Auntie Em, it's a twister! It's a twister!

I was very fortunate to get to do something yesterday that not many people get to do in this whole world! I'm pretty sure I know why I got "the call" but was surprised nonetheless.

I was invited to, and jumped at the chance, to have lunch with a very special group of women. These women are truly amazing and getting to be in their presence really made me realize (not like I've been unclear about this ever in my life) what wonderful people there are out there and through the seven degrees of Kevin Bacon (wow! there I go again with him!) I'm attached to many of them.

These women have lived lives where they balanced a career with their families (and all their kids and grandkids turned out pretty fab) and showed me (in later life for sure) that it's not all wine and roses. They all dealt with "stuff" in their lives that was thrown at them. As one of their husband's said, "Life never goes as you plan it" (I'm aware that he probably didn't write that on his own, but you know I give props to these peeps).

Who are these women? They are my fabulous Aunts of course! I have three Aunties on my Mother's side and they are superb! I, myself, am the rockin' Auntie (I come with references if you'd like) and I must have learned that from them.

They are so terrific and I got an invite to a lunch on the beach that they were having. What a total treat for me! I felt super special and was very honored to be invited. Here are some things that make them fabulous (check this list, how do your Aunties stack up?):

1. They're all sisters - no matter who or how many "married in" they are all sisters. I love that.

2. They are supportive of each other - unconditionally - that's critical

3. They love me (I mean really, how far down did you think I was going to put that?)

4. They love hearing about my successes and love me even during my failures (of which there are MANY).

5. One lives out of state and I practically have my own key to her house (not actually, but the relationship is like that)

6. All three of them are available to listen to me and for me to bounce ideas and thoughts off of them and their experience.

7. I look like them (we don't have a gene pool, we have a gene petri dish) and that is sooooo cool!

8. They understand how much I loved their Mom, my Grandmother and how much I miss her, even to this very day (oh, M'Nell, you'd be so proud of your family, sniff).

9. They're all classy and have fun and that's fun to hear about.

10. They all had some pretty crazy youths and I love hearing about them. One lived in the Haight during the summer of love and one has a story - something about a fountain and her car in college, but the secret's safe with me. The third says she was a "good girl" but I know there are secrets hiding in there somewhere....; )

Being an Auntie my own self (to relatives and to our friend's kids as well) is one of the great joys of my life. Some of the nieces and nephews are our friend's kids and some of them are related to me either by marriage or from my brother and sister (some are kids of my cousins, but "first cousin once removed" is so complicated, so Auntie Dena works). There are two that look like me and I tell you, that's the best!!! Not having had children, the first time I saw that LB's oldest looked like me, I screamed a little and a HUGE smile came over my face. Awesome.

So that's it. My family rocks and I hope yours rocks HALF as much as mine does. Also, I hope you have Aunties like me and mine. If you do, that makes you very very lucky. If you don't, I'm available. You can't have mine though.

Why darling, I'm your Auntie Mame!

D.

I never thought I'd have to give advice to protestors. Seriously, I am prepared to give advice to almost everyone - really, I'm not at a loss for an opinion. But I never predicted that I'd need to help out a group of protestors here in Los Angeles in front of the Federal Building this morning.

O.K. Pay attention, for here are some tips to effective protesting:

1. Make it really clear what you're protesting about. I mean, this feels like it should be obvious, but not for these folks. Not only could I not hear them a mile away (I drive a convertible, so there is no excuse for my not hearing them) BUT once I got close and drove through the protestors I had no idea what they were protesting. I saw one sign that said "Education". Turns out it was an immigration protest. So not clear, and so lame that it wasn't clear.

2. Get a permit. Seriously, you only annoy everyone around you. More importantly, you seriously annoy the police. I don't know about you, but I can't see any upside to irritating the police.

3. Don't put your KIDS next to where the cars drive. Really? Really? One false move and someone who is not disagreeing (or agreeing - see #1) might run them over. How is this helpful?

4. See #1 - this can not be emphasized enough.

I am a full supporter of our first amendment ("I hate Illinois Nazis" - Blues Brothers) but how was this productive? They were standing in the middle of the street. Who planned this???? One of the kids standing in the middle of the street?!? Seriously.

