told her she had a Denver Colorado Mormon Friends of Twight The Movie contingent, considerably made up of my family members.   She smiled and said awesome, way to support our sister Stephenie.



and buying the same pair of striped trousers as a bunch of other frenzied & thrifty shoppers... 

Here are some hot online shopping tips from me to you:

This is the link for the Denver site (for my Colorado peeps, holla!) you can click on "visit more cities" to find other cities.  Here is the link for Los Angeles.  Anyway, this site harnesses the power of group purchasing.  Every day a new deal is posted from a local company offering a deeply discounted service.  Once enough people have committed to buying, the deal "tips" and it's on!  This is a great way to have a more affordable night out.  I was able to score $40 worth of food for $20 at a favorite yummy restaurant in my neighborhood.  I took a friend to lunch and picked up the tab.  A deal lovers dream fantasy, I got to look rich while actually being thrifty.  Nice.  Thanks Kristy for sharing this with me.  :   )

Rue La La
I can't believe I am even sharing this one, the more people join the more competitive it becomes...but here goes.  I am getting a little dizzy...  Rue La La is the destination for 2-day-only Boutiques, filled with the designers of all kinds of goods we love at private sale prices. It's free, fabulous, and invitation-only. Here's your invitation!  The boutiques range from designer bag makers, to clothes of all price ranges, jewelry, bedding, appliances, luggage and sometimes even spas and vacation destinations.  When they had their Lucky Brand sale earlier this year I snagged several of those puppies for $35 a pair, more than half off.  A girl has to take it where she can get it, those jeans actually fit the booty AND the waist.  Huzzah!  I can be found here every day at 8am when it opens.  Thanks Chelsey for sharing this with me.  :  )

This is a shopping portal that offers online coupons and rebates from a wide range of online retailers (1200 of them!).  They even have ebay.  Before I buy anything online I do a search here first to see if I can find a free shipping coupon or a 2% or more rebate from that vendor.  All you do is click through and start shopping as if you had gone directly to the site.  Every quarter they send my rebate in the form of  a "big fat check".  I have been a member since 2007 and been rebated over $86!  And it's free!!!  When we have to buy things for work and can get it online, we use my account and when the big fat check comes I buy a treat for the office.  Look rich - be thrifty!  Thanks Bonnie for sharing this with me.  :  )

I am sure the pattern here is obvious 1) I like to shop  2) I love the thrill of knowing I got a great deal on a great item and am maximizing my dollar  3) I am too lazy to drive all around LA in pursuit of the aforementioned  4)  My friends know me well and are of a similar ilk.  Birds of a feather...   If you have a site you love, help a sister out and leave the link in the comments.




If it's not exactly that then something has put her in a hyper moody tail spin this week.  But who can blame her, we are the most annoying children ever.  Constantly climbing all over her, spilling stuff all over the place, breaking all her favorite things, and leaving the fridge door open so everything in there goes bad and the freezer melts.  I'd be cranky too.  And I am.

This week the weather started like this:                                         and ended like this:

A 30 degree swing with record rains and blinding heat looks like rapid cycling manic depression to me.  Somewhere she's sitting on her bed alternating between BOO HOO HOO and HA HA HA!  I know this must be the case, because that's what it's doing to me.  Yesterday I teared up (ok, I cried a little) during the intro to Oprah where she was brokering peace between Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson.  How touching that she is able to bring these two testosterone saturated pummel champs together to make nice.  I mean he bit his EAR off!   BOO HOO HOO.  I am such a sap.  HA HA HA!  Sometimes it's not such a bad thing that I live alone.



These are people I want to know.  

I got sweaty and exhausted just listening to Mr. Joe Guinness World Record.  I wonder if he would share his calf workout with me...   And I love the reindeer hat on the proud mom.  She's either just a lot of fun or she swigged some of her daughters beer winnings forgetting she just took her prozac.  Either way, what a gal to have raised such a fun (and little) gal!

