It Was a Cold and Windy Night

On this cold and windy night, I sit in the bedroom, MacBook in my lap, snoring dog at my side, and listen to the wind rattle the windows and doors around our beach house. I half-heartedly listen to Oprah banter with an overly chatty Steven Tyler. Although the heater's on, invisible, icy fingers reach through the imperfections of the structure, and play with my shoulders and neck. The wind is tonight's muse, as its intermittent chill reminds me that I'm alive. I nestle under the comforter, and feel the urge to write, for no one but myself.

Recently, for any number of reasons, I believed that I lost "my muse," my motivation, my ability to express myself through writing. Uncertainty and depression, and a half-dozen other little monsters that look for the slightest cues to creep in, take over, and steal away confidence have kept me silent, unable to do what I've always done best...write.

But, tonight...

As the wind shakes the fragile vines that adorn the yard, and whistles through the vents of the house (blowing off the occasional shingle), I feel the words returning, as well as my desire to capture them on a page. Perhaps, that's enough for now, to simply get down a few thoughts, and move on.

Rest well on this cold and windy night...and listen for the muse.

Imagine All the Bookstores Closed...It's Possible

Reading books, newspapers, magazines--anything I can get my hands on has always been my primary passion, as it has been for most of my friends. (It is a prerequisite that my friends MUST read.) There are few greater pleasures.
When I was growing up in Whittier, we were fortunate to have six bookstores in our little college town, as well as dozens in the surrounding communities. A fun day out with my mother or my friends consisted of going out to breakfast or lunch, then spending the rest of the day making the rounds of the independent and used bookstores. It was fun to roam the stacks of books, hide in a corner and peruse each one, deciding which ones to purchase, then, chat for hours with the other patrons and store owners about what was on the shelves, what they'd recently read, what they wanted to read, and how books had changed (and often given meaning) to their lives. At the end of the day, we would scamper home with the treasures we'd gathered that day...usually, a haul of a dozen or so books of all genres--histories, modern and classical fiction, science, biographies, science fiction and fantasy, and poetry. Once home, each book was lovingly caressed and carefully added to our own bulging shelves, in anticipation of the experience, knowledge, and joy each little package would bring to our lives. 
Those days are becoming a distant memory, as, sadly, most independent and used bookstores closed their doors with the arrival of the likes of Borders and the newly-expanded Barnes and Noble stores. These huge convenience stores gave Americans a new way to shop by offering all categories of books, magazines, music, movies, and games under the same roof, and the little guys didn't stand a chance. These new, brightly lit venues offered a dizzying array of newly published EVERYTHING, and a coffee bar. Many of us turned our backs on the old guard and gave our money to these corporate booksellers. 
Then came the Internet, and along with it, Amazon. Amazon enticed readers with the convenience of shopping for the latest bestsellers from our desktops...without ever leaving the house or office. They offered great deals, so that most of us were previewing books at Borders or Barnes & Noble, then purchasing them online. (Guilty, guilty, guilty!) Then, between competition from Internet vendors and their own foolish notion of offering "everything under one roof," we are now witnessing the gutting of most of the brick and mortar bookstores. (Border has, in fact, filed for bankruptcy and is liquidating its stock this week.)
Ironically, as California legislators are proposing a tax on Internet sales in the state, Amazon (and several other Internet vendors) are citing a 1992 US Supreme Court ruling that states that cyber-merchants (there's an antiquated phrase) cannot be required to collect sales taxes without a physical presence (storefront/warehouse/office) in that state. Amazon reps claim the that if the company levied taxes, it would not remain "competitive" and "protect" jobs. However, by not collecting taxes, they have held a huge advantage over their brick and mortar competitors. 
And now, our bookstores have vastly decreased in number. Publishing houses, too. Soon, few people will be able to experience the complete and serene joy of browsing for hours among bulging shelves of books on every topic...caressing each tome, enjoying the heady smell of old paper and ink (with a hint of mildew). Everyone now reads through their E-media forums (Kindle, Nook, E-Books)... 
But that is a rant for another day.

