Socal Mom

Sushi and the Single Girl

Many of you already know that I've been spending a lot of time on Twitter, especially between the hours of 2:00 and 3:00, when I am usually parked across the street from my daughter's school. Texting my "Twitter Peeps" over the phone makes that time go by quickly... and you never know what you'll find out.

Like last week, when Busy Mom announced that she had never tasted sushi. NEVER. As in, "not ever."

I told her that I found this mind boggling. I had heard rumors that sushi was not so prevalent in other parts of the country, but out here, it's everywhere. All the supermarket chains devote deli space to the stuff (and most have chefs behind the counter, making it fresh all day). All the food court malls have a sushi option, and it's common here to see little kids bellied up to the sushi bar with their parents.

As it turns out, Busy Mom's turn-off isn't so much that the fish is raw, but that it's fish. She doesn't eat seafood, and I can relate to that, because I have suffered from allergies since childhood. Sometimes (as in the case of white fish like cod, sole and halibut) my reaction is somewhat mild: tingling and/or swelling of my tongue and lips. But there was one time I ate something and I thought I was going to die.

The occasion was a visit to Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. I didn't think it would do too much harm to sample one of the little shrimp cocktails they sell in the stalls there. Huge mistake. My heart began to race and I felt like I couldn't breathe, and it lasted for a good long time.

Epi pens? I'd never heard of them. They may not have been invented yet. This was over 30 years ago, and needless to say, I have not had a bite of shrimp since.

So when sushi first became popular in SoCal, I kept my distance. The closest I came was buying a refrigerator magnet that looked like a miniature plate of the stuff. It was pretty.

At the time, the only fish I was certain I could consume without problems was tuna, and I wasn't about to try it raw. However, as a single gal living alone in the early '80's, keeping out of sushi bars was starting to impact my social life. The kicker was the day I interviewed Bay Area rocker Greg Kihn (who was promoting his hit, "The Break-Up Song." Yes, that's how long ago this was).

I guess I should mention now that my first job out of college was really cool: I worked for a radio syndicator, where I wrote and (eventually) produced a weekly Top 30 countdown show. It didn't pay well, but I got perks in the form of free records, concerts, and the opportunity to chat with about half the people who made the Billboard Hot 100 between 1980 and 1983.

The problem was, even though I had a cool job, I wasn't anythng close to cool: I've always been the same geeky person you know today -- only worse, because I was young, naive, a total fan -- and self-aware enough to know it. As much as I tried to project the image of a young hipster, it didn't work.

I'm pretty sure some of the artists I interviewed tried to flirt with me, but I was too stupid to recognize it. Instead, I focused on trying to be "professional," and the next day, while transcribing my tape, I would wonder why the guy I was talking to had suddenly started telling me how his wife or girlfriend didn't understand him (as if I was a therapist).

I don't think that was the case with Greg Kihn, but I definitely think he had become bored with the interview, because about halfway through my questions, he cut the session short.

"My friends and I are going out for sushi. Do you want to come?"

"No thank you," I replied automatically. "I'm allergic to fish."

D'oh! The interview was over, I only had about half the material I needed for my show, and I'd missed an opportunity that might have been fun (or at least given me a better anecdote to relate to you now that I'm middle-aged and terminally uncool).

But it was a catalyst. At the time, I lived in an apartment in Studio City, just a short walk from Ventura Boulevard. Today, people think of that part of town as "Sushi Row," because that stretch of the Boulevard is home to at least one sushi joint per block. In 1981, there were about a half dozen places to choose from, and so one night, I went into one of them and sat myself down at the bar.

"I'm allergic to fish," I told the sushi chef. "What can I have?"

He thought for a minute and then got creative. He made me a hand roll out of rice, cucumber, pickled burdock and grilled chicken, and it was delicious. I also sampled his cucumber roll, futomaki and tamago (which is a kind of sweet egg omelet, traditionally ordered at the end of a sushi meal).

I decided I sitting at the sushi bar. For one thing, eating Lean Cuisine alone in my apartment had gotten old. I had taken to eating alone in restaurants a couple of nights a week, so I could take in the energy of being among people -- and dining solo at the sushi bar was a lot less awkward than getting a table for one.

