Thursday, August 31, 2017

It's Scorching Hot

It's been a blazing week. Today this guy was laying flat out on the lawn. I was worried that he was having a bad squirrel issue but then realized that he was just trying to cool off. When his spot would get too warm, he would move over a few inches. I watched him make his way across the yard this way. When Bob opened the front door, the squirrel ran back up the tree, the big, sweaty (I can only assume) tree.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

101° in the Shade

I looked out the front window this afternoon and saw him. In the yard. With the hose. In his socks. Joy.

Monday, August 28, 2017

The Dryer is His Favorite Show

I'm glad someone is keeping an eye on the laundry. (He could watch it for hours.)

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Birthday Suit

"Aunt Jen just got out of the shower so I FaceTime-sang Happy Birthday to Molly instead of Aunt Jen. I think Aunt Jen was maybe not in her clothes."

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Customer Service

"Our driver reported that the delivery has been completed."

"Yes, I got that text. Nevertheless, the package isn't here."

"I am forwarding you a photo, taken by the driver, of the package sitting at the door of the location."

"I see the photo. That is not my doorstep in the photo. I have sent you a photo of my doorstep. It is the doorstep of a white house with blue shutters and no delivered package."

"Mrs. Rosenberg, the address we have on file matches the address you gave me."

"Yes. That doesn't seem to be solving the problem."

"We will be happy to refund your payment full and give you $10.00 off your next order."

"But if you can't get it to me, what's the point in making a next order?"

"Okay then, we will give you $20.00 off your next order."

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

If You Were Here Right Now

Ladybugs don't fly at night, so when you're releasing them into the garden, you do it after sundown.

If you were here right now...

I would make you an old-school hot chocolate.

We would lay on the couch and watch Lady Dynamite.

I would read your goddess cards.

Once it gets dark, you would help us release more lady bugs into the garden.

You and I would try out those black charcoal face masks.

We could sit out on the back porch with Teddy and Levi and feel the day cool into evening.

Bob would tell you that TACO CAT is a palindrome.

We would take turns reading Mary Oliver poems to each other. When we finished, we would take turns reading knock-knock jokes to each other.

I would order us matching pajamas off of Amazon.

We would play all the records from Mr. Rosenberg's record collection. We can start with Myron Floren playing "Lady of Spain."

We could walk a few blocks to the unlimited taco bar at La Fiesta Grande.

You would sit on the floor in the living room and rub two delightful dog bellies at one time.

We could draw mustaches on each other and post selfies on Instagram. (I think they call that Snapchat.)

I would tuck you into bed with one of Trudy's quilts.

Wish you were here.

Monday, August 21, 2017

The Path of Totality

"Mom? I don't get why this whole eclipse thing is such a big deal. Is it because they only happen every once in a while?"

"That, yeah. Also it's always a big deal when something happens that reminds us that the universe is an enormous place that we do not control and that we and our problems are not the biggest things in it. I think that's pretty exciting."

"Plus we get to wear the weird NASA glasses."

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Smacksy Sunday Links

When you manage to wear out the third electronic coffee machine in as many years, it might be time to go manual.

Annie Dillard's classic essay. 'Total Eclipse.' (It's available on the Atlantic until Tuesday.)

Would you rather be the last days of summer or the first days of fall?

Amazing new books to read this fall. So many choices...

I was fortunate enough to stand under this art installation once and I still think about it.

And a box of kittens.

Happy Sunday.

Friday, August 18, 2017

Thursday, August 17, 2017

I Have a Few Tiny Issues

My thoughts: I can't take an egg from the middle of the dozen. Who would do that? Actually, I can do this. Watch me. I'm going to mix it up. I don't have to do everything in order. Check me out. This is probably really good for my brain to do something differently. This just looks wrong though. I mean, it's out of order. Am I really going to take an egg from the middle like an animal? I am going to leave it like this and close the crate and put it back in the fridge. I will not change it. Will not. Not going to change it. I'm taking a photo of this. There. It's back in the fridge. I will not think about those eggs sitting in there out of order. At all. They're fine. They're just fine. The eggs are fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine. They're just eggs. Out of order. 

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

The First Day of School

It's the first day of school. The dogs have made it clear that they do not approve and would rather have Bob home with them. I tried explaining to them that now their days are their own and they can hang out and drink coffee on the back porch and cruise their social media accounts without interruptions but they don't seem to be buying it.

I've tried to get them away from thoughts of how time is speeding up. They keep harping on how Bob's first day of fifth grade only serves as a reminder of how it seems like just ten minutes ago that Bob was starting pre-school. I try to explain how time works and then request that they stop speaking in tired, suburban clichés.

They have suggested homeschooling Bob and have volunteered to monitor P.E. in the backyard and help Bob write a report about sharks. (They're really into sharks.)

They walk past his room and sigh.
They sit at the front window and sigh.
They order things they don't need off of Amazon and sigh.
They survey the contents of the fridge and close the door without getting anything out.
And then they sigh.

I reminded them, that Bob is walking home with Felix as usual and should be rolling in the door around 3:00pm. They checked the time on my phone and then just stared at me. They still don't understand how time works. Who does, really?

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Technically, It's Not Baseball

"Hey, Mom - you wanna come see? I have to rest up for the game tonight so I put together a puzzle."

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Smacksy Sunday Links

Summer night coffee on the porch with Mr. Rosenberg.

"Because you are touching the divine." Beautiful words of advice.

Ask for the mug.

Oh my goodness, this couple.

Inside 40 artist studios.

And cats in pumpkin hats ringing bells for food.

Happy Sunday.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Smacksy Saturday Photo: On the Mound

Bob did some pitching today. Watching this always causes my palms to sweat.

