breathe
Saturday, September 29, 2007
I didn't show up here yesterday because I had a horrible headache. (No people, I don't feel like I have to explain myself to you...this relates to today's post darlings.) I wish I could say that my headache was a result of my Britney hit and run, but alas, it was my own damn fault. Since we got back from Italy in mid-June, I have completely neglected my body. I've failed to get back into a consistent yoga practice and I'm certain that the headaches that I had this week were my body's way of saying, "WAKE UP WOMAN! I NEED MY YOGA!" My back was in all sorts of twists and knots and aches. And I'm quite certain that something was pinching something that it shouldn't, sending an excruciating feeling into my brain. I've been trying to take fewer medicines - advil, tylenol, etc...because I do believe that your body's aches and pains are telling you something (like get thee to yoga). And by just taking medicine to cover up the pain, well, you're essentially ignoring it and therefore eventually putting yourself in more pain. However, after drinking a lot of water (maybe I'm dehydrated?), closing my eyes (perhaps they're strained?), and stretching out my knotted up back (it dawned on me that I'd been neglecting my body a bit...), my headache remained. So I gave in and took two Excedrin. And about an hour later, my headache went away. But I knew that it was time to get my ass to class.
Yoga is one of the things I love most about LA. Sorry, New York, but yoga is just far superior out here. Maybe it's because the windows don't look across into a building. Or because you're not practicing in a basement. Maybe it's because the temperature in the rooms is always just right - not too hot, not too cold. Maybe it's because real estate is less expensive and the studios are big and expansive and beautiful. Maybe it's because Angelenos aren't in as much of a rush. For whatever reason, yoga is just better in LA.
This morning I went to one of my favorite yoga studios, Center for Yoga and took class with one of my favorite teachers, Jeanne Heileman. I had the incredibly good fortune to take my yoga teacher training with this fabulous woman (along with another favorite, Natasha Rizopoulos) a little over a year ago. Class with Jeanne is always a treat and one of the reasons is because Jeanne is constantly a student herself. Every time I'm in her class, I am reminded of what a gift she is to those who study with her. She is mindful of body, mind, and spirit in her teachings and because of that, I always leave with an extremely heightened awareness of all three. Jeanne is a stickler about alignment and I got my fair share of fabulous corrections this morning, which were much needed after having been out of practice for the past few months. I am always amazed to find myself sweating and heart pounding 15 minutes into my practice with her, despite the fact that the room is not heated and we're not moving at some crazy rapid pace.
But what I love most about Jeanne's class is that she is constantly encouraging her students to get in touch with how they are feeling in that present moment and to practice accordingly. Which this morning, as I gently massaged the knots out of my back, was a phenomenal reminder for me. I'm a bit out of shape and so I reminded myself to push myself and be gentle at the same time, to skip an asana here or there if I needed to. And most importantly, I took stock of how I was feeling in each pose, not dreading the second side even though I already knew the work that was ahead of me...because perhaps it might not be as difficult on that second side as it was on the first. Or perhaps it would be harder - but if I was only sitting there thinking about how difficult the first side had been, then wouldn't I actually be missing the experience of the entire second side?
And this is why I love yoga, and especially yoga in LA. I find these delicious morsels of wisdom in my classes here that I don't remember receiving in NYC. The yoga mat is a metaphor for life. If I can stay present on my mat and truly experience each pose in the moment then I can make choices based on how my body feels - I can push myself further, I can take a little break. I can relish in the stretch and I can adjust my body to make the pose better or easier or harder. I can enjoy the poses that my body just naturally slides into and I can remind myself to breathe through the harder ones for they'll be over before I know it and I'll be able to laugh at myself for the moment that I thought I might not make it through. Such is yoga, and such is life.
If you live in LA, go take Jeanne's classes. And if you don't, you can download her classes and her guided meditations at Yogi2Go. Your back and your mind will be a little less knotty for it.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:13 AM 0 comments
Labels: yoga
A tale of a Britney hit and run
Thursday, September 27, 2007
I didn't intend to make the end of this week about driving, but after my evening last night, I feel obligated to discuss the insanity of the people in this town. Now, I am not claiming that there are not insane people in other towns. In fact, I'm sure there are people who would classify yours truly as "one of those insane New Yorkers." But we are talking a whole new level here...
Beware of accidents in this town, people. Know your rights, know what to do when you're in an accident, and don't lose the ability to think on your feet. "What is wrong with this girl?" you are asking yourself. "We know what to do when we get into accidents."
