Here it is. My first wall review, ever. As I taped each page to the wall I had this A-Beautiful-Mind feeling. Not the genius feeling, but the oh-my-gosh-she-must-be-insane-tapping-weird-sh*t-to-the-walls feeling. I'll let you know when I find strange conspiracies in magazines and begin tapping them to the wall. Joe came in the room and moved some furniture so I could get them all up.

So after I taped 30 pages to the wall, I sized the words up like a contractor might a renovation project. I'm loving the process. Makes synopsis writing a little easier. I like the big-picture view of the novel, looking at the wall and knowing that my first 30 pages consist of one page more than 8 chapters, doing the math and figuring that my chapters average about four pages each. I like seeing my novel's rhythm, the beats on the page.

Maybe I'll try writing on windows next.

What is it about summarizing what I've written that is so incredibly difficult? I have to say that getting this different perspective is making it easier for me because as I write I can "flip between chapters" by eyeballing the wall. The process is slow, but fascinating. If you are having trouble summarizing your work, maybe give this a go? I have to give a lot of thanks to C, my crit group friend who suggested this in the first place.

Don't forget today is the day the postal rates change to 42 cents a letter! Wouldn't want those queries coming back a cent short. Egads!

Happy writing!

It all started yesterday when Mother’s Day came early and I chose our movie last night. On our way to my favorite Independent Theatre [favorite because it has the best popcorn on the planet–real butter and loads of different toppers, my favorites are white cheddar and sour cream and onion and have to be alternately sprinkled and properly disbursed throughout the bag by banging it on the counter before I can even think of selecting a seat, but that’s another post] to see the movie The Visitor we drive by this!



I love living in LA [if only part-time now]. Where else on the planet can you drive to one movie and find the set of a castle for another movie sprouting out of a field of weeds on a remote country road?

I would recommend The Visitor, even if it had a bittersweet ending, as you know I am a fan of the happy one.

Then came this morning. Joe made me the best breakfast of the year, with a new twist. He always makes me Eggs Benedict. It’s amazing. Only this year I was served by a ‘rock star.’ It all happened yesterday. He was in LA on business and stopped by one of our favorite restaurants in Hollywood to pick up my favorite bread on the planet, sun-dried tomato bread. They didn’t have it but gave him another loaf [an awesome Hawaiian bread] on the house. When he asked the guy for change for the meter he gave him a bunch of quarters. There were a bunch of rock stars in the café having lunch. Joe said they were famous but wasn’t quite sure who they were. I guess that the guy at the counter thought Joe as famous too, but we weren’t quite sure who he thought Joe was. Joe does get mistaken for famous celebrities from time to time. But that’s another post too.

Isn’t it nice to be treated like ‘somebody’ every once in a while? It sure was nice having my breakfast served up by my famous hubby this year.

Happy Mother's Day MOM! And happy Mother's Day to all my writer moms out there. Now it's on the road. With a quick mother's day dinner stop in Paso on the way to Big Sur.

I have a fantastic critique group. We all have such different backgrounds and that makes it so fun and valuable. I got a recommendation from C, an ex-aerospace scientist, for a last pass through the mms. I’m revising. He said I should do a wall review. I’m like—wall review sounds interesting but what is it?

C said that aerospace scientists put pages of their final reports up on a wall and read them over together and mark up things that needed to be changed. This reminded me of being a student at Art Center College of Design in Pasadena when the teacher recommended that we take our drawings and hold them to a mirror. It was very simple to see where the perspective was off when you looked at the artwork in a different way. I think this is probably what I’ll find when I do the wall review. Seeing a mms. thirty pages at a time is such a different perspective than reading one page at a time. I’ll let ya know how it goes.

Also, I couldn’t have survived this week without D. She is amazing at queries, very bold, funny and conversational. I learned a lot from her this week. She bought a book that I had to order after her recommendation. It’s called “How I Got Published, Famous Authors Tell You in Their Own Words” I’m cracking it open this afternoon.

Salman Rushdie is publishing a children’s book. D told us about going to a lecture he gave and he talked about writing. He said in your writing you must, “always break the frame.” He explained that you have to get out of a circle to know it’s a circle. I thought that was fascinating.

Narrative Journalism is so interesting to me. Here’s a post I wrote about a Narrative Journalism workshop it took at The Los Angeles Times.

I learned about Pico Iyer. As a person who loves writing about travel, I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of him before. I would have to agree with his biggest challenge as a travel writer:

“to get things down accurately, the first time round, since one seldom has the luxury of being able to return to a place to double-check the names and details and colors.”

Thus the notebook I take with me EVERYWHERE...[hmmm...time for a new one come to think of it:)]

Well, that’s all folks…

Mother’s day came early for me this year. Candy came down to Big Sur last Monday night. Tuesday, the first full day without ol’ molar number 19, we headed to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I’ve been dying to go ever since we started working in Big Sur, oh, around five months now. Here are my three favorite videos from the day [pardon the soundtracks, Candy and I are whispering and talking, I'm new to this whole video thang]:


Playful Otters


Jellies


More Jellies

What a wonderful day of inspiration. Got some great story ideas and had a lot of fun too.

