Second Blooming

Spin Cycle: Hollywood Bowling

One of the greatest iconic Los Angeles summer activities is a night out at the famous Hollywood Bowl.

Built in the 1920's, the Hollywood Bowl is an amphetheater nestled into the Hollywood Hills. Every summer, they offer a series of concerts - classical, jazz, rock, world music, and special events. But it kinda doesn't matter what the music is, the fun is in the event. Everybody brings food and liquor and has a giant picnic. You can either go all hoity-toity and purchase the box seats down near the stage, or go more plebian and grab the nose-bleeds way up top - it's fun either way.

For the past two years I've been going with the Fun Moms from Jude's school to the Grease Sing-A-Long, which is just what it sounds like - they show the movie Grease on a big screen and we all sing along with it. Everyone dresses in silly Grease costumes and is very loud. It's a whole audience of Pink Ladies and Greasers and Beauty School Dropouts.  It's amazingly silly and fun.

Yes, we did wear the silly costumes. Yes, we did have the fancy box. Yes, I did dress as Rizzo, though I realized I was a little long in the tooth for that, so decided I was actually Rizzo's slutty mother. No, that's not a real cigarette.

We had lots of fun, and ate lots of food and drank lots of drink. But don't worry, nobody drove. The original plan had been for Jane's teenaged son to be our driver (excellent idea I thought), but he threw us over for a date with a cute girl. Hmmm...hot girl...carload of your mother's drunken middle-aged friends dressed in dorky costumes...can't understand the kid's decision.

Anyway, the picnic portion of the Hollywood Bowl experience is always pretty serious. Nearby restaurants have started businesses just catering for these upscale picnics. And I have to say, this group of ladies delivers the good stuff. This year was particularly innovative and yummy, so I thought I'd share some fab picnic at the Bowl recipes.

We started with Rachel's cocktail, which she dubbed the Pink Panties since we were all the Pink Ladies.

Pink Panties Cocktail 

1 medium watermelon, chopped then puréed

1 liter bottle 100 proof vodka

1/2 bottle pink lemonade flavored vodka straight from freezer

1 pint raspberry sorbet

 

Here's what Rachel did in her own words...

In the morning I chopped the watermelon in large chunks and poured in large ziplock bags with bottle of 100 proof vodka. 8 hours later, took it out of the fridge. Reserving vodka left in bag, I puréed the watermelon then placed purée in large fabric tea strainer and poured 100 proof vodka from bag through the purée in strainer. I gave it time to run through before adding more watermelon purée and vodka. Yield approximately 1 gallon. Then I blended 1 pint sorbet with 1/2 bottle of pink lemonade vodka and stirred into watermelon vodka and refrigerated.  Ice kept separately in ready to serve!

And it  went beautifully with my appetizer...

Watermelon Goat Cheese Bites

I got this idea from this recipe HERE, but I boogered with it some. I'm fairly sure boogered is a proper culinary term.

One seedless watermelon (you'll have lots of leftover)

One log of goat cheese

Fresh basil

1 cup balsamic vinegar

Slice the watermelon into big disks, about one inch thick. Lay flat and use a cookie cutter or the lid to a jar to cut out small (1 inch to 1 1/2 inches in diameter) cylinders. Then slice the cylinders into 3 or 4 disks. Arrange little circles on tray.

Slice goat cheese into little disks about the same diameter and thickness of the watermelon disks. Place on top of the watermelon.

Place one piece of fresh basil on top of each goat cheese disk.

Make a balsamic reduction by gently boiling 1 cup of balsamic vinegare until it reduces by half. Drizzle the balsamic reduction over the little disks. Serve.

The original recipe called for bacon, but shockingly, I chose not to use it. But here's a picture of how it would look with the bacon (and if you were an extreme perfectionist - mine didn't look like this, but it tasted GOOD).

Super fresh and summery!

For the main course, Amanda made this amazing...

Grilled Chicken with Mango Salsa

It was so good that when she dished up huge portions for each of us, we all protested "No, no, that's to much!" then we all promptly gobbled up every bite.

The chicken recipe, which involves an incredible Indian spice and buttermilk marinade,  came from Amanda's friend Lisa's blog The Skinny, which you should definitely check out even if you don't make the chicken recipe, which you should. The recipe is HERE.

And her Mango Salsa recipe, which made it truly special is as follows...

2-3 ripe mango (you are looking for about 2-3 lbs. worth)
1 large jalapeno, or 1.5 small
1 large clove garlic, minced
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
a handful of chopped cilantro (about 1/4-1/2 cup)
grated zest of 2 limes
juice of those 2 limes (about 1/4 cup)

Chop the mango into a small dice.  (my tip: slice the fatty part of the mango - the "cheeks" away from the long center pit, then score it like an avocado - cutting a pretty narrow grid into the flesh without cutting through the skin.  Then scoop the flesh into your bowl - instant dice)  Put the mango in a medium size bowl.

Carefully seed and finely chop the jalapeno pepper (you should have 1-2 TBSP depending on how hot you want the salsa).  Add to the mango, along with the remaining ingredients. 

Toss together gently.  Season with salt and pepper to taste..

Refrigerate.  Serve within 4-6 hours.

Makes enough for 4-6 people

Then for dessert, Jane made these amazing treats, so good you won't believe it...

Barefoot Contessa Chocolate Chunk Blondies

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
1 1/4 pounds semisweet chocolate chunks

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour an 8 x 12 x 2 inch baking pan.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar on high speed for 3 minutes, until light and fluffy. With the mixer on low, add the vanilla, then the eggs, one at a time, and mix well, scraping down the bowl. In a small bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda and salt and with the mixer still on low, slowly add flour mixture to the butter mixture. Fold the walnuts and chocolate chunks in with a rubber spatula.

Spread the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake for 30 minutes exactly. Don't overbake! A toothpick may not come out clean. Cool completely in the pan and cut into bars.

