Splitting hairs

Crazy Aunt Purl did a series on her bad hair. I promised I'd imitate (flattery, right?). I'm not nearly as funny as she is but here goes....




The hair I was born with - I'm only 6 months old in this shot and I have a lot of damn hair. It was an excellent start - don't you think? A little Jewfro-y for a 6 month old.











Then the hair started to get bigger. By the way, check out the hair hoppin' mom and the groovy ass rock wall, not to mention the outfits and the carpet. This is the house I grew up in. Is it any wonder I am the way I am?












Suddenly, I'm 4 years old and my hair is like 10 feet long. I wish I still had that wallpaper. Seriously. That's my sister, obviously. This is before we started beating the crap out of each other.


















That's all for tonight. I'll post the bad years next.

The road to hell

Honestly, I had all kinds of good intentions.

I was going to post the story of my thanksgiving in Israel.

I was going to post an ode to my bad hair days (bigups to Crazy Aunt Purl)

I was going to regale y'all with all kinds of fun.

Good thing I didn't join NaBloPoMo - cause I'm totally lame.

But here's a picture of my niece - just for the fun of it. And because she's totally the cutest kid ever...

And with the pit bull of love - Holly!!! Don't they look happy to see each other? Actually - the Holl-ster is an amazing dog. She is so completely passive and has major experience with little girls (that does not involve tasting them...)




I promise - I'll get the bad hair pics up this week. Promise!!!

There is a season

Seriously? Do you really not have any short term memory whatsoever? 3 years ago today it was 90 degrees farenheit downtown. This is not unusual. This is not freakish.

In fact, according to the National Weather Service, the highs in Los Angeles for November, December and January have always broken the high 80s. In fact, November 1, 1966 it hit 100 degrees.

It's warm in L.A.? yes
there is global warming? yes
this is a sign of the apocalypse? No. This is why you moved here.

Enough complaining. And, in my presence, I want to hear no complaining about seasons. Spend a week in Minnesota in February. Then complain about seasons.

Anyway, Los Angeles has seasons.

To start the year, we have awards season. Officially this lasts until the Oscars in March, though it can stretch on with the GLAAD Media Awards, the ALMA Awards, the MTV Movie Awards and the Daytime Emmys.

February to May is pilot season. Which is lucky because it overlaps with the rainy season, in which Cosentino's flower shop in Malibu makes its annual trip into the Pacific. In May and November, there is sweeps season.

Late August usually begins fire season which can last until December but usually ends in October and overlaps with Hiatus in August, both of which overlap with Bowl season which stretches from June to early October.

Then there's the Holiday season, which is really just high shopping season - Holiday season is evidenced by the lack of parking at the Grove and the Scientology snow day on Hollywood Blvd. To some extent shopping season never really ends, it just wanes slightly.

See. Seasons. Told ya.

Craig's list - I miss the good old days...

When I am forced to write, like a book report, I don't write nearly as amusing material...I'm not naming any names......Monkeygurl.....But I'll try.

OK. The hit parade is now playing 30 days until my escrow closes.

I have nary packed a thing but I have finally thrown away the dry and crumbly old spices sitting on racks above my stove. The racks are in my trunk. I am seriously going to need to have a garage sale.

I am getting rid of:
At least 1 if not 2 dressers
2 Desks
a rattan trunk
China cabinet
Microwave cart
framed Matisse poster
framed Jane Evershed poster
various and sundry light sources
book shelves
night stand
vacuum cleaner
vintage knitting machine and many, many other things and stuff

It's all going up on Craigslist except that the fabulous CL - which has been the source of Michael's first bike and many, many garage sale adventures, seems to have been taken over by people actually selling stuff to make a living, who have time on their hands to post and repost the contents of their entire warehouses of furniture leaving my measly posting lost in a world of Italianate-style bedroom sets and lucite coffee tables.

Damn those kids today and their "Yo, MTV Raps"........

A guide to living in recovery with (or without) bulimia

This post is going to be a bit self indulgent - but isn't all blogging self-indulgent?

I’ve been living with an eating disorder for a good 18+ years now.

I would consider my recovery in its infancy – this doesn’t give me much expertise but after 5 complete months without my drugs of choice (flour in any of its forms and refined sugar), I’m getting to the point where I’m learning a little bit about how people live who have no compulsion to puke up their In N’ Out. (Though I am having nightmares about accidentally eating a sandwich.)

Here’s some of what I’ve learned so far:

1. Perhaps I am, actually, hungry. When was the last time I ate – and I don’t mean 3 grapes – if it was more than 4 hours ago, it’s possible that I actually need food – and I don’t mean 3 more grapes.

2. Perhaps I am not hungry. When was the last time I ate? If it was less than 3 hours ago and I am annoyed, bored, anxious or trying desperately to numb out some dreaded emotion, it’s possible that I’m not hungry.

3. It’s time to stop noticing public bathrooms that are soundproof and/or single occupancy.

4. Starving actually makes me cranky and unbearable to be around.

5. Binging makes me even more cranky and unbearable to be around.

6. Puking gives me a headache, makes my breath smell and my teeth rot, which makes me, if not unbearable, then definitely unpleasant to be around.

7. "They" are right, breakfast is really the most important meal of the day.