Candy will be graduating from college in just a couple weeks and I find myself alternating from feelings of total euphoria to ones where I wonder where the all the time went.

Our trip to the aquarium got me thinking about Mother’s Day. I have my four favorite Mother’s Day mementos in front of me as I type. One, is a clear plastic frame holding a picture of Candy sitting on a swing smiling in her green Girl Scout sweatshirt, monogrammed with her first name and her troop number. The plastic frame is decorated with lots of colorful hearts and gold stars and says “I [heart] you!!!!!! [Those exclamation marks have smiles under them]. There’s more decorations and at the bottom in yellow letters “Happy Mother’s Day.” Another is an old Mother’s Day card from Mx which I saved. I wish could find a date on it, but I can’t. On the front she says, “For The Best Mom In The World Happy Mother’s Day” and inside she says, “You’re a book waiting to be opened and heard. You’re heard by me, always and forever.” The card is illustrated as if you are opening a book. On the last page there is a beautiful heart illustration with the words “Love you always” written three times inside. I didn’t start writing until the girls were in high school and college. This card is so interesting to me. Don’t all writers and teenagers want people to open, discover their stories and, more than anything, to be heard? Over the years both of these gifts have meant so much to me, I find, as the years pass, they mean even more.

I have a few handprint Mother’s Day presents: Mx’s metallic blue five-year-old handprint on a ceramic circle with a pink satin tie at the top. Mx’s three-year-old pink handprint surrounded by green, yellow, orange and light blue finger print designs on fabric stretched over a wooden frame.

I like having these Mother's Day presents around me this weekend as I work. Keeping them close. I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good idea for mom’s to pull out all the old mother’s day gifts they can find when the kids become teenagers. Because it’s only natural that teenagers get busy with their own lives and time spent with their mothers are reduced to what I like to call touch-n-goes–holidays, summers, if you are lucky. Keeping these mementos close this weekend reminds me that, as I write, to try to open and hear as many stories as I can, from family and friends as well as books.

And, of course I got tons of books at the aquarium. What did I get? A book about Jellies, how Great White Sharks are misunderstood, A Journey into Steinbeck's California, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea [the original text with added fun facts and illustrations], a book about great day hikes in Big Sur.

I mean srsly, where else would you expect to find a fantasy-writing mom on Mother's Day? Visiting aquariums and strolling Cannery Row, right? And taking stock of her goal of becoming a YA author. Today met with some good news on that front. Hope it's a trend.

I dreaded last Monday. I sat in the dentist’s chair and knew my relationship with molar number 19 would change forever. We’d had a lot of good years together. I’d avoided this apt. for about two months now. The only postponement was legit. I swear. A sinus infection. Srsly. Glad I postponed because I needed all my breathing power. Here’s how it went:

Cue the drill, that high-pitched screech. Chills raced down my spine and my eyes widened in the way that only a dentist’s drill causes, a sort of nonchalant bug-eye. This is followed by a weird rattling in my mouth and sometimes, well, pain. I told the good doc about not being quite numb enough [surprising since Dr. McD has what I’d call a heavy hand with the Lidocaine, if he had poured wine I’d have called it a fine hand, which seems a little discriminatory to me]. Dr. McD numbed me some more, a Lidocaine fountain spilled out of my mouth on the last shot as if I couldn’t get any more numb. Back to drilling.

As far as I’m concerned the most crucial decision came pre-drill. And involved my drilling playlist. I hadn’t created one on my iPod so I had to figure it out on the fly. I wouldn’t really call myself a coward. I had two babies, C-section, and I was awake so I could hold them right after the birth. But when the Dr. asked me if I wanted a mirror to watch the actual birth I passed. I don’t think that’s exactly cowardly. I just had this whole Lord-Of-The-Flies creepy moment about being operated on and then being asked if I wanted to see myself being operated on. No, thanks. Crowns are different but just as big in the world of teeth. It’s not like they are “filling” a tooth. A whole new one is being made for you. You don’t have that tooth when you leave. One of the extraordinarily cool things about having a baby is you leave the hospital with something really cool.

Anyway, back to the playlist. I chose Michael McDonald singing covers of lots of R & B hits. And I have to say, if it wasn’t for Michael’s crooning, I probably wouldn’t have gotten through this thing ok. He’s kinda like an old friend. I saw the Doobie Brothers on their first farewell tour in 1981 at Navy Pier.

About ¾ of the way through grinding ol’ number 19 into oblivion, Dr. McD says, “You have a very strong tongue. Just try and relax it a little.”

That’s one I haven’t heard before. Strong tongue, huh. OK. Relax my tongue. Relax my tongue. But all that happened when I focused on my tongue was that it seemed to swell to five times its size and interfered with my breathing. I had to tell myself: breathe in, breathe out.

“Relax your tongue if you can.” This he said bracing my tongue on the right side of my mouth as Roxy, his assistant, pulled on the left with one of those mirror thingys while Dr. McD desperately drilled away the last bit of my tooth. I almost asked them to take a picture for the blog.

