And Grease the Pan

There is a family recipe for Caramel Oatmeal Bars that is essential to my family’s Christmas celebrations. It is one passed down from my Grandma Schwoerer. I have a photocopy of it in my recipe drawer and it is one of those recipes that you almost don’t need a instructions for as you’ve made it so many times you almost have the amounts and steps memorized. I believe the original is from Grandma’s sister Valeria. I also believe that Christmas could not take place without them.

I won’t go into details about the directions that are on the recipe as any appetite or food cravings I do have are highly suggestible at this point and since the fair citizens of California do not seem to be too interested in baking, the grocery stores do not carry the caramels that are required to make this dessert, except in the fall when they stock bags of Kraft caramels to make caramel apples (mmm, caramel apples, maybe dipped in nuts…focus, focus) so if I talk about them too much and get the craving I am sort of out of luck unless I substitute the caramels with something similar which as we all have experienced can only awaken the craving without satisfying it fully if it does not taste like how we remember it. (Hey Mom, you are bringing a bag of caramels when you come, right?).

Anyway, the recipe states to take half of the oatmeal, butter, brown sugar mixture (now doesn’t that sound good? Let me know if you want the full recipe because it is…focus, focus) and press it into a 9x13 pan. And then it says “and grease the pan.” If you aren’t one of those conscientious cooks who reads the whole recipe before beginning you will be uttering a Homer-like “Doh” right at the moment when the mixture is all pressed in and ready to go into the oven.

How many times have we thought or said, “If I only had known”, or “If I had it to do over again”, or “If I knew then what I know now…” It’s a universal sentiment that can be applied to so many aspects of our lives.

Just yesterday I was in the baby aisle at Target as a mother of three was unwrapping a new pacifier for her fussy son as he is particular about what brand he will take and she gave me a couple of tips of things that she wishes she had known or done when her oldest was born. I listened carefully, and am proud to say that I remember them despite experiencing a hot flash at the time.

I am well aware that I will experience this feeling of “if I had only known” innumerable times over the next weeks, months, years. No matter how many books we read, or advice we receive or classes we take, no resource will be an expert on our baby and some of the information will be invaluable and some will not apply at all. Our expectation is to learn something every day, and to pay attention all the while knowing that once we feel like we’ve got it down things will change again.

As I just wrote to Little One in my pregnancy diary, adaptability will be key. I have gotten used to never sitting upright in the car and avoiding foods to minimize heartburn (cinnamon and mint – who knew these things could be so evil? Mmmm, mint chocolate chip ice cream…focus, focus) and to holding my ribs with my right forearm. You adjust to the circumstance and get on with your day. Yes, that the circumstances are changing day to day can get dizzying. And then there comes a day when there is too much adjusting required so then you start your maternity leave.

(By the way, to all the moms reading this who worked right up until the end or were chasing other children around while 9 months pregnant: you have my undying admiration. I am a wimp compared to you.)

While facing the reality of parenthood, with its great gulps of joy and its daily struggles, adaptability will be required of us as we will no longer be in charge. I also keep in mind what I’ve discussed before, the daunting task that Little One has ahead: to learn all about the Big World and how to adapt to live in it.

I can only imagine the experience of the outside world after so many months safely in utero. This Easily Overwhelmed Girl can relate to it being a brash, chaotic, glaring place with too many rules and sensations. I hope Fearless Hero and I and Grandma can help Little One quickly adapt to the joys of the swing and the smells of his dad’s cooking and the comfort of being held in her first weeks.

There is a quote that I remember from Maya Angelou which stuck with me before becoming a parent was forefront in my mind, perhaps because I worked with children. I heard it again a few years ago when Toni Morrison was on the Oprah show so now I am not entirely sure where the idea originated. Nevertheless, it has come back to my mind recently. I looked it up online to remember the full context of the idea; here is what I found:

"Maya Angelou asks, 'How do you react when your child enters the
room? Do your eyes light up?' All children need to feel special, in
their own right, apart from their accomplishments and accolades.
In our daily routine it is often easy for family members to take each other for granted. We should never forget how important it is for our
unconditional love to shine through and be seen every day.
Yes, we can facilitate the attainment of their goals by driving them
to practices, cheering from the stands and proudly extolling their
talents. But what signals do our kids receive from us during the course of an average day?"

In her discussion with Oprah about this idea, Toni Morrison added that if the answer is “yes”, it allows your face to speak what your heart feels. The article continues with a discussion of how do we build our children's self-confidence and, at the same time, teach them how to be realistic about their expectations in light of the competition and pressures of growing up? It reminds parents that they have the power to give their children the belief that they can face the challenges that life brings; that they have much potential. And it is often through small gestures, like the look on your face when you greet them, which can make the difference over the years.

I realize that I should be thinking about the intricacies of swaddling and the details of appropriate car seat installation, I think I am preoccupied with these ideas to distract myself from the waiting and the incoming reality of no sleep. Having this down time has clearly lead to some periods of introspection, interspersed with trips to the bathroom and continued frenzied list-making and closet organizing. Soon I will be too much in the thick of it to think of anything but Little One and sleep.

But when I think back to my childhood I can think of many occasions, and many people, whose eye lit up when I came to sit on their lap and who made me feel special. It is natural to think of wonderful things from your own childhood that you would like to recreate for your little one.

Back in February, Fearless Hero and I had just reached the second trimester and we were allowing ourselves to acknowledge and celebrate and plan for the first time. We had just had our appointment with the doctor and afterwards were heading up to San Francisco for a few days. We expected to come upon some baby boutiques or other impractical spots to pick up impractical but adorable baby things during our time in the city, which didn’t actually happen.

What I did find in a gift shop were a line of note cards that had sentiments that spoke to me somehow; I bought them without any real plan for what I was going to do with them. I had seen this line of cards before, with nature graphics and cool quotes. One had a quote by Marcus Solero that said, “A possibility was born the day you were born and it will live as long as you live.” and the other, a quote attributed to Sam Friend said, “There is in each of us so much goodness that if we could see it glow, it would light the world.”

I have since found the note card company’s website and bought a few more, including Robert Browning’s quote, “Great things are made of little things” and Helen Keller’s quote, “The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”

The cards are simply framed and in Little One’s room. The nature pictures that are on each card aren’t necessarily geared for a baby; there are no cute animals or pink bows or blue cars but trees and the stars and the wind.

They are reminders for Fearless Hero and I as parents. Reminders that the importance of the many little things we do every day will make the difference. These things are more important than what clothes we buy (though can I say that buying infant and toddler size Adidas Superstars shoes filled my heart with joy) or what products we use.

They are wishes like the fairy godmothers who came to Sleeping Beauty’s crib to bestow their blessings. Fearless Hero and I are fortunate to have a wonderful group of family and friends in our lives that have supported us these past months and who will be important in the life of our child. Little One is lucky to have many who will watch over her and who will help wish and make wonderful things happen for him.

We will keep you posted about the day when our eyes light up when Little One comes into the world.

Undiscovered Country

What is the best way to say it? If we were a car lot we would have brand new flags flying in the wind. If we were a store there would be 50% off coupons. If we were celebrities we would issue a press release. If we were a drive- thru we would give away free French fries. If we were a bakery it would be free donut day. If we were flowers we would bloom. If we were birds we would sing a new song. If we ruled the world we would institute a holiday.

Comagirl and Fearless Hero are having a baby.

Sounds like a movie title, huh?

We are overjoyed and overwhelmed in equal measure; those could be our new interchangeable blog names. It’s a balance.

Every family has their own story; ours will have some interesting chapters. The first reason that I haven’t been here at the blog is that being pregnant has taken up much of my extra energy.

The second reason is that I’ve been cheating. Yes, I’ve been doing other writing for a different audience. I’ve been writing to Little One every week. I talk to him/her all the time but I also try to write what is going on with us. Some days are just long and hard and when it gets like that you don’t talk much about it you just do it and get through it. Other days I ramble on. I want to remember the special moments that first mapped out our journey into this undiscovered country.