It was an excellent feast! And a super fun evening.

 

What are your favorite picnic spots this summer? What are you putting in your picnic basket?

 

 __________________________________

 

Check out Ginny Marie and my other Picnic Spinners this week. And come back on Monday for next week's Spin Cycle topic!

 

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Camp Mama 2014 Week Four: Drive

Drive, drive, drive, drive, drive.

That is all I do. Really. All. I. Do.

Last week, I told y'all about Jimmy's lengthy hospital stay, and mentioned Jude's morning summer school, and afternoon Junior Lifeguards. Well...this whole thing turned into a massive logistical nightmare, which I'm still in the middle of.

The hospital is 4.2 miles from our house, summer school is 2.7, and Junior Lifeguards is at the beach, 17 miles away. But you all have to remember that these aren't regular miles, they are Los Angeles miles, so you have to factor in traffic. Much traffic. Endless, and I mean that, truly never ending, traffic. So the 2.7 miles to summer school takes at least 20 minutes, and the 17 miles to the beach takes between 1 to 2 hours. The other key location to factor in is the drop off for the carpool to Junior Lifeguards which is in the West Adams area, 4.6 miles/30 minutes away. So even when I don't have to drive to the beach, I still have to drive there. I also feel that I should add that with this unbelievable traffic, you don't simply drive. You maneuver and you avoid and you rethink. You slam on your brakes over and over and sit and sit going nowhere, feeling that your brain might explode if. You. Don't. Moooove.

"But why did you still have to drive carpool when your husband was in the hospital?" you ask. Well the problem is that there are only three kids in our carpool, and one of the families was having a similar problem to ours - the grandfather is in the middle of dying of cancer, and they were overwhelmed with moving him to LA and to a hospice situation. The dad of the third family REALLY saved the day by picking up most of the driving, and he picked up two of my driving days so I could take care of Jimmy/hospital business, but I just couldn't stick him with any more of the driving. And frankly...I really wanted to get the hell out of that damned hospital. So I drove.

Here are some recent sample days...

On the day that Jimmy was admitted to the hospital, I drove the following...

From our house to drop Jude at summer school, then back to our house to pick up Jimmy to take him to his doctors, where I left him while I drove back to summer school to pick up Jude. I then drove him to the carpool dropoff, where we realized we had forgotten his uniform, then had to drive home to get it, then I had to drive him all the way to the beach, then back to the doctors office, to pick up Jimmy and take him to the hospital and have him admitted. I then had to drive back to the carpool meeting place to pick up Jude and then home. A total of...calculating...65.4 miles. Like the stress of the husband in the hospital thing wasn't enough.

On the day after Jimmy got home from the hospital, I drove the following...

From our house to summer school From summer school to an audition in Santa Monica. From Santa Monica back to summer school for pick up. To the carpool meeting place. To the beach. Back to Hollywood for a second audition. Back to the beach to pick up the boys. Back to the carpool drop off. Back home. A total of...98.7 miles. I kid you not.

The day before yesterday, I drove the following...

From our house to summer school. From summer school to our house to pick up Jimmy, I then took him to a follow up doctors appointment. Back to our house after the appointment, dropped Jimmy, then back to summer school to pick up Jude. Then to the carpool pick up, then out to the beach, but not just the regular beach, a special surfing beach up the coast from Malibu. I hung out there until they were ready to come home, drove back to the carpool drop off and then home. The drive back from Malibu at the end of the day took...brace yourselves...TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Bumper to bumper. A grand total of...93 miles.

Are you exhausted yet? Do you have a cramp in your butt and a shooting pain up the left side of your body from the car seat?

A few saving graces to all this driving.

1. Prius uses virtually no gas.
2. Drive thru Starbucks.
3. NPR.
4. This is the view when I get to the beach...

 

Okay, despite that picture, my blood pressure just shot up thinking about all that driving. Tomorrow should be an easy day. Only about 44 miles. I'm going to go have a glass of wine and rest up. Wish me luck.

 

Spin Cycle: The 'Hood

We love our wonderful, funky, uniquely "L.A." neighborhood. I always tease about living in the armpit of the Hollywood Freeway, which is logistically accurate, but doesn't really give our little neighborhood its due. We're a tiny, lovely little historic 'hood filled with Craftsman bungalows and our very own cul-de-sac, where everybody knows each other and has regular block parties and holiday gatherings. A little Mayberry nestled right in the middle of the barrio. While the crime rate in our little area is very low, the area around us is...less wholesome. Some hookers. Quite a few medical marijuana stores. The occasional police chase. It's all very exciting.

We've also got our share of colorful characters. After all, it is Hollywood, so we're a diverse group - both ethnically and socio-economically. We've got movie producers, we've got writers, we've got movie producers who are writers. We've also got people living hand to mouth off Social Security and welfare. And everybody gets along just fine, which I kind of love.

And so as a salute to our wacky little neighborhood, I will share with you a few of our most colorful residents.

The Fun Family

On the day we moved in, Mom and Dad Fun walked over and introduced themselves and told us that we just had to come over and hang out in their hot tub. I must admit that this hot tub business gave us a somewhat naughty, Ice Storm/Boogie Nights impression of them, which proved to be wrong. They are the nicest, most easy-going family I've ever known. They have three kids and the door is always open. Every time we walk by we're invited in for food or wine. Which is a good thing, because Mom Fun is a professional recipe tester/cook, so the offered food is always excellent. I'll never forget the time she was working for the LA Times researching the best Thanksgiving turkey recipe. She made about 12 turkeys in two weeks, and she was basically begging the neighbors to please take some damned turkey. They are always there in an emergency or if you need a babysitter, and Dad Fun can fix anything! Once, when Jude was about 2, he pooped in their aforementioned hot tub, but instead of getting upset, Dad Fun just scooped it out with his bare hand and had a good laugh. Nice people to have nearby.