Reminding myself to breathe, being a little high-maintenance with the tilt of the chair, and having Michael stop singing was too much for me. I raised my iPod up trying to select more music, any album. I click and click so that I wouldn’t have to hear the drill. No matter what I did I couldn’t get another song to play due to a combination of things really: my mouth being stretched so wide my eyes were little slits, not having my glasses and not knowing my iPod well enough so I could use it blindfold. In short, I’m old. Old people get crowns and don’t know their iPods blindfold. I raised the iPod higher, past the fuzzy silhouette of instruments hanging out of my mouth. A song played, The Overture to Phantom of the Opera. Matched the drama of the moment but I really didn’t need any more drama right now. Didn’t seem quite right as some of the notes sung hit the same frequency as the drill.

End the end, all was well. Dr. McD and I are still on speaking terms even in light of my powerful tongue. I’m still a little sore but I’ve learned a few things I didn’t know about myself. I love learning new things about people and places I’ve known for a long time. I may have a strong tongue but I’m no coward. I kept the apt. And soon I’ll be welcoming a porcelain cast of ol’ number 19 who I’m hoping will find a happy home for many years to come.

Punk Baby



Dedication Photo

Every Old Timers’ Day is different, has its own flavor. The parade was the same, even a few more entries than in years past. But, instead of Ray riding as 2005 Grand Marshall the convertible was filled with two of his sons, three grandkids and a sign that said they rode in Ray’s memory. The kids at the side of the street caught candy from the parade participants, as they had every year, and scavenged the pieces strewn on the ground scooping them into old plastic grocery bags. Except for one little girl who always seemed to come up on the short end of that deal. Candy tosses were few and far between at the end of the parade route. This year, as I watched the candy frenzy and the little girl coming up short, I thought about Halloween. How nothing seemed more fun and important than the number of pieces of candy I ended up with after trick-or-treating.

After the parade many gathered at the dedication of a park in Ray’s honor. The current mayor gave a heartfelt thank you to Ray's years of service and undying love for a town "most would rather leave but Ray loved with all his heart" and served until his dying day. The park has a patio where you can view the local mountains. Ray said that on a day when snow dusted the tops of the range you could imagine you were in Utah or Colorado. I never knew his love for this particular spot. We took in the view together after the dedication and said that we would all meet up later to toast Ray at sunset.



A view from Ray's park

Then, we went to the park by the high school.

The last time I set foot in the park was for Ray’s memorial service. Four-hundred people attended, most finding fellowship and good food at Donna’s afterwards. The BBQ at the park was the same, but Ray wasn’t there to pat me on the back and ask how my family is or if I wanted to join him in the beer garden. This year was Candy’s first trip to the beer garden as she turned 21 not too long ago. Fresh from her flight back home from Hong Kong she wouldn’t miss her first trip to the Old Timers’ Day beer garden just as she wouldn’t miss scattering Ray’s ashes. Joe’s brother and a friend grabbed their guitars and entertained after the country band had finished playing.

Many Coronas later, we decided it was time for a nap before the Historical Museum’s dedication of a new building. We discussed things like ideal times for naps. Candy floats the 20 or 40 min. rule. We grab what sleep-filled minutes we can. Most of us opted to put our feet in the pool as we slept. We loaded up Oso and headed over to hear how many dedicated people, one dedicated lady in particular, built something out of nothing and gave the history of a very small town life and a home. While there, I learned new things about the town that I never learned before. I just love when I learn something new about people and places I’ve known for so long. I love surprises.



After a fair amount of tacos, tostadas and what-not it was time. Time to drive down the driveway, unlock the gate and drive up and down dirt roads to find a nice hilltop for Ray. There would be four separate scatterings. The main one in the hills he cherished, one for burying in the cemetery with his mementos, one for the oil field and one for his park. I reached into the ashes. Ash is a grayish white with bits of bone within. A Ziploc bag gloved my hand as I snatched some ashes for the oil field. I felt a hardness, a softness. The hard parts took my breath away, the parts that withstood the flame. I imagined the bones were pieces of his hands since it is his hands and arms that I remember the most. Skin darkened from years of working in the California desert. His wedding ring. Our last hand shake.

Then the time came for Donna to read what she had planned on reading. Too overcome, she handed me the typed paper, printed on stationary decorated with streamers and confetti, lovingly tucked into plastic protective sleeve. Candy grabbed the paper away from me and said she would read, probably noticing how hard I shook as I bundled Ray’s ashes. But Candy had no words and handed the poem back to me. Here’s what Donna wanted to say and what I said in a shaky voice that tried to do Ray justice:

“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

Henry Van Dyke

And so, because saying goodbye was on my mind, not in a heavy way as Ray has been gone now nearly two years but in a positive way. A way of seeing him free from this world’s grasp and sailing into the next, I noticed things I never noticed before.



This is Blackwell’s corner

The last stop James Dean made before he died. It’s at the intersection of Route 33 and Route 46. I’ve been driving past this corner for nearly 25 years and didn’t know that. He stopped here for fifteen minutes, grabbed an apple and a coke before driving to Polonio Pass.



