Our Cells Are Listening

Have you ever noticed when you are having a conversation about something totally random: A new diet. A new car. Or even that bike trip through Tuscany you’ve always wanted to take, and suddenly, an ad will pop up with that exact same thing you were just talking about? Is your phone actually listening to you? Creepy for sure. But, it also got me thinking. 

Over the past year or so, I have been reading a lot of books by all of the self-help gurus: Louise Hay, Jack Canfield, Jon Kabat-Zinn, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Shakti Gawain. They are all New York Times best-selling authors who are all experts in the field of philosophy, healing, and self-love. Each one of them has written extensively on the subject of positive self-talk or affirmations. They say that your words and your thoughts can directly affect your success: Personally and professionally. It is believed that your words and thoughts are heard on a cellular level. Your words become part of you… kind of like how your phone hears everything you say and some algorithm creates an ad targeted just for you.

This was a terrifying discovery for me, since I have spent a good chunk of my life, maybe all of it, with self-deprecating humor as the backbone of my identity. I was raised in a family that taught us that self-deprecating humor was disarming, and that self-promotion was tacky.  And while I don’t want to discount humor and humility, I might have taken it too far. I was critical of anything that I didn’t do well. I would readily offer up my weaknesses long before I would discuss my strengths or my accomplishments.

I won’t even mention all of the times that I cursed my curly (frizzy) hair.

But then I started reading about vibrational energy, and the belief that everything is affected by the words we use. The tone of our voices. And here’s the real kicker… our thoughts too! Plants, animals, and human beings are all part of the same source energy. Which means that everything reacts to our words, intentions, and tones…. including ourselves.

So, what does this all mean? Studies show that negative self-talk is damaging. This is our “inner critic” and that bad boy (or girl) needs to be quieted down. Our inner critic plays old tapes that we may have adopted when we were children. Time to burn those tapes and challenge that critic.  

It turns out that positive self-talk is the antidote to that pattern of negative self-talk.

The impact of self-talk (negative or positive) is real. We need to be kinder to ourselves. We need to be more patient with ourselves. We need to be more loving to ourselves.

So lose the negative self-talk… and start the positive affirmations!

Why? Because our cell phones are listening… and our cell biology is too.



There are all kinds of theories about what will be the end of civilization.

Some say that it will be Global Warming.

Others say that it will be Nuclear War.

Others predict a meteor crashing into the Earth.

But I truly believe the end of civilization will be the passwords that we are expected to remember. You know the passwords that control all of our accounts and our lives. The passwords that prevent us from having our identity stolen, but the same passwords that prevent us from accessing our own accounts on a daily basis.

Life was much simpler before passwords. Remember when all we had to remember was our phone number, address, and maybe our junior high school locker combination? Now there is a different username and password for every single thing we do. 

Let’s take this morning for example. I sat down to my computer to write today’s blog, and attempted to turn on my music app because I like to play classical music when I write. It’s just my thing. The blank page is daunting enough, but the silence of sitting at your computer waiting for the inspiration to write is even more daunting. So classical music somehow drowns out the noise of my own internal editor, and then the words generally start to flow. At least, sometimes.

But today the classical music app (Calm Radio) through my Sonos app (my external speaker) would not play. It kept prompting me for my login and password. Which of course, I could not remember. Usually it just recognizes me. Although, I vaguely remember trying to use this app on my phone the other day and running into similar trouble. Then I remembered that I changed my password on that app, which was probably why my computer was not recognizing me. So, I had to reset the password again. But the Sonos app was now requiring an update too. Once again, I could not remember that login or password either. This ended up taking more time than I care to admit.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg. This happens daily. A few weeks ago, my husband wanted to watch a tennis match on the Tennis Channel, but we were in Los Angeles and we don't have cable in our apartment. So, I suggested that he log onto our cable account from our home in Hawaii, and watch it online. But naturally that required a password, and neither of us could remember our password to the account. Luckily, I remembered that I could pull up one of our current bills and get the account number online! But guess what?That required a password too. 

Then I remembered I could find the password on my computer through some secret password keeper, but that required a different password. I couldn’t remember that one either. 

My daughter mocked me for not writing down my passwords. But I DO write down my passwords. It’s just that sometimes I don’t remember where I put the list, and sometimes I am not at home to check my list. This requires me to have to reset various passwords, and then I forget to write down the new passwords. You can see the pattern here. No this is not a sign of early senility, this is a worldwide epidemic for anyone who spends a lot of time online and has a lot of accounts.

Okay, maybe it is a little bit of a sign of aging too. But this password thing really bugs me. I find myself not doing a lot of stuff because I simply cannot remember the password, so I just give up.

Although, I have noticed that some accounts make life a lot easier. It appears when you want to buy something online, companies make it VERY easy to remember your password. In fact, they will happily store it for you! Amazon, for example, hasn’t prompted me for a password in years. Similarly, when I buy my movie tickets online, they don’t care what my password is either. Of course, when I want to redeem my 500,000 bonus points, for my small free popcorn, that’s another story. So anything that costs them money, you better know your password. You better type it very slowly AND you better remember case sensitivity and those special characters.

I finally did get my classical music to play, so I am feeling a little calmer. Although, my Sonos speaker still needs an update, and my password is no where to be found. Maybe in the future when everything is voice or face recognition, we will look back at this period of time and laugh about how silly we were to try and remember hundreds of passwords and usernames. Although, with the proliferation of plastic surgery, maybe face recognition will result in the same problem. 



We are coming up on the one-year anniversary of my dad’s passing and we need to make a decision about his headstone. My siblings and I have been trying to figure out the right epitaph to honor our dad in his final resting place. Our mom’s epitaph simply says, “The Best.” It was the perfect then, and it still is… almost half of a century later. 

But somehow our dad’s epitaph is a bigger challenge. Perhaps because we want the sentiment to be in keeping with the simplicity and perfection of our mom’s. But our dad lived a much longer life with many more chapters. In fact, he lived twice as long as our mom, so finding the perfect expression to encapsulate his life just seems harder.

In the latter part of our dad’s life, the greatest joy for him was to share a meal with family or friends. So, my sister thinks his headstone should say: Let’s Eat! 

My middle daughter thinks due to his legendary parking karma; we should write: Herb’s Final Parking Spot.

My oldest brother thinks we should say: The Sweetest. As this was what everyone would say upon meeting our dad.

Sometimes people use their loved ones most common expression. Most of our dad’s favorite expressions were in Yiddish. Here are just a few:

Zei Gezunt - Which means, Go and Be Well. He said this every time he said goodbye.

Use It Gezunterhait - This is a hybrid of English and Yiddish which means, Use It In Good Health. He said this every time we bought something. Big or small. Whether it was a pair of jeans or a brand new car.

Kina Hora - Which translates, May The Evil Eye Not Look Down Upon Your Success. He said this whenever we told him good news.

Shlof Gezunt - It means, Sleep Well. Ironically, not a bad choice for a permanent resting place.

Are you going to eat that tomato? Obviously, this is not a Yiddish expression. He just really loved tomatoes, and he hated to see them go to waste on someone’s plate. 

A friend of mine used his father’s favorite expression for his epitaph: It Could Be Worse. 

Our dad was the ultimate optimist. A glass half-full kind of guy. So, it is important for us to capture honor that spirit. His optimism might have been the secret to his longevity. As I sit here trying to figure out what expression embodies him best, I just remembered one of his favorite sayings:

Count Your Blessings

I will need to confer with the tribal council a.k.a my brothers and sister. But, Ladies and Gentlemen, I think we might have a winner.


Expiration Dates

We are in Los Angeles this week due to my daughters overlapping Spring Breaks. My oldest daughter is coming to LA to spend a few days here as well, but she couldn’t get the weekend off work, so she will only be here for mid-week. It’s kind of like a family vacation, except that everyone is here for different legs of the trip due to conflicting work schedules and school schedules. Illustrative of that, my youngest daughter and my husband left this morning to go skiing for a few days. My oldest daughter arrives this evening, and my middle daughter leaves tonight on the red-eye to go back to school. Yes, I will be making three trips to the airport to accommodate all the different itineraries. It’s kind of comical… except that traffic in LA is no laughing matter.

Meanwhile, it has been nine months since I have been to LA. I think this is the longest time I have ever been away from my hometown. While I have lived in Hawaii for over 10 years, I have always come back to LA every six to twelve weeks. Between work and family, there was always a reason to be going back and forth. This has changed since my dad passed away last year, my middle daughter left LA to to go to college on the east coast, and I am no longer tied to any one studio or network. If it weren’t for my husband and daughter wanting to come to the mainland for skiing, I might have been away for even longer. 

