Pancakes, Passions and Old Hometowns

Greg and I. He's hard to get
into a selfie, because he's over
a foot taller than I am!

On my last day out of town last week, I spent an entire day in my last hometown before my new hometown, Nashville. The day before I had had breakfast in Evansville with my stepdad and his fiance, and this day I had breakfast with my friend Greg at the Pancake Pantry. First of all, it was heaven sent because there was no line. Second of all, sweet potato pancakes. That's all I need to say.

Of course, it was also awesome to see my good friend. I met such awesome people in Nashville. That was the one reason that made it so hard to leave. Greg is special because he's my writing friend. He's more than that, but it's rare to have people that you trust with your creative writing and he's one of them. I can say things that sound ridiculous and lofty like "I'm just not sure if the characters are strong enough." or "My work doesn't feel so authentic"

Home of long lines and
sweet potato pancakes

without sounding like a pretentious a-hole because he knows what I mean. And isn't it nice to have a cheerleader who isn't your family? I'm his cheerleader too. The dude deserves all the praise he's about to get when he publishes. At least I can be one of the few that say the read him BEFORE the book came out.

After breakfast, I did some putzing around town. I got a pedicure at Signature Nails, a place that my friend Michelle turned me on to when I lived there. It's awesome and I still haven't found a nail spot in LA like it, but part of that reason is that most LA nail salons are $30 for manicure-pedicures. No, that's not each. That's combined. Mani-pedis are literally one of the few things in LA that are cheaper than nearly anywhere else. But you definitely lose something.

Then I headed to my old haunt, the AHA office. I had a late lunch with Kelly, Evon and Joyce. Caught up on all the people we used to work with and the way things have changed. It was awesome. Then I got to meet up with another friend, Alyssa and have some dessert as my last visit before I got on the plane.

• Total days of Vacation: 6
• Total miles driven in rental car: 1,054
• Total number of people seen: 37

TOTALLY worth it.

When I was a Nanny. . .

for the briefest of moments, I helped my cousin Monica with her four girls and my other cousin Julie with her son while Julie, her husband and her parents went to Europe. It was awesome. On the first day, I overcame a rookie mistake. We had just fed the twins and one was getting squirrel-ly, so I picked her up and lifted her above my head. . .and she promptly spit up into my open mouth. It was like the reverse momma bird treatment.

These are the twins now. (Brooke and Abbey in a tornado machine)

Yeah, I feel old. The oldest daughter, Paula, had just finished up kindergarten when I was helping out. She just graduated from high school. INSANE.

Paula (back to us) and Julieanne

My cousin Monica

Anyway, I met up with them all in Nashville at the Adventure Science Center and had a great time catching up.

Then I went over to see this cutie. How can I NOT want to stay at Julie's house when she lures me in with such adorableness?!?! I am super thankful for her hospitality. Especially since I was about ready to punch a baby to breath normally. It's a week later and I'm still getting rid of snot.

Luckily, I had gotten my Afrin and didn't have to punch anything to feel better. We ate some delicious food at the Southern and I complained incessantly about the humidity killing my spirit. All in all, it was awesome. I miss my Julie, but am so happy that I get to see her--and everyone!

I cannot say no to Miles. Could you? No. Didn't think so.

Miles leading Joey and Julie!

Annual Midwest-South Tour

Me, my cousin Holly and my aunts Mio
and Patty from one of my trips back
to Indiana. I love this picture.

I'm heading back to Nashville. . .and Evansville. . .and Princeton. . . and Indianapolis. . .and back to Nashville this week. It's my vacation! Or at least one vacation that I'm using to take my annual pilgrimage back to the land where I came from. My cousin is getting married tomorrow and I want to be there--plus I get to see a few other cousins and an aunt that I haven't seen in a long time. BONUS!

What's tough about these trips is fitting it all in. I fly in and out of Nashville because it's typically cheaper and easier than Indianapolis. I rent a car and the real fun begins. It's a little more than two hours from Nashville to Henderson, KY/ Evansville to see my family there. Then it's about 35 more minutes north to see my dad and the wedding location in the Princeton area. After that, I get up on Sunday morning to roll up to Indy to see MY GIRLS!!! No trip to the Indiana vicinity is really complete until I see my girls and start some trouble.

From there I go back to Evansville to see more family that I neglected on my first pass and then to Nashville for a little more than 30 hours of trouble with my friends down there. Then back to work next Thursday unless I collapse from exhaustion.

A blur. A whirlwind. A marathon. Whatever you call it, it's quick, packed and a load of fun.

It's still hard not to refer to my annual trips as trips home, but Chef corrected me a few years back. I did the same thing when going just from Nashville to Indiana. "Home isn't somewhere else that you visit," he had said. "It's where you live. And you live here." And he's right. Home is where I live, and I live in Los Angeles.