The Busybody

Our next door neighbor Natalie is an eccentric old Russian woman, who is the Alice Kravitz of the neighborhood. She's eagle-eyed and eager to point out every transgression anyone makes. Everything is a disaster and a conspiracy theory with Natalie. High drama reigns. She always speaks in a loud, breathless whisper, with a knowing roll of her eyes. "Greeeeettchen! Greeeeeettchen!" she cries as I duck and try to avoid what will almost certainly be a long, confusing story of some egregious behavior or slight by someone in the neighborhood. At least once a week, she comes and knocks at the door, usually during dinner. We have a door bell, but Natalie never uses it, preferring to knock very quietly. "Did you hear that?" "What?" "Did someone knock?" "I didn't hear anything." At which point she actually sticks her face up next to the window and peers in and scares us to death. It's always something - the dogs at the neighbors on the other side of us are barking too loud or a hooker left a used condom in the street (Natalie pronounces hooker with the long oo sound, like hookah) or somebody moved her trash cans.

A couple of weeks ago, a women a few doors down, who I had never met, died. The next day, Natalie showed up with her timid knock. "Greeeeeeetchen. Deed you hear vat happened? She is dead." The knowing eye roll. "Yeah, I heard Natalie. That's sad." "I saw a man come out of dere! He vas a blaaaack man. He got in his car veeeery quick and drove away. Then the police come." "Uh-huh. Well, maybe he's the one who found the body." "Vell, I don't know about that. I call the police TWO times, and they dun't call me back. I tell them about the blaaaaaack man and they dun't vant to hear. Why vould they not call me back?" "Well, I'm sure if they thought her death was suspicious, they would call you, but apparently they don't." "Humph." Natalie actually makes that noise, that humph thing. "Humph, I'm sure IIIII vouldn't know aboot that." And she stalked away, looking furtively from side to side, no doubt looking for the mysterious black man.

But even though she drives me crazy, she's actually a very good neighbor. She recently decided to take it upon herself to save all of the plants on my front porch from certain death, and started popping by every day with a watering pitcher. I have asked her not to, but she just shrugs her put-upon, Russiany shrug and continues to water my plants. And she's done a damned good job - everything's thriving.

The Know-It-All

Our little neighborhood is an HPOZ or Historic Preservation Overlay Zone. Which means it's a protected neighborhood of old homes. It also means that the Neighborhood Association is on steroids. EVERYTHING has to be approved by the HPOZ board. Which I personally believe is a good thing, and saves people from their own bad taste. However, some people take it a little toooooo seriously. Mr. Know-It-All is a retired gentleman who considers himself an expert on historic LA homes and has crowned himself King of the HPOZ Board. He can tell you everything about every house in the area, the year it was built, the architect, the style. He is also a total bully. The man is a Neighborhood Association Nazi. He sends out email after email to everyone in the neighborhood, filled with judgment and innuendo. He's a fence height freak. He actually goes around the neighborhood and measures everyone's fences. He has caused wars over fence heights, and forced people to tear down over-height fences. He's a terror, and yet...he does know his stuff. If I ever need to ask a question about the history of my house, Know-It-All is my go-to guy.

The Organizers

Thank God for the Organizer Family. They own the largest and most lovely home in the cul-de-sac, which they open up to the neighbors every Fourth of July, New Year's Eve, and for our Annual Fall Block Party. They are the neighbor-gatherers, sending out every Evite, planning every potluck. Mom Organizer fascinates me - not only does she manage to do all this organizing, but she also raises her three children and is the movie producer/mystery author mentioned before. I really need to get this woman to teach me a thing or two about time management.

The Old Guy on the Porch

Every neighborhood has that old guy who always sits in a rocking chair on the porch and calls out to the kids who ride their skateboards by his house. Only in our neighborhood, the old guy is Academy Award-winning actor Martin Landau. This is true. But Marty never tells the kids on the skateboards to go away. He's more likely to invite you up to talk about his long and illustrious career. If you charm him enough, he'll invite you in to hold his Oscar.

 

 

So that's the neighborhood. If you're ever in LA, let me know and we can take a walk around the cul-de-sac. Say hi to everybody. It's the neighborly thing to do.

__________________________________

 

Please be a good neighbor and visit all of Ginny Marie and my fellow Neighborhood spinners! It's not too late to join in. Just link your post on Neighborhood in the Linky below.

Check back on Monday for next week's Spin Cycle topic.

 

 

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Daring

I have never been a daredevil.

I hate heights, hate to drive fast. I would rather stick burning coals into my eyes than jump from a freaking airplane. That would be the last thing on my bucket list. Sure, I went through that brief rock climbing phase, but that was more of a face-your-fears kind of thing than a go-for-it kind of thing.

So where did my kid come from? Jude is a total daredevil. Citius, Altius, Fortius. That's him. (And that's faster, higher, stronger to any of you not versed in Latin). Not that he's foolish. He's very serious about wearing helmets and protective gear. But any opportunity to go faster than anybody else, he's in. That's why he's such a roller coaster freak. I am greatly relieved that we don't live in the mountains, or the kid would absolutely be a snow boarder. Shawn White is one of his heroes.

We were both glued to the tube during the Winter Olympics this year. And while I love the more subtle, artistic sports like figure skating and ski jumping, Jude obsesses over the speed events - luge, bobsled, skeleton. During the Olympic broadcasts, NBC kept asking us to go to NBCgo.com to check out opportunities to experience winter sports in our area., so I clicked around to see what they had. In my search for sports that Jude might like, I clicked on the "Luge" button and sure enough, the USA Luge Team was holding a "Slider Search" in four cities this year, and Los Angeles was one of them. It's a pretty fascinating program. According to the website...