If I wanted to try this I would have to be married to Andre the Giant.  I think he's dead though, so I guess I'm out.  Too bad, me draped upside down around Andre's neck, with my bodacious buns, he would have looked like Princess Leah.   And that would have been hilarious.

In marriage, is this what "keeping it fresh" means? By the way, that couple is going to the World Champion Wife Carrying competition in Finland.  Check out this wacky video of that event.  This is what happens when husbands who let wives who let husbands drink too much beer.



If you happened to drive on Wilton below Beverly this afternoon you may have caught a glimpse of me doing something pretty unusual in a very awkward fashion.  At one point in the process I had a flashback to the scene in the film All Creatures Great and Small circa sometime in the 90's, where a veterinarian has his entire arm in the hoo-haa of a cow helping her birth a calf.  What exactly was it I was doing?  I was changing my headlight bulbs, one had died.  I had to undo (technical, mechanic term) some screws,  reach my arm up into the wheel well while pulling back the plastic cover and groping around to find the connector that holds the bulb.  After 1/2 hour of struggling and sweating and kneeling on the street all contorted like I decided it might be easier if I took off the big wood bracelets and the giant ring I had on.  In the same way only a chubby girl can call herself chubby, I will say of myself, what a blonde thing to do.  I am sure most guys take off their bracelets and rings and pull their hair back before attempting any surgical type procedure on a car.  It was painful, filthy, sweaty and full of colorful language, but I got the job done.  Unfortunately I managed to take out the right turn signal in the process.  I went directly to the Auto Zone and picked up a new bulb. The guy who the previous day had sold me the headlight bulbs (hey, get these awesome halogen bulbs, they will make your car look like a Benz) laughed when he saw me.  He was ringing me up when I said, "I have to fix it right now, you know, LAPD."  He said "LAPD, that's all they do is pull you over.  That's all they do."  He is all tatted up and Mexican.  He knew.  For a second we just held each others gaze in solidarity.  WE KNOW!  Then he handed me the fuse cover I left on his counter the previous day (I can also call MYSELF a space cadet) and told him if Consumer Reports says those awesome headlights are a joke and not worth the extra money, I am coming after him.

When all was said and done I felt like the coolest chick.  I just did work on my car.   I didn't pay a man to do it and I risked my manicure.  Obviously I know girls can do anything boys can do, vice versa, blah blah.  I can't help how I feel.  I am a fairly "girlie" girl and I will punch you in the throat to defend my right to be so.  I wondered if men ever have those moments when they accomplish something that falls into traditionally female activities, where they feel like they accomplished something great in unfamiliar territory.  Do they say, I just did the hell out of that laundry! if they managed to do it from start to finish with no cotton casualties?  Do they think I am a Rock Star! when they manage to put their daughters hair in ponytails?  Do they blurt I totally have this! when they vacuum, dust or mop a kitchen floor?  I wonder.  Insert obvious joke here.

I needed the ego boost because earlier in the day I walked into the living room and stepped on a shower rack I have been meaning to take to the Good Will, which snapped up and hit me in the face.  Two seconds later I was trying to work some micro hair that was tickling my throat out of my mouth before I started choking on a green apple.  When I flipped the switch in the bathroom to see if the shower rack had drawn any blood, both bulbs popped.  Guess I'll have another chance to feel handy and cool tomorrow.



I have a pinched nerve in the lower right region of my back, and keep having to remind myself to relax my right shoulder.  I will be sitting at my computer or just walking around and find myself holding my right shoulder up.  ?   I don't know where this is coming from, I must be out of alignment.  In the meantime I am walking around Los Angeles looking like Quasi Moto in stiletto heals.  Ohhhh, maybe it's the stiletto heals...  Maybe I should succumb to the favorite shoe trend of LA's fashionista's and wear Ugg boots with every ensemble.  That way I could spare myself the back pain and occasional blister, while keeping my toesies toasty and extend the life of my pedicure.  All I would need is a pair of brown tights and it would complete my new for fall look.