Road side shrine

All along the winding roads of California and Mexico you will see these shrines. I noticed them before but until last Sunday I have never really taken a good look. This shrine appears on highway 46 on the way through Lost Hills.



And so began my road trip home last Sunday.

Today started off with a cup of camomile tea, a run in the hills and a huge fried egg breakfast. All the while I'm walking around my house like Dorothy saying "There's no place like home." And, well, there isn't. I haven't just hung out at home on a Friday in I don't know how long, mostly because we are nomads lately. I had a little time writing in my favorite chair. What does that chair look like? It's overstuffed and has an overstuffed ottoman and they are both covered in a super soft tiny leopard print. Couple this whole Wizard of Oz feeling with a dinner with friends tonight and it's the perfect day. A slow day. One of those days that I took for granted pre-empty-nest. And the thing I miss the most as I sit here in the tranquility, the opening of the kitchen door with one or both of the girls and maybe some of their friends talking about the day and what they will be up to this weekend. Candy is safe and sound, back from Hong Kong. We'll see her tomorrow at Old Timer's Day to scatter Ray's ashes. Won't see Mx for a few more weeks still.

And what's the buzz around town. Well, our local Albertson's is getting a remodel. Cool. And it's Conejo Valley Days. Used to have a rodeo but it looks like we are without a rodeo this year. Here's a blurb about it's history:

"In the early years in the late 40's at the the old Jungleland compound, Conejo Valley Days was a "Community Circus" according to the Oak Post Newspaper. Special appearances by "moving picture actors" and the crowning of a Circus Queen made the event a draw and success.

During the second year the parade was added to the festivities starting at Conejo School Road and ending at Jungleland. It was joked that more people were in the parade than were watching. Believe it or not they even had Camel races!"

Camel races, huh? Ow...
[link to what Jungleland looked like here.]

I miss the rodeo. Well, gotta jump. Just thought I'd say "howdy"
Here's remembering the 25th Anniversary of the Coalinga Earthquake!

We head back down south tonight to go to a dinner for our priest who is leaving our congregation and heading to Santa Barbara. We’ve known Hank for around a dozen years. I love Episcopal priests and Hank in particular. Most people don’t know the very small town where Joe is from. But Hank knew right away, ‘cause he’d sold generators right after the big earthquake in Coalinga in ’83. Which, coincidentally, is coming up on its 25th anniversary tomorrow. Talk about an enterpriser. Bishop Bruno confirmed Candy and signed her prayer book on a surfboard. There’s just a lived-life quality to vicars that melts the barrier that sometimes come between people and their priests.

Then we drive back up north to scatter Ray’s ashes. It’s been about a year and a half since he’s left us. Never been to an ashes-scattering ceremony. Don’t quite know what to expect. Certain Ray’s ready to be roaming the hills with is dog Andrew though. A park is going to be dedicated in his honor this weekend too.

Then it’s back down south for a great meeting with my amazing crit group and a little trip to the dentist.

I’ve mailed and emailed queries and partials. It’s like Tom Petty says, the waiting is the hardest part. I love this story. Now, it’s time to shop it around, let it go. I’m going to miss working on it everyday. Even though I know I’ll still be revising here and there for a time. But soon, I’ll be moving on to my next novel, a YA contemporary that doesn’t have an ending yet. My other novels have beginnings, middles and ends. I really wonder why I stopped writing. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for The End. Maybe sometimes the writing is so fun I just don’t want it all to stop. Maybe I was trying to say too much with one story. Whatever it was, I’m excited to get back into it and see if I find my way to an ending.

Now that I think about it, so much about this weekend is letting go. Letting go of my story hoping it will find a good home. Letting go of Ray and watching him become a part of the desert hills he cherished. Letting go of Hank and keeping his words of wisdom close as he leaves. Even letting go of my kids as Candy is airborne on her way home from Hong Kong and Mx has been exploring parts of NYC that surprised her but left her with some great stories to tell.

Yoda is partied out...again



Ah...the lights

We’ve had our share of road trips this year with our very nomadic empty nest lifestyle. There is definitely something mystically clarifying about life on the road. Not only do we think of things we never thought about before, we want to know things we never knew, see things, do things that have yet eluded us. To this end, I tried to spice up our drive back to Big Sur from Coachella in a new and different way. First leg of the trip was basically basking in the glow of the festival.

Once we hit Carpinteria though, we needed a little something-something to keep us going. What was it? No…it wasn’t any libation, no snack food. I pulled a book I’d gotten for a cross-country road trip Mx and I have yet to make. “James Dean Died Here: The Locations of America’s Pop Culture Landmarks” we read about all the places we drove by on our road trip, including some we passed back in LA. What’s the most obscure fact that I unearthed? There were a couple way-cool tidbits.



The Ten Commandments Desert Excavation Site
Nipomo Sand Dunes, Guadalupe, CA

“In 1923, filmmaker Cecil B. DeMille built the largest set in movie history for his silent (and early Technicolor) epic, The Ten Commandments. After filming the director ordered that the elaborate set be dismantled and secretly buried in the sand–which it was. For over 60 years it lay there, until 1983 when a group of dedicated film buffs decided to try and locate the remains. Today the area is being uncovered as an authentic archeological dig site.”