"The USA Luge Slider Search is the official nationwide athlete recruitment tour of USA Luge, targeting young athletes, ages 9-13. The mission of this grass-roots program, established in 1985, is to identify, train and qualify young athletes for the USA Luge Junior Development Team. Athletes who may progress through the...development ladder...have hopes of one-day becoming members of the Senior National and Olympic Luge Teams.

Over the years, the USA Luge Slider Search has traveled over 220,000 miles and introduced the sport of luge to more than 19,000 eager young athletes. At each series stop, guided by U.S. Olympic and National Team coaches and athletes, participants are taught the basics of riding a luge sled, including positioning, steering and stopping. Once these skills are developed, athletes take several runs down a paved luge course on wheel-equipped luge sleds. Finally, athletes test their physical skills through a battery of fitness tests. Those who show promise in the summer program are invited to Lake Placid, N.Y., Park City, Utah, Marquette, Mich., or Muskegon, Mich. to try luge on ice at a USA Luge sanctioned training site. The top young athletes from this group are selected for the next year’s development team."

And best of all? It's FREE. I immediately signed the boy up.

Jude has been waiting for this for months now, and finally, the LA Slider Search was this past Saturday. The program was run by a USA Luge Junior team coach, and SoCal native Kate Hansen, the USA Luge Olympian who made a splash in Sochi not just with her 10th place finish, but also with her funky pre-race dancing. Since we are in Southern California and there isn't exactly any ice around, they did dry-land training on street luges.

 

 

After a brief form/steering/braking lesson...

 

That's Kate showing off her form.

 

...they all practiced a little on their own...

 

Jude practicing his steering.

 

...then hauled their luges up the hill...

 

 

And guess what? The kid is a natural.

 

 

 

I am the big dork hooting and hollering in the background.

Seriously. I have no idea what qualities go into having luging talent, but he has them. He was fast and focused and had weirdly excellent form. He was the only kid in the clinic who didn't miss a single slalom. He was completely fearless. All the other parents kept asking me how many times he's done this, and were shocked when I told them "never".

I can't remember the last time Jude enjoyed doing something this much. He absolutely adored it. He deemed it "even better than a roller coaster". Which is the highest praise imaginable.

I have no idea what we'll do if he's actually invited to join the winter luge on ice program. I realize this is unlikely, as they only invite 75 kids from across the country. But he loved it so much, I can't imagine not giving him that opportunity. I guess I'll have to figure out a way to get him to Park City, Utah or Lake Placid, NY.

I have an extra kidney I could sell I suppose. Is this what Shawn White's mother went through?

__________________________________

Inspired by...

 

Prompt #4: A blog post inspired by the word "dare".

 

 

Spin Cycle: Patriotic

I try not to get political around here. I can't stand political arguments and mean-spiritedness, and it's very easy to lean a little too far to either the left or the right and then opinion can become meanness. I do sometimes get on my highhorse regarding issues of social justice which I feel strongly about, but I don't think of that as political, just...right. But anyway...

I am basically a left-leaner. A bit of a bleeding heart. And I have to say that the thing about those on the opposite end of the spectrum that makes me most angry, is a nasty, knee-jerk belief that Democrats and political liberals are unpatriotic. It's mean-spiritedness at it's most mean-spirited. The assumption that if someone doesn't believe the same things that you believe then they don't love our country is ignorant and dangerous. And there's a condescending attitude that if you are anti-war, then you don't "support our troops". What the what?! How could you be more "supportive" of them than wanting them to get the hell out of a war and come home? I believe that being "anti-war" is the only Christian choice, how can you follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, the greatest pacifist of all time, and support any war? It's completely illogical.

I am ridiculously patriotic. I love my country. I think there are areas in which things could improve. But I am a firm believer that it's the best country in the world, and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. And our freedom to express our opinions as to where/how things could be improved is one of the most important elements that makes our country great. Maybe I am this way because I was raised by a daddy who was a veteran of WWII, a great one from the "Greatest Generation", a time when America truly saved the world's collective butt.

I love our flag. I love our armed forces. I love our national anthem. It's funny, just this morning Jude and I were talking about a report he's writing on The War of 1812, and we started discussing "The Star-Spangled Banner", which Francis Scott Key wrote during that war.

GRETCHEN

So, it was the Battle of Baltimore, and Key was watching from this

ship, and he knew that if the US flag was gone and had been destroyed,

then that meant the British had won the battle.

JUDE

Uh-huh.

GRETCHEN

(getting more animated)

So all through the night of the battle, every time there was "the rockets

red glare" or some "bombs bursting in air" he would look to see that

"our flag was still there"!

JUDE

(he already knows this because he read it in a book)

Right.

GRETCHEN

(starting to get teary)

And when he saw in "the dawn's early light" that "our flag was still

there", then he...he...sniff...knew that it was still...sniff...still...

JUDE

Mom. Why are you crying?

GRETCHEN

I'm not actually crying, I'm just emotional because he knew...sniff...

JUDE

Mom, this is embarrassing.

GRETCHEN

(starting to actually cry and need to blow her nose)

He knew it was still the "land of the free and the home of the brave"!

And we still are. We still are. Sniff.

Jude shakes his head and gets his mother a tissue.

On Memorial Day, this past Monday, I had the immense privilege of singing Verdi's Requiem with my church choir, together with five other choirs, a full orchestra, and four soloists from the LA Opera. It was a stunning experience.

Any of y'all who have been paying attention around here should remember that last year on Memorial Day weekend, we traveled to New York and performed Mozart's Requiem at Carnegie Hall. As far as I know, the timing of that concert had been kind of random, that's when the Carnegie people scheduled us. But before we went on, our choral director/maestro, Joe, had a revelation. We were singing a requiem, which is a mass for the repose of the dead, on Memorial Day! It was perfect.