My subconscious has also involved in the story telling. The dreams that I have had would amaze you. And exhaust you too. I’ve read that its partly the hormones and partly my brain processing all that is going on.

It’s a lot to process and since I am the Easily Overwhelmed Girl, processing all of the changes and anticipating the changes to come has been a lot. We are trying to take it one task at a time. For example, what will our little one’s blog nickname be? (See how I can prioritize?) For the record it is Little One.

We have decided not to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl; which puts us firmly in the 10% minority of expectant parents. It’s one of biggest non-sports clichés: “As long as the baby is healthy” but it really could not be more true. My writings to Little One already contain an apology for the nicknames: Peanut, Button, Bean, Pie, Buddy, Kiddo, Sweetie, Bear.

We spent awhile focused on trying to get Little One here with us. For me there was a lot of mental discipline in not thinking too far ahead, to not take any outcome for granted. We truly didn’t know if we would ever get here. It’s taken me awhile to adjust to life as a pregnant girl mentally and physically and to start thinking about life as a mom. I fully expect and have already been proven correct in the occurrence of random freak outs, emotional tirades and thrilling moments. Now, as I think of this little life, I have the sneaking suspicion I have only begun to learn about worrying.

As a teenager and young adult I distinctly remember having conversations with my friends about what month we would want our kids born in and how far apart they would be and what names we would give and the order of boy or girl. We assumed so much was in our power, with insufficient appreciation of how complicated it all is, of how many things that have to go right. And how ultimately how little you will care about what birthstone the baby has.

I’ve spent many a morning in the waiting room of clinics and doctor’s offices with women and couples in various stages of hope. There have been some very dark days. There was jargon to learn, days to wait, sadness to feel, disappointment to experience, rules to follow, secret hopes to cherish. And lots of worry. Our life seemingly revolving around the mysterious machinations of my body, which, if you are familiar with this blog, is not exactly a recommended axis. And lots and lots of waiting. The reason we decided to start our life in California was the goal of having a family. I find myself again in undiscovered country. During the trying and now in the succeeding.

I suppose there should be a part in this posting where I outline all my pregnancy symptoms and experiences so far. It would be a comedy routine if it were someone else.

The good news is that the baby is doing fine. For whatever its deficiencies and challenges my body seems to be doing okay at producing a baby. Lots of other bodily systems are not so happy. It’s added a sense of the surreal. No one could predict how these systems would react to the most powerful substances on earth – hormones – and the changes afterwards. More undiscovered territory.

There is so much that is unknown about the whole process. Being pregnant has reinforced that while there are some lovely people in the medical field and some amazing advances, they do not possess all the answers. I have had more experiences of sitting in a room with a doctor after explaining a physical difficulty that may seriously affect the pregnancy that there is nothing they can do, they not sure what is going on, they can’t predict what will happen.

So we deal with the eating/not eating, back issues, not sleeping, headaches, heartburn, fatigue, nausea. But no migraines. And I have some company and an end goal It’s a balance.

I remember when Fearless Hero and I were making plans for our wedding(s) I made a conscious effort to not be taken into the bride consumer machine and focused on what the day really meant. I needed by circle of friends and a day for our families to come together. I didn’t need matching bridesmaid dresses or a personalized cake topper.

We are trying to do the same now. There are so many messages on how to be a good parent. And of course, what exactly to eat and how to eat it every day of your pregnancy. You will become a crazy person. If the hormones haven’t taken you there already.

I’ve been careful about what I read as to not have even more freak outs. I am conscious on what to spend my mental energy and money. I try to accept that even though I have limitations in this process that doesn’t have to prohibit a successful pregnancy. I don't take on the expectations of others. We try to ignore the messages that that what products you buy determines if you are a good parent. Wouldn’t that just be easier? Then I could have a massive bake sale to raise money to buy all the “right” stuff that will ensure a perfect child, with enough left over the buy the magazines that will tell me all the right ways to handle this perfect child.

It feels reckless to not be an expert in all pertinent areas before Little One arrives. It’s an unreasonable expectation but there it is. Do you know how many different kinds of baby thermometers there are? I’ve worked with kids all my life but it appears that to become a capable parent must become a consumer product expert, a safety expert and an organizational guru to arrange all the gear. It would help to be wealthy too. Fearless Hero has been buying more lottery tickets lately; think there is a connection? Babies R Us gives me the shakes so I have institute time limits. I was proud that on our first time I made it until we got back to the parking lot before I started crying.

Fearless Hero has become even more goofy in his happiness at becoming a dad. It’s touching to see how touched he gets over little things.

He’s got his Dad apps on his iPhone and a pile of Dad books on his table. He has conquered the mysteries of the baby transportation system and doesn’t bat an eye at the increasingly weird food habits of his wife. He’s good with the back rub and the pastry addiction. He has already gotten used to the idea of taking Little One everywhere; he’s done the research for the sling, wrap, carrier, bike trailer, stroller, car seat and rocket ship. He’s made solo trips to a baby expo and swap, bought diapers and successfully trolled Craigslist for dressers.

This is new country for sure. Fearless Hero will be busy researching car seats and strollers and day care costs. I will be busy being tired. It’s a balance.

There have been the inevitable questions and comments from coworkers, strangers, friends. For all the comments from people tinged with pity: “Oh, you will never sleep again” there have been the genuine well wishes: “Oh, you are going to have so much fun!” We’ve had so much love and support coming our way it is truly overwhelming.

We tried to bridge the miles in finding creative ways to tell our family and friends the happy news. I was home for a visit recently and had a wonderful non-shower baby shower, filled with thoughtful gifts and well wishes. And we now have a fantastic stash of hand-made customized onesies for the Little One made by everyone who was there.

I feel like I did at our weddings, that the world Fearless Hero and I have created, peopled with our amazing family and friends, is a good place to be. I can’t wait for our Little One to be a part of that. We know that the support and love from all these special people will be essential to our success in being good parents. How can we go wrong?

While I want to hang out with Little One more than anyone I will miss having her/him with me all the time. She/he has been considerate most of the time by keeping the ninja kicks to a minimum. Our childbirth classes will start in June. I suppose then I will be switching from just being happy that Little One is here with me to focusing on how he/she will get out to join the party sometime in mid-August.

For the time being, whenever I get overwhelmed, I keep in mind that Little One has to learn the entire world: red means stop, non stick coating, sunrises, power cords, pollination, left and right.

A lot of patience will be required and a constant understanding of the number and the scope of lessons we will be giving everyday. I try to be patient with myself too; balancing the need for rest and the need to do everything to be prepared.

For awhile now it’s been a different experience thinking about the future, not knowing what the coming months will bring. It’s been difficult to make plans or think of the future with so much uncertainty. We are still not sure exactly what the future will bring. In the immediate future it childbirth classes, rearranged closets, chocolate shakes, back rubs, list making, thank you notes and lots and lots of gratitude.

I am soliciting all of your wise words, product recommendations, learned lessons from the front lines of parenthood. I’ve enjoyed hearing the stories of your families over the years and hope you will continue to be a part of our family’s story. I can’t wait for you to meet Little One.

I’ve heard it said that there is no one way to be the perfect mom, but millions of ways to be a great one. I think that applies to both motherhood and fatherhood. Overjoyed and Overwhelmed here are looking forward to discovering some of them.

cu·rate: To act as curator of; organize and oversee.

Hello Excitement Gang,

I thought I would start by sharing pictures of one of my latest projects and Ebay successes. The recipe box that I had was too small to hold all my recipes so I began the hunt for something new that could hold all my favorites. I soon found out that the options were pretty limited. But I did discover a vintage drawer that looked like one of those old library card catalog drawers. It is now my new recipe box while enabling me to indulge my inner librarian.

