Get Outta Dodge

So me and my boyfriend are going to this resort next weekend, and I couldn't be happier. Actually I'm thrilled. THRILLED. I have realized that over the course of the past 15 years I haven't taken one real vacation. A real vacation is a trip of at least 5 days that doesn't solely revolve around visiting family. It's actual go on the beach, relax, sightsee, etc (with family is fine--I'm just saying, 5 days visiting family in Paducah does not a vacay make).

I am just up to here with regret over that. What was I waiting for? I didn't want to spend the money, but I'll spend it one way or another throughout my life, and now I'm pretty fried. I get so tired so easily these days and I'm sure it's 'cause I just didn't have time to recharge.

So two days in Central Cali will be great, and then over my holiday hiatus we're probably taking 5 days to go up the coast. I will have no plans except to read books and watch tv and listen to the waves lap the shore and all that crap, thinking all the while that the average American takes less than 10 days a year of vacation. While our president takes 30!!!

Stay out of the Mommy Wars

Apparently the big conflict of late to do with the middle class is the "mommy war." The "Opt out" generation is, according to various social observers, full of ivy-league educated females throwing it all away to stay home and raise the kids. It's either a tragedy or a glorious use of personal choice, depending on who you listen to.

On Friday I scouted a mid-thirties couple who want to sell their home and appear on our program. They're successful and hip, and they have a great house that's going to land them a pretty big profit. They're moving closer to family down south and are obviously going to buy a much bigger house with the cash they'll earn on the home sale. And thanks to the lower cost of living, the woman added that she wouldn't have to work and could have and raise babies at her leisure.

She sounded positively thrilled. Except for the fact she'd be bored doing nothing until the kids came, she couldn't wait.

This is an educated and independent woman (bought the house by herself before she got married--remodeled it mostly by herself), who worked her way up in the industry. She had no shame saying she couldn't wait to quit her job and raise children without the rat race or pressure of a heavy work load.

So how come she doesn't care about the mommy wars? In fact, I don't hear of any feminist conflict from my friends who are stay at home moms. And every mom I know who works (the ones with infants) hate the fact they have to work. The ones with somewhat older kids seem pretty content--now that the kids are older, they learn independence, mommy can work.

So what's the fuss? Well, some women thinkers believe that by staying home, we're destroying any inroads paved by earlier generations, to higher (how about EQUAL??) wages and better flextime and family benefits. This is true. But you know what--I'm the one who has to get up in the morning and enjoy what is happening to me that day. I'm the one who has to work, drive, eat, breathe and run errands. When I have a kid, I am not going to work my ass off, and thereby run myself into anxiety attacks and exhaustion, so that women will have even better benefits and wages as a whole. I'd love to say it's worth sacraficing my well-being. But guess what: It's not.

That's why I resent this "mommy wars" bullshit so much. Like anything, the media is blowing it all way out of proportion. Yes, it's a lot harder to get back into the work force after a few years. Yes, benefits are still crappy for families. But are we talking about a crisis? Are we setting back womens' rights by years and years? Time will tell, but currently, a woman has made it to the anchor's desk for a nightly news broadcast (Katie Couric--after of course E. Vargas presumably got fired for being pregnant-50% there anyways), Oprah's worth $1.4 billion, and Kelly Ripa holds down 8 jobs while raising 4(?) kids. Still small beans considering we're capable of world domination, but progress is inevitable; and the nagging fact remains that kids need parents. I know, it's most inconvenient, but they simply do.

All the writers and thinkers in the world can wring their hands and argue to each other about what's best, but in the end, it's each family that has to decide.

In fact, there are other ways women can have it all. Perhaps it's time for women to put on their trademark ingenious thinking caps and figure out a new economy where women can thrive. Many stay at home moms have profitable businesses--via ebay, scrapbooking companies, mail-order cookies. Some are lawyers and CPAs who work out of their home. I freelance in the female-friendly world of reality tv; as long as I keep my connections up and book some at-home work in the meantime, I can dip into that world pretty easily.

Perhaps the Senior VP of a brokerage would have a hell of a time recapturing that position after 5 years of potty training and spit up. But she could potentially make a decent amount of money--and her own hours-- by becoming an independent financial planner. If talented women also have the second income of their husband's in the checking account, they can have a little more wiggle room in starting these entrepreneurial endeavors.