So Joe developed a plan to produce a different requiem, Giuseppe Verdi's Messa da Requiem, at our church in Hollywood, on Memorial Day as an actual...memorial. He has been working his butt off for a whole year and damn if he didn't make it happen.

 

We were so good! Worth all that rehearsal! And the soloists were breathtaking. Verdi's Requiem is one of the most dramatic pieces of music ever written, combining the drama of opera with the thrill of a  great symphony. The proceeds went to the Wounded Warrior Project, and we managed to get a huge crowd. Really successful.

 

That's me in the middle of the back row with the tall girls.

Joe also connected with an organization called Portraits of the Fallen, a group which recruits local artists to create portraits of Southern California service men and women who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. During the last movement of the requiem, the "Libera Me", they showed a slide show of the portraits. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Here's a video my friend Foster made of the slide show. The soprano soloist, Stacey Tappan is amazing...

 

So many faces. So many families who lost someone. The good news for sentimental patriot me is that we couldn't see the screen from the risers where we were singing, or I wouldn't have been able to get through it.

It was really beautiful, and I am blown away by Joe's vision that put it all together. This lovely evening that brought together musicians from all over Southern California, a truly diverse group from all races and religions and ages and sexual orientations and both ends of the political spectrum , who came together to celebrate through music the lives of those who died serving this country we all love.

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Spin Cycle: Staycation LA

There is good news and bad news about living in a city that is a popular vacation destination. The good news is that it's easy to get people to come visit. I've been lucky to meet quite a few of my blogger buddies because they just happened to be heading to Los Angeles on vacation. The bad news is that our already overcrowded city is constantly clogged with tourists. We used to live up in the hills right below the Hollywood sign, and it was always a battle to get in and out of our driveway around the knuckleheads standing in the street taking pictures of themselves.

Despite the overcrowding and traffic, Los Angeles really is a beautiful city and a great place for a vacation - mountains, beaches, great weather, culture - something for everyone. But unfortunately, when you live in a city, you don't really take the time to enjoy the attractions. I lived here 8 years before I finally went to Disneyland! I can't tell you how many New Yorkers I know who have never been to the top of the Statue of Liberty, or taken the Circle Line Tour.

What we need is a staycation. Not that we'll ever take one, because we always need to see family. But one can dream. Here are three Staycation LA ideas. Maybe one of you could make it an actual vacation!

Santa Monica

We often go to the beach. It's probably both Jude and Jimmy's favorite place to be. But we live on the other side of town, so every trip to the beach ends with a looooooong, torturous trek home, stuck in traffic on the freeway. It would be so nice to have a hotel out there so we could really relax. I dream of staying at Shutters on the Beach...

Shutters is the iconic Santa Monica beach hotel.

It's super luxurious and sits right on the beach. There's a pool and a fabulous spa, but honestly, just sitting on a private balcony looking at the Pacific with a book and a glass of wine sounds like about the best thing I can imagine. And while I'm doing the balcony/wine/book thing, I'll send Jimmy and Jude down the beach to the Santa Monica Pier, one of Jude's favorite places in the city.

Lots of fun stuff - a small roller coaster, a Ferris wheel, an arcade.

Santa Monica has so many  excellent restaurants that I'm not even going to choose a favorite. THIS link lists a Top 10 that makes me weak with desire. But one morning we'd need to drive up the coast to Malibu and have brunch at Geoffrey's, a favorite restaurant on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Aaaaah!

Downtown

Downtown LA is having a renaissance. After years of decline, it is now THE place to be, with lots of amazing new restaurants and hotels. And though the area around the Staples Center/Nokia Theater/LA Live/Ritz Carlton area is hopping and a major tourist attraction, I think I'd prefer to go a little old school, and stay at the classic 90-year old Biltmore.

We could grab a martini in the vintage bar (which just happens to be the last place visited by Elizabeth Short, the Black Dahlia, before her murder) then head out to dinner at one of THESE restaurants. Then we could take in some culture, either a concert at the Frank Gehry designed Walt Disney Concert Hall, or maybe a play at the Ahmanson.

Disney Hall is AMAZING!

And of course, we couldn't leave downtown without a lunch at Jude's favorite restaurant in LA, Philippe the Original, the Home of the French Dip, which has been downtown since 1908.

Jude loving his French Dip.

Maybe we could stroll through historic Olvera Street or Chinatown for a little ethnic culture. And if it's Sunday, we could take in mass at the beautiful Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.

Koreatown

Okay, this would be a real, genuine staycation, because Koreatown is our 'hood. Realtors refer to our neighborhood as Hancock Park adjacent (Hancock Park being the fancy schmancier neighborhood), but really, we're Koreatown adjacent. Though K-Town used to be kind of crummy and gang-infested, it has also gone through a gentrification, and is kind of a hip place to be nowadays. And though we could stay home and take in the sights, it might be fun to stay somewhere uber cool, like The Line Hotel...

The Line is the hottest new hotel in LA.

The Line boasts Pot, the latest restaurant from Roy Choi, one of the hottest chefs in America. But while in K-Town you also have to go for Korean barbecue, a real cultural experience which involves cooking your own food on tiny grill in the middle of the table.

Jude enjoying Korean barbecue. Yes, the kid eats squid.

You can't visit Koreatown without visiting a Korean day spa. I've written before about my visits to the cheap but delightful Olympic Spa, one of my favorite places in the world, and an amazing experience (though you must get over any issues with nudity fairly quickly). But maybe, if we're trying new things, we should visit Wi Spa, which is much fancier, and offers a place called the Jimjilbang, which is an area where the entire family (yes, kids too) can be pampered together. 

And no Koreatown experience would be complete without a little...karaoke. That's right, Koreans are crazy for karaoke. So we might have to pop by the Brass Monkey. Hmmm...a little Dusty Springfield, a little Pat Benatar, oh yeah, I love some karaoke!