I look forward to going back each year and catching up, but it obviously also brings up so many memories. I'm lucky because the good ones outnumber the bad by a landslide.

While I was raised in Indiana, I like to think that I actually grew up in Nashville. And when I left, I sobbed like a baby in the moving van all the way to Memphis. Completely inconsolable. Chef felt horrible and asked me why it was so hard. "Nothing bad ever happened to me there," I said. It was a possible exaggeration, because I don't live a completely charmed life, but on the whole, only great things happened in Nashville.It was home.

Of course, almost three years later (CRAZY!!) I can say the same thing about Los Angeles. Maybe my life is somewhat charmed? I dare say, a semi-charmed life?

But I digress. It's time to return to the land where highway driving means that miles and minutes are virtually interchangeable when estimating drive times.

Lock up yo husbands. Lock up yo wives. I'm heading your way TODAY.

Good Friends + Good Wine = Good Times

The crew at winery #3

I've been remiss in thanking Kristie for hosting me along with some Nashville friends, Alyssa and Shea a few weeks back. It was awesome. And she and her fiance were great hosts--like above and beyond.

The making of the chocolate abomination

I'm not going to recount the entire weekend in its full glory for a couple of reasons: 1) I can't remember it all. It was that good. 2) protecting the names of the innocent AND guilty. 3) It would take too long and make too many people jealous.

However, some of the highlights included:

• Visiting three wineries in Temecula and having chocolate wine for the first time. I also believe I ate my weight in Brie, as apparently that is the only cheese worth serving at all wineries. 
• Scarfing down a cheeseburger at 9 p.m. on Saturday night like it's 3 a.m. on a Saturday night because I'm getting old. Or maybe it's because we started wine tasting at like 2 p.m. Yeah, that's it. 
• A beautiful brunch on a rooftop at a hotel overlooking the ocean in Laguna Beach. You would swear places like this were too pretty to exist. 
• Watching perhaps the grossest chocolate bar ever being made. It included red hot Cheetos and crystallized ginger. I forget what else, but I never did find out what the final verdict was on the taste.
• Making even more memories with great friends who hopefully had a blast in California (and perhaps can be persuaded to move here).

The beautiful sunset in Santa Monica

A Taste of Hollywood

When I left Nashville a few years ago, I wasn't the only one. There were a few people at my old place of work at the same time and with that a natural changing of the guard. One of those who came in as I left actually moved to SoCal a month or two ago. We had mutual friends and a mutual place of work and had met before, but hadn't really hung out. 

Until last night. She and her boyfriend were gracious enough to come up to Hollywood from their place in Orange County. She called me a little before we were supposed to meet and said they got tapped on the street to come to a Jimmy Kimmel Live taping and did I want to join them? My office is only a block away from the studio so I made good time and we were able to go.

It was fun. I had never been to a talk show taping. The guests were Hugh Jackman, Carson Daly and some guy from the show Happy Endings, which I'd never seen. He was actually the most entertaining of the three. Here's what I learned from the experience:

• People will do almost anything for a $150 gift card.
• There are a lot of people who will gladly laugh at anything.
• I am not one of those people.
• It's hard and oddly tiring to clap and cheer for what felt like an hour of the two hour taping. 
• I may not be as in shape as I think since it hurt my upper arms to move my arms that much.

I had a great time and was super happy to have dinner and some drinks with my new friends afterward. I love how an ordinary-seeming day can turn into a memory if you just go with it. 

Happy Anniversary, LA!

Two years ago today Chef and I made our way with the cats, a Nissan Sentra and a large Penske truck into Los Angeles where we headed to our new apartment and started to lay down roots in the city of angels. It's hard to believe that it's been two years since I left Nashville. I still miss my friends there and have yet to make as many friends here (but I have made some, which I'm proud of), but I'm happy we moved here.

Los Angeles has been an adventure and I don't think I was having enough of them before I got here. Despite anything else that has happened in my life, I'm always a little proud that I took a risk and moved across country with little knowledge of the area and only a hunch. While it was easier mentally to move to Los Angeles than Nashville because I have a partner in crime, it was way harder physically. Knowing that we're far enough away from family that I couldn't hop in car and get there in a couple of hours was a sobering experience. But thank goodness for modern technology. It's made the distance between the other ones I love seem much less expansive.