Nah.  I have put up with the discomfort of wearing shoes I love since junior high school, and it will be a sad day indeed when I am forced by necessity into wearing practical shoes (shudder).  The fact that I am already 5'10" before adding 3" to 4" heels does little to dissuade me from doing it.  I have become quite comfortable with being the tallest gal and sometimes tallest person in the room.  I don't care if I look like a giant because I LOVE HEELS!  Nothing makes me feel more girlie glamorous.  I get a perverse thrill out of feeling like the Attack of the 50' woman.  I have a theme song to further that fantasy, its Colossal by Wolfmother.  It's track #3 on the Blog Post Playlist there on your right if you would like to play along with me.

I imagine myself with the wind blowing my hair and the earth quaking beneath me as I march to my car.  If you can image yourself as a giant with a tremendous shaking booty in slow motion, it somehow flips from Oh Nooooo, to Ohhhhhh Wow!  (Of course this being a fantasy I have a Caribbean tan and buns of steel).  At least it does for me. Very empowering.  Everyone should have a theme song.  I asked my friend Lou if I am out of hand with the height and she said no, she thinks it's sexy and that I can pull it off.  Or maybe she was just concerned I would step on her or sneeze and blow her into the wall.  She is beautiful and petite with a colossal spirit.  As a Costume Designer she has dressed and designed for many many glamorous people and would tell me if I was loosing it, so I choose to believe her.  The least sexy thing about being a colossal girl are the colossal feet that come with it.  Size 11.  It has it's advantages and disadvantages in terms of shoe shopping.  The size is not too in demand so  great deals can be found, but then on occasion it's just me and a "girl" with an adam's apple eying the same pair.  Awkward...

If I were 50' tall you know I would be standing over the highway picking off all the obnoxious and distracted drivers.  I have made it pretty clear how I feel about them.  My favorite line from this movie trailer "Incredibly huge with incredible desires for love and vengeance."  Ha!  That pretty much sums me up.



Poor Jen made the mistake of taking my phone call this evening where I fit about 10000 words into the first 2 minutes of our conversation.  When I stopped to take a breath I said (big breath in, long sigh) Can you tell I didn't leave the house yesterday?  I read somewhere that humans speak 16,000 words per day on average.  (How's that for useless trivia Jen!).  There was once upon a time, a theory floating around old-wives-tale-ville that women use twice as many words per day as men.  The husband said to his wife See? You DO talk twice as much as I do.  She said, that's because I have to repeat everything I say to you!  He said,  What?  (I love plagiarizing bad jokes).   Apparently I was suffering from a massive pressure filled verbal surplus.  Thank goodness she answered the phone or I would have choked on it, and thank goodness she was far enough away that it didn't get all over the front of her when it came rushing out.  (Excuse me Jen, I think I got a "can you even believe that!?!" on your collar).

Obviously there was some residual verbage because today I did get out of the house and yet it has taken approximately 214 words to get me to the point.  Life is full of ups and downs.  Literally (and obviously!).  I rediscovered Biorhythms last night.  In the basement in a box in the corner of my mind was the memory of an episode of "Chips" where Ponch uses a biorhythms calculator to figure some gambling odds on John's upcoming handball game.   Don't ask me why I remember this but can't remember who what when why or how re: last month.

The basics of Biorhythem theory from Wikipedia:

The theory of biorhythms claims that one's life is affected by rhythmic biological cycles, and seeks to make predictions regarding these cycles and the personal ease of carrying out tasks related to the cycles. These inherent rhythms are said to control or initiate various biological processes and are classically composed of three cyclic rhythms that are said to govern human behavior and demonstrate innate periodicity in natural physiological change: the physical, the emotional, and the intellectual (or mental) cycles. Others claim there are additional rhythms, some of which may be combinations of the three primary cycles. Some proponents think that biorhythms may be potentially related to bioelectricity and its interactions in the body.