We’ve driven by Nipomo, I don’t know, hundreds of times and never knew…

OK..we also found out that Marilyn Monroe was the Artichoke Queen at the Castroville Artichoke Festival. Cool.

Back to a little more Coachella dish, ‘cause I just can’t get me enough of those memories:

Hearing Dwight Yoakam play Ring of Fire. After that performance we left the Outdoor Stage and passed David Hasselhoff talking on his cell phone. Seeing Dwight Yoakam at Coachella was pretty sweet. Love the old Buck Owens songs too.

Not getting back to our hotel until 2AM every night and having everyone from the convenience store cashier to the hotel staff greet us with a cheery “Good Morning” when clearly we had a more of a Good Night vibe about us. Simultaneously weird and cool.

If I had a camera with me I would have wanted to take a still life of the floor of the steamy port-a-potty I had the misfortune to use right before Day 2 of the festival. [Note to self: NEVER under any circumstances choose to potty in a port-a-potty that is in FULL sun. Go for the shade amiga.] There in the 100 degree heat was a little paper cup perched in the urinal for target practice. On the floor were various empty bottles: a whiskey mini-bottle [should have a name for those little airplane bottles], Diet Pepsi, and Lemonade Icee.

For me Portishead was so over-hyped and just-kill-me-now depressing that we opted for Flogging Molly and had a F-ing good time. I joked with Joe that I’ll just use the words Portishead and depressed interchangeably from now on. Joe said it was just the wrong venue for them, ah, OK.

The Verve should have been called The Nerve. Ow! The guy just seemed to shout the whole time. Although they did a half-way-descent version of their big hit Bittersweet Symphony. When they played that tune people got up from under the Bamboo Wave and walked like festival moths to his flame.

Fashion



The Steam Punk Treehouse



The Big Rig Jig



The Bamboo Waves

Number six: Our new friend Kyle

Being so sore I couldn’t move, I found relief in a Bloody Mary, searing heat, swimming laps and meeting a guy named Kyle. Now, Kyle was loud, foul-mouthed but very friendly. Trouble was, no one around the pool was showing Kyle any love. Maybe it was because he was drinking and smoking at 10 in the morning. Maybe it was because he was picking on people for vacationing at Rancho Mirage and not going to Coachella. Maybe it was that every other word out of his mouth was the F-word. But Joe and I liked Kyle anyway and we hung out with him. Kyle told us he was from Venice Beach and bought 11 30-pks of Tecate for the weekend for him and his three other friends. The guy at his liquor store threw in one 30-pk. for free. Word. Do the math, that’s 27.777 beers/day/dude. That’s a lot of Tecate. Kyle had a few tattoos. He traded an oz. of pot for a sleeve. It was awesome, a green devil-like guy blew fire down his arm and it extinguished in some wild waves around his wrist. He's a surfer. Tecate. I raked my brain trying to think of anyone I ever knew who liked Tecate, or even ordered it. Came up empty.

Number seven: Band-Names-Slash-Song-Titles

Coming up with random band-names-slash-song-titles. Definitely inspired by King Dork by Frank Portman. Here’s my favorites:

1. 27.777 beers a day
2. Thong on the asphalt
3. I’ll shave in the toilet

Number eight: New Discoveries & Festival Food

Nothing better than finding new music you love. Here are my new faves:

Cut Copy
Rogue Wave
Tagan and Sara
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
Bond Do Role

OK, I know this is lame, but I love festival food. I do! But since I’m now 3.2 lbs lighter [and believe me it’s been SO hard to lose, Drs. orders and so forth….] I passed on my absolute faves–beer-battered garlic fries–and stuck to a steady diet of Os: tacos, gyros and churros. My favorite food group.

Number Nine: Relief

Getting soaked in the Dolab. I have no words for the total triple-digit-heat-relief I felt under the water gun of the Dolab soaker. Most Excellent.

Art a fantasy writer loves. The Bamboo Waves, The Steam Punk Treehouse and The Big Rig Jig gave my imagination a little something-something to ponder.

Number Ten: Fashion

You need to have a lot of self-confidence, comfort in your own skinny skin, or maybe be an exhibitionist to wear a scanty-leather-strapped outfit complete with a flowing cape. That’s hot. Props to that gal! BTW she was with a guy in jeans and no shirt. Guys get off so easy. Coachella had bikini-to-Goth fashion and pretty much everything in between. A few must have accessories included short red furry boots and hats with short shorts and bikini tops. One girl wore gold lame short shorts that looked painted on. Sundresses, a few tie dyes, anything that sparkles, painted hearts and stars on pretty much any part of the body, tattoos the more the better, flowers and scarves were also must haves. I bought an awesome Brazilian beaded necklace from a place called Cocoloco. Their bone and horn earrings are fabulous.