I can't believe how much I've done since I've been here. Here's a recap of some of the highlights:

• I've gotten married. :)
• Had two different jobs at two different companies. I've worked at more companies in two years in LA than my entire 9 years in Nashville. 
• Traveled the US and a small part of Canada. Non-profits don't have a ton of "business trip" kind of jobs. For-profits do. While I miss Chef while I'm away, I've liked being able to see different areas of the country. Got to see Washington DC, Philadelphia and Las Vegas a LOT more than ever before. 
• Went to the LA County Museum of Art (LACMA), the Getty Villa, the Aquarium of the Pacific, a Hollywood homes tour, the Griffith Observatory, Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Venice Beach, the American Horror Story Season One house, Staple Center, Angels Stadium, and so many more cool places.
• I've become a redhead.
• I've learned what the word "commute" really means and that estimating the time it takes to go one mile only works if you're on foot. I've also learned the hard way how much of my daily life that I'm willing to spend in a car for a job. 
• I've found great sushi and shitty pizza.
• I've gained the confidence in knowing that I can live and make it.

Now on next year's list, I want to add that I finished my novel and made headway in getting an agent. :) It's been a hell of a two years and cheers to many more!

Flashback Friday: 1999

Thanks Natalie for digging this relic up.

It's hard to look at this picture. Mostly because I look at it and it's hard to believe. It's hard to believe this picture was taken 13 years ago. What the hell? Where did the time go?

It's hard to believe that I was that different looking. Fine, I'll be honest. It's hard to believe that I was that fat. The sad (or happy?) thing was that I got even fatter before I turned it around.

It's also hard to believe that at my height I thought I could pull of a floor length skirt for work wear.

But I digress. To give you some context, this picture was taken in Evansville (I'm guessing you deduced that but just in case) in 1999 in my second year of interning for the local paper, The Evansville Courier & Press. It was my first real look into having a real job (well, technically my second look since I had had the internship the year before and loved it). I realized at that point whether it was working for a newspaper or just working that I needed to be in the communications field. I wanted to write, talk to people, and tell stories. Also I realized that despite it being the second round of people that I was exposed to, I liked them just as much as the first. That was the first time it dawned on me that most people drawn to the communications or media field have fairly similar and congenial personalities. There are some exceptions, but all in all it seems to be true.

You know how people are always looking at themselves younger and say "If I knew then what I know now. . . " or "I wish I could tell my younger self. . .". I'm not sure I feel either way. I mean, I've seen enough time travel movies in my day (and I believe them to be almost like documentaries in their depiction of how time travel would work) to know that telling my younger self things about the future could derail me from the track I went on. And honestly, I like my life. Plus if I told myself that I was going to live in Nashville for almost a decade and then move to LA, I would've thought that future me was severe drug addict. Because I'd only been to Nashville twice in my life at that point--once to go to Opryland and once to go to a basketball tournament-both as a child--and I had never been to LA.

The one thing I would say to me in 1999 is this: Things are going to get really shitty for while and it's going to be really sudden, but it'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just do what you do because you're instincts aren't too shabby.

Hopefully me in 13 years will look back and say the same thing to 2012 me. Minus the shitty part.

Ready for a Vacation

It's not like I've been stressed by the new job since I've only been on it for 8 business days, but leaving the old job in a decent place and the stress of beginning a new place have left me craving my trip out of town. I can't wait to land in Nashville tomorrow and see all my old friends. As luck would have it, not one but TWO of my friends who live in other cities are going to be in town too, so BONUS visit.

And then to Indiana to see my family, who (and I can't really believe this), I haven't seen in over a year. How is that even possible? Oh, right. I live thousands of miles away now. Unfortunately my hubby is staying in the temperate climate of Southern California while I sweat my ass off in Tennessee and Indiana. But the distance will only make me miss him more until I get back.

24 hours from now, I'll be at dinner with friends. . . .

A New Career Adventure

It's bittersweet, but ultimately more sweet than bitter that I decided to leave my current job at SAGE after nearly 18 months. I will desperately miss my UK counterpart who held my hand through trying times and my team who work so hard each day.

I will not miss the commute.

In fact, my new position will cut more than 42 miles off my commute. One way. So about 84 miles a day. In LA traffic. Basically it will be like getting 2 hours and 30 minutes of time back each day. And thus allowing me to actually start living in LA. Making friends. Volunteering. Sleeping past 5 a.m. on a weekday. Staying up later than 10 p.m. That kind of thing.

What am I doing next? Great question. I am going to try a completely different atmosphere (yes. more different than LA) again. I'm going to work as an Account Supervisor in the LA office of  Porter Novelli, an international PR agency. I've never worked in an agency before but I've always wanted to try it and I've always been able to handle it thus far, so why not take the risk.

And because I'm still enamored with the ways of LA, I am SUPER excited that 1) my new job is about 3 miles from home and 2) the office is on Hollywood Blvd. Like THE Hollywood Blvd. You can walk out the front door of the building and be stepping on stars. The Oscars are held about a block away. So the side of me that is impressed with this kind of thing is excited.

So if you wonder where I've been the last month, the mystery is now over. I've been transitioning and as my mom used to tell me "Work as hard on the last day as you did on the first." It's a good mantra. I wanted to make sure my friends and colleagues are left in a good place.