I returned a few more times to the same restaurant before I felt comfortable enough to suggest going there together with some friends. That's when I learned that if you buy your sushi chef a drink, he will often reward you with a langniappe - a little something extra, at no charge. With the first drink, we got some edamame (boiled soybeans - yummy!) ... the second drink brought us some tsunemono (a salad of pickled vegetables, often with some seafood, which I picked out and gave to my friends)...

Of course, every time we bought the chef a drink, we'd ordered another round for ourselves. So by the time the waitress brought me my third hot sake, I was feeling pretty good (inhibitions? What inhibitions?). And so when the chef rewarded our third drink with a gift of baby squid, I said "what the hell?" And I ate them.

And a funny thing happened: nothing. I discovered that night that I'm not allergic to squid. I also sampled a friend's California roll and found out that I'm not allergic to crab. Over time, I learned that raw tuna (especially in spicy tuna rolls) tastes WAY better than Starkist, and that I like yellowtail and salmon, too. I am still, however, allergic to all kinds of white fish, and keep the hell away from shrimp and lobster. I'm certain I am avoiding foods that I could consume without harm, but the memory of that long ago shrimp cocktail keeps me from being too adventurous -- I mean, why take that risk?

By the time I met the man I eventually married, sushi (which is low in fat and high in protein) had become my favorite cuisine. So of course, I suggested it for our first date. I learned later that he only went along with it to impress me. Like Busy Mom, he wasn't that in to the seafood, and the thought of eating it raw disgusted him.

But eventually, he learned to like the stuff. Love it, actually. In the years before our daughter was born, we frequented Teru Sushi so often (as much as three times per week) that we used to get invited to their customer appreciation parties. Alas, it is amazing what a baby and a mortgage do to your disposable income. Sometimes I wonder if all the weight I gained in the ensuing years was due to cutting all that sushi out of my diet.

Today, Japanese food is about the only cuisine the entire family can agree upon, and that includes my daughter who (I wonder why this keeps coming up?) won't eat seafood (even though she has grown up going to sushi bars with us). So I was confident when I told Busy Mom that I would be happy to introduce her to sushi (and sushi-type food) when we meet at BlogHer his summer -- that's because several years ago, the concierge at the Westin St. Francis directed us to a nice, casual Japanese place that's Megan-friendly and within walking distance. I figure Busy Mom can have some cucumber roll, futomaki, and grilled dishes like chicken yaki-tori.

And if she drinks enough sake, who knows? She just might be ready for adventure.

SoCal Mom Goes to Washington

I'm brimming with blog post ideas. Normally, this would be a good thing, as I'm now writing and/or contributing to something like five different blogs. But the website design project reared its ugly head again this week.

I'm not saying that the website is ugly, but the photos I had to work with were, and the client had the whole thing re-shot -- which means I'm doing the update all over again.

It's actually a lot easier this time around, because the new photos are gorgeous and I'm not wasting a lot of time messing with them (as I had to do the first time around). I'm hopeful that I can get the site back up and running by the end of the day tomorrow, and the really good news is that when it's all done, I will have earned a lot more money from the project than I'd expected.

But the bad news is that I'm behind on my blogging. Once again, I will be kind of absent here until the website project is finished.

In the meantime, I am this week's "Mother of Intention" over at PunditMom's political blog. I know -- In nearly five years of writing SoCal Mom, I've rarely indicated that I had any opinions about anything other than how absurd it is to live in the land of swimming pools and movie stars. So how come the sudden interest in politics? Well, it's always been there - but I was afraid to raise my voice; afraid that I would sound stupid or that revealing that side of my personality would alienate the people who come here to read cute stories about kids and school and Hollywood gossip.

The fear of coming across as dumb and uninformed almost paralyzed me when I wrote my first guest post on the MOMocrats and then a second one (after responding to tweets from Stefania looking for posts about health care - a subject I could talk about for an hour or two). And so when MOMocrats co-founder Glennia Campbell invited me to be a permanent member of the group, I thought she was kidding. I ignored her until she asked me a second time! (Honestly, Glennia, I wasn't playing hard to get, because once I understood you were serious, you found out that I'm really kind of easy.)