Also, speaking of productive. It didn't make the 5, 5:30 or 6 PM newscasts, so really how much of an impact could it have been?

Dreeeeeeaaam, Dream, Dream, Dream....

I'd really give a lot (not sure "eye teeth" a lot, but a lot) to know what the heck goes on in my brain that it delivers the dreams I get. In a post to be posted later (I've started it, but I lost steam in the middle - I guess that's postus-interruptus) I muse about my flying dream (the last one with Byonce' - really) - same dream, same location, same flight.

But these other ones, ugh, with a capital U-G-H!! What is it with the screaming? What is it with the strange locations (you know what that's like; looks like your childhood house, but doesn't exactly?) What is it with Kevin Bacon and you....

Um, sorry about that...didn't mean to share quite that much. : )

I guess I'm one of those people who hold onto all their stress inside their head and upper shoulders (and for someone who is 5'4" I have way more stress than height) and at night it all sneaks into my unconscious.

I don't need to (or care to) watch horror movies, I have a very active and creative imagination, I don't need to see how a filmmaker illustrates a Stephen King novel, I've already made "Carrie" a frightening image - though John Travolta does tempt me; not like Kevin Bacon, oh drat, I did it again!!!

Do our dreams mean anything? Do they predict the future? I simultaneously think, no way, and I hope so (In most cases I hope not, and in a few cases, I hope so).

There's no insight in this muse...just the thoughts of a post "holly-cow-what-the-heck-was-he (not Kevin Bacon...oh dang it!)-doing-in-my-dream".

Big day today for me. Send the good vibes. I feel a recipe/food post coming later.

Happy Birthday Trip Partner,

D.

Paul Simon had something with Kodachrome.

I found myself alone with some extra time at my house of growing up yesterday and subsequently found myself looking for a document (my immunization records - more later on that) that I am CERTAIN is as that house. Mom couldn't find it, but that doesn't mean it's not hiding in a crevasse somewhere taunting me.

What brought me to that house alone with time on my hands ("too much time on my hands........too much time on my hands.....") was a favor I was doing for the parental units - something having to do with a stovetop. However, if I tell you, you'll have to a) become a member of this family for which there are no current openings; leading to removing one of the members in existence, which is simply out of the question or; b) go missing for a very very long time in which you'll have to get into a very uncomfortable position for, well, frankly, forever.

But back to the house. So, when the individual handling the stovetop issue left (e.g. the repair dude) I thought that I'd just look on my own. I went to the place it SHOULD BE, my baby book.

What?

What's a baby book? Surely you jest ("I don't and don't call me Shirley" - Airplane - if you haven't seen it, you have violated the law of things you must do and you must go see it now.)? My baby book is pretty much everything about me from the minute I was born ("They named her Dena Rena? Really?" - anonymous relative comment when they read their house keeper's rendition of what I really was named...which will not be discussed - Dena is fine, or DenaRena, whichever you prefer.) until, well, about the time I was 4 or 5. What I ate (evidently, didn't like fruit at all at the beginning - didn't like sour cream - still don't), my illnesses (I noted that I had regular people colds, but one evidently was "annoying", hmmmm), when I walked, talked, etc.

They stopped around 4 or 5 because, when I was almost 3, my little brother (LB) was born. Poor guy - as it turns out, he got every single cold I brought home from pre-school which all turned into ear infections. Talk about annoying. I bet those parents were longing for my colds when LB was upset about his ears hurting.

While looking for my immunization records, I found myself looking through cabinets, drawers (no worries parents, no real snooping occurred), closets (no, parents, I didn't take home my wedding dress yet), and book cases.

While I never found my immunization records (d-r-a-t-!) I did find many many many envelopes, boxes, files, and drawers filled with pictures. Hundreds of pictures - many not in albums. I found a duplicate ("it's a duplicate", "yes, I know, a duplicate" - A Night at the Opera - Marx Brothers movie - maybe the best in existence) of my parents wedding album. This is evidently what happens, your parents pass on into the great beyond and what is to happen to their copy of your wedding album? YOU GET IT! Hoped you like the day - now you have two sets of all the same pictures. Spectacular.

I found pictures from as early as the thirties up through the last two years.