Selecting ten top moments was more difficult than deciding which tent to go to during Coachella. No it was harder. It was more like leaving the parking lot on Friday night but we won’t go there. The moments that didn’t make the top ten I fully expect to blog about all week. Have to say it was a MG/YA fantasy writer’s paradise, right down to the couple sometaneous [a new word I invented combining sometimes and spontaneous] versions of “Pure Imagination” from favorite author Roald Dahl’s book-turned-movie Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory.

On a side note: Why do I have so many bruises? I keep bangin’ the heck out of myself. Maybe that comes from being a wanderer lately. Had ‘em even before the festival. I have no idea why…but there they are. I guess maybe we all go through bruised phases.

Coachella 2008 gallery of pics here. I am very happy that, as a notably awful photographer, I actually snapped a few decent concert shots.

So here goes…the Coachella 2008 Top Ten Moments [first five of the ten anyway]



Number 1: Prince on Saturday Night

I am convinced that Jimi Hendrix died and came back as Prince. BLOWN AWAY. Hands down the best guitarist I’ve even seen live, ever, including but not limited to all the blues I’ve seen over the years at Kingston Mines and Chicago Blues and Buddy Guy’s. Prince’s sick heart-felt cover of Radiohead’s CREEP riveted the audience and spoke to every person who has found themselves on the not-good-enough side of love, in short, everyone. Seven was amazing, took me to another planet entirely. Funk, funk, funk….



Number 2: Dancing with Joe to Bond Do Role

Fresh from a soak at the DoLab we boogied hard in the triple-digit heat to the Brazilian beat. Julia Cameron call’s this “filling your cup” in The Artist’s Way. Way too tame an expression for what happened to my cup at Coachella. My cup boogied, expanded, filled, spilled over, vibrated to amazing bass riffs and learned a lot about letting go.

Number 3: Joe gets swept up in the mosh for Flogging Molly

I had to move back ‘cause the bass vibrated my chest so bad I thought it might explode. Joe handed me his hat and the backpack and joined the mosh where he swirled around and around with the other moshers to the Guiness-infused rock, the recently-wed lead singer Dave King confessed he’s more of a marathoner these days that a chugger. Joe left the mosh with the biggest smile I’ve seen this year.

Number 4: Venturing into the Sahara Tent and discovering Aphex Twin

I’ve never been to a rave before [read: I’m old] but this is what it would be like, less the ecstasy buzz of course. Here’s the scene. Lasers paint the crowd and tent in flickering marching green circles while strobes blink sometaneously. Humans dressed as giant plushies dance on stage. Yes, I said giant plushies. On a total side note, have you ever heard of plushie love? Kinda strange. But anyway, Aphex Twin was all good, dancing pandas, Dalmatians and techo, Oh my!

Number 5: Fatboy Slim took us on a tour of our imagination a la Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory



Fatboy [who is really skinny] started his set with an image of a clock on crack and said “Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls hold your breath make a wish and count to three” and went into a dance mix of Pure Imagination all the while flashing images of OOOmpah-Loompahs behind him.

Like the song says: "Want to change the world….there’s nothing to it.”

He lit into a chest exploding bass-heavy dance party, that I still feel as I type, which included PraiseYou.

More manana amigos.

Party on!

Off to a pit stop at home before we head to the desert for Coachella.

Candy is in flight to Hong Kong as I type. We talked about her trip as she got ready to go last night. Her flight left at 1AM this morning. It’s a 16-hour flight.

I have traditions for when my kids fly far away from home. One is lighting candles for the duration of the flight [when I’m not sleeping]. Another is attaching a string to a globe and marking the string in hour increments so I'll know exactly where in the world they will be. And yet another is a sleepless night and a sort of otherwordly awareness of everything around me until I know my kids have landed OK.

I thought about all the sleepless nights I have had over the years thinking about Candy as I lie awake in bed last night. Most of them were because I was so excited. I remember sitting on the sofa in the wee hours before she was born watching the moonlight stream through our French doors in the kitchen and bathe our carpet in long white square-ish patches. I remember the night before her high school graduation when she and her friends were at Disneyland riding the rides all night, and I remember the night before she left for college. I’ll probably be up the night before she graduates college next month too.

I thought about Asia and how no one in our immediate family had been there yet, she’ll be the first. I thought about how my dad grew up in Indonesia and how there is a pull to places and parts of the world and how natural it is for Candy to gravitate there. No surprise in the midst of many surprises.

I thought about how overwhelmed I was when Joe dropped me off at the airport to go to Romania. It was the first time I had flown alone without kids or Joe in about twenty years. I was nervous and a little scared about how I’d handle traveling so far away. He looked at me and said, “Laura, adventure is always a good thing.” And I stared at him through watery eyes, wiped a few tears away and knew he was right. How is it that when I am so utterly stressed he manages to say exactly the right thing. Candy needed a little reassuring last night and I told her what Joe told me.

So now I wait until around 5PM our time when her flight touches down and her boyfriend picks her up and they begin their great adventure.

An excellent article to celebrate Shakespeare’s Birthday.

"We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal 
in folly."

Touchstone, from “As You Like It”

“What we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours.”

