the speed at which we slow down

Yesterday I found myself in traffic. An every day occurrence to be sure, especially on Crescent Heights during rush hour, but yesterday's traffic was a different kind of jam. It's totally trite to speak of epiphanies, especially on the very last day of the year, but these last few weeks of limbo, caught between a year gone and one soon to begin, were designed with them in mind. So. Let me start this again...

Yesterday I found myself in traffic, the kind where everyone is honking and no one is moving and intersections become blocked by cars trying to speed through yellow lights even though there is nothing but more traffic on the other side. A man was yelling at another man the lane next to me. Naturally, I opened my window except I couldn't hear anything over the wind storm, which Wizard-of-Oz style managed to pull me out the window of my car and into the sky where I sat watching palm fronds fold compromisingly and tear away. It was beautiful up there. The skies were clear of smog from two weeks of heavy rain, Hollywood Hills green with growth and mildewed mansions. I would have happily put my car in park and watched everything sway and stand for days if the car behind me wasn't honking for me to go.... three. entire. feet.

Our Internet has been down for an entire week. The line was severed during the storm and we were told it would be repaired sometime this weekend. Today is the first time I have been on my computer since Tuesday at my parent's house. In the meantime I'm here writing at the coffee shop, racing against their early New Years Eve closing time.

A down Internet isn't so bad, it turns out, and much like my moment of appreciation for being stopped in traffic during a wind storm of dancing tree tops, so have these last days been more blessing than curse, being able to spend our vacation unplugged against our wills. Last night instead of migrating to opposite ends of the house to stare into our computers until bedtime, Hal and I sprawled across the foot of our bed, sweatpants pulled over cold feet and talked - we looked back on the year's events with nostalgi-awe and held hands. I told him about the day's earlier traffic jam and how I had an "out-of-auto-experience" that led me to the mantra I had decided would be mine for 2011.

2010 was the year of the workhorse - of blogging almost daily and fourteen drafts of a (finally!) finished project I spent the entire year working on after hours. Twas the year of trading apartment for home, acclimating to a new life and lifestyle, of putting an obscene amount of pressure on myself that led to implosion as it so often does because more, more, honk, honk, go, go = crash.

These last two weeks have been a sea change. From Hal and I putting off plans to try for a third child this year (because "wanting more" was last year's mantra) to me deleting my "2011 Month by Month goals...." Select all, replace with: break and roll down the window, and that's what I intend to do.

Traffic is unavoidable. Such a waste of time cursing at parked cars and red lights and bad drivers. Break and roll down the window, yo.

We tend to focus our attention on how fast things accelerate because all drivers have a need for speed. Zero to thirty. Zero to fifty. Zero to one hundred miles per hour without slowing down. In the past, de-acceleration has felt to me like failure when really, it's the speed at which we slow down that showcases our ability to drive.

2011 = break and roll down the window.

So much to see beyond the glass.

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Sixty to zero in ten, nine, eight...

GGC

Fable "the face"...

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...strikes again with a collection of new expressions and a few old standbys. And my MAC compact. And an infinity of adorable deliciousness for miles.


GGC

If you haven't noticed I'm taking a bit of a holiday hiatus. Will be back later in the week with the usual shenans. In the meantime, hope you're enjoying your families, catching up on your NYTimes crosswordpuzzling, cuddling with your various boos, sipping hot cocoa in your UGG boots, sleeping in past 7:00 am, winning your fantasy football superbowl, making sugar sweet love by the fiyah, playing board games into the wee hours with your brother who kicks everyone's ass at everything, shopping for new pants a size bigger than the ones you were wearing last week, bathing by pine-tree scented candlelight, crying over Natalie Portman's pregnancy because you thought she was your girlfriend no fair, trying to salvage your family's discarded wrapping paper because omg SUCH a waste, etc, etc, et al... BRB.

Snow Unnecessary

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Back in January I posted this, one of my favorites in a series of "photoetry" posts of the kids running around at Moonlight Beach, the place I spent the bulk of my adolescence, and to this day feels most like home. We take the kids there often and I've posted multiple posts through the years of our adventures, Archer drawing circles in the sand, chasing the ocean until the depth got intimidating. (Doesn't it always.)

A few weeks ago, we met some friends at the beach with boogie boards and their old sleds and the kids went down the sand for hours. Up they climbed and down they went, barefoot and giggling, surrounded by seagulls.
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Growing up in San Diego I always resented the fact that I never had a white Christmas, a festive thanksgiving. I've been in the snow, sure, but never at home and always thought by the time I was an adult, I'd have decided on a more festive (snowy) locale so that my children could have what I didn't. I envied the snowy Christmases I saw in movies, read about in books, imagined for myself. I wanted that for my kids, should I ever have them, a childhood that looked nothing like mine... lighting the menorah against a frosted window, fireplace crackling, I always wished to wake up on Christmas morning surrounded by snow. Cue Bing Crosby and every other holiday standard.