Here's my quandary - do I go through all these photos now, figure out where they go or wait until I'm forced to go through them all the while being upset that I've been left without parents? Right...it will be my job sometime.

But give this some thought, what do I do with these photos? These memories of family from the past? These family members that this generation won't even have known?

Here's what I can't do.

Throw them out.

Isn't that illegal? Can I be left to rot in jail because I let my family slip through my fingers into my trash can? Only to be carted off by a very stinky garbage truck and then dumped into a landfill where it will take eons to decompose and then it will be my fault that the ecosystem is filled with Kodachrome?

I can't handle it.

Good thing I don't have to ultimately worry about it for a long long time.

Oy, I'm already worried about an event that won't take place for hopefully three decades.

And, yes, I thought about this for hours yesterday - so much so that the thought went all the way into today.

Hmmmm, this topic will resurface in June, in Minneapolis as well. Sorry, folks, it's an invite only event and you have to be in the club "I married a, or am offspring of a (insert my mother's maiden name here)" club.

But don't worry, there will be much to talk about after that reunion, I tell you.

Don't get caught by a red light camera; very expensive,

D.

Ooooohhhh my head!

So, I've been dying to post since Friday at 2:45 AM when I began one of the most incredible experiences of my life. But my head is still spinning with that experience as well as stuff and junk that I think about when I'm at the beach.

I'm on it...really hang in there.

and that's the truth, ruth,

d.

Ragnar was a Viking...Does that make me a Viking-ette? Part I

Over Easter weekend while I was minding my own business singing at the top of my lungs along interstate 10 heading east to Phoenix, I got an email from my roommate from college (CR). "we may need a runner for the ragnar relay April 23-24th. Are you interested? It is a challenging run..."

What's important to know about my old roommate is that I think she is, by far, one of the best humans I've ever known. She and I have both struggled with what turned out to be our lives and have both come out the other side having learned what we're made of. She is kind - so very kind and someone who I think of as a role model for me. So when she called and said, "we may need a runner..." without knowing anything about it, I said yes. I could have just agreed to run up Mount Rushmore, but if she asked me to do it, I would.

So, now, I'm committed to run in this relay race. I spend the weekend asking her questions she has no answers to. She sent me the Ragnar web site for the race and I go check it out. The first thing I see is:

Run, Drive Eat. Sleep (?) Repeat.

Um, o.k.

Then I start to look at the route - almost 200 miles from Ventura (the city not the Blvd.) to Dana Point.

Let me see if I am understanding how this will work. A 12-member team will run 3 legs each (of which I would be #1!!) from Ventura to Dana Point beginning at a time to be named later (very early in the AM) and there will be approximately 12 hours between my first and second runs? Then there will be ten hours between my second and third runs? But in those time frames, I will be with my team mates where we will: a) cheer each other on; b) nap (more later on the napping); c) eat (well and not so well); and d) make our way to Dana Point?

Uh, yeah CR - no prob - I'm in.

Oh yeah - my legs are 8 miles, 8 miles and 3 miles - 19 miles in 24 hours.

O.K. sign me up.

This turned out to be one of the most wonderful events of my life. Truly. It's up there with:

* Getting my MA (a feat unto itself)

* My wedding day (currently the best day ever in my life)

* Finishing the Pacific Half Marathon

So it was amazing. Why was it amazing? It was amazing because, well I'm not sure to tell you the truth. I met 10 new people who really are good humans. In the 40 hours our car of 6 women were together, there was not one whine, not one complaint, not one sarcastic turned nose. I really liked that. There was good karma everywhere. I dug that the most (Pulp Fiction...you thought I forgot about the movie lines).

We ranged in age in our car from 23 (I sooooo want to be this young woman [YW] when I grow up) to 50 (I also want to be this woman when I grow up and that's more likely, I'll call her Coach). Everyone came with their own stories, their own experiences and their own lives. It was so cool to get to know them.

Now, I don't want you worrying...I am still snark-o-matic, but I don't remember one moment (even where I was sleeping - o.k. napping - in CR's car for 2 hours at 3 AM after eating a triple bacon lettuce & tomato sandwich an hour earlier - yeah, that was good judgement) where I was whiney or complain-y. I loved that about me.