Celebrating until I go into my new gig on Monday morning. Why no longer gap?

Because I'm heading to Nashville and Evansville in two weeks (also became officially official today)! Make plans to hook up with me, friends!

Waiting in the Gunslinger's Office

This is actually a much more
substantial gown than I was
given.

Yesterday afternoon was the annual event known as my Lady Day. Let me rephrase that properly my Lady Parts Day. The annual day where myself (and women everywhere) get to dress in paper clothes, have nightmares from the posters we are forced to look at, and genuinely curse our womanhood. So, if you're a dude and actually still surfed in despite the picture, now might be a good time to move on out and wait until I have another sports post.

Still here? Don't say I didn't warn you. I was in sort of a pickle (that's not a reference to any body part or smell, just a phrase). I had gone to Planned Parenthood last year because I was working but did not have my insurance yet when I needed my annual exam. Thinking that a year was surely PLENTY of time for me to find an actual doctor, I left and went about my business. Until I realized that I was due for another annual visit and had not actually found the aforementioned doctor. Which is why I again found myself in the waiting room of Planned Parenthood typing "Gyno" into my iPhone only to have autocorrect change it to "Gunslinger." Which I kind of prefer calling it now. Except not Planned Parenthood because I imagine saying "Gunslinger" near Planned Parenthood is akin to saying "bomb" on an airplane.

I can imagine the intense self-reflection that goes on in the Planned Parenthood waiting rooms, as I could see it on the faces of others. I, on the other hand, was reflecting in thankfulness that my mother had been overly open about sex as teen. So much so that I actually put off doing the deed way past the national average. But the upside is that I can sit in a Planned Parenthood (or rather ANY gynecologists' office--as I will have a "real" doctor next year) and reasonably predict how my visit will go. And in case I didn't know for sure, the receptionist told me when I checked in that the wait time was about 2 hours from start to finish. Which is another reason that I'll have a real doctor next year. Because those people don't play.

I waited, filled out paperwork, and then was lead to the back to answer those lovely questions. Except now at my age they don't make me blush and when I answer them saying that I have a husband, it seems to relax the nurses a little more. I only wish I had seen my old Nashville doc this year. He had been with me so long and while I kept assuring him that I was loyal to my one man, he was always a little suspect of my truthfulness. Of course, he ran a menopause clinic so I was his only patient smack in the middle of child-bearing years. I halfway think he asked me the litany of questions just to flex his old gyno reflexes. I actually miss him. He was really good.

Yes. That's Kathy Griffin getting a
pap smear in public. 

But I digress. I answered the questions and realized that I couldn't really scoff at the pregnancy and "family planning" questions because I wasn't too young any more. Not that I was technically too young in my twenties, but the nurses used to breeze through those questions if you gave a laugh as an answer to "Are you planning to get pregnant in the next year?". Now when I laugh, they look at me funny and ask again. I straighten my face and say yes before realizing that I'm getting old. Pretty soon those questions will give way to new ones that even question whether I can have kids. Such a turn of events so quickly.

After the third degree, that assistant left and I was forced to strip down to a paper vest and an over-sized lap napkin. . .in 60 degree office climate. . . for 45 minutes. Waiting in a room in my clothes is one thing. Waiting ensconced in paper is entirely different. To pass the time I read about someone who made friends "everywhere". I do not think she made them in a Planned Parenthood Clinic, so she might need to redefine "everywhere." I am bold, but not that bold either. Instead I passed the time by reading and then studying the poster of the male's sex organs. I am finally educated enough to know where the prostate is. Yippee.

My actual exam took all of 5 minutes. Literally. And then I argued with the nurse who did the exam about giving me a prescription for something she insisted vehemently that she had to give me on-site. I finally gave up and said "Fine. Whatever. Just give it so I can get out of this napkin." Three minutes later (and me fully clothed) another nurse came in to say that the previous nurse was indeed wrong and I could have the prescription I asked for. I'm guessing Nurse A was too embarrassed to come tell me but after seeing my who-ha up close and personal, could she really be the one who was embarrassed?

All in all, not a bad gunslinger visit. And it came in at just 3 minutes under two hours, so there's that.

But I Really Want That Brownie. . .and iPad and Shoes...

A "lava stone"--one of my
guilty pleasures. It's a fried ball
of rice with avocado, spicy tuna,
and some caviar.
It's pretty damn good.

I'm having a hard time denying myself lately. And while that means food most of the time, it also means anything my heart is desiring at this moment. (And to be honest today I'm desiring a trip to Vegas or Nashville or Indianapolis or anywhere my friends are that I can be away from the work world for a few days). Most of the time my bank account severely limits my ability to follow through on my desires, but I got my tax refund back so I have a little money to play with. And by "play", I mean go into an Apple store on Friday during my lunch break and buy a new iPad.

