Monthly Archives: June 2013

The Day I Built A Bomb Shelter

The day I built a bomb shelter went a little something like this…

  • Watch WWZ in the theater   
  • Drive home from the theater in a daze of paralyzed fear – holy crap, I’m totally going to die when zombies attack Los Angeles   
  • Sell my home in Los Angeles to buy a plot of undeveloped land in the wilds of Novia Scotia   
  • Find a teacher (craigslist) who will teach my family how to fight zombies with handmade bayonets and magazines wrapped around our forearms   ✓
  • Order survival food that lasts 100 years or our money back   
  • Hire a bunch of eco-terrorists to build a first defense blockage around our bomb shelter (I lied and said we were worried about loggers)   
  • Convince my family to come live with me in a bomb shelter in Novia Scotia so we don’t get eaten by zombies   ✓  ✓  ✓  ✓   ✓  (but all very reluctantly)
  • Write this blog in the dark. In my bomb shelter. In freezing Novia Scotia. Where I’m so bored I want to bite someone    

WWZ – Trailer

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Los Angeles Metropolitan Superior Court (aka the 7th Level of Hell)

Last week I got a letter on yellow paper telling me that A) there was a hold on my license and B) I need to go to court and pay a $900 bail.  Why you ask?  That’s what I said!

In January I got a traffic ticket for merging into the left lane from the right, a ‘right hand turn only’ lane.  It was on Fairfax, just off the freeway.  Here’s how it goes:

  • You exit the freeway.right lane
  • Within .1 miles (about 500 feet) there’s a sign notifying you that the lane is now ‘Right Lane Must Turn Right.’
  • So you put on your blinker and wait for someone to let you merge left.
  • Within another .1 miles you hit an intersection.
  • And that’s the trick.

So I merged, and crossed through the intersection, and there was Mr. 5-0 in the middle of the road with his ticket pad.  I guess the City of LA knows this is a chicken and egg situation too.

Not be to be defeated, I wrote a letter with photos from Google explaining why the ticket was in error.  I paid my $238 fine and mailed it all along with a little hope that the City would refund me my efforts.

The check was cancelled in March.  My Trial by Declaration was ignored.

And then the letter on yellow paper came.  I called the number.  It was automated.  I Googled the Superior Court.  There are no operators there due to budget cuts.  I realized that I was going to have to go to hell.

  • So I booked a babysitter. ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • And drove all the way downtown. ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • And I parked. ca-ching $ ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • And I stood in line outside. ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • Then I went through a metal detector so I could stand in line inside. ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • And I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  ca-ching $ ca-ching $ ca-ching $ ca-ching
  • 45 minutes later they I got to the front of the line and Window number 20.
  • I showed the woman my letter.  She told me it was a computer error.  I asked when the Trial by Declaration would be settled.  She told me she had no idea.  I asked if there was still a mark on my license.  She didn’t know.  I told her I had just lost hours of my life.  She yawned.

Now I understood the need for metal detectors.  What a Metropolitan Pile of Poop.


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My two little ones and I went to the hardware store this morning.  For $8.71 we purchased a medium-sized plastic container filled with ladybugs.

Our mission: release them into our garden before bedtime tonight.

The directions said that ladybugs are less likely to fly away at night.  That they will find food in the plants, make babies, and create a new home where everyone will be happy.


The children and I created some new songs to sing as we release them back into the wild.

Ladybug Ladybug, fly away home.  The garden is blooming and it’s almost all grown.

Ladybug Ladybug, fly away home.  Ring ring ring, there’s someone on the phone.

Ladybug Ladybug, fly away home.  Make a new home by that big gray stone.

Ladybug Ladybug, fly away home.  Stay in our garden, don’t leave us alone.

Ladybug Ladybug, fly away home.  Our plants are yummier than a blueberry scone!


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Shopping 911

It all began when our nanny needed a new dress for a wedding in Chicago.  I offered to help her look online and then the next thing I knew <ca-ching ca-ching ca-ching> boxes were showing up at our front door.  At first it was Nordstroms, then Amazon, then Urban Outfitters.  Another box from Nordstroms followed quickly and then a big one from Saks.  Then came a large bag from Victoria’s Secret and a couple of small boxes from I don’t even remember.  There was an Ikea delivery, a Home Depot delivery, a hug Amazon delivery, and then yes, another box from Nordstroms.  Any day now l’m due a big drop-off from Net-A-Porter.

The good news is that I don’t feel the urge to shop for a really really really long time.  Two weeks at least!

The bad news is that I’m bored out of my mind and unless I start delving into online Poker, I’ve got to find some other way to pass the time in between cleaning up Play-doh and wiping peanut butter off the walls.