Yes. But do you know what to do when you get into accidents with CRRRRRRAAAAAAAZZZZY people???? You might think you do. But trust me, you don't.
Last night, I left my office at approximately 6:15. My friend, Nancy Cho* (*all names have been changed to protect the innocent) was following me home. She had to pick up her puppy, Toast*, who was playing with our puppy, Tuesday*. I got into my car which was conveniently parked in the guest parking section of the insert studio name here parking lot (parking at studios and networks is a whole other topic to be discussed at a much later date...or perhaps, never.) Anyhow, there was crazy traffic in the parking lot because Dancing with the Stars had just finished taping their results show (sorry Josie Maran. You should have taken some advance lessons, lady). Nancy and I opted to leave a different way so we could avoid the traffic. I looked behind me and the coast was clear, so I put the car in reverse. Like most good drivers (which I don't exactly claim to be...but I at least drive by the rules) I looked behind me as I was backing up. I've barely backed up a foot when I see a silver car barreling through the parking lot toward me. Did I mention that we're in a parking lot? And this person is EAAAAASILY driving 35 mph. I quickly step on the brake and lay on the horn at the same time. There's definitely not time for me to put the car in drive and move forward but I'm thinking that the fact that I'm laying on the horn and that this person is still a swervable distance away will keep me safe. As I'm looking at this car FLYING toward me, I realize that I recognize the driver!!! It's Leaf*, the sort of crazy but also sweet, mildly Britney Spears-like assistant from down the hall at work. I smile. I like Leaf. And surely Leaf will see me or hear me and stop...
BAM.
Um. Apparently not. I sit there in shock for a moment. "She just freaking hit my car. Holy Shit." I see the silver Honda Accord stopped a little past where I am parked. The brake lights are on and there is no one getting out of the car. But the car is stopped. I get out of my car and walk over to see what happened. I look at the rear of my car, and thankfully, there is a mild scrape on my bumper. Nothing terrible. OK, this is fine. This is good. ESPECIALLY GOOD BECAUSE AS I LOOK UP FROM MY CAR TO THE PLACE WHERE THE SILVER HONDA ACCORD WAS STOPPED, I SEE IT PULLING AWAY.
"HEY!" I scream. "HEEEEEEEY!"
At this moment I see that I am currently standing in front of Nancy Cho's car. I see this because she is honking at me and motioning for me to move toward her. I think that she wants me to come over to her window to tell her what happened, so this is what I do.
"Did you see that?" I scream. "DID YOU SEE HER???"
"MOVE!" Nancy said. "I'm going after that person!!! They just hit and run you!!!!"
Nancy, it turns out, had seen the entire thing.
"NO!" I said in complete and utter disbelief. "You don't have to go after them. I know who it was. It was Leaf!"
"What?"
"IT WAS LEAF. LEAF JUST HIT ME AND RAN!! WHAT THE HELL!"
Nancy and I sit and stare for a moment.
"Are you ok? Are you hurt? She totally hit your car! She just drove right into it."
In that moment, I was extremely grateful that someone else had seen what had happened to me. Because I've gotta be honest with you, the whole thing was so ridiculously insane, that it seemed possible that I hadn't processed what had happened properly. I mean, how is it possible that:
1. A person drives through a very full parking lot where there are constantly pedestrians at 35 miles per hour.
2. This person is so clearly not looking in front of them that they don't see STOPPED CAR LOUDLY HONKING FOR AT LEAST 10 seconds.
3. SAID PERSON HITS CAR AND PLUM DRIVES AWAY!!!!
I'll tell you how this happens. It happens in LA, where people actually think that "Hey, Britney did it...so can I!"
Back on track. My car is barely damaged. Our dogs are at the house waiting. And I'm not going to press charges. I mean, I know this girl. I even like this girl. And it has seemed to me on more than one occasion that perhaps she doesn't have the best judgment (you think Michelle?) so tomorrow morning I will go into the office and kindly tell her that 1. you have to drive more slowly in the parking lot and 2. you can't hit and run because if I hadn't realized it was you, I would have called the cops.
But before I decide that I'm going to be calm and lovely toward this person, I call my friend Roxanne*, who is still in the office and tell her what happened. Roxanne is up in arms for me (and rightfully so, I might add.) She tells one other person because she is in such utter disbelief and before you know it, the whole hall knows that I have just been the victim of a Britney hit and run.
Cut to this morning. Upon my arrival in the office, I learn that there has already been some issues regarding my aforementioned hit and run. "How?" you might ask. "You haven't even gotten to the office yet." Wait. Ooooooooooooooooooh wait.