Organizing my recipes allowed me to take stock of what I have, and to appreciate the treasure trove of recipes that I’ve discovered, collected and tried over the years. It brought back some memories from events past and afternoons spent in the kitchen. Fearless Hero has his own section as do both of my grandma’s, both of their favorites and ones from their recipe boxes that I hope to try.

There’s lots of room for yours; here is my official solicitation to send me your tried, your true, your secret heirloom recipes. I’ve got lots of room and my drawer would be honored to include yours.

Oh and speaking of heirloom, here is a pictorial update of Fearless Hero’s heirloom tomato project. He has three plants, each a different variety, growing in our front flower garden. Fearless Hero took a picture of the first offerings from them:



There are really tomatoes from his vines, not some picture I stole off the Internet (those you'll see later). We will certainly be adding some tomato recipes to my library drawer as we enjoy the bounty of his plants.

In the spirit of taking stock of what you have, I have turned my attention to other things such as my closet. I “shopped my closet” on recent weekend, rediscovering a few things, reconfiguring a few new outfits and purging what I don’t wear.

Even my appliances are getting into the act. As this topic was on my brain lately, I noticed the original sticker still on my toaster (Yes, for those of you who remember, I am once again writing about a toaster). The sticker highlights the toaster’s many great features the last one of which is: “Sits sideways or faces forward”. Yes, apparently, in a stunning difference from other toasters, you can angle this one two, yes, two, different ways on your counter.



If people had such stickers on them advertising their three main attributes, I wonder what mine would read...

I recently read an article about one of my heroes, Joe Strummer. He was the lead singer for The Clash and released several albums later with his band The Mescaleros; one of his songs from the album “Streetcore” was titled “Coma Girl” and where I stole my moniker.



The article stated that Joe (I feel like I can use the familiar first name since I have been a fan since high school and his likeness is on the t-shirt I am wearing as I write this) chose his stage name (his real name is John Mellor) Joe ’Strummer’ based on his inadequacies as a guitar player; all he could do was strum. After reading this article, I realize how fitting it is that I borrowed Comagirl from one of his songs, a title which also highlights a deficiency of mine, an easily overwhelmed girl.



The song itself details Coma Girl’s exploits with the Excitement Gang (hence the greeting in this post). My own adventures don’t involve anything that rebellious or rock ‘n’ roll and I’m definitely not a “Mona Lisa of a motorcycle gang”. My goal is to balance the outgoing, stimulating side with my boring and quiet hermit tendencies.

So, to follow a theme, I am trying to continue with appreciating what you have and where you are. I am trying to appreciate L.A. for some of the things it has to offer: unique outdoor movies, intriguing flea markets, specialty shops, cool cafes.

The Pasadena Rose Bowl Flea Market is held every second Sunday of the month on the grounds and parking lot of the stadium. It has 2,500 vendors. On our first venture, we almost came home with a Victrola. We did come home with an antique scarf pin, a pin and a purse the young Grace Kelly might have used before her screen test.





We also ventured to the smaller but equally fun Pasadena City College Flea Market. We now own the entire Green Hornet TV series on DVD (Bruce Lee as Kato kicks ass!) and the item pictured below. It is just the kind of mailbox that the Cleveland Post Office had, where we went daily to get the mail when I was growing up. The one we found is styled as a bank; not sure what we are saving up for yet.



We have also taken in a film showing put on by Cinespia. It took place at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, which is a 65 acre cemetery on Santa Monica Boulevard in Los Angeles that is the final resting place for such show business luminaries as Tyrone Power, Jayne Mansfield, Adolphe Menjou, John Huston, Peter Finch, Bugsy Siegel and Johnny and Dee Dee Ramone.

On summer weekends, crowds gather on the large Fairbanks lawn area (so named because it is adjacent to the crypts of Douglas Fairbanks Sr. and Jr.) and movies are projected on the side of Cathedral Mausoleum (which contains the crypt of Rudolph Valentino among others). The proceeds have helped revive the cemetery, which had fallen into disrepair in recent years.



As cemeteries aren’t designed for large crowds there are the expected bottlenecks and logistical problems. Blankets are set up practically on top of each other in a bid to squeeze as many people as possible on the lawn. The atmosphere is genial and slightly party-like; there is even a DJ who spins before the movie. We went with friends to see Hitchcock’s “Vertigo”. When the sun sets, it is quite dark, and almost quiet. I could actually hear the wind through the tall palm trees as Jimmy Stewart became more deeply entangled with his mystery mysterious blonde. It almost felt like I was outside of L.A. even while surrounded very closely by hundreds of Angelinos.

I also discovered a cozy café with it is almost like an oasis in the dessert. It manages the trifecta of good coffee, good bakery and good atmosphere. As a wonderful bonus Aroma Cafe is connected to a bookstore called Portrait of a Bookstore.



It is the smallest bookstore you have ever seen, independently owned and exquisitely stocked. It has room for only a few hundred books and some well chosen unique gifts. What it lacks in quantity it makes up for in the carefully chosen stock and the staff’s obvious love of a good book. You can be assured that every book on the shelves is all chosen for its quality.



I read about the café and heard some recommendations from the book buyer at the store on NPR (along with Daniel Goldin from Boswell’s, the bookstore in my old Downer Avenue neighborhood) in the same week. I took it as a sign from the Universe, who was sending me a valentine. Love you too, Universe.

If you are in the mood for some good book recommendations check out their website at www.protraitofabookstore.com or their blog, which I check regularly, at www.theotherdayatportrait.wordpress.com. You can also visit Boswell's site at www.boswell.indiebound.com or their blog www.boswellandbooks.blogspot.com.

Following my visit to Portrait of a Bookstore I saw my home and possessions in a new light, as something you need to curate. And the same goes for your thoughts and the things you chose to read and view and experience, what things you bring into your life, what things bring you pleasure, like bottles of colored sugar and tomato plants. The concept of ‘curate’ continues to intrigue me; it must be my inner librarian branching out.

That word popped up again today when Fearless Hero and I went to Royal T Café, a café, shop, and art space in Culver City. It is the first Japanese style cosplay (costume play) café. Every time you go the gallery space has a different exhibit that has been, wait for it, curated to a theme.



There was another day recently when I spent some quality time in Culver City, a day when I some unexpected time off of work. I reveled in the luxury of a whole day to myself and wanted to visit some favorite spots not too far from the El. I went to Surfa’s, which is a gourmet kitchen and restaurant supply store. You can get everything there from fancy sugars to ketchup dispensers to industrial sized whisks. I loaded up on chocolate, picked up an offset spatula and some baking ingredients I have been searching for.



Is it silly to love seeing the colored sugars on the store shelf at Surfa’s and finally buy some and search for bottles to display them in your kitchen? Perhaps. But the curator in me loves them.



I then made a stop at Essential Chocolate Desserts, my new favorite sweets place, and treated myself to one of their confections that is like a Ho-Ho but, oh, so much better. I made some other stops and didn’t get lost. I did what I felt like not what was on my calendar and was actually able to relax. And when my friend Tara came to town for a girls weekend I was able to take her and my friend Laurie for lunch and tea and then desserts in favorite spots I had discovered.

In another way to appreciate L.A. (and the miracle of DVR), I have been watching NCIS: Los Angeles. I switched to spin-off from the original NCIS because I seem to have watched all the episodes made of that show since it started in 2003. And I found that I liked watching a show where places are familiar.



It makes me giggle when I see them just rolling up to a house and there is ample parking and it takes them 15 minutes to get from Marina Del Rey to West Hollywood. Everyone’s apartment or home is spacious (stop, I can’t take it) and they never get stuck in traffic. Even the overhead shots of the freeways never show gridlock. It’s like watching cartoons with then you were a kid and Road Runner gets crushed by the anvil and you would giggle; it’s same thing because it equally ludicrous. Plus the executive story editor of the episodes is a guy named Speed Weed. I kid you not.



