I'm on Vacation!

And having the time of my life!

















I'm in Flagstaff, AZ. Sure, it's 31 degrees, but it's also mellow and different and earthy and fun. Don't let the above photo mislead you. I'm happy to be here.

I'm writing this from a three star hotel I splurged on for $80 a night. I'm enjoying a glass of red wine from the hotel bar (aptly named "Lounge") while warming my toes by the fireplace in the lobby. A family of three plays cribbage on the table in front of me. A man to my right speaks French into a cell phone. Every time someone comes through the sliding front doors a chilly wind interferes with our contentedness.

I forgot that Flagstaff is home to my favorite coffee shop ever - Macy's on Beaver Street! I even bought a T-shirt. Favorite is a strong word, but it's definitely a contender among the top five. Not necessarily in any particular order, my favorite coffee places are:

1. Macy's - Flagstaff, AZ
2. The Market - Denver, CO
3. Kafein - Evanston, IL
4. The Iguana Cafe - Tahlequah, OK
5. Sabor y Cultura - Hollywood, CA

I'd say the criteria are good coffee, good pastries, cozy atmosphere, cleanliness, and feeling like no one will mind if you stay for several hours. I did a search on best Chicago coffee shops and was disappointed to see I was unfamiliar with them all! I will check them out on my next extended trip, and, if you live there, maybe you should go see what the fuss is about!

Back to Flagstaff. I first discovered it very much by accident on a road trip around the Southwest in spring of '05. It was a cheaper alternative to staying in Sedona, and it ended up being the most surprising and wonderful of all the cities I stayed in (the others were Vegas, Durango, Moab, and Santa Fe). It appeals to the side of me that craves an acre of land, a garden, mountains, simplicity, community, and lots of time to do things like knit and make jelly.

On this trip I've taken a yoga class, read my book (In America by Susan Sontag, a gift from Shrek's mom Eloise), strolled through downtown Flagstaff, driven to Sedona for a cheap massage, eaten sushi last night, anchovy mushroom pizza tonight, shopped at Target, written a wee bit, thought about writing a whole heck of a lot, drove 50 miles in the snow tonight and truly nearly died while passing a truck, and... that about sums it up. Nothing too exciting, but just right.

I was originally scheduled to fly to Chicago last week, but through a series of unfortunate events I found myself in standby hell. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I pity everyone who tried to fly on this holiday week. And another snowstorm destined for Denver tomorrow! Sad, sad, sad.

I'll share some photos from my trip.

View from my hotel room window this morning after a night of snow!












I was horrified to find that somewhere along the way I'd given up my snow scraper, or whatever the heck you call that thing. I know. Shameful. I searched my trunk and found a way to make do with a plastic flowerpot.












A barber in town. His client requested not to be in the photo.













Lastly, a foggy view of the beautiful Sedona redrock.












Tomorrow it's back to LA! Flagstaff, until we meet again....

Results

In case you were wondering what the fudge would look like when it was done, here you go:Yes, that is the fudge in my garbage can. But that's the bad batch. There was a good batch too.
Let's begin at the beginning. To save money and be crafty, I was going to make everyone fudge squares. It was going to take four batches. The first one was delightful and came out perfectly, but then I got hasty and made the last three all together in a dutch oven.


Mmm... sugar, half and half, chocolate, butter... so yummy. The problem was not grouping the batches, but that I ran out of sugar and thought it would be okay to sub sugar in the raw - you know, the fat, grainy sugar? Big mistake. It never dissolved all the way, and so even when it hardened it looked like raw brownie batter. Live and learn.

Today being my last day of work before the break, I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and all that jazz. I may not have much to say until January 2, but I hope you will join me then for another year of blogging adventures!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF chai soy latte from Starbucks.

Loose Change

Celeb Spotting:
I saw Studio 60's Sarah Paulson checking out shoes at Nordstrom at The Grove Friday night, then watched the Tivo'd Christmas episode of her show, which was fantastic. Did you guys see that? With the New Orleans jazz players? Loved it.

I think she's extremely talented and have had my eye on her since Down with Love, but what amazes me most is that she went from character actress to ingenue with a single bottle of peroxide. Food for thought.



More later....

Cheap Christmas Gift Idea

If you're stuck with a lot of people to gift and not much cash to do it, I'll let you borrow the idea I came up with yesterday:

Peppermint Fudge Squares in Pretty Little Baggies

You need the fudge recipe, which looks simple enough. Note: sub peppermint extract for vanilla, and while the fudge is hardening sprinkle some crushed candy canes on top.