But once I started receiving the group's emails, I realized I'd really jumped out of the frying pan and into the political fire. I knew these women were SMART. I knew they were PASSONATE. I knew they were amazingly ENERGETIC. It's taken me some time to participate freely in their discussions because I feel like such a lightweight next to Stefania, Glennia, Joanne, Alysin, Beth,  Bitsy, Christine, Cyn, Debbie, Erin, Jaelithe, Jen, Jenn, Joan Garry, Julie, Kady, Kristen, Liz, Melissa, Sarah, Sheila and Stephanie .

So last week, when Joanne asked me (ME!) if I would be a guest on PunditMom, I had kind of the same reaction that I did when Glennia invited me to join MOMocrats. She had to be kidding, right?

Only this time, I didn't play hard to get. I immediately responded that I would be honored.

And I am.

Blog Readers Appreciation Day!

Robin of The Other Mother came up with the great idea of telling your readers how much you appreciate them, and I'm ashamed.

For one thing, I waited until the day was nearly over to write my post about this. But more important, I'm upset that I didn't think of this myself.

I have been writing this blog for nearly five years. When I began, it never occurred to me that anyone other than my family or very close friends would have any interest in what I had to say. Ironically, very few of them have ever bothered to read this (and those who do tend to lurk until I write something that inadvertently upsets them, and then they let me know about it!)

But then, there are the people who DO come here to read. I get comments, and emails (and lately, Twitter tweets) from total strangers (many of whom end up becoming my friends).

You people rock my world.

I am your basic bundle of neuroses, forever battling demons that seem to be wrapped up with the idea of being a failed writer (thank you, Hollywood producers who bought my material and then shelved it, thereby allowing me to have a taste of success but not the whole meal). I will always be haunted by the words of the people who hated my work and will never give a lot of credence to the ones who did not, because that's the way I'm built...

But I forget about it all whenever people tell me they read this blog and LIKE it. When I hear that, I actually feel like a winner.

Do I appreciate you? You bet.

(Do you like me enough to read my reviews of stuff companies send me? REALLY? OK, there's a new one up at Socal Stuff. It's short. Go there and see and I'll appreciate you even more.)

Flying Off to Joizey

Sorry for the quick post. I am at LAX, waiting for my flight to a blogging event being thrown by a large baby products corporation out in New Jersey, which I will be writing about over at my review blog, SoCal Stuff. (Was hoping to dash off a post there now, but I ran into the lovely Yvonne of Joy Unexpected here at the airport and we've been chatting away -- of course!)

Anyway -- be sure to check out the other blog later today, because that's where all the fun will be :) Also -- many of the participants will be contributing posts to a group blog set up especially for the event here. (As one of the women said, the hotel is in for a surprise -- they've probably never before played host to several dozen mommy bloggers...)

Finally... this site is participating in a promotion called The Great Blog Hunt - there's a clue buried under one of the graphics on this page, but it won't do you any good unless you click on this link and start at the beginning. (And yes! There are prizes involved! Go now!)

The Interview Project

I came back from Arizona with a case of what I suspect is conjunctivitis. I have no idea how I got "pink eye" without coming into contact with a pre-schooler, but there you have it. My eyes are puffy, red, itchy, oozing gunk -- and I don't feel like sitting in front of a computer.

So the Arizona meet posts will have to wait. In the meantime, I'd like to introduce you to Jan - a remarkable young woman I met last week. Through blogging, of course....

I was late to the party for Neil "Citizen of the Month" Kramer's Great Interview Experiment:

"I know most of you won’t agree with me, but I think anyone who decides to write about their life online is interesting, even those who may not do the best job yet of conveying that on paper. We all should be interviewed, at least once."

So here is what Neil proposed: The first person who commented on that post was interviewed by Neil. That person, in turn, interviewed the next commenter - and so on and so on. By the time I got on board, Neil was well on his way to facilitating 300 blogger interviews.