This explains everything!  I am absolutely going to deploy this ofttimes labeled pseudoscience to psych myself up and explain away the unexplainable.  Like yesterday.  For the life of me I could not get interested in anything.  Nothing.  Then some time after the sun went down I had the biorhythm epiphany/memory.  According to my chart my emotional energy was just past the "critical" part of the cycle, where the line passes on or near the 0% grid line.  This is the time to be cautious, one is most vulnerable on the days when transitioning from a - to a + energy force and vice versa.

No wonder I couldn't feel anything and no wonder I felt like and actually did exercise, I was at the top of my Physical cycle and right at the critical point in my Emotional cycle.  I am going to use this kookie theory for the next month or so to help me make choices about my day and the order I get things done in.  If I am at the top of my physical peak, exercise will be the first thing I will get done that day, etc.  Here or here are free online calculators, check it out.

In this clip from the actual episode of "Chips" I remembered (appropriately entitled "Biorhythms")  Ponch and John chase down a sucker who obviously did not consult his biorhythm chart before coking himself up and leading these fine officers on a chase.  And when I say fine I mean Ponch is one hot Mexican.



What is this article suggesting?! 

From Marcus Buckingham
...What we know for certain is that returning women to the role of primary caretaker won't make most women happier. We know this because whenever and wherever the research is done on this subject, the results are always the same: women with no kids are, in general, happier than women with kids. I realize this sounds perverse--who doesn't love their kids--and yet the research has been repeated so many times, in so many countries, there's no escaping it. Kids, it turns out, are a bundle of stress. They may give our lives trajectory, and meaning, and purpose, but their gift to us is not happiness. Of course, this does not apply to all women--some women feel as though they were put here for the sole and express purpose of raising their kids and nothing, no professional dream or accomplishment, can compare to the joy of this. What the data show, though, is that these women are in the minority.
Could this be true?  Did I teeter on the edge of a nervous breakdown for an entire year when I came to the realization that giving birth is probably not going to happen for me... for nothing?  Wow.  Where has this article been all my life?

But do I want to believe that the women I love who have kids are even unhappier than I have been at times without them?  No way.

Isn't "trajectory, and meaning, and purpose" what brings people happiness?  Or is that just my Type A personality talking.  A child may provide all that conveniently bundled up in a onesie, but it's no picnic trying to find meaningful joy in professional dreams or accomplishment either. I look forward to the day when my paycheck or a professional award makes me tear up with happiness.  No really, I do.  I would like to thank the Academy...

Does anyone really think their SOLE purpose is to raise children, and that NOTHING can compare to this joy?  I doubt it, and I know a lot of Mormons. 

For every time I have witnessed the fatigue and mild degree of madness my peeps (nieces and nephews - 15, of 'em) have inspired in their moms (Did my four year old really just say that to me?  What am I supposed to do with that?)  I have been quietly grateful for my full nights of rest and the time to read or go shoe shopping, by myself.  And I'm sure for every time my sisters have heard me sob about not having someone to smell, snuggle, kiss and buy cute bedding for, they run in and kiss that sassy four year old right on her sassy face.  We all probably suffer deeply and experience happiness equally, just over different things.  This is what I am going to tell myself, and promote as fact.  I will be sure to reiterate to my nieces (because I am sure my sisters will tell them) that a reality of life is that motherhood is not for wimps, being single takes a lot of balls, and both will be heaven and hell in equal measure. 

The overall topic of Mark's article is a bummer.  Apparently studies are showing that women are becoming progressively more unhappy as time goes on, and men are becoming more happy.  This is depressing information and even if it is statistically accurate, I refuse to let it stick to me.  My proposal is cheesy and a little Kum ba yah, but we should probably all just stick together.  There's safety and some sanity in numbers.  And if that doesn't work, misery loves company.  The closer we are to each other provides more opportunities for "Hey! You got chocolate in my peanut butter!!  No - you got peanut butter in my chocolate!!  Hey!!!!!  This is delicious together!!!!  I know every day of motherhood is not "Mary Poppins", and in case you are wondering, every day of my life is not "Sex in the City."   Let's keep comparing notes.