You also need to make a trip to Michaels (the craft store), where they have a baking aisle. Get clear plastic baggies (enough for four 1 inch squares) and those candy paper holders (I got GOLD for some extra holiday pizazz). Don't forget to buy the 8x8 inch pan if you need one. Then find some pretty ribbon to tie the bags, plus some holiday tags to let everyone know who created these culinary gems. All this cost me under $20.


I think they'll turn out splendidly. I'll take a photo of the finished product and post it later!

Have a lovely weekend!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Plain old Starbucks latte.

The Curse of Fame

Last night I saw a screening of The Good Shepherd. I had no expectations, but I walked out of that movie absolutely BLOWN AWAY. It comes out December 22 and I will definitely be seeing it again.

In the midst of falling more and more in love with the movie every single second, I was also very AWARE of Angelina Jolie when she was onscreen. In other words, she didn't just blend in as another character, because obviously her life over the past year has been all over the news. Yet another example of how being a celebrity must suck.

I found myself thinking things like:

She has fantastic breasts! I'll bet Brad enjoys them.
Wasn't she pregnant while filming this movie?
Hmmm, she does seem to have a very natural way with children.
I wonder if it's weird to kiss Matt Damon, since he is good friends with Brad?
I wonder if I grew my hair out, lost 20 lbs, and got collagen injections I could look like her... sister?
It seems like it would be fun to adopt a bunch of kids.
Interesting that she can be so demure, when in real life she seems very intimidating.
I want her life.

I am well aware that all these thoughts are silly and indicative of my mild obsession with celebrity gossip, and that even by blogging about it I am perpetuating the suckiness of celebrity. But I simply can't help it.


I'm going to go to People.com now and read about what Brangelina did yesterday.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Peet's iced NF white chocolate latte.

Three's Company

I glanced out the window at two guys talking loudly in a car while we waited at a red light on Barham. Both our windows were open. Nothing tops the winter air in LA. The driver saw me.

"Excuse me," he called out from two lanes over to the left.

I rolled down my window all the way and put on my I'm-great-at-directions face.

"Do you know how I could get to the... Regal Beagle?"

I knew it sounded familiar. I scanned my brain and looked at them hopelessly before I realized...

I'D BEEN HAD!

Today's Coffee Beverage: Iced NF Pumpkin Spice Latte.

"Why Don't You Go Outside...

...and jerk yourself a soda?"

Anyone know that line? Anyone at all?

Annette Bening to Warren Beatty in Bugsy, the movie during which they fell in love. I remember reading an article where Warren said he loved the expression on her face when she said that line. Makes you want to go out and rent the movie to see it, right?


At the time I did just that, and who could have guessed that a few years later I would be dashing into Peet's with the legendary couple sitting on a bench outside, drinking coffee and reading the paper? I glanced at each one for only a moment, but it was unmistakably them. Annette with her big movie star glasses and signature red lips, Warren slightly disheveled, both looking mellow.

I ignored them both while freaking out internally, got my iced peppermint mocha, and passed them again on my way back to the car. Some knucklehead couldn't resist making himself at home next to them on the bench and blabbering away. They politely listened.

It must suck to be a celebrity.

Keep Your Job in 2007

This month's issue of Business 2.0 magazine features several pages called, "How to Succeed in 2007," which you can read online HERE. It's more or less snippets of advice from leaders in the business world. The Google boys teach you how to Succeed with Simplicity, and the chairman of Starbucks encourages you to Dare to Be a Social Entrepreneur.

I was surprised not to be among those interviewed, to be honest. I may not run a company, but I was fairly successful in 2006: I finished my first solo TV spec script, shaved a couple minutes off my mile time, and recently brought some old clothes to Goodwill. Not to mention, I've continued my lifelong streak of never getting fired from a job.

It's true! I'm not even sure it's something to be proud of, but it's true. Heck, the job before this one I tried to get fired, but they gave me a second chance. That story will one day have its own blog entry. So, for those who are interested, I present:

Gotta Kielbasa's How to Not Get Fired in 2007

1. Show up on time.
It's amazing how many people blow this one, and it's not even that hard. But in most workplaces, punctual=responsible.

2. Keep your cool.
Get seated with three four-tops at once? Submit something for your boss 6 hours after the absolute, official, no-arguments deadline at the WGA? Breathe a little, figure it out, and make it work.

3. Find someone who will let you vent.
Preferably someone outside the workplace. Preferably someone who will tell you it's time to shut up.

4. Know when it's time to go.
When the challenge and fun of the job are gone, so is the point. Overstay your welcome and your bitterness will start to poke through like a G-string in low-rise jeans. Throw out your waitressing shoes with a Mary Tyler Moore twirl and never look back.

Follow these rules, friends, and I can guarantee you another year FILLED with dreaming of the good life while getting paid well below your worth!