Apparently, Leaf was late arriving at her desk that morning. And her colleague was annoyed because she didn't know where she was. When she finally found out, she announced out loud, "Leaf was down at security reporting that someone hit her last night." Roxanne hears this and jumps up. "Hit her? Someone HIT HER??? Uh uh. No. NO WAY. That is NOT what happened. Bitch hit and ran Michelle!!!" (ok - that's not what she said. But isn't that more colorful than "No she didn't. She hit Michelle.)
So now, not only is everyone talking about how Leaf hit me and ran, but that she then LIED to security about it as well. Keep in mind that at this point, Leaf has no idea that the person that she hit is ME.
I wasn't here. I don't know what happened, but apparently, some shit went down regarding my car accident. So when I got into the office I had the following email from Leaf (please note that the italics are my comments in my head upon reading the email):
So, I guess we collided yesterday. I didn’t know that we hit until I got home. (WHAT??) I didn’t hear or feel anything. (UMM HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE) Anyway, I came in right away this morning and reported it to security and they have all my info and insurance and are looking it up on the cameras. If you want to trade info that’s perfectly okay with me. I’m sure we can work this out just fine.
I sigh deeply and then I venture toward Leaf's desk. I am telling myself to stay calm. Despite the fact that this girl is a hit and runner. Despite the fact that she lies. Despite the fact that she is clearly a LUNATIC...I want to remain calm.
"Hi. Let's talk"
"OK. But can we please go somewhere because there has already been all sorts of drama about this this mornin' and Ah don't want everyone all up in our business. We can go in that office right there. It's empty."
(Little did I know that the office that she took me into is the temporary office of our head of Interactive for when he's here from NY...like, a BIG head honcho. And HE'S CURRENTLY HERE. In LA. So everyone is standing outside going "what is she doing?" Thankfully, he was in a meeting...)
Anyhow...I was lovely and sweet. Even as this crazy little girl sat and lied to my face. She started out by saying that she asked security for video tapes so they could see a license plate and who was at fault.
I said, "Leaf, there's no question. You were at fault. I wasn't moving." I said it very sweetly and I cushioned it with the fact that there was very little damage to my bumper- just a couple of scrapes that I didn't need fixed. (I'm thinking that she sort of side swiped me and has a nice big scrape on the front of her car...but I made out OK.)
When I said this to her, she did not protest. Not a peep. "And you were going REALLY fast in the parking lot."I said.
"Ahhhh was?" (She's southern)
"You were. And you're really lucky it was me you hit. Because hit and run is a felony. Anyone else would have called the cops and you would have been in a lot of trouble."
"But ah didn't even know that ah hit you! Ah sweeeeeeear. Ah didn't feel a thang!"
"Really?" I said. "Cuz I felt a lot of things." (one of which was that I wanted to tear you a new asshole this morning...)
"Reeeeally. Ah can't believe it. Ah didn't even know we hit until ah got home last night. Ah came in early this morning to talk to security. Ah swear."
I looked at this girl and realized that I was going to get nowhere with her...and what was the point? She wasn't trying to claim that I hit her...in fact, her story changed during the course of the conversation from reporting to security that she'd been hit to then saying we collided to total submission when I told her that, hands down no question, she hit me. I said my piece. I was done.
No one at work can believe I was so nice. Roxanne and Nancy Cho couldn't believe that I let her off so easy.
But she didn't try and argue with me once I told her that she hit me. If she had, I'd have gone ghetto on her ass.
I have another accident story that I was going to talk about tonight as well...another craaaaaaazy lady who tried to take me for all I'm worth (which at the time, was not very much). But I'm exhausted from telling you this one. So the crazy Asian lady will have to wait for another day.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:43 PM 4 comments
Labels: driving
Los Angeles Lessons
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
When I first moved to
LA has very different laws regarding pedestrians.
So the lesson of the day is this: it doesn't make sense, but many things about this city never will. Yield to the pedestrians.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:57 PM 2 comments
Labels: driving, laws of the road
Traffic
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
My head is clogged with traffic jams. Too many thoughts at too many intersections and I'm completely uncertain as to which direction is best. It doesn't have to be the shortest route or even the most direct. It just needs to take me where it is that I want to go.
There are pile ups on my 405 and the pace on my 101 is a crawl at best. My highway of creativity is a total parking lot. If everyone would just stop honking, then maybe I could get a thought off at the next exit. But it could take me 20 minutes just to get that mile.