Due to all the business travel, we kept an apartment in LA for the last eight years. It has been a great luxury to only have to pack a briefcase rather than a suitcase when you travel as often as we did. Particularly for those of us (me) who hate to pack. I keep all of my winter clothes, business clothes, and black tie attire in Los Angeles. A vestige of my former life. The bathroom is stocked with necessary cosmetics and toiletries. The kitchen is stocked with non-perishable foods.

But upon our arrival the other day, while trying to make a late night snack for the family, I noticed that some of the kitchen staples had expired. We had a cabinet full of dry goods that I thought would last for a long time. But as I started to turn the packages over to check the expiration dates, I noticed that a lot of stuff expired last year. Some things expired two years ago. Some three. Wait? What? How is that possible? How is it that so much time has passed, that canned soups expired? Ramen. Pasta. A freezer full of Trader Joe's stuff. Holy cow. So much for non-perishables.

I ended up going through the refrigerator and threw out a whole shelf of condiments. Who knew that ketchup, mustard, salad dressing all goes bad… even in the refrigerator? Then I decided to tackle the freezer. Bye bye Trader Joe's Tikka Masala, Grilled Cauliflower bites, Ice Cream, and a frozen pizza. Thankfully, I couldn’t find the expiration date on the Trader Joe's frozen chocolate lava cakes. Those would have been a travesty to throw out. 

Our flight had landed at 10:30pm, so it was after midnight when I went on this cleansing purge of “past the shelf life” goods in my apartment. After doing the dry goods cabinet, the refrigerator, and the freezer, I was now ready to tackle the bathroom products. Can you say Jet Lag with a splash of OCD? 

In the bathroom, I discovered bags of old makeup, and some promotional cosmetics leftover from some goody bags from the Golden Globes which were at least five years old. I think the rule of thumb is that used cosmetics should be discarded after one year? Oops. I found half-used bottles of hair conditioner that smelled funny and had changed color. Probably not a good sign. I even found a bottle of rubbing alcohol that allegedly expired last year, but it had never been opened. Sorry, that just doesn’t make sense. I had to draw the line somewhere. The sealed bottle of rubbing alcohol and the frozen chocolate lava cakes STAY!

But this purge of old frozen food, expired canned food, and ancient partially-used cosmetics made me feel like I was cleaning out my grandmother’s house after she passed away. Except that this wasn’t my grandmother’s house. It’s mine. And it’s not like I have lived in this house for 50 years and have never done a good cleanse. This is a relatively new modern apartment. So how did time pass so quickly that I was throwing out things that expired three years ago or even longer? I don’t know, but suddenly these expiration dates felt like a bizarre metaphor for life. 

Time marching on is not a new revelation. I get it. But when you are young, time just moves slower. Hours can feel like days. Days can feel like weeks. Weeks can seem like months. Months can seem like years. But, when you turn 50, everything starts to go in the opposite direction. Years fly by like months. Months feel like weeks. Weeks feel like days, etc.

My middle daughter is graduating college this year. While I am acutely aware of this fact, it wasn’t until my sister called us the other day and asked her, “Are you a senior?” When she replied, “Yes, I am graduating in six weeks.” I suddenly had a lump in my throat and my eyes starting watering. How has my little snuggle bug of a baby, who wore exclusively Disney princess clothing for the first three years of her life, and hummed when she ate her canned pears and peaches, suddenly become an (almost) college graduate? I started to panic about this strange time warp. My youngest daughter is still in high school, but if high school is anything like college, I only have three more years (aka minutes) with her at home before she is thousands of miles away too. 

So what is it about these expiration dates that has suddenly caused a mild existential crisis. How did expired frozen waffles and sunscreen suddenly make me so aware that time is no longer just “marching?” 

Is time now flying? No, time has officially moved into warp speed.

If you don’t believe me… just check your medicine cabinet.


Seeking Balance

I practice yoga as an extension of my desire to maintain balance in my life.

I now teach yoga with that same goal. 

I have often said that I lived the bulk of my life without balance or boundaries. I was always on the go. Always moving. Always doing. No resting. No stillness. Even when I would take hot baths at night, to try and melt away the tension of the day, I was always working. Multi-tasking. This made for an anxious mind, and an exhausted, depleted body. 

Some of it was unavoidable. It was the typical life of a working mom. It was the life of a busy executive. But as I continue to morph into a new chapter of my life, I am mindful of that former existence. I am grateful for having survived it, and I have come to honor the lessons it taught me. But I suffered physically and mentally having lived in a constant adrenaline-fueled state. I wish I could have told my younger self: 

It’s okay to slow down. 

It’s okay to stop multi-tasking.

It’s okay to take time for yourself.

I wish I had learned how to embrace stillness.

Now I try and incorporate stillness into my every day life. Starting with daily meditation, but yoga is a big part of it too. My yoga teaching is an extension of that philosophy as well.

As I tell my students, it is important to move your muscles and get your heart pumping. It’s not only good for your body, but it has the added benefit of being a great stress reliever too. This is known as the Yang part of the practice.

But it’s equally important to embrace the stillness. The deep stretching. This is known as the Yin part of the practice. They say it is in stillness where we find solutions to the problems that nag at us.

Whether or not you do yoga or meditate, I invite you to take a few moments for yourself. Find some quiet time starting today. See if there is tranquility and maybe even solutions to be found…

in the stillness.


Two Jewish Women Walk Into A Bookstore

I know it sounds like the beginning of an old joke.

Last week, I was running errands and stopped into the bookstore to buy two gifts. While I was there, I noticed a woman that I had coincidentally seen at the grocery store earlier in the week. She looked so familiar. Not familiar in that we live on a small island and you run into the same people all the time. This was different. She looked like someone I used to know a long time ago. She was older than me, very petite, and her hair was tied back in a bun. But when I saw her again in the bookstore, I couldn’t help but stare. I was quite sure I knew her. She looked like one of my old friends. Then, I realized she might actually be someone famous.

At the risk of embarrassing her, and myself, I cautiously said, "You look so familiar. Has anyone told you that you look like...?” Without letting me finish my sentence, she just nodded and said, "I am.” I hadn’t recognized her because her signature curly hair was neatly tucked into a bun. I have very similar hair, and most of the time, I tuck it into a bun too.

After 30 years in the entertainment industry, I am rarely star struck, but this was someone I have adored since I was a little girl. I gushed and I gushed hard. I started telling her that I had been a fan of her music, since the early 70s. I told her that I recently read her memoir. I saw her life story on Broadway. I watched the documentary about her concert in Hyde Park. Weirdly, I happened to be in Hyde Park on the day of that concert. My sister had my favorite album of hers on vinyl. But over my lifetime, I went on to purchase that same album four different times on: 8-track, cassette, CD and eventually on iTunes. I told her how I cried when she was honored at the Kennedy Center Honors where Aretha Franklin sang her song. She started to tear up when I told her all of this. 

I met Carole King. For my younger readers, sorry if you are not familiar with this musical legend, but she is awesome. The Broadway musical about her life was called Beautiful and it won two Tonys. It remains one of my favorite Broadway shows of all time. Her memoir is called A Natural Woman. The album that I bought four times is called Tapestry. She is probably one of my favorite singer-songwriters along with Elton John, James Taylor, and Joni Mitchell. 

We swapped stories about being city girls who moved to the country to get away from the rat race of our respective industries. We talked about what books we were buying. She told me that she was working on a novel. I told her that I write a weekly blog. She introduced me to her close friend who was also carrying an arm full of books. We joked about all the ways that we might have met before, since we probably know a lot of the same people, but it took a bookstore on a small island to finally meet in person. I didn’t want the conversation to end, but there is always a fine line between being a fan and being a stalker, so we said our goodbyes.

I had so many questions. What was it like meeting John Lennon? What was it like collaborating with James Taylor? What does she like most about living in the country? What does she miss most about city life? Does she still write music? Does she still play piano every day? Does she still write songs? Does she like writing books better? Does she listen to music when she writes? I do.

Isn’t it strange how sometimes when you meet someone there is an instant chemistry? It is as if you knew each other your whole lives. This is what that chance encounter felt like. It was very special. As we left the bookstore, she said, “I hope we run into each other again.” I said, “Me too.” 

I really hope we do. Thank you for being as lovely as I always imagined you would be.


And The Oscar Goes To...

I said that I wasn’t going to watch the Oscars this year. While I liked some of the movies, there was really only one category that I truly cared about. I set my DVR so that I could scan through the red carpet arrivals and then watch the rest later. But when I turned on the red carpet pre-show, I kind of got sucked in for a few minutes. Then a few minutes turned into an hour. Before I knew it, it was time for the actual award show to start. 

I thought to myself, I’ll just watch the opening number, since Queen is performing with Adam Lambert. Then Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Maya Rudolph appeared to do a riff on the no-host format this year. So, I watched for a few more minutes because they are always hilarious. Just as I was getting ready to turn it off, they started handing out awards, so I thought, Okay, I just want to see who wins the first one. Then it was, Okay just one more. Apparently, watching awards being given are like potato chips for me, I can’t just stop at one.