8. Just because I’m home alone does not mean that I have to throw up. I know it feels that way but actually, being home alone means that I can do things that I don’t usually do when Michael’s home – like watch CSI on the big TV or craft all over the living room.

9. Throwing up sometimes does make me feel better – however, other things may make me feel better too – like knitting or skimming the pages of Martha Stewart Living.

10. Eating a real meal is, in fact, going to impair my ability for future binging, and that’s a good thing

11. Obsessing over pictures of 16 year olds in couture in Vogue is far less satisfying as punishment for my failures/motivation than it used to be.

12. In fact, all forms of punishment are less satisfying than they used to be.

13. A sore throat might be the flu, or a cold, or a sore throat.

14. Being in traffic is not the same thing as being starving.

15. Eventually I’m going to have to go back to the dentist. Turn around, face it like someone in recovery and make the damn appointment. Then don’t cancel it.

16. Passing out due to lack of nutrition isn’t proof of my willpower it’s causing my brain to be deprived of oxygen.

17. Cut the damn size tag out and forget about it.

18. Hating what I am doesn’t actually get me any closer to changing what I am.

19. Dreaming that I ate a sandwich is not the same thing as actually eating one. Therefore, no reason to be so angry at myself when I wake up in the morning.

20. Keeping secrets stresses me out and my first impulse when I’m stressed out is…well, you know.


If you’ve never had an eating disorder – feel free to post how you eat as a normal human being.

If you’re eating disordered, please feel free to add your own tricks of the recovery trade – so to speak.

Handy and Dandy

First, if you read my blog on bloglines, click over and check out my new design by the lovely and amazingly talented Miss Kendra! Thanks Miss K!

Second - Maybe Monday will be new invention day or obscure news story day. Anyway, I have something new and useful for those who need it, and you know who you are...

The Pronto condom which comes (heh heh) with a handy dandy applicator. Sounds too weird? I don't know, watch the demo and decide for yourself. Frankly, if the company is right and they are really not going to cost any more than any other condom, I don't see why anyone would use anything else. Some of the benefits of the new pronto condom, no tearing a wrapper (getting lube on your mouth, which you know you hate), no more putting it on backward - and you know who you are..., faster than a wilting erection!

Third, go vote - if the peer pressure doesn't get you, I will.

Power, clothing, fanaticism and gender

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the problems I have with some Charedi. As if the pirate circumcisions weren't enough, now we have the hall monitors of Mea Shearim with spray bottles of bleach tracking down the sluts whose skirts aren't quite dragging through the streets cleaning the cobblestones of the Old City. How dare they wear orange! Or bright green!
Read the whole story here.

Ultimately, being a Jewess is not predicated on anything halachically except one's mother being Jewish or conversion. From there, the question of Jewish identity is open for interpretation -- and frankly, I have an issue with the first one. But I'm not going to get into that in this post.

How we dress is very powerful. To many, the concept of modesty it is understood as a means to keep women servile (think burqa). So much in our Western society have roots in the patriarchy though - unless you are a complete radical, most of us have gotten over the fact that marriage itself has its roots in servility and exchange of property. We have, for the most part, within each of our marriages, redefined this practice for ourselves.

I know I have.

One can say the same about traditions from every culture throughout the world that have been modified because it makes sense to modernize. Frankly, we don't say "bless you" to keep the spirits from entering through the nose anymore either.

The way one dresses, male or female, young, old, whatever, is our external language of self expression. If you wear primarily black with skull patches, you want people to know more about the inside you that is not necessarily chipper all the time and sees a darker side of life. When you wear business attire, you want people to understand that you are serious about your work. If you go on tv with your sleeves rolled up, it projects an image that you are willing to get your hands dirty - deceiving or not.

When I get dressed in the morning, I consider what I am doing that day and how I want people to perceive me. When I wear jeans and a sweatshirt to work, I am damn certain that I have no meetings. My office mate knows more about my inside (my intelligence, my sense of humor). He knows enough about me to look past the external statement I make with clothing. On days that I do have to meet the outside world, I present myself differently. None of y'all have seen me the way Michael has, at my most vulnerable.

Tsniut (modesty) is a powerful concept. The modern Jewish thought on tsniut, as I understand it, and how many Muslim women who wear hijab and orthodox feminists wish others would understand it is as a focus on the inner self. A focus on things more important than how we look on the outside. The tradition within these cultures to dress modestly varies (Muslim women can wear pants but should have the hijab under their chin while Jewish women should not wear pants and only need to cover up to their collarbone) but this is the way some women choose to express themselves.

Having said that, we get to the Bleach Boys of Jerusalem. The women they are spraying (not that it would be any better) are not wearing halter tops and short shorts or even pants (!). They are wearing clothing that qualifies as tsniut, just not tsniut enough for these men. Too short skirts, tops that are not baggy enough to hide the figure, colors too bright.

These boys/men should be in their beit midrash. How is it modest to go out into the streets with premeditation to judge the women running their errands in your neighborhood. Aren't there better things to do with their time? Study Torah? Do mitzvot? Or is it that they enjoy some power over women that they do not have elsewhere. That they must secret themselves on balconies and around corners to get across a point that women are the root of all sin.

Ultimately, it is violence against women. It is forcing women to hide in the home, to fear going out, and it leads directly to the burqa. Which is not a comparison that these men should be striving to maintain.