Wouldn’t it be cool to have a crime drama set in Milwaukee, high speed chases in the deserted Summerfest grounds during the off season, surveillance on Newberry Street, stylish dinners discussing the case in the Third Ward, breaking in on the bad guys in an old apartment in Brewer’s Hill, following a suspect through Mayfair Mall, the love interest living in a loft downtown, the safe house hidden in a residential neighborhood off of Layton, the team stopping for coffee at Alterra on Humboldt before interviewing a witness.

Despite living in L.A. for what will be almost three years (!!!) I still miss life back home. I am planning a trip home in fall and will hopefully get to spend some time with my old friend Milwaukee. Fearless Hero will be taking a break in his tomato tending this today to find me a flight.

[Breaking News Bulletin: Upon returning home from our lunch at Royal T, we saw that one of his tomato plants had fallen over! The wooden stakes he had were not enough to support it. Fearless Hero is now on his way to buy thicker and stronger wood to stake up and support the plants…We now return you to the blog posting, already in progress…]

Then I can start making a list of everything I want to do and see to make my trip a carefully curated one. I will be sure to keep up with my efforts to appreciate what I have, no matter where I am, and to remember that I, too, can sit sideways or face forward.

Love Note

In the background you can hear Fearless Hero’s sigh of disappointment. This blog entry is not about heroes or husbands. It is about mothers. Of course, it is Mother’s Day. My topic is not very original but it is long overdue. In the meantime if you see the petition to institute Husbands Day come around, sign it for him, wont you?

Did you know that I read even when I blow dry my hair in the morning? During one morning session I read an article that inspired me to write something for Mother’s Day.

The article was about the hormone oxytocin. As far as I’m concerned hormones are the most powerful stuff on earth. Well, that and tectonic plates, sugar cravings and Fearless Hero’s love for the Lakers.

Oxytocin in a nine amino acid peptide that is synthesized in hypothalamic neurons and transported down axons of the posterior pituitary for secretion into blood. Hee Hee, just kidding. Eyes glazed over yet? Don’t worry, I’m not going to be that technical.

Oxytocin is a hormone that is involved in reproduction, pair bonding and maternal behavior. It can evoke feelings of contentment, reduce anxiety, promote feelings of calmness and security. It also helps facilitate bonding between mothers and newborns. It also has been shown to promote qualities such as generosity and empathy. See, powerful stuff.

To further understand the workings and effects of oxytocin scientists have been studying its various effects on maternal behaviors. Scientists at the University of Wisconsin-Madison designed an experiment to understand how mothers can influence levels of oxytocin in their children.

What they did was put girls in a stressful situation (kinda mean, right?). Some got to get a hug from their mom afterwards (along with some ice cream, I bet) (Or, ooh, a large cinnamon roll the size of a dinner plate. Mom, remember when you took me to Big Boy the morning after that MRI? I still have dreams about the wonderfulness of that pastry). Some of the girls’ mothers weren’t there but they got to talk to their moms over the phone.

The results showed that oxytocin levels jumped almost exactly as much in girls who were comforted in person as they did in girls who’d been calmed long distance.

I could have saved those poor girls that unnecessary stress (but not the cinnamon roll. Or ooh, Mom – remember when we used to go to that little café connected to Walgreens at the Sheboygan mall and get cheesecake? We were doing that dessert waaay before the Cheesecake Factory made it fashionable). I could have told them myself that this was scientifically proven.

If only I had written down all the times when Mom has talked me off the ledge, intervened during some crisis, lent wise words to help get perspective on a problem – all over the phone – I could have provided more than enough data to those scientists to prove their theory. I could also have told them that a happy moment or funny story shared with my mom makes it happier and more fun.

She did this when I lived an hour away and she does it now when I am 2000 miles away. The topics have changed slightly but the chemical reaction is the same.
It hasn’t all been all desserts and stress. It has been support and understanding. Time and energy. Patience and kindness.

And Mom and I have fun. Whatever we do. I am lucky that my mom is also my best friend. I enjoy just hanging out with her, on adventurous outings or doing mundane tasks. There is usually lots of laughter.

Do I have the perfect way to express my gratitude and love for my mom? I am not yet that good with words. It must also be said that I can often be described by a line from a movie that I first watched with Mom. In this film, The Philadelphia Story, Katherine Hepburn as Tracy Lord states: “ I’m an unholy mess of a girl”. There it’s out there. It can’t come as a shock.

But Mom is always there for me, good days and bad. There have been some days that the oxytocin after a talk with her is the only thing between me and the fetal position in the dark. To feel understood and loved and accepted and appreciated is the savior all of us need. My understanding of, experience with and continued source of this is my mother.

A mother’s job is forever, especially when you have a messy girl like me (I wouldn’t dream of inserting here any kind of reference to my brothers and their state of messiness or need for maternal ministrations. They are both bigger than me). The job changes as the children grow, but no matter what stage in life, we will always need our moms.

I am thankful for Mom every day, even more so today on her special day. If you have met my mom you will be nodding your head in agreement right now that, yes, I am a lucky girl. If I am thoughtful to a friend, patient with a stranger, supportive to someone that I love, it is because I learned how from my mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you readers who are mothers. The gratitude of all the daughters and sons out there is boundless, even if there is only one day where we are sure to express it. My admiration for all you mothers is boundless. It is because of your sacrifices and devotion and planning and worry and million tasks of care and teaching every day. Every single day. The effect you have on your children is some of the most powerful stuff on earth.

Give your mom an extra hug today. And if you see mine soon, give her an extra one from me.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.

Special Case

Hello from the front lines of life in the El. Things here have been busy but uneventful which is an unusual state. Are you with me when I say that that it can be amazing how the usual tasks of ordinary life can leave little energy left for all those exciting blog-worthy extras? As a result, this post may even be a manageable length.

Fearless Hero and I were lucky enough to have several visits within the last few months. My friend Judi flew in for a long weekend. We did lots of girly stuff, like shop for shoes and eat cupcakes and watch all 14 hours of Grammy coverage. She will tell you that you should come out just to go to one of our favorite restaurants for their Brick Chicken. And you are welcome to come visit; our extra room has a bed and fun pillows just waiting for you.

Mom came for a long visit right after. She hung out in the El while we were working for some of the days. I took some time off of work and we got to do some adventuring, like go to the Getty Villa Museum and cool furniture shopping, and work on several projects as well. Our walls are now more stylish as is our extra bedroom. It was wonderful to have her here to just hang out - and to be able to give her a hug before going off to work for the day.

My brother Judd came for a weekend too. He and Fearless Hero went to a Laker’s game together during his stay. We did some museuming (Even though I am a girl I did appreciate our trip to the Peterson Automotive Museum) and exploring some cool places to eat. He and I got to hang out together on Monday before he took the redeye home which was a lot of fun. Having those people here helped make me feel calm and centered in a way I am not in the day to day life here.

Work and life have served up several stressful stretches leaving me searching for spiritual sustenance and soothing salve for my stressed out soul.

Stress relief through baking is one part of the Comagirl lifestyle. If I did it in direct proportion to the stress I experience it would be like a Sara Lee factory in here. And since my oven continues to lose it’s mind on a regular basis (Existential crisis? Overwork protest? Old age loss of function?) it would be difficult to actually produce edible goods.

I recently made some banana bread using a new recipe. A difficult day and a blinding headache found me in the kitchen attempting to smooth talk the oven while microwaving bananas. This two word phrase, microwaving bananas, more than anything can illustrate the lengths that I will go to try to relieve some stress and find something to eat.

I shared slices of the finished bread with a few comrades at work. I left notes hoping that it would bring them a ray of sanity (is there such a thing?). I requested that if it did raise the sanity quotient for them, to please let me know as then I would proceed to eat the entire loaf. I’m hoping that sanity through quick breads is an effective strategy. It would make a great addition to the Comagirl lifestyle. If banana bread = sanity, then pumpkin bread = ? Come on you mathematicians and bakers, here’s your chance to step up and contribute to my theory.