I could be wrong, but I think that's the way for women to Have It All. They need to think ahead (something people never do, I've found, thinking that Everyone Does It - get married and have kids--without realizing it takes a lot of thought to make the experience ideal and less than nerve-wracking) and find out how they can be thinking, thriving, working people, without the Man cracking the whip and refusing to recognize familiy obligations.

And then, as all these homegrown female entrepreneurs watch their businesses grow, as they hire people, they will enact family friendly procedures for their employees. Right???

Maybe then everyone will shut up about the Mommy Wars. It's getting old!

Mayday

I have not posted for about a million years because May was a ludricrous month. I think it was for a lot of people. A lot of shit went down, let's just say.

My story goes like this:

Part 1: The Show
I work on what apparently is now a bona-fide "hit" cable show, one of those cute lifestyle reality shows. Because it's been successful, the network is paying a lot more attention to it. This means perks like extra cameras on shoots, makeup for our stars, and brand-new segments of the show.

But the downside is they are using our talent for these new segments, which means travel. Which means we lose our talent for a good portion of the time. In fact, we lost one of our talent for the entire month of April. AND part of May.

So while we attempted to make up for the lack of shoots in April, we couldn't even schedule freely in May. So there was one week in May, in particular, jammed full of shoots.

On top of that, we had a new producer start, who is wonderful, but I was helping out on her sets to make sure she got what she needed for her episodes; and our boss was in the process of leaving.

This was a hectic, crazy time where there was little rest for the weary. I find it a small price to pay however, knowing the show is a success; though free coffee on sets has yet to come. That will truly be a day to rejoice.

Part 2: The Illness
I live with my cousin. She moved here a year ago and is the closest thing to a sister to me. Though being very young (early 20s), she is very worldly and wise in that old-soul way and has been working nonstop in production almost since she touched ground in L.A.. She can really take care of herself.

But even a young sturdy person can't keep up with 18-hour shoot days and 6-day work weeks, and one weekend in May, she had a fever. And it broke that night...and then it came back again. And again, and again. It was like tiny sick Beth in "Little Women"--the kid never got better. No matter how much water and tylenol she ingested, nothing kept the fever away for good.

She called her HMO, oh, about 3 times to get assigned a doctor, only to find out the doctor had retired the week prior. Then finally she found a PRACTICING doctor, and saw him. Five days later and multiple promises to refer her to a specialist, no referral materialized. (By now, she had a fever for two weeks.)

Remember Hell Week at work? The second day into it, a Monday (I had a shoot Sunday), she called me at work. "My fever is at 104," she said. "Find me the number for a cab. I'm going to the ER."

Once there, doctors kept asking, "Have you been traveling?" You could tell they were fishing for anything that could, once and for all, establish that the avian flu has indeed hit the US. She kept saying no, no no, she hadn't traveled. "But I moved here a year ago." "From where?" they'd ask excitedly. "Troy, Illinois?" she'd wheedle. Disappointed, they retreated and continued to ask her boring questions about her general health.

However, the infectious disease specialist assigned to her refused to believe the reasonable diagnosis that this was probably a viral infection. JUST IN CASE, she was tested for everything from ebola (despite the fact she was NOT bleeding from her eyes) to leukemia. In fact, knowing that she is slavic, he researched a feverish disease that plagues Macedonians. (I googled this like crazy and found nothing about this. But it's begging to be a plot point on HOUSE - hairy high cheekboned woman comes in with fever, has Mediterreanean disease that can only be cured by eating massive amounts of kalamata olives.)

Poor thing was a total trooper all week. People called, visited and sent flowers, and I ran over there every night to hang out. I was relieved when in the final analysis, it looked like she had a viral infection, which is obviously non life-threatening, but can hang on for weeks.

But there's no medication you can give for a viral infection, so she pretty much had to wait it out. Almost 30 consecutive days of fever later, she finally got well.

Of course, that's just the half of it. The HMO's traumatized her even more than the illness, but I won't get into that here--it's too effeng depressing. Did you know that Medicaid--which works with only the government as the middleman between doctor and patient--operates on about 2% of administrative costs, but the typical health care company allocates a whole 20%??? You know, to pay for all the paper pushers. And speaking of health insurance...