During the commercial breaks, I found myself doing laundry and chopping vegetables for dinner, but I kept coming back to watch more. Admittedly, I might have watched a few of the commercials too. Did you see that awesome Nike ad with Serena Williams? I admit that I got kind of choked up.

Every time I tried to pull myself away from the television, I found there was something that reeled me back in. Was it an outstanding awards show? Not exactly. But there were some truly standout moments. Here were my top four:

1. Melissa McCarthy dressed as the Queen from The Favourite, with plush bunnies sewn onto her dress, as she and read the nominees for Best Costume Designer. Hilarious!

2. Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper performing Shallow from A Star is Born. It gave me chills.

3. Olivia Colman’s acceptance speech for Best Actress in The Favourite. So funny. So heartfelt. 

4. Rami Malek’s win for Best Actor in Bohemian Rhapsody. This was the whole reason I watched the Oscars this year.

Rami is a gifted actor who brought Freddie Mercury back to life in this Oscar-winning performance. We became fast friends a few years ago after we cast him in the role of Elliot on Mr. Robot (USA Network). The character of Elliot was an extremely difficult role to cast because he was an unlikely hero: A drug-addicted young man with whole host of mental and emotional issues. The character appears to be an anti-hero who is anti-establishment, reclusive, and emotionally tortured. But Rami found the soul of that character from the very first moment of his audition. He found the fine line between genius and vulnerability. He found the balance between victim and vigilante. His role in Mr. Robot led him to a Golden Globe and SAG nomination, as well as winning the Emmy all in that first season. 

Now his lead role in Bohemian Rhapsody has led him to sweep the Golden Globes, SAG Awards, and the Oscar for Best Actor in a feature film. The competition in this category for the Oscar was incredible with outstanding performances by Bradley Cooper, Viggo Mortensen, Willem Dafoe, and Christian Bale. This made the win even sweeter for this rising star.

Rami is not only a brilliant actor, but he is a standout human being. He is pure love. I am so proud to know him and call him a friend. Congratulations Rami! You are a star in every sense of the word.

P.S. I now forgive you for sneaking into my old office and making yourself at home on my sofa whenever I was not there.


My Brother Greg

My brother Greg had a birthday this weekend. He says that he has everything he has ever wanted… except his own reality show. 

This has been an on-going dream since Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie made a splash doing The Simple Life. A reality series on Fox where these two daughters of rich and famous people were fish-out-of-water in rural parts of America. It was on that show that Paris famously declared that she thought, ‘WalMart was where they sold walls.' Sad, but true.

Anyway, my brother Greg, a larger than life character, felt that if Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, and eventually the Kardashians could become famous, certainly a formerly urban, middle-aged gay man, starting a soap company, and learning to become a farmer could be good fodder for television. So every conversation we have had since 2005, he has pitched the idea of starring in his own reality show. When I was a network executive, he expected me to buy the show. When I became a television producer, he expected me to produce it. This is kind of hilarious… and exhausting.

When my brother and I get together, we are firmly cemented in arrested development. He turns into a thirteen-year-old boy and I become his eight-year-old sister all over again. It is well known amongst our family and friends that he was the obnoxious kid who did everything for shock value and attention. He was an equal opportunity offender. He drove my parents and my older siblings crazy too. But, since I was the youngest, I was probably terrorized the most. When we would watch Saturday morning cartoons together, he insisted that only HE was allowed to sing the commercial jingles. I was not. When my cousins would come over, they would all pile into his room, but I was not permitted to enter. He claimed that I didn’t meet the age requirement. According to him, the cut off was right before my birthday. He would insist that we watch scary movies together, but I was scared of everything, so I would cover my eyes. He promised to tell me when the scary parts were over, so I could watch the rest of the movie. But just when it got really scary, he would say, “You can look now.” Then, I would open my eyes and be completely freaked out by the monster that I was trying to avoid. I went on to have nightmares for years.

He spent a lot of time trying to figure out ways to push my buttons. He was definitely a button pusher. On a regular basis, he would hide in closets or behind doors, then jump out and scare me when I was least expecting it. One night when my mom and dad were having a formal dinner party, in which we were told to not interrupt for any reason, he put the head of my only Barbie doll into a meat grinder. I just sat there in horror.

He teased me relentlessly. He mocked my frizzy hair. My teeth brushing habits. My friends. Anything and everything was fair game for teasing. When he was a teenager, he was supposed to babysit me on Saturday nights, but he would sneak out with his friends leaving me all alone. He drove me crazy, but I loved him because he was so much fun. I was Charlie Brown and he was Lucy. Every time he would invite me to play, I would come running and he would yank the proverbial football away… leaving me to fall on my ass. But I always went back for more.

He was the kind of kid parents sent away to summer camp for a month to get a break, but it was never long enough. He was a colicky baby. A difficult kid. A rebellious teenager. The kid who struggled in school. But when he finally left home at 18, he found his true calling: Work. While he never became a great student, he was remarkably creative, industrious, and, much to everyone’s surprise, had a tremendous work ethic. So with success in the workplace, he found maturity and happiness. He worked hard and saved his money. He had good instincts with real estate investments. He learned the insurance business and started his own company. He had a ton of friends, loyal clients, and a beautiful home. My dad would say he became a mensch (the Yiddish word for a person of integrity).

After years of hard work, he decided to sell his insurance business and his home in the bay area. He and his life partner bought a piece of property on the Big Island (Hawaii) to start a soap company: www.konanaturalsoap.com. 14 years later, they have a five-acre award-winning sustainable farm where they make and sell handmade soap, grow and sell coffee and cacao (cocoa), and give farm tours. Recently, he re-booted up his childhood passion of throwing pottery and now sells handmade coffee mugs too. They have dogs, cats, chickens, employees, two small retail stores, and a huge on-line business. He works seven days a week, but he says it’s not work because he loves everything about it. 

He grew up to be one of the most fun loving, hard-working, happy people I know. He has a million friends and everyone loves him. He thinks every day is a blessing and is grateful for everything he has.

For his birthday, my husband and I decided to fly over and surprise him for a brunch at the Mauna Kea hotel. We coordinated the surprise with his beloved life partner Marty and his best friend Harry (who had flown in from the bay area the day before). It was a picture postcard day. 80 degrees and gorgeous. Oh, and the brunch was truly awesome too.

My brother loves his life:  The only thing that is missing is his reality show.  

So Greg, for now, you will have to settle on being “Almost Famous,” as I have dedicated this entire blog post to you and your milestone birthday.

You are 60 years old, but you look closer to 50… and you still act like you are 13. Perhaps it’s your arrested development and your relentless zest for life that keeps you looking so fabulous.

Happy Birthday. Love you.


Death and Taxes

It has been raining here for two days straight. We have had high winds. Power outages. It is damp and cold... and dreary. Before you jump to the go-to phrase: “But you live in Hawaiiii,” I just want to remind you that my house has no central heat, so when it’s cold outside, it is cold inside too. It even snowed at the top of our mountain yesterday. So yes, it sometimes gets cold in Hawaii too. 

But it’s not just the cold, dreary, weather that has me so crazy. It’s the mind-numbing challenges of being a small business owner and having to navigate certain things that I simply don’t understand. This time:  the dreaded 1099 tax form.

Last year, I had a consultant help me with some editing and computer-related marketing. The other day I got an email asking if I would be sending her a 1099? (A tax receipt for independent contractors.) It hadn't even occurred to me to do this. Why do we send 1099s to some people and not others? Should we 1099 our pool man, gardener, housekeeper? What about window cleaners? Hairdressers? Manicurists? Or do we only 1099 the people who work for our corporations? I called my accountant who said that it’s very easy to send out a 1099. Most of the forms are on-line and free. Except, of course, the ones that need to go to the IRS. Those I need to buy at Office Max. He said it would be easy, since I just had one consultant. 

What should have probably taken me only 15 minutes ended up taking hours and hours and probably cost me way more than it should have. It was a 40-minute drive roundtrip to the nearest Office Max only to learn that the one item I needed only came in packages of TEN. I explained to the nice man at Office Max that I only needed ONE form… not 10. He was very sympathetic when he gave me an “It is what it is” shoulder shrug. Desperate to ease my frustration, he was excited when he found a smaller package of forms that saved me a whopping three dollars. I went home and attempted to fill them out with the instructions on the tax website, but something seemed weird. The questions were not the same on the computer as they were in the hard copy form. 