I had an appointment with one of my doctors recently; I was actually glad to not have to go to work that morning and battle the 405 and discuss my health instead. Now that is sick. I came armed with spreadsheets as created by Fearless Hero that tracked all my headaches and symptoms. My comments were strictly scientific and objective.

Dr. Headache told me that based on my reporting my case of migraines is moderate. Okay. Then he referred to having a migraine as “uncomfortable.” Really? I wanted to invite him over for banana bread during one of my worst episodes and defy him to use such a description. My sensitivity to and lack of successful response with any preventative medications has led him and my previous Dr. Headache to call me a "special case".

And he’s not the only doctor that has used that phrase in the past several months. I suspect other people use it too but behind my back with a healthy dose of disbelief and disdain.

On the snazzy spreadsheets that Fearless Hero made, on one of the days I notated that I was “Hit by a truck tired.” See, very scientific and objective. You all can relate to that, right? Anyone who is filling out a headache diary should be allowed a bit of latitude and as much irony as they can handle. Especially us special cases.

When Dr. Headache saw this he thought I meant in a non-ironic way. I responded no not literally, that came later though. In February I was actually hit by a car. Yep, special case.

So one night we are in Fearless Hero’s truck on our way to our friend Ken’s house. We were going to play Rock Band with the usual gang including our friend Traci who was visiting for the week. I pretty much suck at this game; my biggest contribution is that I bring cookies.

Fearless Hero was driving and we were at a stoplight. I was texting my dad about something quite important I’m sure.

A car came up behind us. The driver later stated that he hit the gas instead of the brake. The car hit us. Our truck hit the car in front of us, which in turn hit the car in front of it. A special kind of fun. We luckily weren't hurt, just sore for a few days.

The car behind us that hit us was a Mercedes. We hit a Lexus SUV. The Lexus hit a Mercedes station wagon. Needless to say Fearless Hero’s truck crumpled. I think it was a civic improvement program designed to expel the riff raff from the more affluent community that we were driving through. Riff Raff in this case = 1997 Toyota Tacoma truck. It was later pronounced totaled by our insurance company. We were fortunate that Ken lent us his truck while we were down to one vehicle.

And so Fearless Hero began his odyssey in the world of auto shopping. It was all consuming. After much research, he narrowed his search to a Subaru. After test driving and forum message posting and online shopping and salesman calling and opinion soliciting and negotiating and we finally bought a car. It’s a blue wagon. Sorry I’m a girl. For all you interested parties it is a 2005 Subaru Legacy Wagon GT Limited with all wheel drive and turbo. Back to being a girl. It has heated seats and a gigantic sunroof and it's easy to manueuver and it can go fast.


After we completed an inordinate amount of paperwork and gave a blood sample and passed the IQ test we became owners of the car. Unfortunately the dealership could not produce the requisite paperwork to prove that the car had been smogged (passed the emissions test). So we couldn’t actually take the car home. Yep, this was a special case. They gave us a loaner. Being a girl: It was silver, an Outback I think. It took us to get cupcakes and then home. If I hadn’t been so tired and so incredibly frozen (apparently they don’t heat dealership showrooms, especially after you’ve agreed to buy the car) I would have given a rant that would have rivaled Denis Leary on a good day. And the cupcakes weren’t even that good. They delivered our car on Monday to Fearless Hero’s work on a flat bed truck, much to our relief.

Fearless Hero was like a kid on Christmas morning when he first started driving it. Like the day he arrived home from work while it was raining after spending an hour on the commute and proclaimed “It’s raining! Let’s go for a drive!” I agreed after the promise of dinner and dessert to help alleviate the trauma I just suffered by a bad haircut. (I’m still recovering. My hair not so much.) Yep, special cases.

It’s great to have that task behind us and to have had success in getting the type of car he wanted for a good price. My Riff Raff = 1996 Toyota Camry. In a desperate bid for attention (Existential crisis? Overwork protest? Loss of function due to old age?) has broken down several times in the last few months.

First it was a radiator fluid leak leading to the replacement of several hoses. Twice. Whenever it leaked the bright green goo that came out in a puddle from under the car made it look like I just ran over the Wicked Witch of the West. I am now an obsessive watcher of the heat gauge on my car.

And then the other day I was getting gas at Costco and again the car was leaking. This time it was gas. We had to have the intake pipe to the gas tank replaced. Yep, special case. Fearless Hero has had to do a significant amount of heroing to rescue me from wherever I am and to get the car fixed.

My new fish is a special case too. I have another female beta fish, this one named Josie Grey. On the first day, after I got her settled in her new home, I fed her and one of the food pellets fell down amongst the stones. She is still, after over a week, trying to get down to that spot where she thinks that elusive pellet is. And I have fed her since, honestly. She’s got food and focus issues. Sort of like her owner.

As I deal with my moderate case of uncomfortable migraines (guess I should have added "sarcasm" along with latitude and irony to the list of allowable offenses for us migraine trackers) I’ve been watching a lot of TV as I am unable to read most days. This is a more disorienting factor for a reader like me than if I was dropped in the middle of the wilderness.

It’s some quality TV (Did you catch “Downton Abbey” on PBS recently? Oh, it was soo good. And “Justified” on the F/X channel? And “Fairly Legal” on USA”? And “America’s Test Kitchen”, where they make good stuff like banana bread that requires you to microwave bananas and boil down the juice [banana juice, is that accurate referral?]). And some crap (what, you were expecting me to actually admit the stuff I watch here?) I am not sure of the effects of this extended exposure.

One result of all this TV may be the adoptation of a new lifestyle rule that I recently learned while watching a promo for reruns of the show Walker Texas Ranger. It’s part of the recommended Walker Texas Ranger lifestyle: “Always kick in Slo-Mo”.


As we speak Fearless Hero is on his way to pick up the heirloom tomato plants that he selected. For his birthday I gave him a gift card from Laurel’s Heirloom Tomatoes. She does a lot of mail order business and stocks hundreds of varieties of heirloom tomatoes. I shall return to the imagery of a kid on Christmas morning. He even talked about getting up early this morning to get there as soon as Laurel’s special pick-up hours started. Inertia is strong with this one, especially on Saturday mornings, so this willingness to be an early bird is a measure of his love for the tomato. He is a man who needs a big ol’ garden someday.

Can I just say how lovely it is to be without a headache and able to think and make plans and drive to my favorite library while wearing my new WMSE t-shirt while playing some guilty pleasure music (Ok, this time I will admit the embarrassing stuff I listened to today: Billy Squier. Come on, you 80’s music lovers, can you actually tell me that you can resist “Everybody Wants You”?) and write while overhearing lots of little boy voices as they participate in the Saturday chess club and then have the energy to go to Trader Joe's and then Whole Foods to pick up some fancy tea to use with my new tea strainer and have fun dinner at home plans with Fearless Hero while he rests after all the tomato exertion (homemade pizza and the movie “The Fighter”) all while wearing my new shoes, Adidas Superstars, that prove I am not a special case but, yes, a superstar. Kickin’ it in Slo-Mo.

One Last Grandma Story

On November 28, 2010 I lost my Grandma. Viola Rose Mary Gerhard Schwoerer. People I love lost their mother, grandmother, great grandmother, aunt, friend. The world lost a lady with considerable sparkle.

Nobody in my life has so consistently greeted me with a sparkle in her eye, a smile on her face and a little clap of the hands. She lived a mile away when I was growing up; her and my grandpa’s house was my second home. Visiting grandma in her home in Cleveland, or her apartment is Sheboygan and later in the nursing home in Sheboygan Falls was part of the fabric of my life as an adult.