There's a bottleneck at my sensibility entrance and it doesn't appear to be clearing up anytime soon. I can see far down the road but I can't seem to see what's directly in front of me at all.
It's nearly impossible to make that left hand turn, but I'm going to try to do it anyhow. And I know that it would be foolish to turn around now even though there are times when that seems easiest. I'm already halfway there. If I can just sit patiently, I'll get to where I'm going...it might not be on time, but I'll get there. If I turn around, well, I'm just back where I started.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:43 PM 0 comments
Far
Monday, September 24, 2007
Last night I flew 6 hours back to Los Angeles from an extremely brief weekend with my parents. I stood on the sidewalk outside the American Airlines terminal and stared at the airport. Hadn't I just arrived there one day ago? Was I seriously leaving already?
I didn't want to come back to LA. And it's not because I don't like Los Angeles. I like Los Angeles just fine. Is it my favorite place in the world? No. But it doesn't have to be. I like it here. I'm happy here. The weather is great, I've made some terrific friends, we have a great home. It will never be New York - but it doesn't have to be. It's Los Angeles. Apples and oranges, baby.
I didn't want to come back to LA because it's far. It's far, far away from at least 80% of the people that I love. It's far away from both of our parents, from our siblings, from our three nephews. It's far away from my grandmother and our aunts and uncles and cousins. It's far away from most of my closest and oldest friends. And it's not just a little far. It's really fucking far. It's really hard to go home for a weekend far. It's not driveable far. It's impossible to be there for important occasions far. It's miss people so much that it actually hurts far.
And sure - there are tons of things that are annoying about Los Angeles - especially for this New Yorker. But they're just annoying. They're fun to pick at and look at and it's fun for me to figure out ways to feel at home in a place that's so far away from mine. But none of that stuff makes me unhappy. It's all liveable and dealable. It's the proximity of Los Angeles to New York and the east coast(or lack there of) that makes me unable to truly love and embrace living in Los Angeles. And I feel totally perplexed. Because I'm not really sure how to get over this or past this or whatever it is that I'm supposed to do in order to be able to live in Los Angeles and be happy here. How can you be truly happy when you can't be around SO many of the people that help to ground you, that make you laugh, that keep you safe, that love you no matter what? And especially in this town, where you need those things more than ever...how do you embrace living in a place that is painfully far away from the people that you want to be near?
I know that people do it all the time. I know that this is not some new phenomenon that I'm experiencing. And I know that I should be an adult and suck it up and get over it. But no matter how hard I try, there is a place in my soul that feels empty being 3000 miles away from all of these people...
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:17 PM 2 comments
Labels: homesick, musings on life
Good Yontif
Friday, September 21, 2007
I'm going home to my parent's in Massachusetts for Yom Kippur. A quick 36 hour trip home. No, I'm not exaggerating. I wish I were. We get on a redeye at 11 PM tonight, arrive in Boston at 7 AM Saturday morning, get back on a plane at 7 PM Sunday night and arrive back at LAX at 11 PM Sunday night.
Math is not my strong suit, but I believe that's 48 hours total and 36 hours in Boston. Which means that 12 hours are spent in the air traveling. I have one single word for this.
Oy.
But I haven't seen my grammy or my aunts and uncles or my cousins in 4 months. And it will probably be another 4 before I see them again. So I'm going and I'm going to soak everyone in and carry them back with me to Los Angeles to take me through until the next trip. And I guess this is what you do when you live 3000 miles across the country.
So good yontif to those of you to whom it applies...I'll be spending the plane ride thinking about my "sins" of the past year. As far as asking for forgiveness goes, I think that starts with me forgiving myself. Don't you think? I just started to launch into some thoughts about this but I think I was sounding like a rabbi giving a sermon - and I don't really have a lot of interest in sounding like that.
See you after my whirlwind weekend.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:34 AM 0 comments
Labels: family, homesick, musings on life
Clay
Thursday, September 20, 2007
I love theatre. And I miss it terribly. (I grew up on theater hence my telling people we were moving to NY for my career when I was 13. And I worked in the theatre when I lived in NY.) Living in LA, I've managed to forget a little bit how much I love theatre. In NYC, it was a constant in my life. I was seeing 20-30 shows a year. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm lucky if I see 2 or 3 a year now that I live in LA. What I love about really great theater is that it leaves you feeling exhilarated, invigorated, impassioned.
Last night, my husband and I went to see an unbelievable show at the Kirk Douglas theater in Culver City. CLAY is the story of a suburban Jewish boy who turns to hip-hop and spoken word to escape his parent's divorce and his unhappiness at home.