The iPad, by the way, was not only a fairly impulsive (at least for me) purchase, but I bought a nice red case and felt absolutely no guilt about it. That doesn't usually happen. If I ever actually get to the point of pulling the trigger on a purchase, I usually regret it until I convince myself that I needed the item. (Like I needed the iPad because I was more likely to write if I could type away on it without having to open a laptop off and burn my legs--and no, my iPad has yet to burn my legs).

For the food front, I've been eating like there's no tomorrow. Well, not really, but it kind of feels that way. And it's a vicious cycle. I try on clothes that I can't fit in to, get depressed that I can't fit into them and then console myself with a cookie. Or a side of fries instead of salad. And while a few of these choices can be a good thing, I'm making them all the time and my ass is paying the price. I know better. I know I know better. But it still happens.

So, for a while I'm going to stick to trying on shoes and getting back to making good choices. I should probably go all-out psycho strict on this for a while before I loosen up. Hope I'm up for it.

Still celebrating a Sweet 16 with the Hoosiers

from iuhoosiers.com

I was so loud cheering last night that Chef told me twice to keep it quiet so that the neighbors didn't call the police for domestic violence. I get a little loud. But you have to cut me some slack because it's the first time in ten years that the Hoosiers have been in the Sweet 16. So I can't just act like I've been there before. I've forgotten how it feels, and I'm not that cool.

It's something that I've known for a long time. Most of my life, really. My name is Ashley and I've never been cool. I'm also fairly certain that I will never be cool. I might be witty, or smart or slightly nerdy (I'm not full on nerd and doin't think I can go there either) or funny or odd, but cool is not something people would use to describe me. And I'm okay with that. More than okay, I like it like that. But the problem is that I live in one of the most self-proclaimed cool cities in the world. And cool seems to be important. Or at least extremes. Los Angeles is a city of extremes. Extremely pretty or thin. Extremely stupid or flippant. Extremely cruel or harsh. Extremely fake. It's alas extremely beautiful and lovely and fun.

I still love LA, but I'm having moments when I'm having a hard time finding my exact place here. It happened in Nashville too. I went through a period at almost the same time in my stay there when I wondered if I really belonged. The answer to that is the same as the answer to my LA life: yes, but feeling comfortable in anything takes time. . . Even your own skin.

Visiting Both My Homes

Last week I got to go home. . . to both of them, well, all three of them if you include my current home. I took a flight to Nashville and spent some time with my friends there. On my first night east of the Mississippi River in a while, I had dinner with some of my co-workers. It was so great to be among friends again. Not only that, but they were so sweet and threw me an impromptu bridal shower. Mostly it was just the opportunity to hang out with people who knew and liked me and whose lives I feel like I'll always be a part of or at the very least interested in.

The next day I got to hang out with my friend Greg and hit two of the places that I miss most in Nashville: Signature Nails and The Patterson House. I got a fantastic pedicure with a complimentary drink, a great foot massage and wonderful service. There are tons of nail places in LA, but I have yet to find the one that has all of those qualities. And the Patterson House. I think I've waxed poetic about the place and its drinks enough. It was the one place I visited last week that made Chef jealous. And the big bonus was that I got to have great conversations with Greg, which made me miss him even more.

The next day I went further north and saw my Uncle Ric and Aunt Deb, Grandma and my Aunt Mio. We had some damn good barbecue, which, along with quality pizza, is something I've yet to discover in LA. People don't just use smokers like they do down south. The history of barbecue isn't there. Then I visited my dad at his work, which was nice because it's always kind of cool to see friends and family members in their career element. Then I visited my Uncle Jeff and my other grandma, who didn't recognize me with the new hair and then when she did, she repeatedly told me how much she didn't like it. I also got to visit my mom's cousin and a family friend before heading off to New Harmony for the night.

Once in New Harmony, Robin and I went to dinner and then rolled around the city via golf cart. We picked out a location for the wedding reception next year (yay!) and then she showed me the coolest thing ever. We went down a dark path into the woods near the river and were surrounded by thousands of lightning bugs. It was like being in the middle of a twinkly light Christmas tree and looking out.

The next morning I had breakfast with Dad and Robin, took a tour of New Harmony and dad's office there, then headed to Evansville to hang out with Jack. We did lunch, then chatted and made muffins. Actually that's not a typo and I didn't make the muffins at all unless you count cheering him on from the sidelines. Did drinks and dinner with the Dicuses and Aunt Mio. Made tons more memories and was in bed at a decent hour to get up and in a car by 5:30 to catch my flight to New Orleans.

All in all, it was a packed but very much worth it trip to my previous two home states. I saw just about as many people as I could in the time allotted. Now I can't wait for them to come out West to enjoy some sunshine and the ability to be warm without being surrounded by air you can feel moisture in immediately.