The ones I have read are fascinating -- in part, because of the random nature of the pairings. The interview you are about to read is a perfect example of that:

My subject was Jan, a young (I think she's 20-something), outdoorsy, female firefighter from New England. She's kind of the polar opposite of SoCal Mom, who is old, lethargic, allergic to fresh air and decidedly not young any longer. Did we manage to connect? Read on and see...

SoCal Mom: I'm curious about the title of your blog: Time Czar. What does that mean, where did it come from, why did you choose it?

Jan: It comes from a JM Gottman psychology book called The Relationship Cure. In the book he describes personality types [Sentry, Time czar, Adventurer, Jester, etc.]. A Time Czar is a person who conducts their life being concered about having enough time to do things, enough sleep, etc. I chose Timeczar as a joke. The LAST thing I am is a time czar. I'm more of an adventurer ('hey guys, let's do this!') or a Jester ('Hey guys, watch this!').

SoCal Mom: You have been blogging just a short while. Is this your first blog? Why did you start the blog? Is it doing for you what you'd hoped? Is there anything about blogging that has surprised you? If so, what?

Jan: I had a MySpace account, but I am told that this is not a real blog. I got a blog because I loved my friend Christine's blog (http://christinetexiera.com/wordpress/) and decided that, if I were going to have a journal, which I would try to be supremely narcissistic and silly about it.I really don' let my freak flag fly this much anywhere else. If you were to meet me in real life you'd probably think I'm a softie; My blog is probably who I wish I could be.

SoCal Mom: You are a firefighter, which sounds like an exciting, interesting and very challenging profession to this outsider. How did you choose this profession? And why are you now contemplating a change?

Jan: I became a firefighter 'accidentally on purpose. Why don't I self-plagarize and send you an excerpt from my entrance essay for Physician Assistant school:

It has been my experience that most children answer the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" with the standard, "fireman, policeman, or astronaut." I was not your average kid, however. My grandfather was a radiologist at Holyoke Hospital in Holyoke, Massachusetts and he was my idol. So, naturally, I had always planned to be a doctor. In fact, when I was feeling especially precocious, I'd announce to the adults in my life my intentions of becoming a craniofacial surgeon. I fantasized about being the hero doc in a third world country who repaired cleft palates. If I didn't get an astonished reaction to my statements, I sometimes added, "or neonatologist." Most adults guffawed. A few probably wondered, "What's a neonatologist?" But, my grandfather would just beam proudly. He believed in me and knew I meant to follow through.

I was on course with my plan to become the world's most amazing physician. Then, reality set in. Right out of high school I enrolled at prestigious Oberlin College and it quickly became clear I possessed neither the maturity to handle the difficulty of college nor the funds necessary to keep myself in good standing with the bursar's office. After three semesters I took a leave of absence. In retrospect, I very much regret my decision but, at the same time, realize it may have been one of the better life-decisions I have made, as the steps I took next made me the person I am today.

I had no intention to give up completely on school while I was taking a semester off to plan for my future and so I enrolled in an Anatomy and Physiology class and a Basic Emergency Medical Technician course at Greenfield Community College. I intended to get a job working on an ambulance to pay for school and also to get a taste of what it might be like to take care of patients. From the start I found myself loving to learn about the subject of the care of the sick and injured in a way I hadn't before. I felt at home. After I passed the certification exam I joined a volunteer fire department so that I could go to medical calls, agreeing to fight fires so that I could do EMS. To my surprise, I came to love being a firefighter just as much as I loved being an EMT. I signed up to take the next statewide civil service exam, the test a person takes if they want to be a career firefighter in this state and, after three years of hard work and waiting, found myself being sworn in as the first ever female career firefighter in the Town of Greenfield.

The life of a firefighter gets into your soul in ways that change you. I won't ever forget the camaraderie or the back-breaking, do or die work of the fire academy; the joy of having a person thank us for saving his house; or the horrific memory of the big, brown, empty eyes of the two-year-old my group cut out of a car and tried desperately to resuscitate one Thanksgiving eve, the car of the drunk driver who took his life long gone before we ever made it on scene. Firefighting has raised the caliber of person that I am. I now lead a life where hard work, honor and a responsibility to others means that deciding not to finish a task or lend a hand is not an option. It's true that it takes a certain kind of person to devote ones life to the service of others. I know in my heart that I am that kind of person. I can't envision being happy if I were to ever stop taking care of people.