Dang, now I really want a staycation! Though I REALLY shouldn't complain since we're going to Disneyworld in a few weeks! But still, I'd love to experience my city like a tourist, seeing everything through fresh eyes.

What would you do on your staycation?

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This Week on the Spin Cycle: 1/20 - 1/26

This week on The Spin Cycle...

Awards

It's Awards Season here in Hollywood. It's often said that we only have three seasons in Los Angeles - Awards Season, Fire Season and Pilot Season, and I'm afraid this is true. Awards Season starts in January with the  Golden Globes, and runs through the SAG Awards, the Producers Guild Awards, the Directors Guild Awards, the Writers Guild Awards, the BAFTA Awards to the Academy Awards, with the Grammy's thrown in somewhere in the middle. Of course, all this hoopla has very little to do with most of us Los Angelenos unless you happen to be a stylist, a caterer or a limo driver. 

But Ginny Marie and I thought that it might be fun if we each hosted our own mini awards show. Our own entry in this Awards Season.

Who would you like to give an award to? Do each of your children deserve their own category? Maybe your hubby or boss has achieved some special merit this year? Or maybe you'd like to give out awards to your fellow bloggers or blog followers?

Write your post on Awards. Post it. Link it in the linky below. Check back on Friday for Ginny Marie and my spins on Awards. Extra bonus points if you wear a fabulous gown and walk the red carpet!

 

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Spin Cycle: California Pleasant

I would be willing to state that the vast majority of people in the world are laboring under a misconception about the weather here in Los Angeles.

People think that it is hot here year-round. This is not true.

What it is, is...pleasant.

[WEIRD TANGENTIAL ASIDE: Jimmy hates the word "pleasant". He cringes all over every time I use it. I have no idea why. Other words he loathes include "hearty", "chore" and "spoon". He's an odd man.]

Pleasant or...mild or...temperate. We never have extreme heat or extreme cold, or if we do, it only lasts for a short period of time. And on any given day, the temperature varies by 20 degrees.  So in August, our hottest month, our average high is 84 degrees and our average low is 64 degrees. Which is damned nice - if you open the windows at night in the summer it can get downright nippy. And in December, our coldest month, while our average low is 47, the average high is 68, which definitely takes the chill out. Pretty darned pleasant.

But the tourists always get it wrong. The other day, I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard. It's December, so it's basically been in the 50's and 60's, but sure enough, there were droves of tourists walking along looking at the Walk of Fame all wearing shorts and t-shirts and huddling together for warmth.

Not that a little cold or heat keeps Los Angelenos inside, we just know to always wear layers.

 

Part of the crowd at Beach Friday a couple of years ago. Note: While moms were huddling in their hoodies and scarves, the kids were all in the ocean, swimming and turning blue.

 

It took me a while when I first moved out here, to get used to not having a separate winter wardrobe and summer wardrobe.  I mean, it's likely that you might have to wear a tank top in November, and a sweater in July. So you can't box up half your clothes and keep them in the attic. You never know what you're going to need. This morning, I put on a big puffy coat to drive Jude to school, but have now peeled down to jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

Jude wears a uniform for his school, and neither he nor most of the boys at his school, own a pair of long uniform pants. He wears shorts every single day. I think it's a kind of a "dudely" thing.  Long pants aren't cool. You wear shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, with a hoodie sweatshirt and maybe a jacket. Pretty much year-round.

So the weather out here is, basically, pretty perfect.

But while most Los Angeles residents have adapted to this pleasantness, my husband Jimmy...has not. The man constantly complains about the weather. Remember, that this is a man who grew up in New York, and should know a thing or two about weather extremes, but still he complains. It's absurd.

In the winter, he's obsessed with scarves and socks. "Do you have on socks? You need to put on socks."  No matter what I'm wearing, a dress and heels or whatever, he thinks I need socks. He chases Jude out of the house when we're going somewhere, wrapping a scarf around his neck. It's in the 60's, but Jimmy thinks the kid needs a scarf. Right now, there are 3 scarves in the backseat of my car where Jude leaves them after having them forced upon him by his father. The kid rolls his eyes, and takes the stupid scarf, then ditches it as soon as possible.  Jimmy used to always show up at Jude's early morning soccer games wearing a long, winter coat, scarf, a hat and gloves. I kid you not. Everyone would stare.

The other day, he came in at the end of the day, and it was probably in the low 60's, and he said, and I quote, because I actually wrote it down because it was so damned silly, "It's bitter out there, just bitter." As if it was 20 below. Bitter.

And he's just as ridiculous in the summer. We'll have a high of maybe...80, and he'll come in the house gasping "Oh my God, it's stifling in here!" He runs around turning on fans. Jude and I will have to go put on sweaters.

I, on the other hand, will never complain about the weather. Coming from Texas summers with months when it doesn't drop below 100, I consider LA weather to be nirvana. It's perfectly pleasant all the time.

All the time except...Christmas.

What is my California Dreamin'? What am I dreaming of? You guessed it. I'm dreaming of a White Christmas...

 

I want to experience Currier and Ives, damn it!!

All my life, I've heard the songs and sung the songs - White Christmas, Winter Wonderland, Sleigh Ride, Baby, It's Cold Outside. And I've never really known what they meant. I've lived in Texas and in LA. Nary a white Christmas in either place. I have no white Christmas's like the ones I used to know!

So while many of you will be listening for sleigh bells in the snow and building snow men and wearing things like mittens, I'll be pleasantly cool wearing a sweater with my flip flops and trying to keep my husband from forcing me to wear socks.

It's all relative, right?

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Please link your California Dreamin' post in the link below. You will appear both here and with Ginny Marie on Lemon Drop Pie!

 

 

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Spin Cycle: It Squirted Ink, Y'all!

