NaBloPoMo IV: 4"

Torrid sent me an email yesterday announcing a 3-hour online only shoe sale (I know!). Of course, I clicked on the link. Whoa.

Selected booties on sale for $19.99! I couldn't get through on the site - too much traffic going after those booties. So, I gave up.

An email came this afternoon - sorry you couldn't get into our site, heavy traffic, sale extended.

OMG! It is love:












I love these shoes! I want these shoes! I deserve these shoes! I only have to pay $19.99 for these shoes!

But...it's a 4" heel. And I really have no business wearing 4" heels.

What say you?

NaBloPoMo III - Already?!

It's only the third day and I'm ready to quit.

I won't. But I feel like it.

These first few days of the month have been extremely hectic - work, my boss, home life, personal life. ACK!! So many different directions, so many different things and I can't get a handle on any of 'em.

*Sigh*

Devo starts their tour tonight here in L.A. at Music Box at the Fonda. Excited! They'll be playing their first album...should be tons o'fun. Will let ya know...

Until then, please enjoy this selection from Devo. D-E-V-O!

NaBloPoMo II - writing

Yesterday also marked the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Similar to NaBloPoMo, except at the end of the month, you will (should) have a 50,000 page novel. After a writing drought, wouldn't ya know I signed up for this, too! Ai yi yi!

As much as I love creative writing, the thought of writing a novel never ever crossed my mind. Never. Ever. My writing and creative thinking is better suited for short stories. So this novel writing thing is completely terrifying! I wanted to at least give it a shot...maybe I could write a bunch of short stories and call it a novel.

Yesterday, I struggled. I had no plot. I had no characters. I had no idea what the hell to do. I called Lys - help! Just needed to talk it out. A lot of it was crap; but some of it was doable. I finally settled on a character that had been in my head for a while; just wasn't sure how I could put her into 50,000 pages. I wrote about 200 words and was soooo over it.

A conversation I had had with a good friend several years ago popped into my head. Something she'd said...*that* was my story! I sat and wrote. I didn't hit the 1600-word goal; but 466 isn't too terrible.

We'll see how this works out...

NaBloPoMo I: ...and they're off!

Today marks the beginning of National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo - lovingly referred to, by me, as NaBlahBlah). I've done it before. I've actually made it through an entire month blogging every day. I know, right?! So, I'm back. Don't call it a comeback; I've been here for years.

I haven't written in several months. Nothing. I haven't blogged. I haven't done any creative writing. I haven't even journaled. That alone is cause for alarm as I've journaled since the age of 19. Yeah. It's not like I haven't had time...I haven't had the desire. I'm calling it a midlife crisis. Who's gonna argue with me?

November should be a fairly exciting month full of blogworthy topics - lots of shows (Devo, Cy Curnin, the English Beat, Ray LaMontagne to name a few), lots of family time and lots of regular everyday type o'stuff.

So...let November begin.

LoveHopeStrength Foundation ~ PhillyRocks 09

09.09.09
The Field House
Philadelphia PA

Robin Wilson (Gin Blossoms) ~ Mike Peters (the Alarm) ~ Nick Harper ~ Glenn Tilbrook (Squeeze) ~ Cy Curnin (the Fixx) ~ James Stevenson (Gene Loves Jezebel, the Alarm) perform a cover of Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays"

Step 1 - Operation: Clutter Clean-Up

:::exhale:::

Wow! Quite a bit accomplished in 3 hours. Ain't gonna lie to ya - I'm pretty amazed.

Though exhausted, I slept fitfully last night. I was up around 5a, watching The West Wing; not paying attention, just distracted enough to keep the edge off the anxiety. Around 8a, I decided to channel that energy into cleaning: cleaned the litter box, the toilet, the bathroom sink, counters and cleared out clothes from a drawer in the dressing room. The drawer wasn't too bad as it was mostly t-shirts and shorts I don't wear. Figured that was a good sign of things to come once B showed up.