To the best of my ability, I want to be able to provide the highest level of service and care to the people for whom I work. I find myself increasingly frustrated with the limitations of my scope of practice. The fire department in Greenfield is very busy and at least forty percent of our responses are to serious medical emergencies such as strokes, traumatic injury or cardiac problems. Transportation to the hospital and advanced life support are provided for patients by a separate, private, ambulance service. The fire engine often arrives on scene first yet, due to statewide treatment protocols, the EMTs may only act at the First Responder level until the ambulance arrives. For me, this means I am repeatedly in the situation where I know, from experience or training, that a patient is in need of specific immediate medical intervention but I am either constrained against or not trained to perform to that level. Then, after the patient is transported, I am often left not knowing whether or not they survived. Emotionally and ethically this is becoming more and more unacceptable to me. Why should I go back to the firehouse and wonder, what if I could have done more? I've come far enough in life and my career to know that I could be a successful physician's assistant and become one of the people who are ultimately responsible for their care.

I feel a strong desire to do more and have come to realize that becoming a physician's assistant is something I need to do to move forward; I see it as a goal I must achieve to feel I am following the right life path for me. I am lucky to be blessed with the ambition and love for medicine that I believe will make me a capable and competent provider. Perhaps, even as a child, I've known what I wanted to do all along and I simply needed the perspective of going out and "making it" in the world before I took this step. I see Springfield College's program as the most efficient and plausible means to be able to achieve my goal within the parameters of my life. I like living in Western Massachusetts, feel compelled to study here, and will, hopefully, work in a hospital here when I graduate. On a personal note, to feel as though I am "finishing what I started" by obtaining a degree is an attitude I hope will carry me through the program and make studying for my future career a joyful experience. I believe in my abilities and know I have the determination and maturity to make sure I do my job well. I think this attitude makes me an enthusiastic student, one who could compliment your program.

Lastly, I have to admit I'm a pretty sentimental person. I think it's a good quality in a person who likes to help others because I allow it to feed into my compassion for the people for whom I work. As a result, I feel the need to "step on the gas" a bit with regard to my career. My grandfather, my mentor and cheerleader, is not getting any younger and so he's now starting to resemble a lot of the patients I see each day: he is experiencing the cascade of medical problems that naturally comes with being very elderly. His faith in me was a huge boost as I worked to become a firefighter and I can't wait to succeed for the next thirty years doing what I've always said I wanted to do. I'd love to be able to go to school at Springfield and be nearby, so he could get a play-by-play of my education. I'd get a lot of satisfaction out of that; about as much as I would if I felt that by succeeding in medicine for my own sake that I'd be, in a way, continuing his legacy.

SoCal Mom: What is contra dancing?

Jan: The most fun you'll ever have with your clothes on.

http://www.sbcds.org/contradance/whatis/

SoCal Mom:  Do you have a favorite post?

Jan: I have a favorite story that goes along with the posts. I call it the "Shit covered dog story."  You should have heard Aaron tell that story to my parents. Oh man. Thankfully, my parents have a pretty good sense of humor and laughed their head off about it. (The uncensored story is even funnier.)

SoCal Mom:  Do you have any good "Bad Jan" stories you feel comfortable sharing? (That was MY favorite post, btw -- that and the one with the naked sex offender.)

Oh god, I am such a disaster in relationships. Bad Jan comes from my friend Meg who helped me through moving out of my ex's house. She helped me though this via drinking and karaoke. I became bad Jan I guess because I was really nice to men who I met, until they tried to make a pass at me. Then, I became "Fighter Pilot Jan." Ahhh, too convoluted.

The "Bad Jan story" from my blog, however, is actually a story from my very magnetic, albeit melodramatic with my friend/sometimes [mostly not] boyfriend. So, on that vein, I do have some great Aaron/regular old Jan stories.