Having said all that, I am not going to lie.  I will use Marks theory to soothe myself when I do get blue.  For now I am happy having my time, freedom and access to 15 peeps to fawn over.  Now if I could only find someone to make out with...



Tonight PBS is broadcasting a special report about health care reform.  Click here for a video preview and to check the schedule in your area.

From Abby Kavanaugh, KCET eNews Editor

Although the drama surrounding the current health care debate has made for some entertaining TV, it has also served as a distraction from any real analysis of the proposed reforms and their impact on Americans.

I don’t know about you, but I feel as if there’s way too much at stake for me to take sides on this issue based merely on the opinions of pundits and talk show hosts. Both political parties can make an impassioned case for their position, but only PBS offers the kind of analysis and insight you need to understand the reality behind the rhetoric.

On September 24, KCET will air a 90-minute PBS Special Report on Health Care Reform. An unprecedented collaboration of the hallmark PBS programs NOW on PBS, Tavis Smiley and Nightly Business Report, the special will include late-breaking news and analysis on the debate and will explore the potential cultural, political and economic impact of health care reform on everyday Americans.

This issue is too important to simply have an opinion. It’s essential to have an informed opinion.
I agree Abby!  I hope this non-profit public broadcasting service will give us a truly non partisan viewpoint.  Know what you are talking about at dinner parties with your friends.    It's way more fun for you and your listener when you are ranting and screaming with an informed opinion (a lecture I give to myself... since I tend to rant and scream fairly loudly).   :  )



G'Day Mate You missed a little soap on your back there Mr. Hugh Jackman, let me get that for you...

I'm 12, I know.   This scene is from Australia which I watched the other day.  It was better than the reviews had led me to believe.  It starts out a little campy and cartooney, but comes around.  It's big and cinematic which makes me wish I would have seen it in the theater.  Then I could have seen Hugh shirtless in large scale... ah, regret.  I have always liked Nicole Kidman and think she is beautiful but her face, particularly her lips, looks different to me.  I'm just sayin'.   The two have great chemistry together and it's nice to see grand glorious romance between grown adults.  I am a sucker for films with women who come into a totally messed up situation and rights it all, even if everything gets blown to bits by the Japanese (ooop, sorry for the spoiler).  It's a long film so make sure you have plenty of popcorn and the remote so you can pause for a potty break (and the shower scene).

NYT Review:  “Australia” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Some bloody violence, many stampeding hooves.



The other night I was out with a friend and I decided I needed a trip to Pinkberry.   Pinkberry is a trendy frozen yogurt shop found all over Los Angeles.  There is one in my neighborhood that I frequent from time to time and recently they have added a new attraction to their store.  A 6'5" tattooed giant of a ... Man.  As I am looking to change old patterns in my life that haven't really served me well, I now know that I am only allowed to look, but not touch the kind of guys I am instantly attracted to.  My friend was observing our interaction and when I came back to the table she says "he was totally checking you out" and I said "tall boys always look at tall girls, besides he's probably 25 years old." (They imagine themselves with NBA or NFL sized sons).  Now that I have crossed the border into 40, I find myself in the land of "is that icky?"  I knew it was icky when the man/boy at Blockbuster kept hitting on me.  Where's you're boyfriend?  Do you have a boyfriend?  Do you think men are intimidated by you?  I told him the beard he had grown out all long and bushy made him look like a terrorist.  Next time I saw him, it was gone.  According to Wikipedia there is a formula to help one figure out what your socially acceptable mating and dating range is.

There is a formula!?  By the way, you only have to add 5 years if he's foreign.  That means I can go as young as 27 1/2 unless he's 25 1/2 and opens with bon jour.  68 is the highest I can go, but that seems unlikely as I already have a father who has always been good to me, whom I quite adore, and he is younger than that.