I'm not really interested in reviewing the show...it's not my job or my desire or my expertise. So I'll leave that to other people. I'll simply say that it's been a while since I've seen something that was so exciting. It's different, it's got passion, it's got rhythm. It's a mere hour and 20 minutes and it's in a terrific part of town with all sorts of great new restaurants. (We went to Fraiche after - I'll discuss another time. But I liked it A LOT.) And tickets are not expensive. Why blow 20 bucks at a bar when you can see a show that will inspire you? (Tickets range from $20-$40- still a great deal for a fabulous evening.)
I'm going to stop now. Because there's no need for me to sell it anymore. If you're smart (and if you're reading my blog, you are) then you'll go see Clay. Because we all need a little live stimulation every now and then.
Clay is at the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City from September 13-October 14. Just go.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:14 PM 0 comments
Labels: things to do
The Flip Side
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
While a car may bring ease to the grocery store and the Farmer's Market allows you to shop and cook while feeling like a true artiste, there is another side to this story. And it's a sad, saaaaaad, story.
Restaurants. Or rather, the dearth of them that exist in this city.
In New York, when the conversation turns to where to eat, there are endless options of delicious cuisine of every ethnicity, in every neighborhood, at every price. You can walk out your front door and choose your own adventure. When it seems that you've exhausted all the choices in your neighborhood and you feel like trying something a little different, well hell, you just walk a few cross town blocks and end up in a whole new culinary world. Not to mention the fact that the quality of food in Manhattan is unsurpassed (unless you're in Italy or Paris). Your corner Italian has the best tomato sauce in the West Village. That chinese restaurant around the corner from your office makes a mean General Tsau's Chicken. In one month you can visit restaurants headed by the likes of Tom Colicchio, Bobby Flay, Mario Batali, and Nobu Matsuhisa. And don't even get me started on the fact that Los Angeles, absolutely teaming with people trying to stay healthy, has a TOTAL shortage of salad places. (God, I miss those joints on every corner in midtown where you can toss your own salad. Mmmmmmmm. My mouth is watering....) The standard in NYC is high so if you're going to bother to open someplace new, then you need to match or surpass to succeed.
Not so in Los Angeles. For a major metropolis, the standard is actually fairly low here. (That's my opinion people. Just an opinion. But a strong one.) San Francisco, Chicago, and Boston are all culinary delights. It seems that Los Angeles should at least match them! But alas, it does not. There are stretches for miles here without a good eatery. I'm tired of seeing Subway as opposed to some great, adorable sandwich shop. There are a lot of restaurants that would pass for "just fine" - but do I need to go back? Eh.
Now, I will not say that Los Angeles doesn't have any fabulous finds, must-visits, or genuine gems. They just aren't on every block. Or every other block. Or...you get the picture. It's rare that you can simply walk to any of them. In fact, if you live in Hollywood, you're painfully far from one of the more interesting gastronomic epicenters, Santa Monica. If you're going to have dinner there, you better plan on forgoing that last glass of vino because you've got a 40 minute drive home.
As time goes on, I will lovingly reveal my lists of California faves as well as places that leave me feeling like there's a little piece of the Big Apple here in the LA. But I couldn't move forward without providing the yin to yesterday's yang.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:02 PM 0 comments
Labels: food and drink
Heavenly grocery shopping
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
There is an entire element to food in Los Angeles that doesn't exist in New York. This clearly is NOT the restaurant element which I'll rant about another day. I feel like being positive today.
In my 27 year old New York world, there wasn't much in the way of grocery shopping or cooking. You'd order in, you'd eat out, and occasionally, you'd pick up a few things for dinner. But even then, most of the time those few things were a slice of cheese, a slice of mushroom, and a diet coke. My fridge was full if it had a bottle of water, some apples, white wine, and milk for coffee. The few times I cooked, half the ingredients ended up in the living room because the kitchen just didn't have enough room to hold them. And when you've got the culinary world outside your front door, the question remains: Why cook?
But it's different here. One of the few things that thrilled me the moment I moved to LA (and the list of things that thrilled me was definitely limited) was having a car in which to put my groceries. No more schlepping 3 bags home on each arm, stopping on every corner to give the painful, red indentations a break. No more worrying that the really heavy bag was going to break and spill onto the sidewalk. No more swearing I would eat at home, only to find the lettuce I'd bought 2 weeks ago unopened and wilted. This was novel. Not only could I fit bags upon bags of groceries into my car, but I had a kitchen big enough to cook in and enough room for a dining room table to eat at. This was living!!
