Goodbye Friend, Teacher, Love of My Life

Jackson went to heaven tonight. Here's a little poem in memorium.

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, his leader.
He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.

I will love and miss him till the last beat of mine.

Big Scare

As you know Jackson has been living with cancer for at least 18 months. We are fully resigned to the fact that we will lose him to the disease some day sooner than later. We thought that day had arrived over the weekend when he appeared to be knocking on heaven's door. The tumor is growing in his colon which restricts his natural elimination process. We asked the vet how Jackson would let us know that the time has come and he said that he will likely start vomiting. That dog has an iron stomach and has rarely barfed in his whole life so when he threw up 3 times on Friday in conjunction with a couple of days of lethargy and moaning when his belly was rubbed we thought the end was nigh. I picked up some opiates to help ease his pain and administered the pill with his meal on Friday night which he enthusiastically consumed and held down. He had a few hours of deep restful sleep but then was up all night long in and out, back and forth. When we arose Saturday morning he was covered in mud as though he'd been digging- evidenced by the fresh dirt piles in the yard. Was he digging his own grave or tripping out on the meds? His eyes were vacant and he seemed both agitated and withdrawn. We were certain we couldn't put him through another day of suffering and prepared to call doctor death. (The vet will make a house call so he can go to sleep in his favorite spot, the bench seat of Damon's truck, rather than the cold slab of a sterile room.)

Until this week his attitude and behavior was virtually unchanged so it was a little shocking that things could turn so grave so quickly. We had already discussed that as long as he could eat and get belly rubs we would leave him be and take all our queues from him. He loves to "gossip" around the neighborhood and romp with his friends. All of a sudden he started crying in pain and didn't want to walk. Of course he lives to eat so that wasn't a problem but defecating was. He's been nothing but a devoted and loving companion to us so the least we could do for him in return was to let him go gently and peacefully. He is not afraid, has no regrets, no guilt. It appeared as though he was holding on just for us. After a nice long walk on the beach he refused his meal on Saturday night as we prepared to say goodbye. But something made us wait for morning... the tide had turned a little. He voraciously scarfed down his breakfast and demanded a walk. Since then he spends the afternoons lounging in Damon's truck as we stroke him, eats his meals and wags his tail.

Today is Tuesday and he seems to have made a miraculous recovery. I don't want to get my hopes up as I've heard that sometimes there is a brief resurgence in energy before going over the rainbow. But wait! I learned that Jackson had gotten a hold of some raisins last week - one of few human foods HIGHLY TOXIC to dogs. The symptoms he was exhibiting are completely consistent with toxic poisoning. Jackson is a tough little fighter with a obviously strong will to live. He's probably thinking "God, I wish the cancer would hurry up and kill me before my owners do!" - hearken back to the drowning incident of 2 years ago and the swallowed bone last year. We are so undeserving of this precious being but so thankful that he forgives us and wants us to continue rubbing his belly.

SF Redux

May 2010 - delayed reaction

San Francisco has my heart just like the song says. I have innumerable memories of the place - a place that has been the theater for many of life's joys for me. My Mom loves it too, though her reasons are likely different than mine, but it is a place we love to enjoy together. SF always guarantees an adventure; what with her charming characteristics and interesting characters. Our adventure started when we decided to take the train into the city from the airport. We didn't get in until after 9pm on Friday night so by the time we picked up the train it was getting to be witching hour. All of a sudden a nervously hyper youth barrels through the dividing doors into our car and sits adjacent to us. Moments later another guy follows and pushes his way into the seat next to him. He was highly agitated and launched into some sort of rant addressed to the crowded train. The accompanying string of profanity he spewed was even too much for me to take so I called him on it and let him know that he was out of line. My mom was visibly shaken but I wasn't about to let this little punk intimidate people just trying to get where they're going. After a choice exchange he darted off the train into the night.

I picked a hotel in the mission for it's centrality and cacophany of activity - shopping, museums, restaurants, theater, etc. - Parc 55. It's hip, clean, great city views, and decent service although they cheekily charge for coffee and crumpets sitting out in the lobby looking like it's complimentary. We decided to chill out in the lounge with a night cap before turning in without any specific activity planned for the next day. The weather was quite cool and we were sadly under-dressed most of the time since SF is a wonderful walking city. We woke up in time to get a tour bus to Muir Woods. We've been before but it is so spectacular that repeat visits into the redwood forest are always awe inspiring. I guess my mom took most of the photos of our trip so I'll have to paint a picture with words. Here's a snap of my mom and her "friend" overlooking Tiburon on our way to the woods pictured on the right. It's so hard to capture the beauty and scale in a photo. You really have to wander among the trees to appreciate their magnificence and an entire ecosystem that thrives amongst them and beyond as a result of their existence.