I think that it probably embarrasses him that I think he is so funny/eccentric but I love him for it and that is why I tell the stories. I know it annoys him because he once came over to my house, opened the fridge, poured himself a glass of milk, and then put whipped cream on it. "Now you have another good story for your friend!" he said.

…So, my good story: I got home from a particularly hard bike ride and I felt a cold coming on. I had ordered some fatty chinese food and was happily anchored into my couch when the phone rang. It was Aaron.

Jan, you aren't bailing out on going to Salsa dancing with me tonight, are you? Damn you, everyone always bails on me!

No, Aaron* (*a lie) I'll see you in 20 minutes.

I drove to up to where I was supposed to meet him. Aaron is parked and notice he's in his car. I can see his huge head of curly hair bobbing up and down. I go over to the car and Aaron is trying to open an enormous cheese log with his teeth.

I get in the car and glare with disbelief.

"I'm hungry." He said.

To this day I laugh just thinking about it. I have no idea why this is so hilarious to me.

SoCal Mom: Tell me about your puppy! Is that her picture on your site? You listed springer spaniels as an interest -- have you always been a fan of that breed? (My sister and her family lost their springer to old age a couple of years ago -- one of the best dogs I have ever known, so they are a favorite of mine, too.)

Jan: Piper is an 8 month old Springer Spaniel. She's really smart and very obedient if constantly watched (what dog isn't). Lucky for me she is teaching me how to be a better parent the hard way. So far she has eaten 5 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of panties, 3 bras (one not mine), one iPod, one Life of Pi book on tape, one regular book, one aloe plant, one bag of trail mix, one down comforter, and only 3 bags of dog food! She has pooped or peed on 8 floors, brought one dead bird into the house, run through one cow manure lagoon and killed one chicken.

But she is so damned cute, does tricks, and cuddles like it's her job. She tried as hard as she can at night to get as close to me as possible. I love her so much it scares me.

I met her at a friends birthday party in July when she was 9 weeks old and I've been sunk ever since.

SoCal Mom: You are from New England. How do you feel geography affects your world view? (This from someone who calls herself "SoCal Mom," so I guess you know where I stand on that!)

Jan: Oh, you mean other than the fact that I'm a super liberal, organic food eating, clog wearing intellectual? Well, I guess the fact that I like sweaters differentiates me from a Southern Californian. (Wink.) Seriously, by that I mean to say, well, yes. New Englanders are a unique breed. And we're vicious recruiters. There's still some land in Vermont available, if you're interested in taking up skiing!

I love the region in which I live, and feel blessed every day to be from New England. I've traveled all over the world and felt homesick. It's nice to visit other places but when the leaves change in the fall I know why this is home.

SoCal Mom: You said in one post that you missed Ireland. Did you live there? Tell me about your relationship with that country.

Jan: I spent some time there on a guy named Mark's floor just outside of Dublin. I was with a group of other Americans. One day we woke up and decided to drive to see the Cliffs of Moher (in Co. Claire).

"You're crazy," Exclaimed our friends. "That's on the other bleedin' side of the country!" "Why would you do a damned thing like that?"

When we explained to them that the drive was akin to a day trip to Boston from my house (Half the distance between L.A. and San Diego) they looked at us blankly. Talk about a different world view!

My family, like many from New England, has English and Irish roots. I play the fiddle. I think it's kind of a New England stereotype to be Irish.

SoCal Mom: Do you have a favorite joke? Share it here.

Jan: I love all jokes. Ironically, this is supposed to be the funniest in the world, but I don't get it. (But I find it less despicable than LOLcats.com, ugh!)

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy takes out his phone and calls the emergency services.

He gasps: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator says: "Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead." There is a silence, then a gunshot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says: "OK, now what?"

I'm Here! And I'm De-Lurking!

Today is National De-Lurking Day.

For the last couple of years, we've spent the holidays and beyond in the UK, and I have ended up de-lurking on my favorite blogs about a week late.

So I'm really glad to be here in SoCal today. (That, and the fact that it's sunny out and in the high '60's).

I'm off to say "hello" to my favorite bloggers. And if you are reading this now, I hope you'll drop me a comment and say "hi" to me. (Pretty please??)