She got here around 11:30a and went right to it. She had a plan, she was very systematic, pushed when I needed it and backed off at the appropriate times. In order to get through the tossing out, I had to do a lot of pre-emptive striking: before she could say "Do you really need/wear/want this/that/the other?" I had to do it. That helped and hurt; I threw out clothes without thinking. I didn't want B to say anything, I wanted it to look easy; like I was okay with it. I wasn't.

So, B had a plan: attack the closet first. Ai yi yi! We went through all the items, one by one. Some stayed, most didn't. It was so empty. That was the first painful twinge - you just threw out X-amount of money! Pushing that aside, we continued. I wasn't going to share this part because it shows my warped way of thinking...but that's why it should be shared. :::exhale:::

In my closet sat a white hamper. This white hamper used to sit in my parents' bathroom. Then, it was passed to me while I was in high school. This white hamper moved with me in and around Riverside then out to L.A. This white hamper sat in my closet, stuffed. I didn't know what it was stuffed with or how long it had been since I opened it (to me it was another flat surface on which to pile more things). B told me I had to get rid of it. Ohh, easy, Turbo! I had to go through it - what if there was a top I could wear? Or towels? Or something, anything I could wear in there?! B said if there is something in there a) I probably already bought one to replace it or b) it just doesn't matter now. So, sight unseen, the whole hamper was tossed. Without me looking in it. And that brought about another twinge - although I KNOW that was exactly what should be done.

We moved from the closet to the trifecta - the 3 places in my living space in which I pile clothes: the rolling rack, the stacked bins and the unstacked bins. The rolling rack was easiest as the clothes are on hangers already. We moved those into the recently cleared out closet. Then we tackled pile A - clean clothes. We put each piece onto a hanger then into the closet. Then, pile B - did the same thing. Clothes in the closet. Amazing.

3 hours, 3 trips to the trashbin, 4 bags to Goodwill, 2 baskets of laundry & dry cleaning, clothes on hangers in the closet. Not too bad for Step 1, eh?

To my credit, I didn't cry until B left.

i see the edge, i look, i fall

Like some glutton for punishment, I've been watching the TV shows Obsessed and Hoarders on A&E. Good grief. I really want to know and understand how & why I became a hoarder. I thought the shows would be interesting, obviously fascinating and, hopefully, insightful or at the least inspiring.

Yeah, right.

I watched the season one finale of Obsessed about Richie, an excessive compulsive hoarder. For that hour, I was anxious and upset and crying. Richie was speaking his truth; in it, I heard my own: how difficult it is to throw out a piece of paper, how emotionally attached he is to most everything in his home (paper, books, magazines, stuff). It was heart-and gut-wrenching to watch.

Then, Hoarders started. Good grief. The first show focused on a couple who were on the verge of having their children taken away because of the clutter/hoarding in the home; the other segment was a woman who is a food hoarder threatened with eviction. Let's just say it was horrific, at best. Thank God I'm not a food hoarder! But her 'logic' or reasoning for the clutter aligns with mine - throwing out stuff is throwing away money. Boy is that a thought I struggle with...it's my Mom's voice ringing in my head: don't waste this or that, money doesn't grow on trees, etc. The one good thing about these shows is that I've opened up to people, shared my 'dirty little secret' (no pun intended). The more I share, the more I expect people to judge me. However, the more I share, the more accountable I feel; the more compelled I feel to do something.

Several weeks ago, I opened up about my hoarding/clutter to my friend B. She shared her experience with hoarding - her aunt is a compulsive hoarder who slept in a chair because it was the only place with no clutter. B offered to help clean up/clear out. I (as usual) thanked her profusely and politely declined.

Last night, I started to watch the new episode of Hoarders...that anxious feeling returned; and so did the tears. I asked B for help. Her first piece of advice? Stop watching those damned television shows! "You're emotionally cutting. The shows aren't helping you." I deleted them from my DVR.