The tour bus stopped in Sausalito that afternoon and we opted to stay awhile and take the ferry back to the city. We weren't starving but needed a little nosh. Noticing a very long line outside a nondescript storefront with a little faded sign that said hamburgers was enough to get our curiosity. We sat in the town square park next to the fountain and shared our fries and one of the best burgers EVER, made to order and served from a rotating grill. We meandered a little, gallery gazing and window shopping in this cute little water town by the bay with stunning SF views. With Lappert's ice cream treat in hand it was time to catch the ferry back to the city.

From where we docked near Pier 39 the Coit Tower stood tall in our sight line under the sun-soaked afternoon. Neither of us had ever been so we agreed to walk up, up, up Telegraph Hill to the art-deco concrete building resembling a fire hose. The tower was constructed in 1933 as a monument to the SF firefighters. From atop the tower you have unobstructed 360 degree views of the entire bay and city to the ocean. It's stunning. Equally stunning and totally unexpected are the murals painted on the walls of the interior rotunda commissioned as part of the New Deal. They depict life and sentiment of the time and are a must see.

Each time my mom and I get together we take in some culture. As our luck would have it every major company in town was on summer hiatus - the ballet, the symphony, the opera - all wrapped. And to add insult to injury the only mainstage theatrical performance in town was that God-awful Wicked. Totally depressing. So we nuzzled up to the concierge and told him of our plight. He handed us a poorly photocopied calendar of events, most of which were past-tense, and way down on the bottom in dark print as though the page had been crinkled was an ad for the Smuin Ballet. The write-up sounded interesting enough but more importantly they were performing on the right day and time and still had tickets available. Literally a few blocks from our hotel in the beautiful Novellus Theater at the Yerba Buena Center for the Performing Arts we entered with no expectation from this dance troupe presenting a program executed in 3 acts. The first was a refined, accomplished classical routine supported by a Mahler recording performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. It was lovely - not boring, but not special. And then the seduction began. Strong, edgy, sexy and a positively captivating modern dance experience. The Smuin Ballet, a company I had never even heard of before, is forever on my radar screen and one I will seek out on future visits to SF.

One of the best neighborhoods in the city is, of course, world-famed Chinatown. I'm sure if you ask 10 people what intrigues them about it you'd get 10 different answers. Damon's is the fresh plucked ducks lynched up by their drumsticks hanging in the storefront windows awaiting their fate with the deepfryer but mine is the dim-sum, beating only slightly, though, the myriad roots and mushrooms of every shape and size claiming medicinal properties sure to cure every disease known to man. There are so many restaurants in Chinatown that it's really hard to choose the one that is authentic and fresh and just plain yummy. We set out with a task to get the best dim-sum and ended up at Great Eastern on Jackson. Who knows if it was the best in the city or not but it was darn good and super cheap. I love dim-sum because since I don't speak Chinese it's like Christmas morning opening those little wrapped packages called gao (rice dumpling) or bao (flour bun) to reveal a flavorful, saucy little gem inside (seafood, meat, poultry,vegetables or a combo). We were feeling cocky after effusing over the dishes we'd ordered and thought we should go for something a bit more traditional like chicken claws. Now you'd think they would be deep fried and battered and served with some special sauce or something right? In other words, mask the fact that they're chicken feet. These were slimy barely cooked ligaments and veins and vile little bones doused in a tangy sauce. Yuck! Completely inedible. Good thing the tea flows like water to wash it all away and cleanse the palate.