After a week of foraging for materials, three days of sewing and cursing and sewing and hair-pulling and one night of hot gluing, Jude's Halloween costume finally became a reality. Without further ado, I present for you, The Giant, Ink-Squirting Squid...

 

 
 

Pretty cool, right?! I was very proud. I don't know if you can tell in the video, but the arms and tentacles are lined with suction cups that I cut off a rubber bathtub mat. The "ink" is black Silly String. He's a little bit of a ham (can't imagine where he gets it) and went to town squirting that stuff. I'm not sure what the janitor of his school had to deal with in the aftermath. Sorry about that.

Oh, and only once did I overhear Jude asking someone to please not step on his testicles.

Anyway, as usual, Jude's tiny Catholic school went insane over Halloween. Interestingly, for the last four years, I would have said they went INSANE. But this year was just insane. Just not quite as inspired as usual. Not sure why. If you're interested, previous Halloween INSANITY is written about here and here and here (you should actually check them out to get ideas for next year!). But even though it was a slightly less over-the-top than past years, it was still pretty outrageous, remember it's a city filled with creative types. So here are my favorites of the year...

 

Three giant origami swans.

 

Rock, paper, scissors. (sorry for blur)

Duck Dynasty.

Broken dolls.

 

Mariachi band.

Paper dolls.

But my very favorite costumes of all, weren't any of the kids, but two of my favorite moms...

 

Sons of Anarchy. And yes, that's two moms. Awesome.

God, I love our weird school.

I'm already thinking ahead to next year. What do you think about the kid going as Dumbledora the Explorer?

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Please add your Halloween Show and Tell spin to the linky below! You'll be linked both here and on Lemon Drop Pie! And be sure to check out the other Halloween spinners below! 

Come back on Monday to find out next week's Spin Cycle topic!

 Okay, that was one too many exclamation points.

 

 

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Spin Cycle: Haunted Hollywood 2013

It was a gray and gloomy morning in the City of Angels. Was it the overcast sky and nip in the air sent the chill up my spine? Or was it my mission for the day? My search for...ghosts.

Los Angeles. A city of dreams and promises. A city of loss and regret. A city with more than its fair share of murder and mayhem. A city where countless people die with unfulfilled ambition and unfinished business. A city where many of those people decide to stick around in the afterlife.

Armed only with my trusty iPhone and stealthy Prius, I began my search.

First stop...

Rancho Los Amigos Asylum

The friendly name of this sprawling place belies its dark and complex history. Built in 1888 in Downey, CA as the Los Angeles County Poor Farm, the place first served as a hospital and care facility for the city's poor and indigent. During the Depression, the hospital was converted into a sanatorium for patients suffering from long-term illnesses such as tuberculosis and polio, then during the 1950s, it was turned into a mental institution. Creepy stuff.

 

The "Dietary" bldg. turned my stomach.

In the 1980s, the hospital was shut down. However, it still stands to this day, a couple of acres of crumbling buildings, still filled with the original furniture, file cabinets and medical supplies. Apparently, the buildings were found to be full of asbestos and lead, but no one seems to know why the place was never emptied, but simply left abandoned.

 

Recreation Therapy. Sounds fun.

 

According to this article in the LA Times, in 2006, the Marines were using the facility as part of a military exercise, and found an old freezer filled with mummified legs. Yep. That happened. The coroner's office decided that the freezer had been used to keep body parts removed during amputations. But nobody knows why they were all left there when the place was shut down. Imagine making that discovery!

 

The entire complex is surrounded by wire fencing with barbed wire along the top in an attempt to keep out transients and ghosthunters. But many intrepid paranormal seekers like myself have snuck in. YouTube has numerous Blair Witch Project type videos by teenagers who went there at night on a dare.

When I got there, I was amazed to find that though the place was empty (of human beings),  the gate was unlocked. I, of course, opened it and drove in. Because I'm crazy that way. I have to say, that I was honest to God freaked out by the place. Creepy building after creepy building. And every time I got out of the car to take a picture, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt like I was being watched by a thousand eyes. Which might actually be true, as the place is infested with thousands of feral cats. They kept staring at me, and I felt sure that they would have happily had me for dinner. I took my pictures and fled.

 

Wonder what's cooking in the bakery?

I was too chicken to try to check any doors or go into any of the buildings. Not only afraid of any ghostly denizens but also of the police - I saw a cop car pass by twice, but they didn't see me. But I think I'd be brave enough if I had somebody with me. Anybody in?

 

 Colorado Street Bridge

I'm pretty certain that when the charming and romantic Colorado Street Bridge was built over the Arroyo Seco River in Pasadena, CA back in 1912, forming the last leg of famed Route 66, the builders never suspected that it would soon become best-known by the name "Suicide Bridge". But the moniker certainly fits, as more than 150 people have thrown themselves to their deaths over the last almost 100 years.

The first suicide was reported in 1919, and at least 50 took place during the Great Depression. Suicides have continued to this day at the rate of 10 per year, despite a "suicide barrier" added during the bridges renovation in 1993.

Countless ghosts have been reported on the bridge over the years, including recurring sightings of a man with wire-rimmed glasses and a woman with a long gown, who jumps off the bridge and then vanishes. The misty forms of other spirits are seen roaming the river bank.

One famous story is of a young mother in 1937 who, abandoned by the father of her child and unable to get work, first threw her infant off the bridge, then jumped herself, apparently so that they could be together in the afterlife. Miraculously, the infant was caught in a tree below the bridge and survived. The specter of the mother now roams the river, looking for her lost baby. As a fitting ending to this story, the now-grown baby girl returned to the bridge in 1993 and took part in its reopening after the renovation!

Linda Vista Community Hospital

The Santa Fe Coast Lines Hospital was built in Boyle Heights by the Santa Fe Railroad in 1905 to care for injured railroad workers. In 1937, it was renamed Linda Vista Community Hospital and was meant to serve the entire community.