Friday, August 11, 2017

I Love Bob So I Will Sleep On His Shoes

In an effort to help Teddy and Levi get themselves together, the whole family is going through some dog training. These boys are the nicest, but apparently it's not necessary for them to have the run of the house.
Who knew?
So, old dogs, new tricks. And by that I mean me, Bob, and Mr. Rosenberg.
Story developing.

Thursday, August 10, 2017


When I try to get in bed, these guys immediately secure the perimeter leaving me with a little less than 15% of the real estate. 

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

That Too

"I can really see all of your hard work with your swing, Bob. You're a monster."

"A monster?"

"Yeah! You're doing great."

"Mom, "monster" isn't really a compliment. I think you mean I'm a beast."

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

See This Movie

Years ago, I sat "behind the glass" at a focus group for a comedy pilot I produced. The panel of audience members discussed the show specifically and then went on to talk about comedy in a general way. At one point in the conversation, they agreed that comedy was what gets them through the awful parts of life. Specifically, they shared about 9-11 and how they each turned to different types of comedy as a way to cope with the national tragedy. For me, it was a reminder that comedy, like storytelling, like music, is noble, lifesaving work.  Comedy is a healing and sacred language that has the potential to save the world.

My friend Jordan Brady produced and directed a new film, I Am Battle Comic that was released today. It's a funny and sometimes heartbreaking look at the importance of comedy, and the comedians who travel the world to entertain our troops. You will laugh and you will cry and  you will come away from it reminded that comedy is one of the most powerful things we have going for us as humans.

Click here to see where you can watch the film right now.

Monday, August 7, 2017

The One Where I Show You All the Garage

This is our garage. It's being generous to say that it's a one-car garage because yes, you can pull one car in, but then there is no room on either side to get a door open. We decided to use the spot for a bit of storage and a music practice space for Mr. Rosenberg. It has now been transformed by our beloved handyman, Mr. Jerry.

I am pretty excited about it.

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Sunday Links

Building resilience.

Ways you're making your life harder than it has to be.

A bicycle ride in Morocco.

Winners of the 2017 National Geographic Photographer of the Year.

And a kitten and friend.

Happy Sunday.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Super Wish This Didn't Happen

"Over here, Bob! I see protractors down here!"

"Thanks, Mom."

"Here you go."

"That's not a protractor."

"Yes it is."

"No, it actually isn't. It's a compass."

"I know it says that but compass is another word for protractor."

"Mom? You are completely wrong about this. Look. This is a protractor. It even says it on the package. Protractor here  - and this one's a compass."

"That's weird. Why would they label that half-round ruler a protractor?'

"Oh my God, Mom. Really?"


It's all beautiful.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

My New Mantra

Bob and I have been trying out a three-minute meditation app to help with his baseball focus and my everything focus. We have had varying degrees of success with trying not to giggle through the whole thing. This morning, we were assigned a "Mindful Walking" meditation. We were to breathe deeply and feel our feet making contact with the floor as we walked slowly through the house. We made it about a minute and a half in and then as Bob and I passed each other in the hallway, he busted into an impromptu dance break. In the process of the get down, he accidentally stomped on my left foot and elbowed me in the chest.


I think I have a new mantra.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Hiding Out

Teddy is afraid of loud noises. When he is frightened, he squeezes into a small space in the bathroom in front of the sink and won't come out until the storm has passed. Yesterday it was 100° and humid. In the afternoon, there was a light thunder storm. Teddy ran to his spot in the bathroom and Bob didn't want him to be alone.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Far Out

To celebrate our wedding anniversary last month, Mr. Rosenberg and I went to dinner at a lovely restaurant in Topanga Canyon, Inn of the Seventh Ray. Topanga has a reputation for being the last LA holdout of the 1960s. It's a lovely rustic place with a distinctly counter-culture-y vibe. It reminds me some of Northern California, where I grew up.

While we were waiting for our table, Mr. R and I ducked into the restaurant bookshop to have a look around. We entered into a cloud of Electric Musk incense and burning sage. I coughed and took in the woven dream catchers, bowls of crystals, and stacks of new age books. I smiled at the stereotypical hippie-ness of the store. As I glanced around, I recognized the titles of a rather large number of books that I have at home. I saw decks of the same tarot cards I own and the goddess cards I read everyday. I looked through the hanging Mala meditation beads, comparing them to the ones that hang on my armoire. As I passed a mirror, I checked out my own long hair and flowing maxi dress and it finally dawned on me.

"Oh my God, Jeff. I just had a life-altering realization."

"What's that?"

"I'm a hippie."

"Yeah, and?"

"I mean the thing I've always sort of made fun of - I am it. I am an actual hippie."

"Wait, you didn't know this?"

"You did?!"


"But I've always been sort of a judgmental a-hole about hippie-ness!"

"I know. I always thought you were being self-deprecating - that you'd made peace with it."


"Oh, wow."

"Stop laughing!"

How had I missed this glaring detail about myself for the last fifty-two plus years? How did I overlook the evidence? The Prius we just dropped at the valet? The baby-wearing I did with Bob? The folk musician I married? The whole vegan thing? That I have a psychic, a kinesiologist, and a Native American medicine man listed in the contacts on my phone? The rescue dog? The garden in our backyard? The Himalayan salt lamp in our living room? The organic restaurant I was currently standing in?

"But I'm not good at yoga. I had laser hair removal. I hate patchouli. I never even played hacky sack."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not like that beekeeper/clown instructor I knew named Rock who rode a unicycle everywhere kind of hippie."

"How did you meet him?"

"In the 80s I worked for his sister-in-law Daphne at a Balinese imports store on the mall in Santa Cruz."

"Aaand scene."