It was Sunday and we thought perchance we could catch a service at the Grace Cathedral. So we hopped on the cable car (for about 2 blocks - what a rip but it WAS uphill so I suppose it was worth it.) Mass was in progress but they welcomed us in. Afterward we learned that there was a docent guided tour beginning shortly. We toured the beautifully crafted cathedral learning of it's origins and commitment to piety, inclusion, art and beauty. The etched outdoor labyrinth is the first thing you come upon after passing through the meticulously kept lawns. It sets the stage for the stunning "doors of paradise" on the church's threshold. Other incredible features are the numerous stained glass windows with nods to biblical parables as well as modern innovation and science; the murals depicting religious life and works; the pipe organ, the alter which boasts the preaching presences of Rev. Martin Luther King and the Dalai Lama; the neo-classical architecture very nearly matched in the old and new construction; and the Aids chapel among many more gorgeous and symbolic works of art.

This weekend was the "Bay to Breakers" race. It's an annual event 100 years old drawing people from all over the world to celebrate the spirit of San Fransisco in a 12k race from the Embarcadero spanning across the width of the city and culminating in a frenzied party at Golden Gate park. We had already planned to spend the afternoon in Golden Gate at the Japanese Tea Garden and the DeYoung, time permitting. Since it's quite a ways out we decided to take the economical route and ride the bus. It was so busy getting around the city because of traffic that we had to wait for the bus for an hour. And then when we got on it was so crowded with "spirited" B-to-B partiers. We finally made it to the park which was jammed with freaks in pink tutus and lime green cod pieces loopy to the point that my mom was a little nervous walking around even though the place was crawling with cops. I had to remind her that SF is the birthplace of peace and love, man. We braved the bus ride back to the hotel including an encounter with a falling down drunk superhero. Batman was bobbin'.

It was a busy and exhausting weekend and we covered a lot of ground so we decided to have a low key dinner close to the hotel. Turns out one of the best Indian (dot not feather) restaurants in town is directly across the street from the hotel called New Delhi on Ellis St. We celebrated a great weekend and made plans for our morning send off. Whenever I'm in town I love to eat at Dottie's True Blue on Jones. Damon and I have been eating there for 15 years. The frittatas are so amazing it's worth enduring the inevitable line of patrons. It poured rain all morning but we walked down there anyway only to find that the line was an hour long and we were starving and pressed for time. I was annoyed but my mom saved the day by asking the bellhop at the Four Seasons where a good breakfast place was and he recommended the Taylor Street Coffee Shop which was great. A brief wait when we arrived and a long wait when we left so get there early. We had a couple hours before we had to leave town so we spent it shopping in Union Square which is always fun since they have chicest shops and an entire floor at Macy's dedicated to women's shoes. Score.

As usual flying is anything but hassle free. We arrived at SFO and went to the counter to see if we could upgrade since I had some free coupons - probably from the last lousy flight. The gent said the flight was full so no upgrade but since we were a little early and another flight was leaving an hour earlier from a gate 2 doors down did we want on it. Sure, why not? Well I'll tell you why not. Our earlier flight ended up leaving an hour later than our original flight with us sitting on the tarmac for 2 hours. Hence, another free ticket as amends for the inconvenience. Good thing SF is a place I love to return to...agro and all.

Roller Derby Rocks!

Remember those raucous roller rag chicks of the 70's? Well Roller Derby has had a resurgence in the last few years and the heat is on. The LA Derby Dolls all-star team, The Ri-ettes, met The Iron Curtain from Tuscon Arizona last weekend at the Doll Factory here in Los Angeles. Players like Titty Titty Bang Bang and my fav, Lace N' Arsenic, strap on to throw down the likes of Helen Wheels and Psycho Babble on the famed bank track. Unlike the 1970's games which appeared to be nothing short of that phony baloney wresting nonsense this is a real game with real rules and jam-packed action. My friend and I were lucky to get a spot at the railing to hold on and enjoy the ride. The game (surprisingly) attracts people from all demographics - hipsters, punks, old white men, couples, birthday celebration-ers, and everybody else. It's an awesome representation of how the world's inhabitants should coexist.

All members of the nationwide teams, crews, staff, announcers, doctors, etc. are volunteers. In fact like so many other amateur sports teams the players actually pay dues. And they come up with some pretty funny names. Gori Spelling, # 90210 on her jersey, was befitting for our town. And then there was Laguna Beyatch in the house proppin' for the O.C. The rules of the game are quite simple and clear. In an hour of total play - four 15 minute quarters - each play is called a jam, up to 60 seconds in length as determined by the lead jammer. The blockers, 5 girls from each team, try to prevent the jammers, one from each team from scoring points. Points are scored as the lead jammer, the first girl who gets around the rink once, passes the opposing team's blockers. This particular game was a bloodbath with a final score of 176 (LA) to 85 (Tuscon). In fairness, it was announced that this was the 1st game the Iron Curtain had played on a bank track, so not a bad showing in all consideration. There's a live band at half time out in the parking lot where plenty of gourmet food trucks wait to serve. Beer and wine is sold but bring plenty o' dough 'cause nothing's cheap, except admission ($20). Check it out. From slingshots and body checks to tripping and skidding it's a riotous event of tough chicks slamming each other that won't disappoint.