More Typepad Weirdness

So, I've been surfing the net instead of working, and playing around with information sharing/social networking sites Stumble Upon and Digg.

I'd seen these nifty little Digg submission buttons on some other blogs and thought I'd experiment with them. So I picked up a snippet of javascript from the Digg site and pasted it into the Life on Mars post I'd finished this morning.

And when I went back to look at the post, the button showed up, but it was between the headline and the first paragraph, instead of inline with the text, as I'd thought I'd placed it.

No problem, I thought. Probably a <p></p> pair I needed to remove.

So I go back into the Edit HTML part of the post and -- WTF? Where did the javascript go?

I've combed through the post and can't find it.

At this point, I just want to remove the button. But I have no idea where Typepad dropped that javascript or how to edit javascript I can't see.

I thought of deleting that post and starting over, but there has already been a comment and you know how much I love comments...

So the weirdly placed button stays. And I'm going to wait a while before I play with any more Digg buttons.

$@!^* Typepad

Don't you just hate it when you write something and through some hiccup of your computer or the Interweb, you LOSE IT COMPLETELY?

I just spent an hour writing a post about our family's holiday traditions, clicked the Publish Now button... and got kicked out of Typepad.

I know. I should be writing this stuff in a word processor and then uploading it. But I prefer the immediacy of composing my posts right into Typepad.

So I should have kept saving the drafts. Or I should have copied the post to my Clipboard before I hit Publish. THIS IS WHAT I USUALLY DO because Typepad does this to me more often than I'd like.

But I didn't do it just now. I forgot.

I think it was a good post. It was eloquent. You'll have to take my word for it. But I'll never know for sure, because I'll never see it again. And I don't have the time to try to re-create it. (Besides - we all know that the second time we write a lost post, it's never as good).

So there you go.

It's My Blogiversary!

I started this blog four years ago today. I started it to document one of our Christmas-time visits to the UK (the one where we decided to make a side trip to Paris).

At that time, I was eking out some pin money by writing home business related articles and syndicating family-friendly content for other webmasters to use on their sites. One of the writers who so generously allowed me to use her material (for free) was Andrea Buchanan (yes, the same lady who has been ubiquitous this months as co-author of The Daring Book for Girls). Andi had recently started a blog of her own -- so I followed suit.

I had no idea how much I was going to enjoy blogging, and continued to do so when that trip was over. And while I was never before able to sustain anything like a journal, I became addicted to the instant feedback I got from commenters, many of whom ended up becoming dear friends.

This blog has served as a creative outlet, a substitute for therapy, and exercise for my old, tired brain. I'm still addicted to it and am still surprised at how much I enjoy writing it -- and that there are others who enjoy reading it.

Want to see how far I've come? One of the posts from my first month is below the jump. Remember, that at the time I wrote it, I never thought anyone would see it but immediate family and friends.

The Method to My Madness

Did I say I would be writing about the L.A. Auto Show today?

I had every intention of doing that, just as soon as I finished getting all the photos I took added and organized on Flickr.

I'm amazed at how much I rely on my camera these days, especially when I find myself at events I want to blog about later. It's not always easy (or advisable) to take notes, so a collection of photos serves as the perfect little memory jog.

But I had not counted on the fact that I ended up shooting about 150 photos while we were there yesterday.

That's a lot of memory to jog.

Aside from that, have you ever uploaded 150 photos at once?

I know, the smart thing would be to look through the photos first, eliminate the ones I don't want and THEN upload the photos. Maybe even fire up PhotoShop and make 'em look snazzier by cropping and using the enhancement tools.

The way I work, I'm afraid that would take even longer.

So that's why I have spent an entire day working with the photos. I pared them down to about 80, gave each of them titles, added tags and captions to most of them.

And now I'm ready to write my post.

Except I have to put dinner on the table. And after dinner, my family will have an expectation of spending some time with me. That means I can't get started writing a proper post until they've gone to bed. At night, when my brain has ceased to work.

In fact, I think it already has.

This totally irrelevant post was brought to you by our friends at NaBloPoMo.

I will NOT fail at this challenge.