WHAT?

What is this article suggesting?! 

From Marcus Buckingham

Leading expert in personal strengths and bestselling author

...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...

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcus-buckingham/womens-happiness-what-we_b_295876.html

WATCH THE BATTLE OVER HEALTH CARE TONIGHT

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).   :  )

HUGH JACKMAN - CRIKEY!!

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.

WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL AM I?

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!

AN ODE TO HOT ENGLISH CHASTITY

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!).

A CURE FOR WHAT AILS

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.

BABY BRAINS ARE BEAUTIFUL

I listened to this very interesting podcast on my walk to the Farmers Market the other day (how green of me you say).  I was walking listening to talking about a man who walks the walk AND talks the talk.  Geoffery Canada is an American who has developed a program designed to lift the poorest children in the US out of poverty, and stop the cycle forever.  He and his program, the Harlem Children's Zone, are on my hot list of things to investigate and get behind. 

The casualties and ghosts of the abandoned war on poverty sit in our classrooms, walk our streets and waste away in our prisons. This is truly the American Nightmare: impoverished, uneducated and unemployable amid a land of plenty. We can continue to ignore them and pay the price or we can call up the national resolve to fight – and through education, win – the country’s abandoned war on poverty.  Geoffrey Canada

Don't be fooled by the first few seconds of this Charlie Rose segment with Geoffrey. It's not about Bill Clinton (a mantra I recommend Bill learn and repeat, repeatedly).

THE SECRET TO STAYING INSIDE

I didn't leave the house today, there was no reason to.  I had everything I needed for this day in the 10' x 10' space I sat in.  All day.  My computer desk sits in front of a window (fresh air) that looks out onto the downtown Los Angeles skyline (view I enjoy).  The street in front of the house is very busy with pretty much non-stop traffic (lots of action, don't feel like I'm alone in the world), and every few minutes I get a sample of what people are listening and singing to (comedy) on the radio (world culture).  Lately there has been a lot of Michael Jackson mixed in with the Mariachi.  I have started wearing maxi dresses around the house.  They are comfortable when it's hot, non-confining, and since I have gone to some length to pick the right ones, I feel sexy when behaving like a sloth.  I have the internet of course, so I spent the day educating myself about retirement planning, P/E ratios and chart analysis (bettered myself).  I read the newest news about the oldest person in the world, watched this promo for a new documentary, and answered a poll about whether I think Penelope Cruz is pregnant or not (entertained myself).  But the very best part of the day came when it was time to feed myself.  Dominoes.com.   I wondered if it was possible to order in pizza online, the answer is YES!  I was able to order it custom, exactly the way I like it, pay for it and see how many calories it would be if (when) I ate the whole thing.  And the best feature of all, I got to watch a meter showing precisely where in the whole process my pizza was.  Pizza $10 and change, Coke $2, tip for adorable man with heavy accent $3.

 

Priceless.

I knew exactly when it was time to put some pants on to greet the driver (thank you Evita, he said).  I won't do this often because it was 1000 calories, but it was the most perfectly hot pizza and cold coke I have ever had.

MY CAT CAN EAT A WHOLE WATERMELON

I stayed in today because I am feeling nauseous and tired. One of the things they don't tell you in the 6th grade sex ed class is that sometimes the whole woman cycle thing can really ring all the fun out of you. Not only do you get the mood swings and weight gain, but you also get exclusive membership in the acne of the month club. This month it's tiny little painful bumps on my chin and arms. Sexy. Or maybe I'm just coming down with something and it has nothing to do with PMS, who knows. In any case I thought my favorite summer treat would help me feel better, a big bowl of ice cold watermelon. Mmmmm.  I use an ice cream scoop to make great giant watermelon balls and keep my fridge stocked for as long as it is in season. 12oz of watermelon is only 102 calories, that's a lot of summer love. I was dishing myself up and from somewhere in the deep crinkles of my brain echoed My cat can eat a whole watermelon! It's a line from a bizarro movie called Ruben & Ed that came out in 1991. The film was made in Salt Lake City by a local director and became a cult classic. I will never not laugh when I see this clip. It's my favorite kind of brilliant stupid.  Ruben is having a heat induced hallucination in the middle of the desert where he has gone to bury his dead cat. I hope that when I am an old old lady this is where my brain goes.