Friar Francis in Much Ado About Nothing.

1348 - The first English order of knighthood was founded. It was the Order of the Garter.

Ah, ok. Garter? Really? Sounds a little sissy for the name of a bunch of knights. So…how did this come about? The French have their own version of the story. Something involving a Ball and a Countess of Salisbury dropping her garter and a king picking it up binding it on his leg and calling anyone evil who thought the behavior inappropriate. But this seems a bit trivial to base an order of chivalry. Still the symbol of the order is a blue garter with the motto: Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense which is Old French for “shame upon him who thinks evil of it.”

Here’s what one source has to say about the origin of the order:

“the garter was a small strap used as a device to attach pieces of armour, it might have been thought appropriate to use the garter as a symbol of binding together in common brotherhood. Whilst the motto probably refers to the leading political topic of the 1340's, Edward's claim to the throne of France. The patron saint of the Order of the Garter is St George and as he is the patron saint of soldiers and also of England, the spiritual home of the order has therefore always been St George's Chapel in Windsor Castle.”

1896 - The Vitascope system for projecting movies onto a screen was demonstrated in New York City.

1900 - The word "hillbilly" was first used in print in an article in the "New York Journal." It was spelled "Hill-Billie".

1951 - The Associated Press began use of the new service of teletype setting.

1985 - The Coca-Cola Company announced that it was changing its 99-year-old secret formula. New Coke was not successful, which resulted in the resumption of selling the original version.

Yesterday, 2008:

A listserv [of which I'm a member] moderator posted this request:

"Hi Folks -
Please remember to offer your wonderful congratulatory messages off-list. (Our digest people have been vocal about this!)"

[A few messages after I offered congratulations to someone who'd just won a book contract. *hand slapped*]

To which I wanted to send this reply Today, 2008:

"Let’s lighten up a little. I know there’s lots of folks on this listserv. I know that people don’t want to be bombarded by lots of messages. But pah-lease, if posts are all good news and congratulations, what’s the harm? Isn’t that what a listserv is for? I really don’t get it. What is a digest person anyway? Aren’t we all digest people? Why should their voice matter more than any of ours? I offer you this in a light-hearted manner so that we might all just take ourselves a little less seriously and have a bit of a laugh over the whole thing:

[To be read in a Monty-Python-esque less than serious but more than humorous tone:]

I apologize most sincerely if any of my good news or congratulations offended anybody. It was unintentional, and those that do haphazardly post congratulations will be sacked.

A pox on you, congratulations-loving pig dogs. Your mothers are hamsters and your fathers smell of Elderberry.

I apologize for calling the congratulations-loving people pig dogs. It was inappropriate and out of line. Their mothers are not, in fact, hamsters and their fathers do not smell of anything even remotely resembling Elderberry.

Pardon my over-zealous congratulations, thanks yous and [for those of you who didn’t find this funny] bad humor.

Good news and congratulations are certainly nice problems to have,
Laura

But didn't send since all seemed to resolve itself within the group before I had a chance to post. Just had to post it here. Other members who disagreed with the no-congratulations moratorium had to describe themselves as having cranky pants in order to get their objections heard. Really? Really? Cranky pants? I mean...no, I'd say you are just regular people who enjoy hearing when other writers do well.

Our dog decided to celebrate Earth Day by getting skunked early this morning. He's been a real rascal. It's the second time in a month. Last week he jumped off a deck that was under construction to chase a deer. He's doing better now, a pulled muscle gave him a little bit of a limp that day though. He had to go on an anti-inflammatory and lay low all weekend, which worked out well because Joe is sick and laid low all weekend too. Oso is funny because he sniffs his treats like they are poison before he will eat them, but gobbles the medicine like it's a treat.

BTW–Tomato juice doesn't get the skunk out but cider vinegar does! Skunk remedies being one of the things the girls and I chatted about around the pool in Vegas. We took Oso to Petco for the de-skunk treatment, but we plan on having cider vinegar, Dawn, baking soda, and hydrogen peroxide at the ready since he seems to enjoy playing with skunks and getting skunked.

Want to get discovered as a Children's Book Author? You might want to enter Cheerios Spoonful of Stories Contest [deadline July 15, 2008]. My crit group friend, D, sent me the link. Thanks D! And good luck:)

Today is the beginning of another move for us. We are bugging out of the Cottage and headed for the Coast House. Moving the office stuff first. Will have more construction updates soon.

In other news: COACHELLA here we come! Prince was added as the headliner on Saturday so I'm psyched. I've always wanted to see him in concert. Looks like it will be a hot one in the desert.

Candy takes off for Hong Kong late tomorrow night.

More from the Mono Diaries: Mx is feeling better every week, mono is loosening it's grip a little. A mountain of work piled up for her to get through and many make up exams/quizes to take. Only three weeks left until her first year of college is over.

Around four weeks until Candy graduates from college.