California Senate Debate '10

The state of California is in a state of flux. We're broke, can't pass a budget, unemployment is in double digits - 12.2 % as of June 2010 U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics - and it's an election year. My instinctive reaction is to fire every incumbent, as they are obviously incompetent in their jobs and let the new crop give it a go. Up for grabs is the governor's position and the junior senate seat currently occupied by Barbara Boxer, a career politician. She's "served" the people of California since 1993. Her feminist record is one of liberalism and credited with being a stauch leader on many a noteworthy project. However, if you look closely at her voting record she is a spendthrift and given our current state of affairs I would consider this record less of a service than a disservice. At this stage of the game I think fiscal conservatism is in order. It's time to guard the purse and stop squandering the precious little resources we have. Stop regarding business as the enemy and running them out of the state with tax impositions and regulation. We need a level-headed problem solver rather than an idealistic, partisan egoist.

I have always been an independent thinker and have never been registered as anything other than an independent voter though, if labeled, I consider myself socially liberal and fiscally conservative. It's time we install persons to represent our interests with some business acumen. Someone who understands responsibility, accountability and consequences. Boxer has been complicit in all our political crises in recent years simply by being on the role if not her direct vote. I've never warmed to her views so I admit I'm somewhat biased going in but after listening to the debate between her and Carly Fiorina the other night I believe the choice IS clear, as Boxer trumpeted throughout, and that is we should boot the bitch out; her and her 18 years of pandering and let someone with real-world sensibilities reign.

California is one of, if not thee, critical state in the union. What happens here sets the precedent for succession federally, and globally I might add. Plus, as a border state, we have some unique issues. Boxer is just too reckless when it comes to spending frivolity. Check her voting record on the issues that matter to you. I'd rather put my money on the woman who ran a company than the one who helped run California into the ground.

Renovation Nation

I think it was James Lipton of the actor's studio who asked his guests (famous actors) the question "If you weren't an actor, what job would you love to have? And followed it up with which job would you hate?" I can say unequivocally I would hate to be a general contractor. It's shocking, not to mention maddening, that in this historical time of soaring unemployment and dried up building contracts that I can't get people to call me back. Are you kidding? I'm willing to give you cash money and you can't be bothered to call me back? Overall, it's been an interesting experience. Not as much fun as I'd hoped but we've learned a lot. All of our finish products are purchased and I've very pleased with everything. The space looks great and as soon as the drywall goes up which should be in a couple of weeks it we'll be on the downward slope to the finish line.

Here are a few more pics with the windows and doors in. We installed 15' sliders on both the living room and bedroom walls.



And this is the bedroom and bath with separate shower and tub. The closet is just a big rectangle so I didn't include it but it's big enough to house our washer and dryer in it's own cubby.

Red Leather Pants

I have always thought Smokey Robinson has the voice of an angel so when I heard that he was playing one of my favorite venues, the Hollywood Bowl, with one of my favorite artists, Lizz Wright, I secured our seats. We try to make it to the iconic Hollywood landmark at least once during the summer and take in it's gorgeous hillside views under the starry, moonlit sky. Like everyone else we bring a picnic basket full of food and wine.

We located our seats and spread out our picnic where we had a perfect sight line of Lizz Wright as she soothed the crowd with some of my favorite songs. My only complaint is that it wasn't long enough but at least Smokey didn't keep us waiting like so many prima donnas do. He has to be methuselah by now but he came out on stage in a shiny black suit adorned on either side by young, sexy go-go dancers. Frankly, they were a cheesy and distracting addition to the performance but I guess a guy has to do what he can to hold onto his youth and reputation as a ladies man. His voice is virtually unchanged from his hayday even bringing me to tears during his heartfelt performance of "Ooo Baby, Baby".