Part 3: Girl Trouble
The last portion of my crazy month or so occured when I had some routine medical "issues" that required an outpatient procedure to fix things. This meant going under (for the first time ever--it was like being on Quaaludes - for a WEEK) and and no heavy lifting or exercise (!!) for 6 weeks. So I'm going to get fat. Fantastic.

And that in and of itself was a mild ordeal, but my friends and family helped out just wonderfully and work was more than understanding.

All this wound down just in time for my 30th birthday. I'm hoping that's a convenient marker meaning the end of all this drama, for me, my cuz, and some friends who had some dark times too. A friend and I were chatting at my party this weekend and we agreed that things happen in threes, and it's such a relief when you finally hit that smooth sailing period in the aftermath. Until of course you hit a bump or two, but as my mother says, "Someone always has it worse." And right now I really feel bad for that person!

Airport!

I traveled this week, and while that's nothing unusual, I still never get tired of aiports, flying somewhere new, seeing old friends. I loooove to travel, and now I'm starting to actually have the $$ to do it.

But this was no crazy adventure--I saw my parents (wait...that could at times be a crazy adventure). It was wonderful having some down time with them. Plus, they live in Springfield, IL, and while that sound unexciting, the whole town has been invigorated by the new, gorgeous Lincoln library, and the place truly had small town charm. And it was 79 degrees the whole blessed time.

But back to airports. First of all, there are a few things that the engineers haven't figured out about airports, and airplanes.

1. Airport bathrooms. The womens' stalls have doors that open IN, and the galley of the stall is never long enough to accomodate a typical carry on bag. Plus, most of the toilets are auto-flush, and ocassionally flush early, so they send a huge mist of e-coli filled bacteria whilst you struggle to race out, without hitting your luggage on any of the bacteria-laden containers/toilet in the stall.

In fact, I waited for a handicap stall that allowed for the (small) bulk of my baggage; and when I walked in--I mean the millisecond I set food in the stall--the autoflush toilet went for it. I didn't even get within three feet.

2. Security line. It's a known fact we're more likely as Americans to die from the common flu than from terrorism. Yet when you take your shoes off in the security line, you have to walk barefoot on the disgusting airport floor. Also, when you lay your laptop in a bin to go through security--and we know how we get our hands all over laptops--we are probably putting it in a bin that held someone's germ-encrusted shoes. Several peoples' shoes, actually.

Frankly, I'm more scared of dying from the bird flu passed around in security than a bomb. So, with much aplomb, I throw on a pair of socks to wear with my mules, put my mules in security bin, walk through security, grab my shoes, and take off the socks while turning them inside out. My feet never touch the floor and the now soiled socks are slipped in a pocket in my luggage reserved solely for them.

(This is a) a sign of bird flu hysteria and b) a sign I'm turning into my mother.)

3. Southwest. Listen, I love it--it used to be incredibly cheap and rarely does it run late. But cheap now? Don't count on it. Cheap quality? Oh yeah. Yes, the personnel are very friendly, but you still, despite the extra money, can't reserve seats, so it takes forever for folks to find a seat and by then you nearly run late; it's kid friendly, and they're Eff'ng annoying (you CANNOT find a seat not near kids anymore, I've realized); and unless you're lucky and get an emergency aisle row, there's a horrific lack of leg room.

On top of it, the endless transfers. And now that it's cheaper to fly jet blue? Forget it!

That is my rant. Otherwise...I really had a lovely time this weekend.

Good Friday? How about GREAT Friday!

I remember growing up--during the grades one through four that I was in Catholic school -- that Good Friday always loomed dark and rainy. Sure enough, the forecast this week was sunny sunny sunny -- storms on Friday -- sunny sunny sunny. If you're a spiritual person, you just might think God is being literal--or you may think it's just a metereological coincidence.

If you were raised on three masses a week as I was during my formative years, the dark, gloomy weather also reminds you that someone died for your sins--YOUR sins!--and by gum, if you don't respect that, then you will rot in hell for years instead of eating mass quantities of donuts in heaven. You will also rot in hell if you 1) have had any kind of sex not done within a marriage AND the period of ovulation, 2) use birth control (excuse me...does the Pope know what it's like to raise seven kids?), 3) are gay.