I will not try to summarize her nearly 97 years here. My Aunt Darlene did so with much grace and eloquence at her funeral; I couldn’t hope to do the same. I will tell you that she was married to Herb for 41 years; they raised three daughters and operated a farm for 19 years. When my grandpa died in 1978, Grandma remade her life. In the words of my mother and aunt, “She recreated herself and lived a full, new life. Her family watched and learned about living a life alone and about aging gracefully.” She crocheted and crafted with a vengeance and joined card clubs. She enjoyed simple things like watching her grandchildren play. She appreciated beautiful things, including a handsome man. She was a friend to many. My older brother Chris was special to her as he was the firstborn grandson. My younger brother Judd to her also because of when he was born. He arrived 17 days after Grandpa died. Grandma spent a lot of time with him as a baby and as a boy and due to this unique circumstance they bonded in a special way. His sweetness (and, I’m sure he’d like me to point out, his adorableness) I imagine was a balm to her grief.

My grandma could make me laugh. She would watch “Dallas” and call J.R. Ewing a “dirty pup” repeatedly throughout the episode. I have this distinct memory of being at her house one day while we were watching the soap opera Days of Our Lives. As she sat there innocently crocheting another afghan she yelled at one particularly devious character, “You whore!” I laughed so hard I feel off the davenport (that word, along with others like breezeway, copperschmidt and “Honest to Pete” and “An’ so?” seemed to become a more pronounced part of my lexicon after visits with her). Another time we were looking through old photographs and she talked about how she got “Round feet” after drinking too much; I thought I would have a cramp from laughing so hard. Her delighted laugh at my amusement made the moment memorable.

I could go on and on. Whenever I would visit her I would always come away with some comment or anecdote that I would share with my friends. These were my Grandma Stories.

Grandma herself told the story of how I walked with her when I was two years old and she was in the hospital recovering from brain surgery. She told the story of a certain Friday during Lent when she made potato pancakes and I ate more than anyone. Every year the number went up one; the last time I heard her tell the tale the total was up to 17.

I brought Fearless Hero to meet Grandma for the first time during one of his trips to Wisconsin. Shortly after our visit, she uttered a famous line: “He’s got a little bit of a tint.” It is still one of his favorite stories.

We all have our favorite story. We all have our own memories, our treasured days. I still have lots to tell her and will always miss her stories.

I figure I owe her roughly 1.2 million dollars for all the hamburgers and broasted chicken dinners and tortes and pies and bakery that we ate at diners. We spent countless hours playing cards. I always felt included, which was particularly important to a sensitive child like me. Later when I would visit her during my weekends home, she appreciated our time and enjoyed sharing stories of what was happening in her life. She never begrudged you if your visit was short and always said her goodbyes with a smile and a wave.

As a wedding present, Judd gave me an IOU for one free flight home. It is fitting that his thoughtful gift was the way that I spent my last times with Grandma. I came home for a visit in October; to see people and to spend time with her as she had recently suffered some health setbacks. I visited her every day. I got to play cards with her and help her eat and tell her the nothing stories about what was going on in my life. I listened to her and comforted her on the rough days. What a great gift to both of us.

We all know not every memory is a happy or an easy one. Just like we all know that at times our expectations of other people don’t match what they can provide to us. It is one of the hardest but most important tasks we have and one I learned from my family: appreciating people for who they are and being understanding of their limitations. I think of all that I would have missed in my life without that understanding.

Besides this valuable lesson, Mom and Aunt Darlene also taught me how to take care of people that you love. No daughters could have done a better job at making Grandma’s life richer by their time, thoughtfulness and endless compassion.

We (or maybe just me) always said that Grandma would be around for as long as Judd needed her. What a foolish thought. Her family would never not need her positive presence and her warm laugh. We all were concerned about her quality of life, her suffering. But through it all she maintained her smile. She knew us all and she was with us as so many who reach her age are not.

I will never forget hearing Judd’s voice on the phone on that Sunday night saying that our grandma was gone. I had a terrible sense of déjà vu; I lost my Grandma Adelman in the spring of 2009 and too received the news in a phone call, that one from my dad. Those moments don’t leave you.

When we lost Grandma Adelman I wrote about it and I remember asking: How many people have your picture on their wall? How many people have known you since you were born and loved you even before? How many people just love you just because? How can you ever afford to lose them?

The truth is you can’t afford it. What you are left with are the memories and the lasting effects of that person’s influence on your life. I believe that the positivity of Grandma’s spirit has been released into the world. I hope that I will recognize her sparkle, her goodness when it comes back to me in ways the Universe chooses to dole it out: a kind word from a friend, a lucky break, a shared laugh, a new connection with someone who too is generous with their time. Or a craving for pie.

In her room at the nursing home Grandma had a table filled with framed photos of her family and friends. She enjoyed looking at all the pictures and was proud to show them to the staff and visitors. Grandma would explain to them who everyone was smiling back at them from those frames. They would look at these photos while the chimes of her grandfather clock sounded. When the days got tougher, these simple things gave Grandma comfort.

Mom was just here in L.A. for a visit with us. I had several things I wanted to frame and hang in our apartment and I drafted her into helping me. We found a lovely frame for the wedding picture of Grandma and Grandpa Adelman. After she returned home she and Aunt Darlene found a gorgeous frame for Grandma and Grandpa Schwoerer’s wedding photograph. Both these pictures are now hanging in a grouping with photos from our wedding and other family pictures. It is appropriate that they are on my wall now, looking after me.

It is helpful to me to think of all the strong women, my mother, my aunts, my grandmothers, who stand behind me. How can I fail with those kinds of genes? I come from lines of strong woman, who survived difficult times and who continue to face the ups and downs of life with grace.

Grandma’s funeral was understandably difficult. It may also be clichéd to say that it was comforting to hear how she touched other peoples’ lives, hearing stories from friends and neighbors and nieces and nephews, but it was. She touched peoples’ lives in so many ways; they all have their own stories too.

I had an unexpectedly difficult time leaving her at the gravesite. All the times I have gone to visit my grandfather’s grave I never pictured the day we would gather to lay her to rest alongside him. She lived through the loss of so many loved ones; it is comforting to picture her among them again. She had her last holiday with her family. Now she is with Grandpa. Dancing. He always was a good dancer.

Several days after her funeral I was out at a local restaurant with Mom and I heard someone talking at the next table; the woman used the “and so?” at the end of her statement and I nearly burst into tears. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to eat potato pancakes. I went back to the gravesite alone during my visit home for the holidays in December. I wanted to spend some time with her. The snow was up to my knees and the day was cold. I was grateful for the quiet.

I am writing part of this in the quiet of my friend Laurie’s house as she and her family, including her parents and mother-in-law, are on vacation together. Her children are creating memories with their grandparents. I haven’t ever been in the house without them here; I was not sure what it would feel like. I am not sure how things will be without Grandma. It probably won’t be what I expect.

I recently had a birthday and despite my best attempts at avoiding it, there was a fair amount of reflection about the passing of another year. Despite my best attempts to avoid it, I was hard on myself for the things I think I should have accomplished by now. When I started down this road, I tried to remember how proud she was of her family and how in her eyes all those ways I compiled that I was not good enough were insignificant. I will need to work on maintaining this perspective when the times get rough. And when life is requiring me to adjust and change I should remember how she re-made her life and made it one rich with family and hobbies and friends and enjoyments. I can only hope that I am as brave and strong as she was when it comes to dealing with health difficulties. I can only hope that I have some of her resiliency.

This was my first birthday that I didn’t receive a card from her. In the later years her writing was shaky and that fact that she put forth such effort to sign her name always touched me. The “Grandma money” that would be tucked inside the card was always saved to be used to treat myself in some way. No matter how broke or bleak, there was always a way to buy something special.

For the last several years, I was the one sending cards to her. I used to send Grandma a card every Monday. I started this ritual when she moved into the nursing home about 5 years ago. I could relate to how a simple card from someone could brighten a day when coping with health struggles. There are not so many people that would be interested in the minutiae of my life. It became part of the fabric of my weeks as I think it became for her. When I flew back to L.A. after the funeral, one of the first things I did was throw away all the note cards that I had bought specifically for her. To see them all stacked, waiting for words that would not be written was too much for me. I still feel a little lost on Monday mornings without my ritual walk to the mailbox.