Luckily I have this guy working at the house to help me keep the boxes

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My So Called Life

It’s Tuesday.  Feels like Thursday.  Have I really only gone through 1 day in this week?  I wake up around 5 and get more done (if you count changing diapers and pretending to drink chocolate juice out of a wooden block as “more”) before eleven than most people I know.  But at eleven, as if I’m Batman, my life changes.  Why you ask?  Because nap time is on its way!

By 12 the kids are asleep and if I’m lucky, I am too.  Sharing the couch with our dog, Kiki – curtains closed – stomach growling, but too tired to do anything about it – head resting on a not very comfortable pillow as I exhaustedly tell myself that I don’t care about the light coming through a gap in the curtain – and….and….and….  I’m out in a few seconds.

Dreaming.  Half listening for crying.  Wait!  That was crying!

I jump up.  Dog and pillows spill onto the floor.  Running towards the bedrooms.  Which room the crying is coming from?

It’s the baby.  Rushing in and…and…and…and…

And is that poop everywhere?

Yes, he’s pulled off his diaper.  There’s poop on bunny.  On owlie.  On blue bunny.  On himself.  On the sheets.  On great Aunt Somebody’s hand-knit blanket.  On that other blanket.  And the other blanket.  Oh yeah.  And would you look at that.  It’s on the crib too.  Now how did he get it all the way up there?  I look at his hands.  Oh.  That’s how.

This is my so called life.

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Dog Rescuing

Like crocodile wrangling, dog rescuing is all about…stupidity.

So I see this dog wandering up and down my street. Then the dog crosses over to the other side and does it again.  I look for an owner.  Nothing.  I call to the dog and the shaggy devil runs off towards the busy street I neighbor.  I ask the boy next door (20-something and last seen walking along above-mentioned busy street with a suspiciously super-Rasta Rastafarian – you draw your own conclusions) for some help with the dog while I put the kids to bed (it was nap time).  The boy next door nods and then disappears inside his house never to return.

That’s how I found myself outside after bottles and stories and new super-absorbant diapers, chasing a dog that looks something like this 


(see photos) 

with treats.  Eventually I corner the dog in a neighbor’s driveway.  But then I chicken out before I can grab him.  So I corner him again.  And again, chicken out.  This goes on for some time.

Eventually however,I do grab his collar and…no tags.

So I take the poor old thing (because now I can see that A) it’s a him B) he’s super old and C) he’s having major hip problems and can barely walk) to my house where I lock him in the front yard.  He’s a sweet old guy, scared and hurting, and I can tell he just wants to get home, but somehow can’t find it.  I bring him food and water and a blanket that I put under a tree so he can rest in the shade.  The other boy next door (20-something, grad student studying either physics or Greek, looks like Clark Kent, have never seen him with a Rastafarian and doubt he even knows what one is) sweetly offers to help me once he gets back from school.  In the meantime I call, email, and call again every vet, dog groomer, and neighborhood association in the area.  Then I make my husband take the poor old guy to a local vet to see if he has a microchip or if he’s seriously hurt.  Turns out his hips were just tired from walking so much when he was lost and other than a testicle that looked cancerous, the dog was in great shape.  Not even a flea!  And in addition to no tags, no microchip.

So Sam brings the dog back home (we built a ramp to help him in and out of the Prius) and just as he’s loading our new dog out of the trunk a little girl walks by.  “Lucky!”  she yells.

Yup, his name is Lucky and the sweet old bird lives in the same spot we do one block over.  That’s why he kept walking up and down our street – he was disoriented.  He had the location almost right.  Her aunt asked how long we’d had him (almost 8 hours) and told us they never knew he was gone until the little girl got home.  We chalked the vet fees down to “goodwill.”

It was stressful day, but my children still are talking about Lucky and how lucky he was that mommy found him.  Moral of the story…I’d do it again in a heartbeat.  Dog rescuing.  It’s as stupid as crocodile wrangling.

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The Art of the Online Invitation

As a papyrophile (person who loves paper, which I’m malapropping to mean person who loves stationery) it was hard to embrace the new online invitation trend.  But as time has passed and the art of designing an online invitation has sophisticated.  I’m into it!

That being said, it must be acknowledged that not all two online invitations are the same.  And thus I give you what is appropriate and what is well, outdated.  You’d be better off licking stamps.  (get it? because stamps are adhesive now???  yeesh.)

IN: Paperless Post, Punchbowl…yeah, that’s about it.

OUT: evite…and all the other ones besides Paperless Post and Punchbowl.

So do yourself a favor, if you’re going to invite online, invite with style!



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