Today's coffee beverage: Hot white chocolate latte.

I'm Watching You

In a previous post I mentioned that everyone poops. Dogs poop too.

I happen to be sensitive about dogs. What I mean is, I make sure that people are not inflicting their dogs on my life. This is especially true about the millions - maybe frillions - of dog owners in Los Angeles.

Dog owners in LA are like no other. They carry dogs in purses, dye their shitzhu's hair pink, and most appalling of all, bring their "best friends" to work. If I can't bring my best friend to work then neither can you! Sometime in history before I arrived to LA, these ways of life became acceptable.

I can't control any of that, but I CAN control the poop problem. You know, owners who don't pick up their dog's poop because they think no one is watching? My friends, I am always watching.

You have to be on the lookout. If the owner plans to pick up the poop, she is on alert while the dog is pooping. She holds the plastic bag, or futzes in her pocket for it, or looks around for a nearby garbage can.

The non-picker-upper, on the other hand, stares into the distance while his dog is squatting, looks up at the sky, studies architecture, tries to will himself invisible. He pretends the dog is not even there.

When I see this, I time my walk so that I pass them just as the dog hops up and scurries away. The owner makes sure I pass them by and turns to walk in the opposite direction. That's when I WHIP around and startle the owner by saying, "Aren't you going to pick up your dog's poop?" I open my eyes wide, and feign hurt and confusion at the person's obvious violation of the law.

The owner will usually lie and say, "I was gonna pick it up," or, "I was gonna come back later and pick it up." Depending on my level of hostility that morning I give them a hard time or simply shake my head, disappointed in them, and walk away.

My favorite experience was last week in Griffith, when I confronted a man and he said, indignantly, "Go away. Go on." But, of course I did not. "Don't you know that the environmental impact of plastic in a landfill is worse than for his waste to disintegrate into nature?" Ooooh, the man had a speech prepared! "I'm sick of people like you," he told me with disgust.

I watched as he pulled a bag out of his pocket and bent down to gather the poop. All I could think was, "There are others out there like me?!"

I should gather the others together and form a neighborhood caucus. This could be the start of a movement.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Nothing yet, but I'm dreaming about it.

Inside Jokes

This email made me laugh till I cried. Probably because I have lived in Chicago.

Here is what Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Chicago!

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you live in Chicago.

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you live in Chicago.

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you live in Chicago.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you live in Chicago.

If "Vacation" means going anywhere south of I - 80 for the weekend, you live in Chicago.

If you measure distance in hours, you live in Chicago.

If you have switched from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day and back again, you live in Chicago.

If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you live in Chicago.

If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you live in Chicago.

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you live in Chicago.

If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody is passing you, you live in Chicago.

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you live in Chicago.

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you live in Chicago.

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you live in Chicago.

If you find 10 degrees "a little chilly," you live in Chicago.

Rule #1

If you suspect someone you are about to meet might be important, never, EVER search them on IMDb first.

I say this because, unless you are completely evolved, if the person is accomplished you may feel compelled to treat them differently. More special, I mean. This will always be annoying to said person. They poop just as you and I do, you know.

Today, for example, is madness in the office; the last day my boss is in town, and as a result he has a packed sched. One of the things he is doing is meeting with an outside writer. So I set up the meeting and what do I do with the writer's name? Search it, of course.

The man has an impressive resume a mile long, requiring several scrolls down the page. Ten minutes ago he got here, and I was all breathy and in awe as I shook his hand. "Helloooo," I said with a dumb smile on my face.

Then I took him into my boss' office. I wasn't thinking straight! Why the hell would I DO that? My boss is going to come back from lunch and see this strange man sitting on his couch before any introductions have been made. But I had been too frazzled to think about that because I was flashing back to the writer's resume. Now I can't very well ask him to come back to MY office, can I? No, I cannot.

I became a fawning concierge; dangling cold water, soda, and magazines, all with a silly grin over which I had no control. To every offer he shook his head and said, "I'm good," in his low, even tone. I tried to call my boss on his cell phone and tell him to hurry up and get over here, plus was going to warn him that I accidentally put the writer in his office... "Yes, already... I don't KNOW why, I just did, okay?! So don't be alarmed." While my boss' phone rang on the line, I could also hear it vibrating on his desk. Dammit!

Meanwhile, the writer is all alone in there. Maybe needing someone to whom he can talk and tell interesting stories....

I think I'll go check!

Music to Your Ears

More later, but here's something to keep you busy. Have you heard of Last FM? Maybe I'm late to the train on this one, but it's a neat web radio where you type in an artist you like and they play music in that same style, possibly introducing you to artists you've never heard of. There's more to it if you start a free account and all that, but that's enough for me.