I love grocery shopping in LA. Perusing the aisles, picking out the cheeses that call to me that week, discovering new treats in the bakery section, determining which ice cream should represent in our freezer. I'm not on anyone's schedule but my own. I can take as long as I like to peruse the produce. I can fill my cart as high as I need, and at the end of the trip, I can put my bags right into my car, pull up outside my house, and walk 20 steps in the front door. To those of you who don't live in a major metropolis without a car, you will never understand the joy of grocery shopping this way. But I know that even you die-hard New Yorkers are reading this with a little twinge of jealousy.
Soon I learned there was something even better than grocery shopping in the stores. Farmer's markets. Stalls and stalls of fresh produce all grown locally and organically. Yes, I know you have this in New York. But it's just not the same. First and foremost, it's not year-round. And second of all, you run into the same dilemmas as you do with the regular market. Those beets are gorgeous - but they'll probably sit in your fridge until they're too old to cook. And you have to limit what you buy because you usually live a long walk or a subway ride away from the Green market at which you shop.
Every weekend, I spend my Sunday morning at the Larchmont market stocking up on heirloom tomatoes so sweet that they taste like candy and arugula so fresh you're reminded just a little of Italy. I buy strawberries and raspberries and peaches and cherries and blueberries and apples and plums. The brightest, freshest, sweetest, juiciest fruit you have ever seen. And it's insanely inexpensive. Organic, locally grown, delicious and cheap. What more can a girl ask for? I wander the stalls figuring out what I'll make for dinner that evening...roasted beets and carrots and kale and japanese eggplant? A salad w/ peaches and tomatoes and burrata? Gazpacho? Homemade pasta with an arugula salad topped with shaved parmesan reggiano? The possibilities are endless. The farmer's market is like my palette of paints. I pick my colors and create.
So while I miss my New York restaurants like I missed my parents while I was at overnight camp...I am grateful for the grocery stores and especially for the farmer's market. It's the little things that keep us happy. I love grocery shopping in Los Angeles.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:32 PM 2 comments
Labels: food and drink
I miss bodegas
Monday, September 17, 2007
About a year after I moved out here, I got sick. I left work with a terrible headache, and as a result, ridiculous nausea. Ginger ale truly helps me when I'm nauseous. It might be completely in my head, but all I wanted that evening was a bottle of Schweppes ginger ale on my nightstand. I drove home, figuring it wouldn't be a problem since there were several places for me to stop and get it on my way. First stop - Bristol Farms. I walked in and looked up and down the soda aisle. I looked up and down the soda aisle again. Every other soda you could imagine - but no ginger ale. I hit Rite Aid. Another strike. No problem - there were three gas stations lined up on Sunset. One of them would surely be able to fulfill my need. Three gas stations later, I went home empty-handed with a worse headache than when I'd started. I walked in the door, got under the covers and cried. I cried because I couldn't get a ginger ale in LA. I cried because I missed bodegas.
There is something just fabulous about the ability to walk out your front door and have access to anything and everything that you could ever possibly want or need. Ben and Jerry's, Advil, cigarettes, black and white cookies, a six pack, toilet paper, a cup of coffee, ginger ale. You know...life's necessities.
I miss egg and cheese on a roll or a toasted, buttered sesame bagel in the morning on the way to work. I know I can get that here...but it's not the same as from the bodega on 43rd between Broadway and sixth. I miss the selection of gourmet chips (better than any grocery store anywhere ever). I miss being able to buy a single beer after a long day at work to enjoy in the privacy of my own home (No silly. I can't get that at a gas station. I can get a Bud Lite at a gas station. At a bodega, not only can I get a Pete's Summer Ale or a Hefeweizen, I can also get a lemon to go in it). I miss being able to just run down the street to grab toilet paper when we realize we're on the last piece of the last roll. I miss black and white cookies and chinese sprinkle cookies (the ones that are like sugar cookies with the colored sprinkles on top). I miss British candy bars which happen to be available on nearly every corner of New York City. And I miss fulfilling my monthly chipwich craving by simply walking 20 steps to Norberto's Deli. I even miss the fairly revolting smell of the bad hot food bars in Midtown
I miss bodegas. But for now, a trip to the gas station (which shockingly, happens to be within walking distance from my house) will have to suffice. But in the event that I need ginger ale, well, I'm shit out of luck.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 2:27 PM 5 comments
Labels: NYC
New Contacts (the phone number kind)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
There's something remarkable about that moment when you enter a new number into your list of contacts. A mix of emotions - excited, happy, a little surprised (at least at my age) and a little nervous - all at the same time.