Apparently, the really nice Office Max guy with the sympathetic shoulder shrug handed me the WRONG forms! I needed the 1099-misc NOT the 1099-Interest Income forms. But I had already opened the package and I was pretty sure that I threw away the receipt. Thankfully, I hadn’t printed any forms yet. So, I carefully gathered up my package of incorrect forms and attempted to re-tape the cellophane wrapping back over it. This did not work by the way… not even a little. I, then, went to hunt for my receipt in the kitchen garbage can, where I was concerned that the receipt might be buried under some wilted salad and discarded pasta with meat sauce that we ate for dinner the night before. But the gods were smiling down on me when I found the receipt, crumpled up underneath some inoffensive junk mail, and no smelly leftover food substances. 

I, then, got in the car and made my second 40-minute roundtrip back to Office Max. There I explained my mishap with the wrong package of 1099 forms to the cashier. She was very helpful and happily swapped them out, when I paid the difference and purchased another package of pens. G-d forbid you should ever walk into an office supply store and not need to buy just one more thing. 

When I returned home, I tried to find the file that I had spent too much time already filling out, but it was nowhere to be found. Not saved on my desktop. Not in my browser history. Not in my downloads. So I did another search for the forms, but somehow kept getting routed to commercial websites that make filling out tax forms “easier.” This led to a number of situations where for just $19.99/month I could filled out other forms on-line and save myself a lot of aggravation? But I don’t have other forms to fill out. I have one lousy form which has cost me $20 (for the package of 10), two 40-minute roundtrips to Office Max, and a brief phone conversation with my accountant which will probably cost me $100. So, I keep searching. Finally, I find a website that does not seem to require a lifetime membership, will allow me to fill these out on-line, and print them in my home office. But, they don’t line up with the forms I purchased. I don’t have the right software or something. I am truly ready to go postal. Finally, I texted a friend and she said I could fill these forms out by hand. Wait, what? This is music to my ears. Had I known that I would have saved myself hours of aggravation.

But wait. This one form actually requires three different versions (IRS, state, payee, payor). Then there are two other forms that have to be filled out too. I keep making mistakes, so I end up starting over. But finally, I get them all done. I make out the different envelopes to the IRS, the state, the contractor, and I think I am ready to head to the post office. (Which is now closed because this took hours longer than it should have.) But while talking to another friend, I learn that I cannot simply fold these forms and put them in regular envelopes. He claims they must be sent in special envelopes and that forms are folded in half. What? Where does it say that? 

So I spend several more hours searching the IRS and state tax websites to find out if that is true. I cannot find that rule anywhere. I am so frustrated with all of the time I have wasted on this “one” form. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to drive 40-minutes roundtrip to Office Max to buy the “right” envelopes. I have had it. How do other small business owners do this? Why did my accountant say that it would only take me 15 minutes? Why didn’t my accountant offer to do this? 

I have done everything they have asked me. I have bought the stupid forms (twice). I have filled everything out in duplicate. I have separate envelopes. I cannot take it anymore. It’s pouring rain. My dog is barking incessantly because there are birds outside the window. My husband is still playing tennis… six hours later. How did HE not get rained out by the way? I decide to throw caution to the wind. I fold the forms like regular letters, stick them in a regular envelopes, and mail them the regular way. This devil may care, practicing the art of not giving a subtle f*ck, rebel without a cause, my way or the highway attitude is the only moment of joy I have felt since starting this ludicrous exercise in bureaucracy. 

Yes, I am living on the edge. Yes, I sent out my first 1099 AND I folded it in a regular envelope. It is my year of living dangerously… and I like it. They say that there are only two things for certain: Death and Taxes. I am certain that they are related. The paperwork that is required to do your taxes makes you want to kill someone. I took the high road. No one was injured during my complete meltdown, but I did go to dinner with my husband that night and broke down into a puddle of tears while sipping a much needed margarita and inhaling a basket of chips and salsa.


Movie Reviews

My brother and I were chatting about movies we had seen recently and he said he was disappointed by all the hype of The Favourite. He didn’t love it because it didn’t meet his qualifications for what makes a great movie. He says that all great movies end in redemption or reconciliation. The Favourite does neither. 

While it wasn’t my favorite movie of the year, I thought there was a lot to like about it. The performances of the three leading women (Olivia Colman, Emma Stone, and Rachel Weisz) were sublime. The production and costume design were both incredible.

The Favourite reminded me of All About Eve through a historical lens of 18th century royalty. One woman comes into another woman’s life and disrupts it both personally and professionally. But by the end of the movie, I realized it wasn’t so much of a history lesson nor a reimagined 1950's classic movie. I think it was ultimately biblical. I believe the theme of the movie was the Seven Deadly Sins: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride.

Each of the main characters possessed one or more of these sins, and ultimately it was the undoing for all of them. It was a lesson in humility and in moderation. While it doesn’t leave the audience feeling uplifted at the end, it is a wild ride of indulgence, comedy and misfortune. At its core, it kind of reminded me a of Hollywood. 

I am not sure there is a perfect movie this year. I adored Rami Malek in Bohemian Rhapsody and I think he deserves the Oscar to sit alongside his Golden Globe and SAG statues this year for his portrayal of Freddie Mercury.

I thought A Star Was Born had some amazing highlights. Lady Gaga was wonderful. Bradley Cooper was captivating and made an outstanding directorial debut. But, unfortunately, the second half of the movie didn’t hold up as well as the excitement of the first half.

Green Book was excellent. A feel good movie about a beautiful and unlikely friendship. Mahershala Ali and Viggo Mortensen were both incredible.

Roma was adored by the critics, but I felt it was a little slow. Admittedly, I saw it on Netflix rather than on the big screen, so something might have been lost in translation. No pun intended for a sub-titled picture.

Christian Bale as Dick Cheney was an incredible transformation in Vice, but I still think Rami deserves the Oscar this year.

BlacKKKlansman was a fascinating true story. Performances were incredible there too.

Loved Black Panther in spite of my burnout of superhero movies.

This was the year of breakout performances for sure, but I cannot say there was a movie as a whole that took my breath away.

What movies did you love this year? Which film would you vote for Best Picture?


Spark Joy

Sorry I have been absent for the last two weeks. I was attending an intensive 16-day Yoga Teacher Training workshop. When I shared this news with my friends and family, the general reaction was: “WHAT? Are YOU going to be a Yoga Teacher?” My response was: “Maybe.” 

In Marie Kondo’s best-selling book Spark Joy, she suggests that the secret to tidying up and de-cluttering your life is to hold each item you own and see if it "sparks joy." If it doesn’t, she says you should get rid of it. I have decided to extend this metaphor to devoting this year to exploring things that might “spark joy” in my life. This is my year of self-discovery. This is my year to browse the shelves of life. This is my year to be less attached to the outcome. Taking a Yoga Teacher Training course was the first step on that journey.

I have spent my entire life on a treadmill. Running as fast as I could to somewhere. Where exactly? I don’t know. I was always running to my next goal, but also probably running away from my demons too. Somehow I equated being quiet or still as not being productive. At first it was a race through school. I thought I was going to be a doctor, so while I was in college I never relaxed. While others were partying and enjoying college life, I was always stressed out about every assignment and test. All I could think about was how each exam would affect my overall grade and how that might affect my ability to go to medical school. I held my breath so tightly that I couldn’t absorb what I was supposed to be learning. The only thing I mastered was being stressed. I got an A+ in being Type A. So, when I burned out as a pre-med student, I switched my major from Biology to Psychology. Perhaps an unconscious choice to cure my own neurosis? Or a conscious one as it had virtually all of the same pre-reqs as my Bio major.

When my dream of medical school was thwarted by mediocre grades and a loss of confidence, I felt it was necessary to channel my energy into finding a new career path IMMEDIATELY upon graduation. I took a bunch of electives in television production. I did an internship at a film studio. That led to a summer job as a secretary to a producer. Then, I landed a full-time secretarial job working for another producer BEFORE I even graduated. It didn’t even occur to me to take a day off between graduation and starting my first real job.

But I got fired from that job after six weeks because that producer didn’t like where I placed his tea cup on the coffee table. Not joking! This should have been a red flag right there, but I was persistent. My brother (a young entertainment lawyer at the time) helped me land another secretarial job working for a producing team. I was with them for about two and half years. I learned a lot by paying attention and being highly organized. But, I always resented the dog-eat-dog nature of the entertainment business. Eventually, some combination of sheer perseverance and luck, I was able to land an entry level job as a network executive. I rode that roller coaster for another 28 years jumping from company to company until I finally got off the wild ride and became an independent producer. 

Segueing from television executive to television producer was the safe choice. It was an easily digestible soundbite to tell friends and family. I left my corporate job as an executive where I bought television ideas from writers and producers, then I became one of those producers who sells ideas to the executives like my former self. But the truth is, I just don’t like being a salesman… and unfortunately sales is more than half the job.