Being the legend he is I would expect nothing else from Smokey than a costume change during the show. Quel surpris, however, when that costume turned out to be RED LEATHER PANTS!!! The only thing worse than go-go sluts accompaniment is a 75 year old dude shuffling across the stage donning red leather pants and a flouncy white blouse, (unless you're Tom Jones of course). An image not to leave my unfortunately vivid mind any time soon. Good thing he can still croon or it surly would have been disastrous.

Cancer sucks

My beautiful boy dog has been living with cancer for over a year now. He romps around like a puppy and lives for belly rubs, sniffing his friends butts, and eating as much as we'll allow. Over the weekend we noticed that Jackson was having quite a lot of trouble defecating. My greatest fear was realized when we learned that he has a large tumor in the colon preventing proper elimination. We will not be putting him through another surgery especially since the doctor said that given the location of the mass it would be a very difficult surgery and an even more difficult recovery, if at all. We will not tolerate one second of suffering for our sweet lovebug so I just pray that I understand the right moment to send him over the rainbow. For now, you would never know he has a terminal illness. Our hope is that the medication he's on will move everything through his system "like butta" and he'll live comfortably and normally for as long as possible or at least until God decides it's his turn to have all the joy and love and life that we have enjoyed with my furry little friend.

Keeping America Working

It's been awhile since I've put pen to paper as it were. We've lived in our house 9 years now (9!) and are finally getting around to adding that desperately needed 2nd bathroom. Oh how I've longed for having just few steps to toddle in the middle of the night or the privacy a queen deserves as she contemplates her throne. Over a year ago we secured our funding, hired an architect and started hashing out design plans for a master suite equipped with an en suite bath and walk-in closet. Rather quickly we determined that we weren't going to be able to build how we had always envisioned so the challenge was upon us to get creative. The placement of our new space was Damon's idea and, although the architect presented some interesting plans, I ultimately designed the room myself. With city approval and stamped permits I gave to the go ahead to heave hoe and demolish the bedroom wall that we were building out to gain the extra square footage we need to accommodate the bath. So Damon rounded up neighborhood friends to help out and when I returned home that evening ALL the walls were busted out, not just the ONE we're expanding. I thought Damon had lost his mind so I consulted with our neighbor/contractor/framer/craftsman and he assured me that it was part of the plan. I clearly had no idea how involved this project was going to be. Something to do with a shear wall and steel beams. We aren't even adding a second story and we had to put so much steel in this thing it's solid as a bomb shelter.

Here are a few pictures of our progress. We've been at it since June 14th and I have no idea when we'll finish, assuming we have the money to finish, but it is starting to take shape to the point where we have a sense of the spacial arrangement and a general feeling of what it will be like. We have purchased or at least decided on the finish materials we'll be using, which is supposed to be the fun part but, in all honesty, it's been really difficult (at least for me) to visualize how it will all come together. I'm just hoping that my vision translates as well in reality.

Before: Comfortably living like the Cleavers



Demolition Derby: In and out



I hope the neighbors like the view!



If only Haiti had our building code. Look at all that steel!



Starting to take shape: bedroom in the foreground, bathroom at left rear, closet on the right



What it looks like today



Is Jimmy Hoffa under there?
RIP our savings account. What a nice touch from the concrete guys.

Bye Bye Birdie

My friends have fledged and moved (or in the process of moving) away :(
Check out these gorgeous images of the owlets
http://mollysbox.wordpress.com/blog/

Hoo's watching me?

This is so priceless I can't help but share. Follow the link to the owl cam and be amazed and amused. Best reality show ever!!!


http://www.sportsmansparadiseonline.com/Live_Owl_Nest_Box_Cam.html

PETA convert

I love what the group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) stands for but their Nazi antics are sometimes a little much to stomach. The latest hair-raiser, however, is not only a statement of epic gravity it's hilarious. They've offered to relieve Octo-Mom's financial woes and save her house from foreclosure under one condition... that she agree to plant billboard on her front lawn in favor of neutering your pets that reads, "Don't Let Your Dog or Cat Become an Octomom. Always Spay or Neuter."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!

"Give me liberty, or give me death"

It was 235 years ago today, incidentally, that Patrick Henry shouted these famous words. I can't help but recall them now on the day that President Obama signed the senate health bill into law. I vehemently believe that all people have a right to quality, affordable health care. Moreover, I believe that freedom overrides all other basic rights and that's exactly what we've sacrificed here today. I don't think people really understand the magnitude of the government intervention that will undoubtedly follow. This is another way for the feds to intrude on our lives. I know it can be argued that without good health liberty is moot and death is eminent. I think a better use of time and tax payer money may be to focus on insurance company abuses and excesses rather than strong-arming the American people - people who do not have a right to MY money.