Being a Cougar and dating one are all the rage these days, but I can't quite check that box on the list of characteristics that might describe me.  When I was in my 20's I was not a Cougar Pup, I was not a Puma in my 30's and I am not an aggressive man chaser now.  Maybe this is why I am single, who knows.  I like what I like and it's pretty rare that that shows up.  On said rare occasion my legs and brain go soft, which renders me a useless hunter and fairly easy prey (not that kind of easy).   Perhaps I am more like the Giant Cuttle fish of Australia.  The males show off to separate the men from the boys (convenient), usually the biggest one wins (I like big) because he can defend the best and biggest spot to lay eggs, also impressing the female that he can be tough (love it).  After all the "bravado" and he has won the females attention, he shows his tender side (we all know that takes a real man).  But not for long, he knows that competitors will never stop trying to get to his brood and his babe, so it's back to being on guard (I love me a man who will be manly).

So I guess if I were to meet a 27 1/2 plus year old nerd (that's what I'm going for these days) who behaves like a Giant Cuttle Fish and thinks cankles are hot, I would have to get over myself and give it a try.

P.S.  Thanks for all the comments Momma!



I stole the title of this post completely from the New York Times review of the film "Bright Star".  Hot English chastity, it's just too good.  I went to an advance screening of this film last week and found it quite lush and lovely.  I was apprehensive remembering that Jane Campion's film "The Piano" was a hot un-chaste New Zealand film about passion, infidelity, and frustration.  I remember wanting to sink to the bottom of the ocean along with the piano at the end of that two hours.  This is a film I happily recommend to my 18th century film loving sisters (regular and in laws) and my Momma.  It's a great candidate for a mommies night out.  Take your favorite girls and your mom (no awkward moments here), that way you can sustain the swoon for a little while longer while you discuss your favorite swoonie parts.   It's romantic, beautifully shot, and the pacing is such that just getting to sit there without being hassled by your progeny will be enough to make it thoroughly delicious.  There is a beautiful little red headed actress who you will wish had more screen time because she too, is just too good and thoroughly delicious.  Bright Star is the love story of the poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne.

“Bright Star” is rated PG (parental guidance suggested). It is perfectly chaste and insanely sexy.  (Also stolen from the NYT!).



I have found a temporary cure for my self diagnosed "vehicular turrets syndrome".  I have been in search of one since I succumed to the fact that I have absolutely no control over what comes out of my mouth, gets said in my brain to myself (even about old ladies), and specific but involuntary gestures that have different meanings in foreign countries.  When I am standing at the gates of hell, I will know for certain why I am there.  This troubles me, but what to do.  A friend recently advised me to stop fighting against myself and my natural ways and just figure out how to go with my flow.  Makes sense, putting all that energy into fighting my natural inclination to hate everyone behind a wheel, and then hate myself for hating them (sooo deeply, passionately, and instantaneously), is just causing a massive black thundercloud to form over my head and my Honda.  Don't get me wrong, I am justified in my vitriol towards bad or just plain crazy drivers.  If you are wielding around a 4000 lb piece of metal and glass that can quickly become a death device for me or someone I love (or anyone for that matter), and you don't know what you're doing, are not paying attention, or drive at speeds above the posted limit because you think it's o.k. for YOU, don't YOU call ME anti-social when I tell you where to get off!  Deep Breath.  See?

So, today.  I had to make a 28 mile drive to meet my tax accountant.  In LA 28 miles could mean it will take half an hour, or an hour and a half to get there, depending.  Potential long drive, neck muscles all tied up from a night of preparing for a tax meeting, and a tax meeting.  Recipe for a rage fueled terror ride all the way to Bellflower, CA.   In comes the miracle cure, an album by a band called Phoenix.  It's just happy enough and interesting enough to make me want to crank it loud and dance around in my seat.  If it makes a bit of a spectacle who cares, it's better than the alternative.  I am much cuter doing the bucket seat boogie.