It took me several years of public school (during which I FINALLY learned what the term "hooker" meant) and my mom repeatedly going, "Don't let them make you feel guilty!" to shake the fact that yes Jesus did die for our sins (that has been ingrained hardcore and forever), but that doesn't mean you shouldn't live like a nun, for Pete's sake. Does Jesus really give a crap that you don't want to have 12 kids (the average amount women would bear without birth control) and that you say the "F" word ocassionally, like to party at Rage, and maybe you hooch it up every now and again? Of course not! His best gal pal was Mary Magdalene, remember?

The guilt really falls, if you will, with our offical calendar. Good Friday isn't a national holiday, but it should be. Plus, this year it falls over Passover, which is one of the most--if not the most--important Jewish holidays.

And Easter is supposed to be the most important holiday for Christians, too. Even more than Christmas--anyone can be BORN, but who rises from the dead??? It's a bit more impressive an event than a birth (virgin as it may be). Seems weird we're not given the day off when so many folks have to end up taking today off anyways.

But, no traffic. So that's good. God does work in quite handy ways, I guess...

A Wealth of Goodness

Sunday nights are a veritable pleasure fest. Oh, the television! In order, starting at 7pm PST:

1. 60 Minutes. Airs alongside Dateline, if you want to get a tabloid version of the human-interest and political junkie stories that the venerable 60M specializes in. Me, I prefer Lesley Stahl to Stone Philips, but ocassionally the "gone missing at sea" stories are just the thing for a lazy Sunday night. ("What you don't know about your washing machine can kill you.")



2. The West Wing. Rescuissitated (barely) into a once-again nail biting journey of politics, thanks to a fortuitously timed "TV land" election. And the best part? (SPOILER ALERT)


The Democrats won!!! (Altho frankly, Vinick was a Moderate Republican--better than a full-on bleeding heart Dem, in my opinion--and always took the high road. So either way, it was a fantasy.)
John Spencer's untimely death was incredibly sad, but the writers have turned it into a drama goldmine. I hope Mr. Spencer, up in heaven watching reruns on Bravo, finds that flattering as opposed to tacky.

2a. A cute little show on HGTV which I will not announce here as I work on it and THERE GOES MY SECRET IDENTITY...but it IS the best show on HGTV, hands down!

3. Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Dare I say it, I almost prefer Chris Noth and Anabella Sciorra's wry, under-the-radar duo to Vincent D'Onofrio and Katherine Erbe's oddball pairing, although it's really like comparing Veuve Cliquot with Dom Perignon. Noth is so hardboiled without pushing it, and Sciorra plays her character like a seasoned vet with a peculiar insight into crooks as well as vast knowledge of the most trivial things. Last night's ep was about an opera house that ended up fertile ground for murder, complete with over-the-top characterizations by Alice Krige and Julien Sands. Loved it!

4. Law and Order reruns of every flavor--SVU, CI, and often the mother ship--late into the night on various cable channels. Heaven!

5. And, though I forgot to Tivo it, I hear So NoToriOus, on VH-1, is a crowd pleasure. As if I can fit any more juicy goodness into my Sunday nights. I worship thee, Sunday night TV gods.....

boot scootin' boogie

I am obsessed. It's unhealthy and bizarre.

I'm determined to master line dancing.

It all started when I met a pal who loves country music as much as I do. I learned that if you seperate the wheat from the chaff, you can find some pretty good tunes--good melodies, lyrics, instrumentation. Then, for fun, we went to a gay country bar on Ventura.

We all tried to follow the line dances--to no avail! These steps were out of a britney spears video. Impossible!

Then I went to Dallas just a couple weeks ago, and again, was confounded by the routines. This is stupid, I thought. This is the corniest looking dancing around and I, who took dance lessons from kindergarten on up through college, can't do it??

So now it's V's big 30th birthday party, and she's having it at this huge country and western dance club in Thousand Oaks. Dag nabbit, I decided, I WILL master line dancing.

The Tush Push. Slappin' Leather. The Cowboy Hip Hop.

And so, I bought (bought!) a line dancing DVD and went to town. While I was learning the Grapevine and the three-step, I realized that I have longed to take dance lessons more intensely than I realized. I've been dying to take a 6-week ballet series, I've attempted ballroom dancing - twice--with the boyfriend, but nothing sticks. Then I saw Take The Lead to review, and even though it was pretty cheesy, the dancing was awesome, and I thought, this is what is missing from my life.



But for now, the only excuse to dance on my tight schedule is this line dancing. So dammit, I'm gonna make it count. Kentucky Chug, I will master you!