1. Playing Black Jack with my late Father-in-Law

At 1:30 in the morning yesterday, the day we were all heading home, Z and I decided to call it a night so we headed up to our rooms. But I had to go downstairs again unexpectedly. After buying a new toothbrush because I dropped mine on the floor earlier that day…much, much earlier that day…instead of turning right, going back up to my room and going to sleep, I turned left and walked into the Casino at Paris Las Vegas where we stayed. I eyed a $25-minimum-bet Black Jack table I got a good vibe from, good vibes critical to a gambler's luck, sat in an empty chair at the table and felt Ray sitting in the empty chair beside me. I said, “OK Ray, let’s see what happens.” I bought in for $100 and not too long after we started gambling I ordered a Crown Royal and soda with a twist of lime in Ray’s honor. Together we beat the odds and didn’t fold when the going got tough, when we were down to only a few chips while others at the table were betting hundreds of dollars a hand. By 2:30 AM we’d won $420 dollars at Black Jack, of course we were up by a lot more, $600 at one point, but had the sense to leave when we did. And he was proud of me achieving my own personal best of betting the most I ever have on a hand, $50.



Sly in the VIP area outside of Prive at Planet Hollywood

2. New Friends

So we want to go dancing…BAD. And Z wants to go to a club at Planet Hollywood to try to get in to Prive, a super-hard feat as we thought that the boxing match was going on at PH that night [turns out we were wrong], but the boxing world had descended on PH anyway.

While we eek out a spot in line to get into Prive, trying to catch the bouncers’ eyes to let us in, Sylvester Stallone comes into the casino and addresses the crowd. What an entourage. We soon realize Prive is a no go. No way will we get in. So we go to the bar get a drink and scout a place to gamble. But instead of gambling, we decide to take an escalator to check out what’s going on upstairs and sit looking down at the casino for a second. Z & L go to the bathroom and all of a sudden Z comes running back saying Catherine-Zeta Jones just walked right by. I’m looking over my shoulder to see if we can still see her when a man comes up and asks me, “Why do you look so serious?” At that point I am wondering if I am afflicted by over-serious looking expressions. I explain K and I were just looking for celebrities. We talk about boxing and life and wanting to get into Prive. But it turns out it’s hard to get into the club even with a buddy like Juan LaPorte, winner of the WBC Featherweight championship in the early eighties, on our side.



Hanging with a Champ, Juan LaPorte

But we did get to go to the VIP area of Planet Hollywood where we saw Sylvester Stallone smoking the longest cigar I’ve ever seen, Catherine-Zeta Jones [OH MY GOSH SO beautiful—shorter and tinier than I thought she’d be] with a posse of about 15 guards around her [Calzaghe, the boxer and author who won the fight that night is Welsh and so is CZ-J], Tom Jones in this uber-cool purple velvet suit, the Champ Joe Calzaghe himself surrounded by a huge entourage, and of course Juan dressed all in white sporting his diamond golden glove necklace. Anyway, Juan was taken with us and, as you may or may not know, I’ve been a bit of a fan of boxing over the years so we had lots to talk about.

3. Dancing Until The Wee Morning Hours

Going into LAX, a popular club, and actually feeling the vibe there. Nothing like moving and grooving with your old buddies from high school.

4. Randomness

Bob Eubanks was on my flight from Burbank to Vegas.

Running into each other in the lobby of Paris as a few of us arrived from the airport at the same time.

Having a the waiter on the first night ask us if we were all sisters because we look alike and all have the same color hair. We spent the rest of the weekend giggling about that.


5. Drinks By The Pool

Lying by the pool and telling each other stories about our kids and how we are coping with all the joys and challenges over the years.

6. Accidents, sometimes not happy

My friend L fell onto the pool lounge in just such a way [no, she hadn’t been drinking] that she sandwiched her fingers into the armrest of the lounge and maybe broke a bone in her hand but partied all weekend anyway.



7. Vegas Shows

Circ de Soleil is amazing and their interpretation of the Beatles and their lives and careers is not to be missed. The LOVE show at the Mirage gave me tingles all over. My fave numbers were Octopus's Garden [think white tentacled Vegas costumes floating through a darkened theatre] and Something [think beautifully costumed woman dance-twirling in the air]. You know sometimes you hear a song you’ve heard for your whole life and there is a moment when you feel like you are truly hearing it for the first time? That happened to me with Something that night.

8. Funny Stories

A guy walks into a bar. He flaps his arms, grabs his balls and then twists at the waist. The bartender makes him a Grey Goose martini on the rocks with a twist.



9. New Mottos To Live By

We came up with one while watching the fountain at The Bellagio…We laughed hysterically, and knew at the time what they meant.

10. Pick Up Lines

“You’re too cute to be dancing alone.”

Yup, those would have to be my TTVM for this trip. But every moment was great because each one adds to our wonderful memories of spending time together.

I'm thinking I learned a few life lessons in Vegas. Sometimes you should turn left when you ought to turn right. You might just have a little more fun that way. It's a riot to make up new mottos to live by especially when they involve laughing so hard your belly aches and not remembering quite what they meant the next day. Dancing and friends are good for the soul. But there really isn't a word to describe the fabulousness of dancing with friends until morning. Days when your biggest decision is when to hit the eucalyptus-scented steam room are rare but required.