A Most Splendid Day

Sunday was such a wonderful day!
The morning was spent in the kitchen of my church (Holy Nativity Episcopal Church, in Westchester, Ca) with my friend and fellow "Vegenista" chef Christine Budkowski, preparing a light vegetarian meal of gazpacho, mango and black bean salad, and angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream for the weekly "coffee hour" that follows mass. Christine and I fed approximately 60 fellow members of the congregation, who were blown away by the beauty, simplicity, and deliciousness of this vegetarian meal that had them coming back for more, as well as asking for the recipes! Now, we must top ourselves for our next turn at preparing "coffee hour"--thank goodness it isn't until the fall! (I'm thinking mole...)
As if the day couldn't get better...
That afternoon was spent with two of my oldest and dearest friends from my youth, Amanda Smith Dershem and Roberto Mesa Guimoye, and a new friend, Lynette. We walked the length of the Venice Boardwalk in the bright summer sun, then enjoyed some cool, refreshing beverages at the Figtree, before walking back to the house.

Roberto, the author, and Amanda.

The three of us (Mandy, Robert, and I) had become friends in middle school and forged a true bond of camaraderie and friendship. Over the next decade of our lives, we shared some really great times, enjoyed some adventures, and supported each other through some very dark and sad events. Then, as often happens, we all "grew up" and drifted on to our consecutive life journeys (careers, relationships, etc), and--more or less--lost touch (out of sight, but never far from one another's thoughts). Then, about five years ago, Mandy and I were "reunited" after she located me online around the time of our 35th (!) high school reunion. We quickly arranged a lunch meeting, during which our respective spouses pretty much couldn't wedge a word into the non-stop conversation. And now, through the "miracle" of Facebook, we are back in touch with Robert!
It has been incredible to rekindle such true friendships with these kindred spirits, and I have since felt my Grinch-ly little heart grow at least three sizes. This simply reinforces my belief that we are all destined to live our lives enriched by certain individuals, with whom we will always cross paths at many points--whether in this lifetime or the next.
Thanks for a really great day, guys! I love you both and look forward to sharing many lives together in the future!
Now, I need to find a really killer mole recipe...

Remembering My Father

Today, I am remembering my father, Roger. He was a decent and hardworking man, who grew up during the Depression in Whittier, a small suburb in East Los Angeles. Father (yes, that is what I called him) was a Quaker, nature enthusiast, a weight lifter on Muscle Beach, and a gardener.
He tried to live by the motto he kept inscribed on a sheet of paper under the glass on his desk: "Do right and fear no man." I believe he did so to the best of his ability.

My father shared with me his love for gardening, Big Band music, and the Lakers. He taught me how to drive (I don't know how we both lived through that), properly cook a steak (it's all about the heat of the pan and garlic salt), the finer points of ballroom dancing, and how to argue--over just about everything. He also taught me patience and a love for animals (he is pictured in a nice shot from 1960 with our Boxer, King). Did I mention patience?

Father, I love you and miss you with all my heart. 

Facing the Day

This morning we awoke to a soft rain falling in the Marina. Despite the primal instinct burrow beneath the blankets and sleep, I pushed both a grumpy dog and my grumpy self out of bed to begin the day. Soon, an exciting walk to the park to antagonize the squirrels (at right) and chase the ducks energized both canine and human.

We returned home to a light breakfast of small bites kibble for Miss GingerSnap, and tea and toast for me. It was time to take advantage of a recently elusive positive attitude, go upstairs to the computer, and devote another day to an intensive job hunt. 

Hopefully, a freelance gig or two will surface today...

The Gloom of June

It's a chilly morning at the beach, and I'm wrapped in a thick sweater, drinking a steaming hot cup of PG Tips, and snuggling with my Boxer, Miss GingerSnap. Summer solstice will be here in a few days, but the sun is playing its annual game of hide and seek in a blanket of mist that clings to the Pacific shoreline. It's quintessential June gloom. The first part of the year has been cooler than usual, here in Southern California, and most of us are ready to enjoy the nurturing rays of the sun and warm our chilly bones. In a few weeks, the mists will all but vanish for the summer, and I'll be longing for the return of these soft mornings, and an excuse to snuggle up with my puppy.

But for now, bring on the sun!