B is coming over on Saturday. I/We are starting the process. :::exhale:::

My goal? To have people in my home by the end of the year. For the first time.

In-Class writing assignment 07.02.09

For in-class writing assignments, we get a topic and 15-20 minutes to write. I usually sit for 5 minutes trying to think up something...
Assignment: Write about an incident in history you'd like to change; rewrite history.
OK ~ let me just state for the record that this is what came to mind. I do not wish it to be true. It's creative writing, people.

I seemed to have a real knack with the scissors. It was cake and pie as soon as the shiny metal touched my strong fingers. I was nimble and quick and made my family quite happy. The true test would come when I could work with real people.

At age 20, I became an apprentice with Hank. He had one of the busiest shops in town; mainly because of his location was so close to the TV station. My job was to sweep, get hot towels, clean the brushes, tend the straps and straight edges. I was quick and thorough, yet still took the time to watch, listen and learn.

One very busy day, Mr. Ed came in unexpectedly. Seems he fiddled with his sideburns, making a mess.

Artie! yelled Hank. You gotta handle Mr. Ed here. He ain't got time to wait. Get ovaheeya!

Thus began a beautiful relationship. I became Mr. Ed's preferred then personal barber. I would make special trips to the station, even his home, as well as tend to him at the shop.

One day, while at the station, Mr. Ed pulled me aside, talked a few minutes then slipped me folded bills. I walked back to the shop to find the four young lads from England waiting for me.

Mr. Ed told us you do a great shave and comb. No cut please. one of the shaggy-haired boys said.

I smiled slyly, sharpening my straight edge razor. And scissors.

Rissa's Guide to Pancakes at The Griddle

Creative Writing homework assignment 06.18.09 ~ describe in detail a meal you've had recently...

I’ve enjoyed quite a few pancakes in my time ~ IHOP, Denny’s, summers at Girl Scouts’ Camp Azalea Trails, Mrs. Gilbert’s god-awful blueberry mess, my Mom’s Sunday morning smiley face masterpieces. If a place serves pancakes and I’ve been there? Chances are I’ve eaten pancakes. However, the pancakes at the Griddle in West Hollywood are thee best pancakes I have ever had! They’re huge; they’re filled and/or topped with yummy deliciousness and taste just as yummy as they look.

I go to the Griddle for pancakes about once a month; and have been doing so for at least five years. Here is Rissa’s Guide to Doing Griddle Pancakes Right:

1 – Which to order? With close to 20 pancake choices, your head will undoubtedly spin. If you like bananas, try the Banana Nana – brown sugar-coated bananas mixed in buttermilk batter; Feeling like Violet Beauregard? Try BLUESberry – blueberry pancakes topped with blueberry sour cream and powdered sugar. There are pancakes that taste like coffee cake, all cinnamon swirled and streusel topped. Eyes Wide Open with chocolate chips and a shot of espresso. Or, my favorite ~ Tis the Season – pumpkin pie filling in the pancake mix, topped with whipped cream, more pumpkin pie filling and powdered sugar. Mmm! Oh yeah, they have plain good ol’ fashioned pancakes, as well.

2 – How to order. These are not normal-sized pancakes, my friends – ohhh no no no. The Griddle calls them “over-sized.” I call them huge. HUGE! They’re bigger than my head. Let’s see…they’re the size of a…a Frisbee. Possibly bigger. These pancakes are so big, they hang over the edge of the plate. Now THAT’S big! A regular order is 3 pancakes. That’s A LOT of pancake! A short stack is 2 pancakes – this is what I usually order. Of course, you can order just one pancake.