I have not read through the bill, which I fully intend to do, so I can't comment with authority on what's good and bad about it. What I can comment on is that I think competition is the answer to quality, affordable insurance. When we're in the market for any other product - a fridge, a car, auto insurance, a dentist - we shop around for the best value; the best price, quality, attributes, etc. Competition inspires innovation and commands attention to consumers' demands otherwise you're snuffed out. It also spurs more efficient operations. Being able to buy insurance across state lines is a good place to start. It's absurd that you currently can't! I'm sure there are plenty of stories out there but I personally know a self-employed guy who pays $600/month for insurance with a $1700 annual deductible. He needed an MRI and had not met his deductible for the year. He asked the clerk at Cedars Sinai how much they would be billing the insurance company for the procedure and they said $6000. He then inquired what the price would be if he paid them in cash without going through insurance and they said $700. Of course the insurance company wouldn't have paid the fee that the hospital was asking but let's say they would approve $2500. It was cheaper for him to pay them directly than to have his insurance company bill him $1700 and still pay $800, $100 more than the procedure actually cost. If he had shopped he may have been able to save even more.

Reform is absolutely necessary but maybe we should redefine the function and limitations of health insurance. What I mean is to consider using insurance only for catastrophic events; i.e. hospital visits, surgery, cancer treatment, expensive procedures and drugs, hypothetically. If a doctor's visit cost say $50 rather than $300 for 10 minutes, people may be able to pay out of pocket as opposed to involving the insurance company, thus cutting some of the costs. You could liken this to a door ding you might have dent wizard repair versus going through insurance. Eliminating waste by eliminating the layers between the doctor and patient and the insurance company is another way to significantly reduce costs. Perhaps a concoction of various program elements could be tailored to each individually insured, including health savings accounts. For instance, my employer offers health insurance but they only pay a small portion of the premium and I am responsible for the remainder. Since I do not visit the doctor very often I opt to pay a lower premium each month and a higher annual deductible. The unused portion of my deductible is banked for the next year and rolls over saving me and the insurance company a whole lotta dough.

I also believe focusing on health and wellness and holding people accountable for their own life choices would be a general benefit to us all. If I'm paying any portion of someone's health insurance I want to be able to say they can't smoke, drink soda, go sky-diving or any other lifestyle choice that could tap my pocket-book when they have to use insurance that I'm subsidizing. This is not the kind of totalitarian country I want to live in and yes, personal freedom, choice and, consequently, responsibility is the baseline of being American and for me the most important right above all else.

Gotta give to get

I'm pleased to report that so many people are socially conscious these days and creating all kinds of things out of their love for mother earth and all things recyclable and selfless. I came upon this cool site Echoage, a birthday party invitation outfit with a twist. While I do not have children I have been to many a party where obscene amounts of gifts are lavished on children who have enough toys for lifetimes of children. Echoage has partnered with a number of national charities which would appeal to kids and the idea is that your birthday kid chooses one he or she would like to give a gift to. Echoage helps you choose your party date, an invitation and reminders and then sends them out to all your invitees who log on to donate an amount of their choosing toward your kid's birthday gift. After a nominal fee is deducted 50% of the raised funds go toward one gift for the birthday kid and the other 1/2 is donated to the charity of the child's choosing. A tax receipt is provided for the charitable gift and the kid gets one good thing he's been coveting with the aggregate dollars chipped in rather than a bunch of chotchkies. It is a wonderful opportunity to teach your kids about sharing what you have with others.

"When I think about you I touch myself"

The Korean spa experience, of course. We have a large Korean population in Los Angeles thus warranting a section of town devoted to the heritage, aptly named Koreatown. For years I've heard of a cultural bathing ritual and been curious to indulge myself at one of their spas. I generally don't mind doing things alone but I suppose I felt a little intimidated and wanted the comfort and familiarity of a friend. The difficulty in finding such a companion is that no bathing suits are allowed in a Korean spa. Yes, you and everyone else, all females, parade around in the nude. I have never been overly modest and vanity was a thing of the 1st quarter century of my life. But, not everyone is like me. Many people have serious body and/or modesty issues which I fully appreciate and respect. Admittedly it takes some getting used to to expose yourself to anyone let alone strangers. Luckily I have a friend who is as adventurous as me.