At 31, you meet a lot of new people, but you don't necessarily meet a lot of new people by whom you are stimulated enough to want to add their number to your phone. That you actually believe have potential to be a person that you will spend time with outside of the social setting in which you originally meet. At least for me.
I'm older. In the best possible way. I know what and who I like. I trust my instincts and my instincts tell me if I trust. And there's something perfectly magical about meeting a person that you just click with. It's just there. There's no forcing conversation, no figuring out what to talk about, no trying. You're just plain interested in learning about each other. And you feel like you're a little bit at home.
I haven't had the easiest time connecting with people in LA. And while at one point I blamed it on LA, I have to partially take responsibility for the fact that it's about me. As I slowly but surely meet more new and interesting and wonderful people that I am beginning to call my friends, I realize that as I have gotten older, I have become more discerning and more picky. I have incredible friends. Truly amazing. I marvel at the people that I have in my life. I'm not interested in spending my time on something that 's not equal to what I already have.
So when the chemistry happens, I am elated. Truly. I get giddy like a child that I have found a new spirit to play with, to grow with, to learn from. It's definitely akin to a crush of sorts.
And the additional beauty is that in getting to know someone new, you have the opportunity to get to know yourself all over again too. You get to see how you show up in the world at that moment in time. And you get to learn new things from someone new.
I had high standards when I moved to LA. I would argue that I have the best friends in the world. And I feel good that three years later , I can look at the small group in LA that I truly call my friends and know that I'm finding the same inspiring, intelligent, passionate people here that I've found all my life. I'm learning to appreciate the discovery process and know that the right people show up exactly when you need them most. And they find their way into your contacts.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:46 PM 1 comments
Labels: friends, moving to LA
The Other Room
Friday, September 14, 2007
My last apartment in NYC was on Perry Street in the West Village - two doors down from The Other Room. It's the perfect neighborhood beer and wine bar. Most of the time you can find a place to sit - in the cozy back room on a sofa, a table in the front room or at the bar for a great chat with that evening's bartender. The crowd is always cool but never trendy and most of wine is about $8/glass. There's never any need to shout to have a conversation. It's the kind of place you go in NY when you actually want to spend time with the people you're with rather than "see and be seen". I ended up there for a glass of wine or a beer at least once a week and it sort of felt like an extension of my living room.
So when Stephanie suggested that we drive the 13.3 miles to Venice to go to dinner and then The Other Room, I felt a little twinge of nostalgia and thought, "Hey, at least after I get there I'll feel at home."
Umm. No. That is NOT the answer.
As we walked down Abbot Kinney, I immediately felt certain that there was some sort of mistake. But no. There was no mistake. There, behind a sea of people decked to the nines, was a sign just like the one on my old stomping grounds. The Other Room. I stood there staring for a moment assessing the situation. I assumed that there was an outdoor area considerably larger than the bench outside the NYC outpost and everyone was enjoying a glass of wine outside. I was about to cross the street when upon closer inspection, I saw the unspeakable. These people were not standing outside enjoying ANYTHING. They were standing outside because they had to - they were being kept out of the bar by a red velvet rope. Does this sound ANYTHING like the scene I've described on Perry Street??
I can't tell you anymore about The Other Room because, shockingly, we opted NOT to stand in line to go in. But if any of you have had the enjoyment of having a drink in ANY of these establishments in NYC (The Room in Soho and Another Room in Tribeca), please do not be fooled into thinking you will have the same experience on a Friday night in Venice. According to my friend Stacey, it's all those things at 5 PM on a Sunday evening before the sun goes down. Although it's quite possible that by putting that in print, I've now ruined it. (That's my own delusional hope that I have enough readers that they would actually FLOCK there on Sundays at 5...Hey - a girl can wish!) My point is, this ain't no New York experience...Same name. Different bar.
"Wait!" you say. "You didn't even go in Michelle! How can you say that?"
You tell ME the last time you had a mellow, relaxing evening that started out by waiting behind a red velvet rope among throngs of people. I rest my case.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:40 AM 0 comments
Labels: food and drink
"What are you doing here??"
Thursday, September 13, 2007
That's the question I've answered about 50 times today. I'm Jewish. It's Rosh Hashanah. I'm not supposed to be at work today. But I have my reasons...