3 – How to prep your pancakes. The plate of huge pancakes comes to your table steaming, with lots of yummy goodness on top ~ be it melting butter, whipped cream, pumpkin pie filling, powdered sugar or blueberry cream. I’m giving you my personal prep technique: Take your fork and spread all that yummy goodness all around the pancake, avoid the edges (reason for this to follow). Push that pat of butter over the hot pancake, let it melt…let it seep in…concentrate all that yummy meltiness in the middle. Use your fork to cut a hole smack-dab in the middle ~ push some of that mix of butter, pumpkin and whipped cream in there; let your entire stack be touched by the yummy goodness. Mmm!

4 – Eat! A couple of things: you probably won’t finish the stack. I never have. No, I’m completely serious. I’ve never eaten an entire short stack of pancakes. And, come on now, I. CAN. EAT. The other thing? With these pancakes, all the goodness is in the middle; so, start there, avoid the edges (you’re welcome).

The second bite is my favorite ~ the first one, you’re just trying it out…testing the texture…the temperature…checking to see if it’s a combination of flavors you can tolerate. But the second bite? Ooh, yeah ~ the cool whipped cream hits the tip of your tongue, that hot fluffy pancake soaked with hot buttery goodness, a smattering of pumpkin all comes together…mmm! Oh, sorry – I’m salivating.

So, there you have it ~ Rissa’s Guide to Doing Griddle Pancakes Right. Whaddya doing Saturday morning?

it's been a long time...

Writer's block.

That's the problem. Writer's block.

I haven't blogged since April. I know! I haven't really written since April. Which, coincidentally, coincides with my last writing class. So...maybe I was just on a break.

Yeah, that's it - we were on a break.

Writing class has started again. Our first in-class assignment (15-20 minutes to write on a particular topic) was to write about something that happened to us in the 8 weeks since our last class. Below, is mine:

I turned 42. And I wasn't even traumatized. No, I'm serious! I was not traumatized.

OK...me, 3 girlfriends, birthday weekend plans ~ road trip to San Luis Obispo (SLO), wine tasting, birthday dinner, English Beat - yay! A couple of weeks...plan, plan, plan. Excitement grows. *My* plan? Fly to Sacramento on my birthday to see the English Beat (yay!), then meet the girls in SLO.

B backs out on week prior - ok, fine. D and J decide we should all drive up to SLO (3 hours) together - stop at a winery or 3, nice leisurely drive up the coast. Ok, fine. I buy a one-way ticket back to Burbank, book a hotel and watch a chunk of my birthday money go bye bye.

It's Friday, my birthday. Me. Sacramento. The English Beat. Birthday song. Birthday hugs, kisses and wishes. Birthday shots. Yay!

Fast forward to Burbank Airport - me still riding high on my birthday night festivities. I walk off the plane, through the airport, out to D's car. No J.

"Ready to go?" I ask.
"No. I'm sick. I don't want to go."
"Wha?"
"I don't feel good at all."

Silence. I only spoke to give her directions to my house. I get out of her car. I get into my car. I yell 'Fuck!' a dozen or so times. Then, I cry. Do I go? Do I not go? Fuck! Fuck it. I'm going!

Before I can stop crying, a call comes through: a problem at the hotel in SLO with the suite I booked. The sweet girl at the Marriott - so apologetic - can we move you to another room? Sobbing, I said "Put me in a tub witha pillow and blanket - I don't care! It's my birthday weekend and all my friends just bailed on me." ::sniffle:: She stammered. "No, we have a room for you..." ::sniffle:: Ok, fine.

On the 101, I blast Rage Against the Machine for over an hour, yelling, screaming, raging. Then, I was done. By the time I hit the hotel, my makeup was smeared, my hair was indescribable and I wanted a bed.

When I gave the gal my name, she let out a little gasp. Then, her manager stepped forward - do you have plans tonight? Well...nooo...since my friends bailed, I need to find a place for dinner, then I'm going to the Downtown Brewing Company. "We would like to treat you to dinner - here's a $50 voucher to our hotel's restaurant. Happy Birthday! Enjoy!"

And, I did!