THERE IS FREEDOM WITHIN

I was watching a DVD at home today when this song came on.  Flashback to 1986, the year I graduated from High School.  Sidetrack:   I am having another flashback...of the time a few years ago when a kid working in my office mentioned that he was born that year.  I started laughing hysterically and then threw up a little in my mouth.  That grown man/boy was born the year I graduated.  Sigh.  Back to 1986.   I took my fashion cues from her, and I loved this song.

DON'T DREAM IT'S OVER

by Crowded House

There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're traveling with me

WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE

Today I took my cankles out for a walk and was nearly plowed over and devoured.  Or at the least the first part.  A woman in a hurry was backing out of her driveway.  I watched to make sure she saw me because she was, after all,  driving a white Mustang (who drives mustangs any more... this is not a muscle car town?!).  I stopped on the sidewalk as she started pulling out.  She stopped.  I started walking again. Just as I was smack dab behind her she hits the gas and I was up to my elbow in Mustang screaming Whoa!  Whoa!  !@#$!!!   She must have heard me or seen me contorted around her trunk because she slammed on her brakes and immediately rolled down her window begging for forgiveness.  She looked both ways!  She's so sorry!  She didn't see me!  She said all this to my back as I was not going to stick around and get in a yelling match with an undoubtedly over caffeinated Mustang driver.

I was of course very shaken by this but continued my walk.  Some survival gene got juiced by the trauma and for the rest of the walk I saw nothing but danger ahead.  There was a small flock of five or so crows on the grass in front of me.  Living in Los Angeles provides them with much to eat (rats, trash, fertilized grass) and they were huge.  As I approached they squawked and flew off but I thought, what if they didn't fly off?  What is they were rabid or as crazed by the heat as I am and decide that between the five of them they could take me?  Their feet are as big as my hands! 

Later I passed a man walking his dog.  Lots of people have dogs in my neighborhood and 8am is when they take them out for their morning constitutional.  One dog was little, but the other was GIANT and hairy, so hairy that you couldn't see his eyes.  Never trust a dog whose eye you can't see.  I imagined what it would be like if he decided he could take me, he's bigger than me AND his owner.  But then I got distracted by the thought that I could never own a pet for whom I had to follow and pick up a HANDFUL of warm poop. I avoided the whole thing by taking an extra wide distance as I passed.

When you are single and not working, you have to ask yourself every once in a while, if I were attacked by killer crows in the middle of the day, who would know?  Sure, eventually someone would notice that I'm not around, but by then it would be too late, the crows would have already told their buddies who would have finished me off.  I would already be calories for crows.

I need to stop listening to Ayn Rand on my lovely walks in my beautiful neighborhood.  In the meantime crows, Mustangs and the people who drive them have been added to my list of notorious outdoor predators (real or imagined).

ART CAN CALM THE SAVAGE BEAST

This morning I woke up and realized that sometime during the night I must have gotten up and taken a double dose of irritable.  When I am awake I don't remember where I keep it, but it must be here somewhere.  It's the only explanation for how I could go to bed feeling fine, get 7 hours of uninterrupted restful sleep, and wake up ready to give birth through my chest (all Sci-Fi like) to the angry alien gestating in there.

It's also 93 degrees, humid, and the air is a freaky color and full of ash from the fires.  And I have PMS.  Luckily for me (and all of mankind really) I had made plans to go to the Getty Center for an architecture and gardens tour with Jen this afternoon.  Art and air conditioning can always calm the savage beast.  Here are some photos I took around the property.

FINANCIAL WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION

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