Unfortunately, over the years the Boyle Heights area of East LA has transformed into a far less affluent area. East LA gang wars filled its emergency room with stabbings and gunshot wounds. The death rate of the hospital soared during the 1970s until it had the highest in the entire LA area. As the neighborhood dropped, so did the survival rate of its patients. Rumors persisted that the death toll was due to negligence and abuse.

The hospital closed in 1991, yet still stands, crumbling and decaying. It is now used fairly often as a location for horror movies.

Reports of ghostly phenomenon from production crew members have led to the hospitals reputation as a haunted building. Three particular spirits have been sighted over and over - a little girl who haunts the operating room, a young woman who roams the halls of the third floor and an orderly who still makes his daily rounds.

The Perelson Mansion

On December 6, 1959, Dr. Harold Perelman bludgeoned his wife Lillian to death with a ball peen hammer, brutally beat their teenage daughter, Judye, then lay down next to Lillian, and offed himself by drinking a bottle of acid. Their huge Los Feliz mansion stands to this day, abandoned and frozen in time to that fateful day.

The story goes that the noisy beatings woke up the two younger Perelman children, who Dr. P gently sent back to bed, telling them it was all a nightmare, before downing his corrosive cocktail. Judye, covered with blood, ran to the neighbors and alerted the police, who made the grisly discovery. On the bedstand in the Perelman bedroom, a copy of Dante's Divine Comedy lay open, with the following verse underlined - "Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost..." He still grasped the hammer in his lifeless hand.

The house was sold a year later to Emily and Julian Enriquez. Neighbors say they saw the couple move a few boxed into the house, but they never moved in. Nor did they ever move anything out. To this day, the house remains filled with the Perelmans belongings, complete with the Christmas tree and presents.

 

I did NOT take this picture, but stole it off the internet from someone braver than me. The construction workers at the house across the street kept giving me dirty looks, and I was too chicken to climb up and look in the windows.

The Enriquez' son, Rudy, inherited the house in 1994. He continues to dutifully pays it's annual taxes, but despite the house being worth at least two million dollars, refuses to sell it,  clean it out or live in it.

What is the enduring grip which the house holds over its owners? It remains a mystery.

The Nelson House

Ozzie and Harriet Nelson were the epitome of fine family values throughout the 1950s and 1960s. Their popular tv series, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet was considered ground-breaking at the time, featuring real-life actor/band leader, Ozzie Nelson, his real-life wife, Harriet Nelson, and their real-life sons, Ricky and David, all playing themselves. Much wackiness ensued. The Nelson's two-story Colonial home in Hollywood was so iconically All-American, that they used it not only for the show's exteriors, but also as a model for the show's the interior sets. The family lived there for more than 25 years.

Ozzie died of liver cancer in 1975, but apparently, he enjoyed his family home so much that he decided not to leave. After Harriet sold the house, numerous subsequent owners as well as home repair workers reported experiences with Ozzie's benevolent ghost, who enjoyed roaming the house and visiting his favorite spots, as well as turning lights and faucets on and off at whim. The only untoward ghostly experience attributed to Ozzie happened to a female resident, who claimed that she was occasionally awakened in the middle of the night to find that her covers were pulled down, and some unseen presence was kissing her neck and breasts.

So I guess the Adventures of Ozzie continued into the afterlife!

Hollywood Forever Cemetery

I visited the last stop on our Haunted Hollywood tour a couple of months ago. Remember when I told you that Michele from It's a Dog's Life visited me during her trip to California? We had a fabulous time driving all across LA seeing the sights. Well...one of our sites was this very cemetery. Michele loooooves a good cemetery, and this one is a doozy.

The cemetery was first opened in 1899 as Hollywood Memorial Park, and quickly became the final resting place for many of Hollywood's biggest and brightest stars.

 

Tomb + Reflecting pool for Douglas Fairbanks Senior AND Junior.

 

Michele and I spent about an hour trolling around the graves and taking pictures. Some favorites...

 

That's all folks!

Hey, Ho! Let's go! Apparently, Dee Dee is buried there too, with a much less flashy headstone.

Hattie McDaniel's last wish was that she be buried at Hollywood Memorial. Unfortunately, at the time, the segregated cemetery refused to allow her burial. In 1999, the cemetery's new owner asked McDaniel's heirs if they could finally fulfill her wish, and reinter her at the newly named Hollywood Forever.

Jayne loved pink.

Toto.

But where are the ghosts, Gretchen? I'm glad you asked.

After Rudolph Valentino's death in 1931, a mysterious woman in black visited his grave every year on the anniversary of his death, leaving behind a single red rose. Most believe her to have been a woman named Ditra Flame. But after Flame's death in 1984, a ghostly women in black has continued to be seen kneeling in front of his tomb, and red roses seem to appear out of nowhere.

 

 

Tyrone Powers and Vincent Price had been good friends. On November 15, 1958, Price was in an airplane, flying from Los Angeles to New York. He was trying to read, but suddenly had an ominous feeling, and the need to pull back the curtain on his window. There, written across a cloud he saw the words "Tyrone Power is dead." When he finally reached his hotel in New York, he received a message confirming that Tyrone Power had died of a heart attack.

 

The lovely and talented Michele with the remains of the ghostly Tyrone Power.

So on this note, I will end my tour of Los Angeles' most spooky and ghostly locales. If you're just dying (pun intended) for more, check out my previous posts LA Noir, on famous murder houses around my dear city, and last year's Haunted Hollywood, with more famous LA haunted houses.

 

And don't leave without checking out this week's other Spin Cycle participants!

It's not too late to add your "Halloween" spin to the link below! And this week, Ginny Marie is also co-hosting the Ladies Only Blog Share Linky Party! So when you visit Ginny, be sure and add your Halloween spin to that link too!

And check back on Monday for Ginny Marie and my Spin topic for next week!

 

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