Borat sez: "I hope-ah you liiike-eh."

Today's Coffee Beverage: I'm really hating myself for my addiction today. It's expensive. I'm going to go cut myself now, and savor the punishment.

Whodunit?

What did you do this weekend? See a movie? Go to brunch? Get an oil change? How boring and sad for you.

Maybe you should think about finding some fun friends, like the ones who throw murder mystery parties! I happen to be so lucky, and this Sunday I spent some time prepping for the event of the year*.

The party was hosted by T-finger and JollyB in their comfortable and beautifully decorated West Hollywood home. Guests were sent information in advance on who their character was and how to dress. I was Sophia Provanzano, Sicilian mob queen. Shrek was Ed Sloan, used-car salesman. His costume was beyond perfect, down to the faux combover.

I was impressed with the variety of characters, and how into it everyone got with the costumes and playing along. We had a princess, French maid, Mayor, Elvis, Southern belle, and Jessica Simpson, just to name a few.

The night went like this: We arrived promptly at 6pm,and received a questionnaire to fill out while getting to know everyone (#4 was, "Find the person who has chrome hubcaps." Me!). Alcohol was served. Once all the guests had arrived, JollyB announced that envelopes would be given out to everyone. The contents were unknown even to the hosts, and the information inside would tell us if we were the murderer, or if not, clues to lead us to the murderer of Skip Styles (a dummy splattered with ketchup near JollyB's computer). Once we thought we knew who the killer was, we wrote it down, time-stamped it, and gave it to the hosts. At the end, the first person to turn in the correct answer was the winner!

At first, I was intent on 1) misleading everyone into thinking I was the murderer, and 2) finding that bastard so he would never kill again, so help me God. My "information" told me to interrogate the maid. I did. She was shifty, and didn't look like she ate much. I never trust those girls.

There was a lot of delicious food at the party (real tamales, tortelloni, hand-made dolmas, lots of cheese and crackers) and I needed to balance out the rum lemonades I was having. I decided the maid was as guilty as anyone at the party, wrote it down, and proceeded to start grazing in the kitchen. In character, of course.

Turns out, the killer was --

Come on. You know I can't tell you. You have to host your own party and figure it out yourself! Congrats and thanks to the hosts for throwing such a great bash.


_____
*For people who don't get to attend the Emmys or Oscars.

Today's Coffee Beverage: Java Chip Light Frappucino. Yummy.

Snow Day

Are there any two words in the English language that can elicit more giddiness in a Midwest girl than "snow day?" I think not. I awoke to yet another sunny, Southern Californian morning with a text message from DeeHo in Chicago:

"it's a snow day!!! look at the news!!"

I instantly crawled back in bed with a smile on my face. No school today. Instead, a day filled with snowsuits, and snowball fights with the kids on Churchill Street. Then, change out of our wet clothes and going to Frankie's house across the way to watch TV and play gin rummy and Uno, on a day that stretched on forever in its silent white perfection. Soon, the plows would come down the street and we'd watch the falling snowflakes get smaller, more drifty, until eventually it was just lake-effect snow, all but meaningless, and certainly not enough snow to bring us another gift like this day.

A few years back, when I was living in Chicago, I heard a poem read on the radio that exactly captures the essence of a snow day. I'm reprinting it without permission, but I hope that the author Billy Collins knows it is in appreciation of a poem that makes me nostalgic and giggly. I found it at this poetry site. Enjoy, and have some hot cocoa for me!

Snow Day

By Billy Collins

Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,

its white flag waving over everything,

the landscape vanished,

not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,

and beyond these windows

the government buildings smothered,

schools and libraries buried, the post office lost

under the noiseless drift,

the paths of trains softly blocked,

the world fallen under this falling.

In a while, I will put on some boots

and step out like someone walking in water,

and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,

and I will shake a laden branch

sending a cold shower down on us both.

But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,

a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.

I will make a pot of tea

and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,

as glad as anyone to hear the news

that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,

the Ding-Dong School, closed.

the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,

the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,

along with—some will be delighted to hear—

the Toadstool School, the Little School,

Little Sparrows Nursery School,

Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School

the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,

and—clap your hands—the Peanuts Play School.

So this is where the children hide all day,

These are the nests where they letter and draw,

where they put on their bright miniature jackets,

all darting and climbing and sliding,

all but the few girls whispering by the fence.

And now I am listening hard

in the grandiose silence of the snow,

trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,

what riot is afoot,

which small queen is about to be brought down.

_______
Billy Collins, “Snow Day” from Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (New York: Random House, 2001). Copyright © 2001 by Billy Collins. Reprinted with the permission of Sll/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.