I recently developed a craving for banana cream pie. Despite my rampant sweet tooth (something which I inherited from her), this pie was never one of my favorites, and I hadn’t had it since I was a kid, probably at one of those aforementioned diners that I went to with Grandma. It was one of her favorites though. Maybe it is her way of winking at me, as the Universe does some of that doling out I talked about earlier. Some days it doesn’t feel like a wink. The process of grief has many of these moments. I am lucky to have Grandma’s box of recipes; instead of pie I will probably have to make do today with making one her other favorites to share with Laurie’s family to welcome them home.

Grandma’s beloved grandfather clock is now a part of Judd’s home. I am glad to know that that beloved sound is part of another home of special people, who will cherish it as she did. She will continue to be a presence in our lives. I will always miss the person that I was when spending time with her.

My family of friends has recently suffered the loss of some important people as well. I know I am not alone in the terrible lesson of coping and learning to live with what we cannot afford. The stories we have of those special people are ours forever and their spirit is always a part of us. Writing this last Grandma story has helped me realize that her story will always be a part of mine.

Hot Phones, Facebook, Choices, Stress and Catatonia

A confluence (Woo-hoo, starting out with a word like that, give that girl a quarter!) of several recent events and a few interesting articles have got me thinking about society and life and how we interact and how we don’t and what have we become and what does it all mean. Ok, I am exaggerating a bit but this is what happens when you blow dry your hair (Did you know that I cannot blow dry my hair without reading something? Usually it’s a current events magazine, which should explain the source of several references to follow) and the Universe plots against you.

I have a new phone, a smart phone. A Sprint Epic. I have kind of fallen in love with it. Now that I know him better and understand who he really is, our chemistry has just clicked. I am able to overlook some of his flaws and we are getting along famously.

By the way, why do I always characterize gadgets as romantic partners? First Fearless Hero’s laptop, now my phone…

Unfortunately, ours may not be the most healthy of relationships. I may have crossed over to the Dark Side.

I have recently started spending periods of down time playing on my phone instead of reading. Waiting rooms, coffee breaks, riding in the car; I have found myself reaching for my phone instead of one of the three books I usually have going.

I always gave Fearless Hero a hard time about this. In fact, just this morning I teased him for reading his phone instead of the antique construct known as the book. He replied, well, first he replied that I tease him too much. Then he said he had downloaded a book on his phone so he wasn’t reading just random websites or Lakers stats like he usually does.

Now I am doing it too, trading in my beloved antique construct for applications and the internet.

This week my smart phone and I have hit a snag in our relationship. He uses all his battery power and then won’t recharge. He becomes overheated, flashing all sorts of warnings and making strange noises. I emailed my friend Traci that I was worried as it was heating up to the point where I expected to have to run dramatically away from its dramatic explosions the blast propels me forward dramatically and I land without injury; I gaze back from my prone position dramatically at the carnage that I have just narrowly escaped.

Hey, I live in the land of Hollywood, what do you expect?

I took him to a physician (read: a Sprint technician) who diagnosed him with a malfunctioning metabolism cardiac issue (read: defective battery). New battery in place and reunited we left the store. Sadly, by that evening he had gone into organ rejection (read: battery overheating again). I am conducting triage but we will have to readmit him to the hospital on Monday.

The short few hours without him were kind of disorienting. I realized how much I had come to depend on it to jump online, manage my lists, keep track of contact info, get information, navigate the city. Oh, and call people. I vividly remember having a discussion several years ago with my brother Chris where he was expressing his incredulity that I did not yet have a cell phone. I scoffed. I cited my paycheck.

Now I still cite my paycheck but I can’t imagine not having a phone. Especially since I moved away. For obvious reasons. I love being able to send a text to my dad or brother or girlfriends to check in and share some ridiculous or stressful or funny moment. In just a few short years how I communicate with people has drastically changed. And then I up and moved to L.A. Sheesh. That’ll change things.

Fearless Hero and I recently went to see the film Social Network, about the creation of Facebook. It was a great film and thought provoking about the state of the ways we interact with each other and the internet.

There are over 500 million people on Facebook. If it were a real place it would be the world’s third largest country by population. Facebook has only been in existence for 6 years but has changed how we socialize with each other. We have invested emotionally in our profiles and comments and have become more accustomed to living so much of our life on this and other websites like it.

Some charge that Facebook has changed our social DNA, making us more accustomed to openness. But while Facebook is rich in intimate opportunities, the company is making money because you are on some level, broadcasting those moments online. Our willingness to share is essential to the continued success of this site. One of the benefits is that we can keep in touch with that acquaintance from three jobs ago. But would we have otherwise? Do we need to? Is this an improvement or a way to replace our lack of interactions with real life people around us when we are playing with our phones? Is the breadth of our friend list in contradiction to the depth of our relationships?

Technology has also changed how we develop and express opinions and make choices. There was an article recently in Time magazine about recommendation engines. It is the software used by websites such as Pandora, Netflix, Apple, and YouTube to suggest make and predictions about what media you’re going to like next. If you liked 27 Dresses you will love these movies etc.

These engines are very difficult to build as they must process astounding quantities of data and doing so with seriously high-level math. They are attempting to second-guess a mysterious perverse and profoundly human form of behavior: the personal response to a work of art. Humans make this process difficult as we produce noisy, low level data. We are inconsistent; we are not good at expressing our desires in rating form. We rate things differently after a bad day at work than we would if we were on vacation.

Collaborative filtering works on the principle that the behavior of a lot of people can be used to make educated guesses about the behavior of a single individual. It’s now computers and not human beings that are making recommendations. We are learning about new works of art not from critics and video store clerks but from software.

The next section of the article goes on to talk about the great choice epidemic. When there are too many choices it is too much for our brains to process. Recommendation engines could help manage that but at a cost: they’re designed to give us what they think we want, based on what we and other people like us have wanted in the past. They do not take us out of our comfort zone. Dating sites like Match.com and eHarmony use similar algorithms to break down human behavior into data and then look for patterns in the data to pair up humans. Since the principle is almost endlessly generalizable, the authors predict that more and more recommendation engines of all shapes and sizes are hovering up data about ourselves and feed it back to us creating a slightly childproofed stifling world like recirculated air.

Author Sheena Iyengar has recently written a book called The Art of Choosing. She proposes that when faced with such an oversupply of choices, whether it be during shopping or choosing movies, our brains are overwhelmed. She did a study about the effect of choice had on a group of 3 year olds. Half the children were permitted to play with any of the toys in the room, while the other half were told what they could play with. The assigned group played happily, the free-choice group was disengaged and listless.

It seems that the number of options, not just the options themselves, that matter. Most people can handle only about five to nine items at a time before choosing becomes exponentially more complicated, the decision becomes more cumbersome and thus you delay or unable to make a choice.

Her book further explores choice versus freedom and how much control we really have over what we choose. A blurb from her website states: “We use choice as a powerful tool to define ourselves and mold our lives, but what do we know about the wants, motivations, biases, and influences that aid or hinder our endeavors?”

While this has many applications in all aspects of our lives, my first thought when reading this was of all the websites and advertisers and mailings and causes and organizations that are vying for your attention every day, online and in the physical world.

In direct contradiction to the idea that narrowed options may make deciding easier was this latest round of elections. Meg Whitman and Jerry Brown were Californian’s top choices for governor. While I don’t necessarily want to get into a political discussion, it is safe to say I wasn’t the only one in this state asking “This is it, huh?”

We also vote for various propositions. In California, a ballot proposition is a proposed law that is submitted to the electorate for approval in a direct vote (or plebiscite) (If I didn’t just cut and paste this definition from Wikipedia, I would say that the girl should get another quarter). It may take the form of a constitutional amendment or an ordinary statute. A ballot proposition may be proposed by the State Legislature or by a petition signed by members of the public under the initiative system.