Television was a job that I fell into and I made a career out of it by working hard and mimicking other successful people. It was like riding on the back of a bull. I just held on as hard I could to survive. Eventually, I was considered a bull rider too. In this metaphor, I cannot help think that I wasn’t really riding bulls as much as I was surviving the bull sh*t that was came with the territory.

I have often said that I was so busying working that I forgot to have fun. I envied people who were more carefree. To borrow a term from Michele Obama’s autobiography, “I was a box checker.” Get a college education. Have a career. Get married. Buy a house. Have a family. Work hard. Work hard. Work hard. Check. Check. Check. I was, also, a world-class list maker. Rule follower. People pleaser. Do-gooder. These qualities made me reliable and successful, but they were often in the absence of balance and joy. I simply forgot to check the box for Choose Fun.

When I moved back to Hawaii a few years ago, I finally had time to slow down and smell the plumeria. But I didn’t know how to slow down. I had lived one speed: Hyperdrive. I needed tools to change my brain chemistry, reduce my cortisol-pumping adrenal gland, and modify my outlook. It all started with meditation. (Thanks to my friend Bill.) But learning to meditate wasn’t easy. My mind was like a surly inmate… and it wasn’t going down quietly. It has been two years of daily meditation, and finally, I look forward to it every morning like a great cup of coffee. Several months after embarking on a daily meditation practice, I decided to launch my blog. Writing was a way to channel my creative energies and compulsive mind into something productive. Unlike producing, it didn’t require someone else approving it, buying it, or giving me money to make it. It was my own little weekly production. 

But meditation and writing was just the beginning of this new self-exploration journey. This is why I came back to a yoga practice after 25 years. Thanks to my awesome yoga instructor Tommye, I decided to take it to the next level and consider teaching.

Teacher training was daunting. 6am-2pm for 16 days in a row (including weekends). This required getting up in the pitch black and tip-toeing around my house to not wake my family or my dog. If I woke my dog, he would bark his little head off and that would wake everyone else up. By the way, I am NOT an early morning person. Eating breakfast at 5:30am was far earlier than my stomach was ready to accept food. After breakfast, I would head off (in the dark) to a yoga studio where we greeted each other in silence and sat down to a meditation circle every morning. After meditation, the sun would come up and our teacher would start to teach. She would teach philosophy, anatomy, alignment, the posture names, and then we would practice for hours. My body was so tired, and my brain so full, that I found myself limping home to a hot bath of Epsom salts and a variety of menthol eucalyptus based muscle rubs. I couldn’t even form a sentence for the first few evenings after training. 

During the training my mind went to some dark places. You are too old for this. You can’t teach yoga if you are already sore after three days of training. There is too much detail. I cannot possibly learn all this and regurgitate it out in a cohesive (much less) soothing way. So I thought about just dropping out. But then our teacher sent the class an email that addressed that very thought. The subject line read: “Steadying The Overwhelm.” She went on to write, "You can drop it and run away, but think of the satisfaction, the growth, the empowerment that will come when you decide to stay and do your best.” So, 16 hot mineral baths later, jars of ointments for achy muscles (Tiger Balm, Arnica, Deep Blue, Vicks VapoRub), Advil, and tons of water, I continued to show up every morning at 6am in the dark, took my seat on a bolster in our meditation circle, and finished the course. It culminated with a two-hour written final and we each had to teach an entire class, open to the public. I survived both my fears and my sore muscles.

Oh, and I really really liked it. 

My class was comprised of nine students ranging from about 25 - 60 years old. Most of whom were in excellent shape. Most of them vegetarian or vegan or pescatarian. Most of them had been doing yoga for a long time along with a variety of other sports. Most of them were freelance massage therapists, nature guides, and free spirits. One was a female police officer. Everyone was on their own journey. Everyone was looking to learn more about yoga, but mostly we were there to learn about ourselves. Everyone seemed to be looking for more purpose and meaning in their lives. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if I had taken a class like this 30 years ago, would it have altered my journey? Would I have had the courage to have taken a different path in my life or my career? But by the end of the class, I learned that this question no longer serves me. I have spent a lifetime apologizing for the way I lived. I felt apologetic for joining the “circus” at a young age and not finding a way to get out earlier. Juggling too much. Not giving anything proper attention and always being in emotional conflict with how I spent my long days and most of my weekends. Always working. Always stressed. But that was my path. Rather than apologizing for it, I now look at it with greater reverence. I did it. I survived it. I am grateful for all of the education and the good living it provided me. It made me tough, but it also made me compassionate. I am on a new path now.

So, am I going to be a yoga teacher? Maybe. But I hope it is in concert with a myriad of other things that “spark joy.” I want to teach other people whose lives are imbalanced how to find balance in their life. Whether that be yoga, meditation, a healthier diet, or even a new career. Because… it’s never too late.



I got up early this morning and meditated. Dropped off my daughter at school. Wheeled the garbage can down the driveway. Read the newspaper. Ate my breakfast. I was off to a good start by 8am.

But then I went down a rabbit hole. 

What should I make for dinner? I need to make a chiropractor appointment. I need to wash my car. I went on a hunt for my husband’s GoPro which I needed for a project. I finally found it. But the battery was dead. The charging cable was missing. This required a second hunt through boxes, drawers, and file cabinets. I finally found the charging cable. Yay! Then I realized I have no idea how to use this camera. Boo. Nothing makes me feel older more than basic technology that I don’t know how to use.  I decided to charge it anyway. I will find someone to help me later.

I then remembered I have to read two books for a class I am taking, but I don’t feel like reading textbooks right now. I really just want to finish the two memoirs that I am reading: Devotion by Dani Shapiro and Becoming by Michelle Obama. Loving both of these books.

But it’s Monday… and on Mondays, I write. But all I can think about is that I really need to take my recycling to the recycling center, and I MUST clean out that junk drawer in the kitchen.

I should take my dog for walk.

Today is my middle daughter’s last day of vacation before she goes back to college for her last semester. Maybe I should take her to the beach before she returns to the frigid temperatures of upstate New York. 

This reminds me that I forgot to make her favorite pesto sauce while she was here. So now I need to go to the market and get some fresh basil. I probably should have started an herb garden.

I really do need to wash the slipcovers on my sofa.

I just remembered that the wall heater filter needs to be changed every six months. Not sure we have ever done that. Nor do I know how.

Speaking of filters, I just replaced my water filter in the refrigerator, but the water is still cloudy. Is that normal? Perhaps I should call the 800 number and ask.

I have a long list of things I need to watch on Netflix along with a few recent podcasts that were recently recommended. 

Is this procrastination? Or just driven to distraction? I am like an adolescent with ADD hyped up on juice boxes and sugared cereal. No, of course, I didn’t actually eat those things. But now that I mentioned cereal, that reminds me that I need to make another batch of homemade granola.

Are you overwhelmed today? It’s hard to get back into the groove after the holidays. I will get to my To-Do list… soon. At least some of it. Maybe all of it. Or maybe none of it. It’s okay, it’s Monday.

But first, I’m going to walk my dog because he’s kind of giving me that look.


Happy New Year 2019

For Christmas, I received a copy of Michelle Obama’s Becoming and I am so enjoying this memoir. In one of her early chapters, she writes about her very first piano lesson and the importance of always finding Middle C on the keyboard before you begin playing. As I sat down to write this morning, the pressure of writing something on the last day of the year somehow feels overwhelming. What is the Middle C key equivalent for a writer? Where do we find our home base? How do we strike the first key when we feel like the words aren’t flowing? So, as I was looking for inspiration, I went back to see what I wrote last New Year’s. Did I meet my New Year’s goals from last year? Have I learned anything? Have I improved in anything?

Here is my list of last year’s goals and my results:

Be less attached to the outcome - I almost completely missed the boat on this one. Up until a few weeks ago, my only focus was on outcome. When I was not getting the results I wanted, I found myself irritable and frustrated. But then I realized that I was looking at it all wrong. This was not failure. This was opportunity. It was an opportunity to refocus on letting go of things I cannot control. An opportunity to re-examine what brings me joy and what doesn’t. Sometimes getting a different outcome can be a blessing. Sometimes it is all about changing your perspective. 

Grow my readership - Glennon Doyle (author of Love Warrior) says that whether you have an audience of 14 or 14,000, it doesn’t matter. If someone loves your writing, then write for them. Or just write for yourself. I grew my readership this year, but I also let go of being attached to the number. Every time I thought I didn’t have a big enough audience, and I should stop writing, someone would write me a note and say, “Don’t stop writing. It’s my favorite thing about Mondays.” It was those comments that kept me writing… and I thank you for those who took the time to write them.

Continue to make a living as writer and/or a producer - It was a tough year and my attachment to the outcome took all the joy out of it. I struggled with all of it. I was not enjoying the process because of that attachment. Lesson learned.

Love what I do - I do, but it isn’t just about work anymore. It’s about looking at my life as a whole.