...So cozy and romantic, like a postcard. Except these last few days, after our six-day apocalyptic downpour, I'm newly appreciative that the weather outside is seldom frightful. That our winter memories of hurdling down beachside slopes, sandy-haired in tee-shirts are idyllic in their own right. Because Southern California, with its Santas in swim trunks, convertibles done up in lights, tree lots with Ferris wheels and festive holiday garden parties, are their own fabulous version of Winter Wonderland.

And just like I have a newfound appreciation for the awesome that is Los Angeles, so do I have the same adoration for my hometown, for being able to spend holidays sledding with my kids down sand piles overlooking the sea, sand angels and rock cars and memories that resemble my own.

"When it stops raining, let's go back to the beach and go sledding."

"If it ever stops raining."

"Of course it will. It always does."

Touché.
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Happy Familytime, all. Rain, snow, sun, all of the above. Lots of love.

(That rhymed.)

GGC

Gone Style: Four Days of Dark Denim (Sponsored)

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I haven't done a Gone Style: Fable Edition post in many moons so when the opportunity presented itself via Gap's Style Stream I got excited to share some of her high stylings. This week's emphasis was dark denim, so we pulled some ol' standbys from the ol' closet and did a little shopping as well. ED: All shoes and accessories were Fable's idea. The girl is two and she KNOWS what she likes.

Day One: Dark Denim Jacket

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jacket paired with purple/leopard hooded two-piece + fuzzy boots + yellow barrette
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Day Two: Dark Denim Skirt

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...paired with puffy-sleeved blouse, legwarmers & ballet flats
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...and homemade oatmeal cookies c/o my mom.
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(Dollhouse was mine when I was a little girl. My great-grandpa built it for me.)
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Day Three: Dark Denim Jacket & Dark Denim Skirt

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...paired with striped tee, striped socks, sneakers & fawn barrette.
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Day Four: Black Skinny Jeans

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...worn here with cashmere hat, pink velvet jacket, homemade dress & sandals.
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...until she ditched the hat
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...replaced it with her decorative back-flower
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...and eventually ditched the jacket, too.
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It was a warm day, so....
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...coats were unnecessary.

GGC

DISCLOSURE: Although the above post was sponsored by GAP, all denim items + accessories were purchased by me and/or handmade. To check out more dark denim styling tips check out Gap's 1969 Style Stream, here and thank you Gap for once again supporting GGC.

Rachel on the Rox

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I never thought we'd end up in the same city - so when Rachel called to tell me she was thinking of moving to Los Angeles after graduation, I was shocked. Excited but totally surprised. I found her and her roommate an apartment and they moved in over the summer. Rachel had no idea what she was going to do when she got here. She had friends from University of Michigan - friends who were making music, starting bands... Within two months of moving here, my little sister (who knew all of five people in LA) had joined two bands and a quartet. One of the bands she joined was Darren's.

Darren, who was a total star already, recently exploded with THE cover of Teenage Dream on Glee. So sent the band to the moon and Rachel along for the ride.

Before Saturday's show at The Roxy, (they sold out so fast The Roxy gave them a second show which ALSO sold out within a day.) Rachel came over and I did her makeup, lent her my fave red dress. I did her makeup before prom when she was in High School. Lent her a similarly red dress for the dance... Some things never change. Others things, uh... change.
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I dropped her off backstage before the show and returned later with Hal and my parents who drove up with my Nana and my aunt. And a cazillion of Darren's screaming fans.
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Last year I wrote this post, about going out to Michigan to watch Rachel's senior recital and how watching her perform was like seeing her for the first time. But even that was different - college is safe and I wasn't surprised to see Rachel in her element, there, surrounded by music majors and the support of teachers who adored her. Saturday night she played in a band SHE was proactive in joining in a city she decided to move to on a whim not six months ago. And now? She's backing up rock stars.
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She was fearless and confident and beautiful. She sang and played her flute and smiled and when it was over, signed autographs of teenage girls who thought she was the coolest.

Because, duh, she SO is.


(Okay, so Darren's not so bad either.)
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I stood by her feet and watched her sing and play and rock the shit out of her smoky-eye and red dress. I screamed her name. As her sister, sure, as her friend, totally, but mainly as a fan. As HER fan.

"Rachel Woolf is my hero!" I howled.
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Rachel Woolf is my hero.

GGC

Last Sunday, Various O'Clocks, Kidspace

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GGC