Our appointment for the "Goddess Treatment" was set for 10:30am. They suggest you arrive 45 minutes before your appointment in order to enjoy a whirlpool bath, steam and sauna. I arrived ahead of my friend so they whisked me in so as not to miss a moment. As this was my first visit they gave me a little orientation tour. Shoes in one locker, clothing in another. You will be
addressed as needed by your locker number, it is considered impolite not to shower before using the facilities and (thankfully) here's your smock. So I got myself situated wrapped in my little cover up and went off to the showers. The "bathhouse" is arranged with a hot mugwort tea bath on the left and another mineral pool beside it. On the right is an open room with 6 massage tables and a wall just high enough to give the impression that it's semi-private from the baths. Showers, a jade steam room and mineral sauna round out the perimeter of the room. Adjacent the pools is a shallow kind of trough filled with water and tiled edges. As I emerged from the shower and contemplating where to go first I caught a glimpse of what I will henceforward refer to as the monkeys. The monkeys are four aged Korean women sitting on the edge of the trough with a little tote in front of them which cradles their bathing paraphernalia. They intricately scrubbed every nook and cranny as they chatted and howled without awkwardness. I had a hard time averting my eyes because it seemed so social and natural and utterly disturbing as a Westerner where privacy prevails.

Then I moved into the jade steam room where I could only sit for about 5 minutes before I thought I'd melt. I decided it must be getting close to the time when Cindy would be arriving so I moved out into the common area where there is a heated jade stone floor for sitting and relaxing. I grabbed my library book (Stones into Schools - see another post for details) and found a spot on the floor. The experience with the monkeys left me feeling a little squeamish and wondering if this was going to pan out. I was certain that we goddesses would be on display in the room with all the massage tables. I was leery but what I immediately liked about his spa was its lacking pretentiousness. The Korean women invited us to participate and indulge in a special cultural tradition and I felt grateful. I could tell Cindy was equally uncomfortable when we entered the mugwort tea bath. By this time it was getting busy so we were practically touching other naked women in the tub. This is the antithesis of the American spa experience where it's all about you, to which we are both accustomed. We decided to try out the charcoal heated sauna. It has teak tatami-type mats that get so hot you can't walk on them and we couldn't talk but otherwise it was really nice. Number 19 was called so I was up for my treatment.

The "Goddess", exclusive to the Olympic Spa, is a treatment almost 2 hours in length and designed to renew. A short, blubbery Korean woman dressed in a scant black bra and panties uniform greeted and escorted me to the open massage room. Fluorescent overhead lighting and the echos of cackling women permeated the room as I was lead to the table covered in floral vinyl and ordered to slip off the smock and lie face down. I was cold, exposed and regretful - I'd already paid my money. And then it came. The glorious feeling of warm water doused over me from bowls resembling bed pans. Jung, the masseuse, then started scrubbing. I was praying that one of the monkeys hadn't hurled her scouring pad over the wall. Initially it felt like she was using steel wool on my rough, sun damaged, 40 something year old body. She scrubbed every little crease and fold until the upper dermis of my skin was lying on the table next to me. YUCK!!! Twenty minutes later more water and a slap on the butt cheek...time to turn over. So there I am, in all my full frontal nude glory, with a napkin over my eyes and Jung's blubber suffocating me. And let me just say that it was bliss. I did not feel pampered. I was not the only woman in the room. But I was getting my money's worth. Jung was working her fat sausages for fingers to the bone and this was exactly what I needed. When the front of me was done she squeezed some cleanser in my hands and told me to lather it into my face and go rinse off in the shower. I paraded out into the bath house with neither a stitch nor a shred of self consciousness.

A gorgeous, silky oil with the fragrance of meyer lemon was smoothed all over my back side with long, firm strokes as Jung laid her body over mine to reach to my feet. I have never had a more thorough massage. I am a harsh critic and very disappointed if my expectations aren't met. This little woman clawed at my muscles with such determination as if to pull every fiber apart and make them supple again. There were moments where I wondered if we'd ever tortured the Koreans during the war 'cause it felt a little like payback. On the flip side a luxurious emollient was applied to my face to wake it up for the cool mud mask that was painted on with the touch of an artist. She finished massaging my limbs, boobs and inner thigh as she cocked my leg to side for easy access. I was very happy she didn't have a speculum. She massaged by scalp with aromatic essential oils before washing and conditioning my hair and slathering a glistening cream to my renewed skin.
AHHHH!!!!!!!