Stay balanced - I did, and I am probably most proud of this. I stayed committed to my yoga and meditation practice and focused a lot more on Choosing Fun

Stay healthy - With the exception of getting two head colds last January and March, I managed to stay pretty healthy and I am very grateful for this. 

Be Patient - Getting better. Amazing how all of these are tied to that first one on this list. 

Keep writing - I did. I am. Even when it is hard.

Be prolific - Hmmm. By some standards, maybe. By my standards, maybe not enough. Back to that first goal… again. 

Be Inspired - I was. Particularly through all the books I read this year. It was a great luxury to have time to read and learn so much from other writers. I was also inspired by my friends and family who continue to impress me with their passions and their personal growth. My eldest daughter who traveled to 17 countries and truly knows the meaning of enjoying the journey. My middle daughter who will be graduating college this year and has become a wonderful young adult. My youngest daughter who has made the transition to high school seamlessly and really loves all of her sports and extracurricular school events. 

Inspire others - I am grateful to those who reached out and said that the blog did that for them. That is probably the greatest reward of all. 

As I started thinking about my goals for the new year, I would say that they are very similar to last year’s goals. Not because I didn't achieve them, but because they are lifelong practices. They are not end results. This has probably been the biggest epiphany I had this year. There is no end game. There is only the journey. 

So as you start to make your New Year’s goals or resolutions, may you be blessed with good health, prosperity and whatever makes you happiest. Happy New Year!


10 Best Holiday Survival Tips

It’s Christmas Eve. Everyone is bound to feel a little stressed. Holidays always stress me out too. When I get stressed, I sometimes forget the basics. So, at the risk of being Captain Obvious, I decided to share some of my holiday survival tips:

1)  Hydrate. I can’t stress this enough. Bad things happen when I forget to drink water. I am prone to headaches. I get light-headed. It makes me tired and cranky. Often times I confuse dehydration with hunger, which means I overeat. So here’s a reminder for all of us: Drink water. Lots of it. Start now. Eight glasses is the minimum. More if you exercise, which is a good segue to #2...

2)  Exercise. I know you’re busy. We all are. There is no time. Yes, there is. Walk, hike or run. Just move your muscles for 15-20 minutes. It doesn’t matter what it is. If walking, hiking or running is not your thing, then stretch, lift weights, ride a bike, or play a sport you love. As the saying goes, Just Do It. 

3)  Breathe. There is breathing and then there is breathing. Technically, if you are reading this you must be breathing. But then there is breathing. I tend to hold my breath a lot. Not sure why I do that, just a bad habit. Holding your breath makes your muscles tight, and like dehydration, can cause headaches and a whole host of other maladies. If you find yourself feeling stressed, stop and just focus on your breath. Close your eyes for one minute and just observe your breath going in your nose and out your mouth. Believe it or not, this is a mini-vacation for your body. Do it as often as needed. But not while driving… because you shouldn’t close your eyes when you are driving.

4)  Time out. I like to mediate, but if that’s not your thing, then just take a few minutes for yourself. I highly recommend taking a 15-20 minute break from all stimulation: Lie down. Take a hot bath. Or just lock yourself in the bathroom and flip through your favorite magazine. Sometimes just taking a break can give you a whole new wave of energy and a better attitude.

5)  Music. Turn it on! In your car. In your house. On your phone. With or without your headphones. It doesn’t have to be Christmas music… just something that puts YOU in a good mood. This helps with everything: wrapping gifts, cooking, cleaning… even traffic.

6) Eating. Everybody struggles with eating too much over the holidays and spending the next six months trying to lose the weight they gained. I know I did last year. So my recommendation is to try and make good choices BEFORE the parties. Never go to a party famished. If you know you are going to a party with lots of delicious treats, try and eat small balanced meals before you go… and drink lots of water. The water will prevent you from over-eating and might even prevent a hangover, if you are inclined to drink too.

7) Ask for a hug. It’s a great stress reliever and someone may need one too.

8) Donate. Find a charity that means something to you and give. It can be anything: money, food, old clothes or even old towels to an animal shelter. Cleaning out a closet is one of my favorite stress relievers and there are a lot of people who could use those things that you are just tired of looking at.

9) Count Your Blessings. This was one of my dad’s favorite sayings. In his memory, I try and do this every day. Gratitude is the best attitude for any occasion.

10)  Let go of perfection. Invariably, we will not please everyone. So let’s just try and remember to be our best selves. Isn’t that the best gift we can give others anyway?


All I Want For Christmas

I am trying to get in the holiday mood, but it’s not quite happening for me yet.

The Christmas jingles are not providing inspiration.

I am avoiding gluten and dairy products, so I will be skipping the Christmas cookies this year. Both making them and eating them.

It’s about 83 degrees outside, so it doesn’t quite feel like Christmas… or even December for that matter.

I am not exactly Bah Humbug, but I am just struggling to find the spirit for sure. 

I used to love the holiday season, but without little ones in the house or even having all the kids home for the holidays, something feels like it is missing. 

Maybe something is missing. My two older daughters are far away, the absence of cooler weather, and my loss of desire to buy more stuff.

I thought if I forced myself to go to the mall, the inspiration would come. But I just ended up buying some things for my youngest daughter that she actually needed. I was worn out after an hour.

I find that the things I want most are simply not things. My Christmas list looks something like this:

Good health. Since I have had three sick patients in the house over the last three weeks, I am reminded how important this truly is. First, it was my daughter recovering from oral surgery. Then, it was my dog losing one of his nails and having to suffer the indignity of wearing a plastic cone for a week. This included having to wrap his foot in a plastic baggie every time he went outside, so the bandage didn’t get wet. If you think your dog hates you for making him wear a cone try adding a baggie to his foot for every pee-pee break outside. Then, my husband got a nasty cold. Followed by my daughter getting a sore throat. I made so much chicken soup that I think they might never eat chicken soup again. I am thankful that I didn’t get sick myself. My only symptom was exhaustion. So when I wasn’t making soup and putting plastic baggies over my dog’s foot, I was taking a lot of naps. And, of course, disinfecting everything like a mad woman. 

Next on my list…

Peace. Ideally, World Peace. But as they say, you have to put on your own oxygen mask first before helping others. So I would like to start with my own inner peace. To live in harmony with myself and my inner critic. Embrace my shortcomings and celebrate my own being. Perhaps if I can figure this out, I can be better prepared to helping the other 7.3 billion people on the planet.

And just one more thing…

Purpose. As I venture into year two of my own entrepreneurship as a writer, producer, meditator and yogi, I am hoping to achieve some tangible reward for all of my endeavors. I feel as if I have been in graduate school for Life these last two years. My studies have included patience, gratitude, and self-care. But I am ready for these new teachings to lead me to something more concrete. Dare I say income? Otherwise, I might have to embrace all of my hard work as hobbies. Which then makes me retired… and I am simply not ready for that. 

In the meanwhile, I am nothing if not grateful for the love of my family and friends. I am particularly grateful to the new community I have met through my writing. My readers have also been my teachers. So much of my education this year have been books, recipes, music, television shows, movies and podcasts that you have all recommended. This has been a treasure trove of wonderful discoveries of talented writers, philosophers, and artists. 

So please keep sharing those things that inspire you because it inspires me… and that’s all I really want for Christmas.


Dog Day Afternoon

Yesterday, I woke up to my dog limping. Never a good sign, but usually treatable by a quick examination of one of his furry little paws. For whatever reason, he tends to step on bees in our backyard and they get stuck in his fur. My youngest daughter and I have become experts at extracting the occasional stinger from his paw with a flashlight, tweezers and some good old-fashioned patience. Unfortunately, this one was not as simple as a bee sting. As I did my cursory investigation of his furry little white foot, I discovered a bright red toenail. Ouch! So I made an appointment with the vet. Yes, my awesome vet works on Sundays, and she agreed to see him that afternoon. 

The vet’s office was packed like a shopping mall right before Christmas. Now, I understand why she is open on Sundays. After a bit of a wait, he was finally examined and it was determined that the nail wasn’t actually red. The nail was missing. I know… EWWWW! Somehow he actually lost one of his toenails. My awesome vet cleaned it up, applied some medicine, wrapped his foot in a bandage, and sent us home with antibiotics and the “Cone of Shame.” He hates the Cone of Shame. All animals hate the Cone of Shame.

It was a heartbreaking and (slightly) comical combination, as I watched him try and navigate with his three legs and his massive plastic cone. He sulked around all afternoon. The cone makes him a bit catatonic because he has no peripheral vision with it. He was afraid to walk, afraid to lie down, and confused about how to eat. He ended up using the cone like a makeshift shovel, scooping his food into the cone, and then lapping up the pieces with his tongue. But, later, I realized he wasn’t actually drinking water. His nose became dry and he seemed lethargic. So I decided to give him a break from the cone, got him to drink water, and let him run around cone-less on his three legs for a bit. He seemed a little happier. Even the bandaged leg was no longer a big deal. Unfortunately, the cone went back on for bedtime. 