Picture it. New York, September 2000. I lived on the Upper West Side in my shoebox of an apartment. It was Rosh Hashanah in the middle of the week and while I hadn't gone home to Boston, I'd felt like I should take the day off. I'm a Jew. It's Rosh Hashanah...it's the right thing to do. I didn't have anywhere to go for services or even for dinner that evening but it obviously wasn't a free day to wander around the city or go to yoga or run all the errands that I'd yet to get done. So I sat on my fire escape (which, by the way, increased the square footage of my apartment greatly) and called home. As I spoke to each member of my family, wishing them a Happy New Year, I could hear the sounds of a Jewish family gathering in the background and, while I only lived 3 1/2 hours away, in that moment I felt deeply homesick. I longed to eat my mother's home cooking, to sit with my cousins around the dinner table, to get my grammy's kisses. I missed sitting in temple and getting yelled at by my mom because my sister and I were inappropriately laughing. I even missed the chaos of too many people in the kitchen at once and cleaning up after everyone left. I missed that feeling of familiarity - of knowing that on certain days of the year, there were certain things that were going to happen, certain ways that would mark our celebration. I hung up the phone and sat on my balcony (I mean fire escape) staring out over Columbus Avenue wondering if there would ever be a time that I would know what to do when it came time to celebrate Rosh Hashanah without my family. I sat on my fire escape and cried.
It's hard not to feel even further away in LA, to long to be with family that much more. I know there are people grateful for the distance from their parents or their in-laws. But in these moments, I most certainly am not. I long for the familiarity of those things - even if it includes some chaos and silly family dynamics. I long for the feeling of home.
Every year when we go to our friends, Lori and Yoni, for Break the fast or read from the Hagadah entitled "Passover according to Meesh", I feel a little sense of home. And last night, as I ran around my kitchen like a crazy person, trying to prepare dinner, I think that I came a little bit closer to figuring out the holidays away from our families. Ten friends gathered to share food and wine and laughter. Our home was filled with warmth and love. There's not much more you can ask for.
But today. Well, today I'm feeling homesick all over. I don't have a temple here. We could absolutely find one - I just haven't been so inclined. And the idea of spending the holiday at home without any sense of purpose, without the proper sounds and smells of Rosh Hashanah just brings me right back to that fire escape overlooking Columbus.
So that's what I'm doing here.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:34 AM 0 comments
Labels: homesick
Dance Dance Party Party
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I feel that it is my social obligation to share the fabulousness that I experienced this past Sunday with the world or, at the very least, my readers. At 11:30 am, I arrived at Ography dance studio on Sunset for Dance Dance Party Party.
That's right. You say both words twice because, rest assured, it is absolutely that much fun.
Dance Dance Party Party (See? Isn't it fun to say?) is a weekly gathering of fabulous ladies who like to dance their little booties off (and honestly, after an hour of dancing like we did, I literally think I danced my booty off). Queen bee Lauren Schnipper provides the play list which included everything from "Crazy in Love" to old school fave "Thriller" to musical theater staple "All That Jazz". (And yes, she'll gladly take requests.) She turns on the music and you just dance. With yourself, with each other, with the mirror...There were incarnations of 6th grade recital numbers. There were plenty of moves ala Molly Ringwald in "Breakfast Club". But most importantly, there was sweat, there were endorphins, and there was fabulously fun girl time.
The best news? This is not an LA only event! It was started in NYC and it's recently been brought to Chicago too! It was the best and most fun workout I can remember having in a loooong time. So do yourself a favor and get your ass to Dance Dance Party Party. Because, well, you can dance if you want to.
For more info:
Dance Dance Party Party LA
Dance Dance Party Party NY
Dance Dance Party Party Chicago
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 8:04 PM 4 comments
Labels: things to do
13.3 miles
Monday, September 10, 2007
This past weekend our friend Stephanie suggested that we head to
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As you can see, it’s a whopping 13.3 miles. That’s only 1/10th of a mile shorter than the entire length of the
You would think, from my reaction, that
My parents live 45 minutes outside of
Meanwhile, my husband, who, like me, generally has a similar distaste for driving, said to me, “Let’s go! Fun to do something different.” And suddenly, with my excuse un-excused, I was unenthusiastically looking at an evening in
My stint in
So while I can't say that I see myself making this trek all that often, I might not be so quick to turn up my nose the next time someone suggests Venice or Santa Monica. Because as I knew during my early days in NYC, sometimes you travel for a good thing.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:01 PM 1 comments
Labels: driving, neighborhoods