I Wanted to Like Her. But I Couldn't.

Ann Patchett. The name itself was enough to get me in the audience. In fact, I had talked about her enough that Chef was the one who actually suggested we go when he saw she was speaking in LA. From the same series that brought us the Tina Fey-Steve Martin interview came the Ann Patchett- Maile Meloy conversation.

We went to this cool, old train station turned art gallery space and sat obediently in our folding chairs. I had brought my copy of Ann's latest book (purchased direct from the publisher at a book fair in CANADA!, by the way) in case I wanted to get it signed. I tweeted my excited. She was not only an author that I adored, but from NASHVILLE and could help bring a bit of longing to life. I braced myself for fun. She stepped onto the raised platform in a very Brentwood-housewife looking blue dress.

And from there on, I was utterly disappointed and entirely annoyed.

First of all, to call it a "conversation," as it was billed to be, would be doing it a disservice. It was primarily 90 minutes of Ann Patchett talking about herself and dropping names like they're hot. She told a few funny stories, but then preceded to drop her personal friendships with three prominent female writers, Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban, a famous opera singer and her numerous editorial connections into the whole thing. It was obnoxious.

She took credit for bankrupting Gourmet magazine because they bankrolled her elaborate trips for novel research with her just selling them an article. She said she didn’t do it because she couldn’t afford to pay for the trip, but because she didn’t like to make elaborate travel plans and they had a department to do that for her.

She mentioned having her first piece published in The Paris Review, but being confused because she hadn’t submitted to The Paris Review. She had submitted to Esquire, but they had passed it to The Paris Review without her knowing. How weird! (She said that with undeniable pride and I admit I’m envious, but also a little ticked).

She mentioned lots of things that mostly just made me angry. What she didn’t mention was that she has the luxury of writing because her husband, a doctor, takes care of little things like steady income and health insurance.

Mostly I was just irritated. I felt no humility or feeling of luck for her having won the genetic lottery. I mean, she’s white. She was born to parents who were pretty well off (mother is a nurse, stepfather is a doctor). Those two things helped her get into Sarah Lawrence College. And from there, the rest is history.

Of course, Ann Patchett’s talent is truly something to marvel at. As much as I’m now disappointed in having met her (and why I will probably never really want to meet Matt Damon or Peyton Manning), I still appreciate that she can sure write. I just now have to separate the author from the work to appreciate it. Which is really what I’m doing with Jonathan Franzen too.

Anyway, the whole night was sitting there wondering if I was the only one who thought she was utterly obnoxious and looking at the room full of aging yuppies. Many people in their mid to late 50s wearing gorgeously made, expensive clothes that they put together to look like shit. Bad, short women’s haircuts and men wearing “statement” glasses—big, bold, black rims and odd shapes. They were people ready to be mobilized into doing something for society, but instead of putting that to actual use, they rallied around the idea of the independent bookstore and the evils of Amazon and the Kindle. While I understood the message, I thought it was a little diluted for them to be nodding their heads vigorously to Patchett’s battle cries against mass booksellers while I literally watched some of them guzzle Starbucks coffee. (By the way, Patchett described her contributions to the bookstore she’s planning on opening in Nashville as the “flash and the cash”—also a little retching).

It was all in all too much. I couldn’t believe that I was the only one who wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. It wasn’t until I left and Chef said “So, what did you think?” tentatively that I realized there was at least one other person who felt like I did.

“I think that I’m a little sad that my favorite author is an asshole,” I said.

“I’d call her a ‘Douche in a Blue Dress’,” Chef replied.

The floodgates then opened as we exchanged quotes from the evening that left us both with a bad taste in our mouths. And for the second time that evening I truly appreciated Chef.

Falling In Love Again . . With Reading

While I clearly didn't have the best time on my Canadian excursion (the company was lovely but the location-not so hot-although I'm willing to try Canada again--just maybe Vancouver,) there was one definite plus: I fell in love again with reading.

It's not like I ever truly fell out of love with reading, but you know how it goes. I hadn't had the best of luck reading the most captivating books lately, so I wasn't super excited to get through them and then I opt for a magazine instead. Not a good sign for a novel. I breezed through Bossypants because it is clearly awesome and then I picked up Water for Elephants right before I left for Canada. It had been sitting on my bookshelf since before the move. I remember buying it at McKay's in Nashville for $2.

It took me about 3 days of intermittent reading to get through it and it was a really entertaining book. But I left my Kindle at home on the charger, so I went to the Chapters store and bought two more books. I breezed through the first one in two days and started on the second one on my flight home.