During my morning meditation, I gave him another respite from the cone as he quietly took his nap next to me on my chair. I thought that maybe he could go cone-less after all, since he didn’t seem overly interested in chewing on his bandage. 

Silly me.

The moment he was unsupervised, he was gnawing on it like a wild animal. So, the cone is back on... and so is his sad face. Needless to say, he might be getting some extra love and attention this week. Even as I typed this last sentence, I could envision my daughters rolling their eyes and muttering, “That’s because he’s the favorite child.”

Other than my dog drama, I had a pretty good weekend. My youngest daughter has made a full recovery from having her wisdom teeth pulled. While it rained on and off all weekend, the sun came out long enough for me to play some tennis and witness a ton of beautiful rainbows. So as I segued from taking care of my daughter (post-surgery) into taking care of my dog (post-treatment), it made me feel like that quote from Maya Angelou: Try to Be the Rainbow in Someone Else’s Clouds.

I am certainly grateful for all the literal and metaphoric rainbows in my life.


The Wisdom Tooth Fairy

Unlike losing your baby teeth, there is nothing fun or exciting about having your wisdom teeth pulled.

My youngest daughter went to the oral surgeon to have all four of her impacted wisdom teeth removed. Apparently, if you have to have your wisdom teeth removed, 14 is the ideal age. I was 14 when I had mine extracted too. I remember it quite vividly. My dad took me in the morning. I was put under anesthesia, I woke up and immediately wanted to talk. They told me to stop talking. Apparently, some things never change. We drove home on a hot summer day back to our house and I remember in my post-anesthetic haze telling my dad to turn left onto our street from Ventura Blvd. In hindsight, I am pretty sure that my dad knew where to turn, since he had bought that home and lived there for the last 15 years… even before I was born. But anesthesia can be like truth serum or highlight your innermost self. In my case, it brought out my innermost control freak telling my dad where to go even before I had a driver’s license. 

But, I digress. 

My daughter was very nervous about having so many teeth pulled at once, and although nitrous oxide (laughing gas) was an option, she insisted on being put out with the stronger stuff. One hour later, it was over and she woke up groggy and stuffed to the gills with cotton gauze. She immediately wanted to talk too. Like mother, like daughter.

On the way home, we decided to stop at the grocery store to pick up some soft foods in case she was hungry later. While I sat in the car with her, her dad ran into the store to get a few things. The next thing I knew, I heard a slight gagging sound. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to open her door as quickly as possible as she proceeded to throw up blood and chunks of bloody gauze. At this point, she had no awareness of where or what was happening. She was still strapped into the car and her head was hanging out with all kinds of fluids dripping from mouth and nose and into her hair. Yep, it was pretty gross and a little scary. But like all well-prepared moms, I had a collection of clean napkins from various Starbucks in my glove compartment and some old dog towels in my trunk. I proceeded to clean her up first… and then the parking lot. Now she was scared and moaning loudly. Meanwhile, her father was STILL in the grocery store! After a few minutes of talking her off the It-Hurts-So-Much-Ledge, her father finally arrived with a bag full of groceries. 

On the remaining drive home, I recapped the excitement that he missed in the parking lot. He was totally oblivious because in the time that it took him to "buy a few things," I had cleaned up the CSI crime scene. When we got home, I put her in bed, although it was a fight to get her to take off her tennis shoes and jacket. She was in a lot of pain and there was a lot of bleeding… and very loud wailing. I got her to take two Advil, although she couldn’t feel her lips or her tongue, so she wasn’t sure if she had even swallowed them. She was still wailing from the pain. So I crawled in bed with her and rubbed her back. I am pretty sure I haven’t done this in over a decade, but next thing I knew, she was fast asleep. It had been a long day… and it was only 11am. 

I went back to the kitchen and reported the medical update to my husband who was unpacking the groceries: Jell-O, ice cream, soda, donut holes, and whipped cream. Seriously, what was he thinking? If our daughter survived her oral surgery, we should put her in a diabetic coma? He said, that he bought foods that were “easy” to eat. In a very weird way, this kind of reminded me of something my dad would have done. So, instead of getting mad, I smiled. Although, he bought her a Creamsicle flavored ice cream which I knew she wouldn’t eat, but it sounded good to him. It’s the thought that counts.

She slept the rest of the day and I went to check on her around 4pm. She was feeling a bit better. We had filled the prescription for the heavy-duty medication (just in case), but it looked like Advil was enough to quell the drama. I offered to bring her some Jell-O, but she said it was too difficult to open her mouth. She agreed to to sip some water and take more Advil. I told her that I was going to a yoga class at 4:30pm, if she was okay to be alone. She said that would be fine. She just wanted to sleep some more. 

So, off I went. I turned off my phone for the hour that I was in the yoga class, but when I turned it back on there were two voicemail messages, a FaceTime missed call, and three texts. 


My mind started racing. How could I have turned off my phone? What if her mouth was bleeding again? What if she fell down? What if she spiked a fever? What was I thinking leaving for one hour? I immediately called her back, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She sounded hysterical. I couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. She sounded very upset and frantic. I finally got her to focus and speak slower. What was all the drama about?

There was a Chorus performance at school that night and she wanted to go with her friends. That’s it. She didn’t fall. She wasn’t bleeding. She wasn’t scared. She wanted permission to go out. Oh, and, she needed a ride immediately. 

This was the same girl who was under anesthesia that morning and had four teeth removed. 

The one who threw up in the grocery store parking lot and couldn’t open her mouth wide enough to replace the gauze that she spit out. 

This was the same girl who hadn’t eaten in 24 hours and was still too weak to take a shower and shampoo the gunk out of her hair. 

THIS girl wanted to go see the Chorus sing at her school, with her friends, at night… now!  

At first, I thought she was kidding. But she was about as serious as a heart attack. When I said, “No way.” She pushed back. So I put her father on the phone and he said, “No way.” She proceeded to beg and plead and tell us how unfair we were being. She was feeling “Much better!” So, I asked a couple of follow up questions: Have you eaten anything? No. Have you taken a shower? Not yet. So, needless to say, the answer was still no. 

When we got home, she was in her pajamas. Apparently, she tried to take a shower, but became too exhausted to wash her hair. She couldn’t eat anything because her lips were still numb and her mouth was too swollen. At this point, the swelling had taken over and she looked like a chipmunk storing nuts for the winter inside her cheeks. She admitted that her face looked like a cross between a potato and a young Jonah Hill. She went to bed without dinner and slept for another 12 hours. She stayed in bed all day Saturday and Saturday night.

On Sunday, she wanted to go to the mall with her friends and buy a dress for the Friday night dance. She finally started eating some chicken broth, Jell-O and was drinking water. So, we let her go to the mall and go shopping. I begged her to only go for one hour, but she insisted on three. When I picked her up, she looked happy. But her face was still quite swollen. So she looked like a happy chipmunk who had just bought a dress at Forever 21. She fell asleep in the car and slept the rest of the afternoon. 

She woke up for dinner. More soup. Tiny pieces of steak-- cut up as if she was in an old age home and eating without her dentures. She said it tasted so good. She went back to bed and complained about all the homework she still had to do. This morning she went to school, but her room looked like a war zone. Clothing everywhere. Wet towel on the floor. Trash can full of old gauze. She did manage to hang up her new dress.

Poor thing. Four teeth ripped out of her mouth. Puffy cheeks. Swollen lips. Exhausted. There was no tooth fairy because the oral surgeon doesn't bother giving you your wisdom teeth… nor did I think to ask for them. 

So, after dropping her off at school, The Wisdom Tooth Fairy washed her linens, opened her windows, and did her three loads of laundry. Why do teenagers go through so many clothes? The Wisdom Tooth Fairy brought her home her favorite pie (Key Lime) for dessert tonight. We’re all glad it’s over, but there was nothing fun about this rite of passage. 

I thought about leaving a dollar under her pillow tonight… just for old time’s sake.


I was chatting with a friend a few weeks ago about stuff. The conversation encompassed a variety of topics: Life, Death, Family, Work, Goals, Frustrations, and Gratitudes. Needless to say, it was a not a short conversation. But during this marathon-gab-fest, she casually mentioned that part of “our" problem is due to the fact that we are perfectionists. 

Isn’t that a term of Artists? Florists? Musicians? Accountants? Not moi.

First of all, we are totally different people. My friend is extremely methodical. She takes her time on everything. She likes everything to be perfect. She needs to process everything (even a text or email response) to make sure she gets it right. By her own admission, she often doesn’t finish her own creative projects because her perfectionism prevents her from ever being “finished.”