Voters are sent a guide booklet that describes the props and the pros and cons. When you sit down to read them all over you think you have a good understanding. However, the more you read the neutral explanation and then the statements from the groups for and against each one, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that everybody is lying. And what is your one vote anyway? Do politicians really care about your regular existence day to day? Like all that data that is being collected about you, it's hard not to feel manipulated.

A program on National Public Radio the day before the elections was discussing the topic of change and whether people really supported real change in government. One guest had done historical statistical analysis and discovered that the biggest changes in society as a whole were brought about by stress and severe upheaval, or tragedy. The two biggest events that caused true change were the Great Depression and the assassination of John. F. Kennedy. Does it really take a tragedy and suffering to cause real change or are we otherwise stuck in our perceptions and continue to make the same choices? Another guest on the program rebutted this sentiment, but I’m sure many of us could site events in our own lives that caused us to change and they very well may be upheavals.

Facebook and other sites like it only want your data to market to you. Politicians send you mailers to get your vote not out of any genuine desire to improve your day to day existence. We are overwhelmed with so much media vying for our attention and energy. It is difficult to make choice in this overstimulated age. While the internet and its uses have exploded, it appears we are suffering from a lack of genuine interaction.

This all sounds very stressful, doesn’t it? I was at a training Saturday for work that addressed this topic. Why the hell was I at work on a Saturday? And what, did you say this was a voluntary decision? It all will become clear in time; but first let me tell you about the tangent that got me thinking.

The workshop was an informational one for families about a topic that has caused much difficulty for parents trying to navigate the various bureaucracies. Many in attendance were expressing frustration with the lack of resources and the understanding of the importance of this issue. The presenter acknowledged the truth of these statements and stated that frustration leads to change and that it can be a motivating force. After a bit, we got back to our original topic and continued with the panel discussion, but this point got me thinking about frustration and stress.

We are all intimately acquainted with stress and the its downsides are well established. But is there an upside? Some psychologists are starting to define a phenomenon called posttraumatic growth. Stress is a cascade of chemicals which helps mobilize energy to the muscles and it primes parts of the brain temporarily improving some types of memory and fine-tuning the senses. Some stress is healthy and necessary to keep us alert and occupied; many people do their best under mild to moderate stress.

The stress response is the body’s hormonal reaction to uncertainty, or change, has evolved to help us survive. It can energize us to handle the task at hand. And long term stress can motivate us to do better at jobs we care about. It can make us more resilient. Thriving on stress is universally accepted as unhealthy. However, we all experience it differently and science has still not accounted for how individuals process stress, why what is motivating for one person is devastating to another.

So frustration and stress and can lead to being creative but could also lead to throwing temper tantrums and volunteering to go to work on a Saturday.

The hot phone issue was just one of the things that happened in the week that was significant for its high levels of frustration. So what differentiates this week from so many others (ohhh, the bitterness, the cynicism; must find a way to get that under control before people start to notice)? It just seemed like an orchestrated plan by the Universe to ramp it up day by day. Ever have one of those weeks?

Monday was a frustrating mess, on a work day that was supposed to be low-key and easy. Not so much. I nearly dropped down in a full blown tantrum, like a two year old that didn’t get the candy they wanted at the checkout at Target.

Tuesday morning I was setting off to work when the inner door handle on the passenger side of my car broke. Fearless Hero took it in to be fixed the next day. Picture me having to climb over to the passenger side to get out of the car every time I arrived at a destination. Go ahead, picture it, it will be good for a laugh. For $110 I paid for the privilege of being able to exit my car. What other things am I taking for granted?

And when I said that I was so happy to have a Big Girl Stove I spoke a bit too soon. What I really have is a Big Girl Stove with performance issues. Wednesday. Apple turnovers. In the oven. Oven stops heating. Goopy mess. Not pretty. All these appliances are in cahoots, I tell you.

I was watching an old film noir this week, Possessed with Joan Crawford, who at one point in the movie has some sort of psychotic break and is catatonic. The doctor that comes in to examine her says that it is obvious that “she is frustrated.” If that is the measure I should be in the psychopathic ward at Los Angeles Municipal Hospital like Joan on a regular basis, earning frequent flier miles for free head shrinking or a trip to the Bahamas. He went on to say that our friend Joan should “Try to rest awhile. Try not to think of anything.” Of course, I am not catatonic, but if anyone has this edict figured out and can do it on a sustained and regular basis, can you please email me with detailed instructions? Thank you.

It was also unseasonably hot last week (don’t hate, I’m not complaining). Maybe due to all the stress and lack of planning to bring food from home, I broke down and bought a scone from Starbucks. I’m not proud of this fact. But on a day when I arrived home to an internal apartment temperature of 86 degrees I turned on the stove and tried to recreate them from a recipe online. Frustration leads to desperate baking measures. I was drizzling the spiced glaze at 9:00 pm. Yes I was. Poor Fearless Hero had a mountain of dishes yet again.

So maybe it was the heat or the frustration that caused me to be slightly out of my head and to think that attending a Saturday training was a good idea. The other reason may be that getting a day off during the week in recompense was part of the deal. Yep, Friday will be a play day for this Comagirl.

Looking back, it is possible that the fact that I had the opportunity to do some fun things that made the frustration of the week seem worse; a case of “We now bring you back to your regularly scheduled life already in progress…”

I was able to go back to WI last month for a few days to visit. I got to spend time with family and friends, participate in some of the fun events during the Food and Wine experience in Kohler, and visit my incredibly resilient grandma who has been battling pneumonia among other things (Those stress scientists should study her). Despite her struggle, she gave me a few of those “Grandma moments”. She was disparagingly talking about a particular outfit she didn’t want to wear as it made her look “like I was 100!” This from a woman who is 96 years old.

I also had one of my best friends Rebecca and her husband visit us in L.A. for several days. We museumed, lunched, shopped, desserted, Remington Steeled, explored and laughed. It was great to have her here. It was so nice to, at the end of one of those stupid frustrating days, pick her up and go for dinner and hash out the gruesome events of the day drank (By the way, have you tried an espresso martini ever? You should. They are really good. I am just saying.) (There is this other drink I had last Christmas, with vanilla vodka, frosted mint syrup, and white chocolate sauce. Come over at Christmas and I will make you one).

What’s my point? (And you are hoping there is one as you have already finished your coffee and probably have several other things to do today.)

I wish I could write and say that all these realizations about society and people and connection and choice and stress has led to some great new opinions, habits, and directions and that I have learned and grown. I haven’t figured out if the upheaval of moving has caused any posttraumatic personal growth. I am still producing noisy, low level data. I haven’t ended up in any catatonic states. I am still just muddling through. As I’m sure many of you are. And sometimes that is the accomplishment in and of itself.

My perspective on life in these particular wilds has to be managed and tended to carefully, like a bank account or Fearless Hero’s incredible exploding tomato plant. Despite being surrounded by people every day I have not gotten used to the lack of genuine interaction and the physical presence of my family and friends in my day to day life. And I have not mastered the art of choosing and could use a team of scientists to help me make choices, especially when the big ones park themselves in your day and week and life and no amount of espresso martinis or escapist reading or the assistance of a high-tech phone is going to make things any easier.

I am happy to report that the day off referred to earlier was this past Friday. I baked and blogged and made lunch and read and puttered happily in my little corner of the world. It wasn’t a day to stress or figure anything out, or not to think of anything. It was just to be.

(Source material: Dan Fletcher “Friends Without Borders” Time Magazine 5/31/10; Lev Grossman “If You Liked This…” Time Magazine 6/7/10; “Sheena Iyengar: Decision-Making Guru” Body + Soul Magazine; Mary Carmichael “Who Says Stress Is Bad For You?” Newsweek Magazine 2/23/09. Special thanks to Pops for subscription facilitation.)