Jung re-wrapped me in my sheath and sent my wobbly body back out onto the jade floor with radiant heating and a cup of tea where I caressed myself (I haven't been this soft since infancy!) while waiting for Cindy to share our experiences before heading off to a Korean lunch. We decided that our preliminary assessments were borne of a lack of cultural reference. We individualistic and private Americans do not have these types of social customs as other cultures do. I have to reiterate how grateful I am to live in a place where ethnic diversity abounds and I get the opportunity to sample it whenever I want.

My radio station, my friend

I am a subscriber and huge fan of KCRW, a local radio station that is my mecca for cultural affairs, my news source and wellspring for new music. It is on these airwaves that I learned of Daniel Merriweather, an Aussie singer from down under with haunting, soul-revealing pipes. I've noticed that Australia tourism has been ramping up efforts to get people into the country as evidenced by all the bulletin boards around town. As part of the campaign KCRW hosted a private, intimate concert for members with Daniel Merriweather on the rooftop of the Paley Center for Media in Beverly Hills. It was a Saturday afternoon, one of those awesome LA winter days where large white clouds hang like cotton candy on a brilliant blue background in the crispy air. We entered the Paley center, which was adorned with slideshows depicting Australia's beauty and loads of tourism propaganda and headed for the rooftop. There was a host bar offering flights of Australian wine and gorgeous woman serving equally gorgeous hors d'oeuvres. As the sun gave rise to the moon and twilight turned the sky that stunning shade of mauve and charcoal with the Hollywood hills as the backdrop, the artist took the stage.

This kid is sooo easy on the eyes! His persona nods to a bygone era with a chivalry and irreverence about him all at once. When he opens his mouth he is well spoken, funny and real. And when he sings he manages to let you see inside his soul. His voice is sultry even a bit rasp and he sings with a maturity that not many his age can or do. His band consisted of a female bassist, and lead guitar player who totally rocked it, a lounge lizard looking guy in a bow tie on keyboard and a youngster working his arse off on drums. The band is super tight and the singer sings sweet melodic songs about social consciousness, love and war, incidentally the name of his newly released released lp which I encourage you to run out and purchase. He does a very cool cover of the The Smith's Stop Me worth listening to.

After an hour long concert my boyfriend, Daniel, was briskly whisked away as if he were a superstar - presumably another gig - so we finished up our refreshments before heading to dinner. From Australia to Russia all in one night. We ate at a delicious Russian restaurant in LA and sampled the garlic infused Vodka toasting a lovely, eclectic afternoon.

Trapeze School?

I have the greatest, most thoughtful and generous friend in the world. We have shared innumerable amazing moments together from sky-diving to birthing her children. We fulfilled childhood dreams of going to Africa and now she's topped even herself by taking me flying.... trapeze flying!

Flight school is held on the Santa Monica Pier 7 days a week for 2 hours each session. After signing your life away and listening to a few rules the staff of really personable people - Ryan especially - go through some brief simulations on the ground. It's a lot to take in so he does a demonstration so you can visualize what to do in the air. When it's your turn you scale the ladder to a platform 20+ feet in the air. I was surprised at how heavy the bar actually is and jumping off the 1st time is a little nerve-racking. The trick we were supposed to do was to put our knees over the bar like we did on playground monkey bars as kids and swing until you are told to land. But since I am so challenged I could never quite make that happen. Since childhood I have struggled athletically. I will try anything but I'm usually lousy at everything. It's probably really easy but I could never lift my legs in unison at the right time to capitalize on the momentum of the swing and get them over the bar. There are instructors shouting commands throughout to help with that timing but I'm a tard. Depending on how many pupils in class determines how many chances you get to try. The capstone flight is one where you take what you've learned and leap through the air to the arms of a catcher on another trapeze. What fun, right?

Even considering the fact that I missed most of what I was supposed to do I had a blast and will try again until I get that maneuver down and can actually call myself a flyer. This is a highly rated activity on the fun scale.