Of course, books are something that I just love surrounding myself with PLUS I was working at frickin' Book Fair for 5 days, so I got even MORE tempted. Normally the Book Fairs I go to only have text books or academic writing (not the best for leisure time), but this one had FICTION! And good fiction. So I ended up buying four more books (hello? there was a conference discount!). So I left with two books read, six books bought and one more halfway through.

PLUS I just got two more audiobooks and finished the three I previously had. I've probably read or absorbed more literature in the last month than in the last 6 months combined. And I'm all the happier for it!

I Have to Admit

This is going to be one of my confession blog posts, but before you get all excited, you must remember that I'm not all that scandalous. But here are things I must admit:

• The commute is getting to me. At least this week. There's something about leaving the office at 5 and getting home by 5:30--not 6:30--that's appealing. Maybe I just need some good new music or books to listen to. Suggest away!
• I'm not writing as much as I should be. I used to get up early to work out and then write, but I don't have time for both now and I refuse to get up earlier than the 5 a.m. that I'm already waking up at. So unfortunately, the writing has taken the hit.
• I miss the South. It was instantly warm (although not entirely genuine) and had tons of polite people who took me under their wing. Some of those wings I wrestled out of, but it was nice to have people that care that much.
• I don't miss the frequent and often inappropriate mixing of business and religion that was common in the south. It made me uncomfortable. It also made my non-Christian friends uncomfortable.
• Me not being into weddings or wedding planning has nothing to do with Chef and everything to do with the fact that my mom's not here to do it with me. There are lots of great people who ARE here to help me and I appreciate them, but her absence is still felt. I know if we ever choose to have a child, that's going to be much worse.
• I miss being around women who know football.
• I have a shoe addiction. But that's a different post for a different day.
• I think Mark Wahlberg is a pretty good actor that has made me laugh on numerous occasions. I'm a peacock. You gotta let me fly.
• I'm about ready for a trip to Nashville then Evansville. One will be planned in next couple of months to see both.
• I can't look at Jenny McCarthy without thinking she's bat shit crazy, no matter how much money she raises for autism.
• I only eat 370 carefully measured calories every day for lunch so that I can splurge on dinner. And then I get pissed when Chef talks me out of dessert.
• I don't think I'm as good a friend as I used to be.
• I haven't tried really hard to find friends in LA.

Those are my confessions for now. Add any you want to call me out or just want to add one of your own.

I'm Starting To Feel Good About Myself

Let me rephrase that title as I've always felt good about some aspect of my life or another. And because I have a very supportive family, I don't think I've had a day in my life that I haven't felt smart. I might not always feel pretty or thin or like a good cook, but I've always felt intelligent. And that's a great trait to have. Especially when you're job hunting.

Because I have good friends and colleagues that have given me good references on linkedin and via phone, and who have helped me craft my resume, I'm actually getting some really good traction in LA. As previously blogged about, I've had an interview already. It went well. As well as those things that go. One thing I learned from doing interviews myself is that sometimes the most qualified candidate is not necessarily the best fit for the other personalities on the team. It's really a crap shoot and now that I've been lucky enough to be on the other side, I know this and don't get pissed off. Before when I'd interview for a job and didn't get it, I'd be really mad--like "how could they NOT like me?". They might very well have liked me but already had someone like me on their staff. It's not personal and I'm mature enough to know that now.

But today was a good day. I got a phone interview scheduled for one position, got a second online personality assessment for another position, got an email reading that I will be scheduled for a face to face interview for another position AND got a freelance gig that's gonna be fun in the mean time. Not too shabby for someone who doesn't know a lot of people in LA. And next week I'm heading down the LA American Heart Association office to offer my services and time to volunteer. I didn't think I'd do it, but after thinking about it, I realized it could be a great way to meet some new contacts and get an expert's (aka the Communications Director's) opinion on ad and PR agencies in the market.

So, I'm feeling good about myself and my future here. Although right at this second, the only thing making me feel sad is the incessant "Visit Music City: Music Calls Us Home" ads that are playing during the Music City Bowl right now. The photos are all from places within 3 miles of my old stomping grounds. Damn you, ESPN, for your nostalgic intros! Miss you, Nashville and Nashville Friends!!!

Rain Makes Me Nervous

It started raining yesterday in LA. Not that rain is exceptionally noteworthy, but it was the first overcast day since we moved here. And the sprinkles started and then some heavy rain, but nothing I'd consider a downpour or anything of that nature. '

However, it was about 4 a.m. when I started hearing what sounded like waves outside our bedroom window. We're close the ocean in a sense that we are only about 15 miles away from the coast, but 15 miles is not nearly enough to hear the lapping of water on sand.

I looked out the window to see cars on the road next to our apartment slowing down (if they had enough time) and skidding through flooded street. The wave sound was the sound of the water lapping against the parked cars on the side of the street. We live near a busy street. It's 3 lanes on each side. We've also come to realize that we live with people who aren't used to flash flooding.