This does not apply to me. I have never thought of myself as a perfectionist because I never thought I was capable of perfection.

The way I look at it. I can either do something… or I can’t. There is no in-between. So, I tackle everything that I CAN do... immediately. And I mean everything: A text. An email. An opinion. A dirty dish. Or anything out of place.

When confronted with this label of perfectionism, I defended myself to my core. I am NOT a perfectionist because I like everything done fast. Nothing can ever be perfect if it is done quickly. But somewhere in my reptilian brain, I equate fast with getting extra credit. If I am the first to respond or the first to complete the task, I am illustrating my only superpower. I am Johnny-on-the-spot. Debbie-do-gooder. The Go-to-girl. So I am perceived as always paying attention. Reliable. Responsible. Always available. 


But until this conversation with my friend, the “other end of the spectrum” perfectionist, I didn’t realize I was over-compensating for the same disorder.

Since I don’t believe I am capable of being perfect, being organized and being fast hopefully makes me valuable.

The additional benefit is that “stuff” is off my plate. So, if something were to happen, like an illness or an unforeseen crisis, I won’t feel overwhelmed rendering me incapable of completing the task. 

My friend says this is exactly why she DOES procrastinate until the last possible second. She works better under pressure and then she has a built-in excuse too! She says her go to response is: "I had to rush this at the last minute because I was busy with so many other things." In her mind, she believes she will get extra credit for doing a great job at the very last second. Cramming yes. But possibly still doing “A” quality work. If she doesn’t have excellent results, she can always say: “Well, it was good enough for pulling an all-nighter.” 

Unfortunately, she suffers from always being in a constant state of overwhelm. Her projects are always looming largely over her. A never-ending-To-Do list. 

I wish I could I say that my methodology prevented me from stress or angst. But, unfortunately, I feel the same way. I always want to be ahead of everything before anyone needs it or asks for it. So I have the same never-ending-To-Do list. I just start worrying about my future To-Dos long before I need to.

Hmmm. Same disorder. Different manifestations. Both exhausting and self-generated. We agreed that these are patterns probably developed in childhood… most likely as coping mechanisms. But that’s a therapy session for another day.

After this epiphany, we decided to be mindful of these patterns and try to find balance somewhere in the middle. We believe that if she sped up a bit and I slowed down a little, and we both let go of perfectionism, we might both feel more content on a daily basis. 

Since this conversation, I have tried consciously not to answer every email or text the moment I read it. She, in turn, is working on responding a little faster. 

Years ago, my oldest daughter starting referring to me as the “Ninja Mom” because I would often clean the dishes before everyone was finished eating. I think I have made progress since then. Although today, my husband was annoyed with me when his coffee cup was rinsed and in the dishwasher before he was done drinking it. 

But that said, I also brought the trash can down the driveway, got the morning paper, called the Gas company to refill the tank, took my daughter to school, fed the dog and did two loads of laundry before 8am. 

So, Rome was not built in a day… thank goodness I wasn’t in charge.


The Lunch Club Revisited

So my three best girlfriends from junior high school came for a visit.

As I awaited their arrival, with fresh flower leis, I started tearing up about how much it meant to me that we were going to have a vacation together for the first time in almost 40 years. 

Although you don’t need much clothing to come to Hawaii for just five days, these women don’t travel lightly. Each one of them came with a very heavy suitcase packed to the brim with a Just-In-Case-I-Might-Need-This-Item. These are girls after my own heart.

After we carefully piled their luggage into the back of my small SUV, we headed straight to the grocery store. Of course, in all the excitement of seeing each other, and proudly packing the unwieldy luggage into the trunk, I forgot that my grocery bags were in a compartment underneath all that luggage. So we had the pleasure of unpacking those heavy bags one extra time (in 90-degree heat) before heading into the store.  

We agreed that we wouldn’t be doing much cooking. After all, we were on vacation! But, we still needed to stock up on breakfast items and snacks for the guest house. It turns out there is no better way to get reacquainted with your childhood friends than grocery shopping with them. They debated over which cheeses they should buy and how much? Who drinks coffee? Who drinks tea? Macadamia nuts or almonds? Both. One has a gluten allergy. One doesn’t eat tomatoes. The cart was quickly filled with eggs, butter, bacon (these girls know how to party), bagels, cream cheese, cheese, crackers, hummus, guacamole, veggies, fruit, ice cream, and dark chocolate. Beer or Wine? Turns out they prefer hard alcohol. Two are vodka drinkers. The other one likes tequila.

For the next five days, we ate every meal together, and stayed up as late as we could talking and playing Cards Against Humanity. If you haven’t played (I was a newbie), it’s a little bit like adult Mad Libs. It’s fun, silly, and totally inappropriate. It makes you laugh. Whether you are drinking or not. It also makes you feel like you are 14 years old again… which was kind of the theme of the week.

We did a little bit of everything. 

We took long walks in my neighborhood. We fed carrots to the goats and horses up the street. 

We went to the beach. They snorkeled in hopes of seeing giant sea turtles. I am not a snorkeler, but I happily sat on the shore and read a book. 

We took a walk on the ancient lava fields, along the coast, where we stumbled across a Monk Seal who had just given birth to a pup a few days earlier. We were so mesmerized by this that we lost track of time, so it got too dark to do a second snorkeling adventure.

But on the way home, we had a Steven Tyler celebrity-sighting right outside his house. He happens to be one of my girlfriend’s all-time favorite rock and roll stars, so this was a great bonus for her.

We went to my favorite yoga class twice… and they loved it too.

We ate fish tacos and shared french fries… because they don’t count when you share them. 

We drank cocktails with fresh squeezed juices from my orange, lime and guava trees. 

We went shopping at the outlet stores.

We shared mini-pie tarts at this darling little pie shop. The Lilikoi (passionfruit) pie was the favorite. Although, the Key Lime was pretty outstanding too. One of my girlfriends is on a mission to replicate that Lilikoi pie for her Thanksgiving bake-off with her in-laws. Apparently, it is very competitive. I hope she wins and puts her sister-in-law to shame.

We talked about our children. They all seem to be thriving and independent… which makes us all exhale a little bit.

We talked about our relationships -- past and present.

We talked about our careers. One of us is winding hers down. One is starting hers for the first time. The other is enjoying her work and might be named Employee of the Year! I am envious of the one winding down her career. And yet, I cannot seem to do that myself. I am more driven than ever to find my “true calling.” Which, in turn, makes me equally envious of the one starting her new career. As for one who might be named Employee of the Year, that is just awesome. Since I run my own production company, and am currently the only employee, I could technically name myself Employee of the Year. But I don’t think I deserve it this year. Maybe next year. 

Being with these three women was not like some kind of high school (or junior high) reunion. I don’t like reunions. High school reunions always feel kind of forced and formal. You get about the same information that you do on Facebook… just headlines. No real deep connection.

This was different. Being with these three women was like being with family. While I may not snorkel and they don’t play tennis, we are totally in sync with just about everything else. We have similar feelings about love, life, and spirituality. We are all highly-productive, multi-tasking, mothers, wives/ex-wives, cooks, neat freaks, business women, daughters and sisters. We are girls with the same DNA... without even being related.

It is an indescribable feeling to have reconnected to people that you have known since you were little. In spite of having only gathered as a group three times in 40 years,  there was no awkwardness. There was no communication gap. We are all 50-something women now, and we share a bond that is undeniable.

I like to think that we haven’t changed that much. Okay, maybe we have a few more wrinkles and different hairstyles, but we are essentially still 14-year-old girls at heart. We still love books, music, television and movies. We still love talking and sharing. We still love discovering new ideas, recipes, diets and coping mechanisms. Lots of coping mechanisms.

The five days were a blink. In one moment, I was picking them up at the airport. Then a moment later, I was dropping them off again. The only proof that time had passed were the wilted flower leis and the significant dent we made in the groceries… especially the dark chocolate and the bacon.

I felt an ache when they left… as if part of me was leaving too. That’s because my “sisters” were leaving and we were not done having fun.

But the morning that they were packing up, they were discussing the next trip. So we might make this an annual tradition.

Maybe by then, I will be up for Employee of the Year too. Either way, I cannot wait to do it again.


Veterans Day

I know. I owe you a blog post.

I appreciate all of you that reached out last week to say, “Are you okay? Where was your Monday Blog?”

Everything is fine. I was just taking a little vacation. Actually, a “Stay-cation” because I stayed home while friends and family came to visit.

More on that next week.

Since I have some family leaving today, and more arriving, so this is going to be a short post.

But while I have you, I just wanted to take a moment to send a collective prayer (or a good thought) to those affected by the wildfires in California today.

And a thank you to the brave firefighters who are trying to contain them.

And to our Veterans who have served our country trying to keep us all safe.

And for the rest of you… I just hope you have a Happy Monday.