By the time I woke up and got out of bed, the flooding had subsided and the street was wet, but passable. The rains had dwindled and it looked like a soggy day. However, around 11 a.m. they kicked back up again and by early afternoon, you couldn't see road for about half a block. The water was standing about 8 inches high.

As entertaining as it was to watch all these cars come to a screeching halt in time to see their cars under a huge spray, it also made me nervous. Anyone who lived in Nashville in May knows what I'm talking about. It was during the flood that I learned it only takes a foot of water to sweep away a car. That rains can become raging rapids in less time than it takes to get to the supermarket 4 blocks away. There's a point when you start wondering if you have flood insurance. Realizing that even if you do have flood insurance, the roof might collapse from all the rain collected on it. That while being a part of history is fun, it's much more enjoyable in, say, a witnessing a no-hitter kind of way instead of a being a part of a 100 year flood kind of way.

They say Los Angeles hasn't had rain like this in a decade. Well, I'm tired of being a part of memorable weather. The next history-making weather I want to be a part of is the longest streak of consecutive 72 degree and sunny days in Southern California history. Of course, I'll have to wait another 4 days for that to begin as the rain isn't supposed to let up until Thursday.

I know those of you suffering in snow have little sympathy, but I thought I'd vent nonetheless.

The Things that Are Different

There are inevidently things that are different when you move across state lines. Those things you notice right off as being completely odd. The last time I moved to Tennessee, it was odd that you couldn't get your car registration and your driver's license in the same place.

In California, it was the license branch. We got there when it opened, waited maybe 20 minutes, and then had to submit my passport and Tennessee license, pay $31 and go get my picture taken (which for the record is not as nice a picture as the odd license, but I digress). After the picture, I had to take a written test. Yes, that's right. I had to take a 36 question test about traffic laws. Traffic laws in general, I aced. It was the California specific laws that I had trouble with. For example, I didn't know that they had passed a law making it illegal to smoke in a car with someone under 18 inside. Why would I know that?

I passed the test, but just barely. It probably would've helped if I had had the test booklet to study before we went in, but I didn't know we would have to take a test. I mean, in Tennessee I just had to fill out some paperwork. No test. Take your new picture and leave with your license.

That's the other thing that is completely bizarre about California. Chef and I didn't leave the DMV with new licenses. We'll get in the mail. . .7 weeks from now. WHAT?!?! And the lady punched a hole in my old license. So, I have my old ID with a hole RIGHT THROUGH THE BIRTHDATE (which is the only thing people need to see on the license) and a temporary paper license for the next 7 weeks.

After the DMV experience, Chef was done for the day. I had the pleasure of opening our new checking account (we went with Wells Fargo), taking back a defective purchase from Best Buy, buying my niece and nephew their Christmas presents and the nephew's birthday present, getting a manicure and going to Trader Joe's. The last two were just for my enjoyment. The manicure was okay. Cost less than Nashville, but I didn't get a drink offered when I came through the door, the towels were kind of shabby, the nail polish was NOT OPI or Essie, but some off brand that didn't provide any kind of coverage. So, I will continue the search for my nail salon.

The thing that sucked was that I love pedicures, but couldn't even attempt it. Today was the first day that I could put shoes on with my busted toe, but that was pushing the limit. I know the nail is coming off. It's not really attached to my toe. I would love for it to come off, but I'm too chicken to pull it off.

So, that was my day today. The gifts are wrapped and I'll head to get them shipped tomorrow. Still have about 13 more gifts to buy, but I've got a little time. :)

An Anniversary of Sorts

I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm 31 years old and I want my mom. I think the older we get, the more likely we are to admit that out loud. One of the differences is, and most of you know this, that my mother passed away. In fact, it was 10 years ago today that she died.

The weird thing was that this week, I was bopping through my life thinking "Wow! It hurts so much less now. I miss her, but this is going to be an easy one." And then BAM! Not so much. Ten years is a long time. In fact, it's a third of my life. It's weird to think that 10 years is about half of the time that mom and I had together. Even weirder to think of being only 42 and I will have lived as long with her as without.

And clearly it's hard not to think of the things that she didn't get to see. Her grandchildren, Chef, me actually losing the weight she had so begged me to shed. I also think of the things that would be different if she were still around. I probably wouldn't have moved to Nashville. I might not have met Chef. There wouldn't be cats in my house, as she was very allergic.

It's easy to be sad about it. Mostly I miss her and the things she brought to my life. You don't realize how much someone motivates you by their presence until its not there. Or how much you appreciate getting a package or card in the mail until they start coming less frequently. It makes me realize the things that were really important. And on most days I try to remember those things and not the others that seem to take up so much of my time.

But despite everything--and I know I'm not alone in this--, I have no shame in saying that I want my mom.