But let's back up (I really need a new phrase)...I woke up at 2:45 AM on Friday. Let me tell you, you feel really old when you're waking up and driving somewhere to be productive at the time you used to be coming home after a long night of no real production...but lots of debauchery - whatever your definition of that is).

O.K. I do have one complaint about the event.

THER ARE NO MORE 24-HOUR STARBUCKS!!!

I finally need one and where is it? NO WHERE TO BE FOUND!

That's it.

I know I could have stopped at the Sev (7-11), but really, I do have my standards.

Got to CR's house at 4 AM where we loaded up and headed north to Ventura.

To me, Ventura is a place you drive through en route to somewhere else. Say, Los Olivos, or Santa Barbara, or Northern California the long way or Cambria. Not somewhere you stop to run in the dark.

But we made it - and I made it to the start line with about 2 minutes to spare (a long story about franticly getting me ready with the proper reflective equipment)

Yep, that's me - ready to rock and roll the first leg of Ragnar 2010. I am certainly "reflective" as my sister in law (SIL) said. I was the lucky runner that got to run with all the safety equipment

What you can't see is the red butt light that I have clipped to my pants - it gave me the opportunity to say "Switch me on" (Ghostbusters). Now how often in life do you get to do that? Not many I tell you.

And we're off....I meet a woman named Sarah (she'll probably never read this and I don't even know her last name) and she and I ran the whole 8 miles together. It was great...Not only was it great to have someone with me who knew the area (I would have gotten lost for sure - not fabulous signage Ragnar peeps!) but who also ran my pace and could talk while running our 10 minute mile pace!

The one request I made before I ran my first leg, was after my first run, could we go directly to Starbucks. My team said, sure....we went, I coffeed, I saw CR run by the Starbucks and we headed off to meet her at the end of her run.

When we made it to the end of my 8 miles and I handed the slap bracelet off to CR, I felt a real sense of accomplishment and that's when I knew this was going to be awesome.

This Ragnar debrief is going to be super long. So I'll stop here and pick it up soon.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,

d.

Chuck is the accessory.

Today was a really cool day. To begin, I went out to run and it began to rain on me. So, I walked back into the house changed out of my running clothes, showered and looked out the window to find it...

not raining.

Nothing. No drops no extra water on the chairs in the garden.

So, I felt kinda stupid for not hanging out for a bit outside before giving up. Ah well - there's always Wednesday. Only, blech...at the gym.

But that meant that Aha and I got to spend the day together. We went out and did what we love to do; hang out at the mall.

Not like I did with a friend from my childhood (who by the way, continues to be my friend to this very day, but we hang out at the mall much much less and not for the same reasons) - where finding new boys was the chief objective of the mall (oddly enough, Converse High Tops played a role then too).

Aha and I like to window shop and hold hands. We're kinda pathetic. We're 30 years early for the old people shuffling through the mall, but we love it.

We had lunch at Ruby's - yummie - burgers (he with no bun and in a salad - me with a bun and fries.

Then we headed over to the mall next door (yep - that's LA for you malls next door to malls. Love it.) to wander.

We had some Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, wandered a bit and found ourselves heading for Nordstrom's. As it turns out, I forgot that I had a $75 gift card from a recent birthday (and by recent, I think I mean 2 years in July) and what a great time to get a gift for myself!

Note: I'm not particularly fond of clothes shopping. Particularly when I'm not employed on a full time basis (as I am now). It's not that I don't look good in clothes, I do (now), but I really cringe at the thought of spending $60 on a MINI skirt made of COTTON (albeit pretty) but still COTTON and thin cotton to boot. I am what I fondly refer to as a kamikaze shopper. I get in, I get what I need and I get out - no one gets hurt and I get what I need.

So here we are wandering about the mall and we find ourselves in Nordstrom's and more specifically, in the Junior's department.

Another note: I lost quite a bit of weight in the last 18 months and have kept it off. I am pretty happy about this (I did it well - very healthy) and getting to shop in the Jr. section (formally known as Brass Plum for those in the over 40 sect) still gives me a kick.

So, there we are...wandering about a section where things are sooooo teeny tiny...soooo gathered and so short! We merge into the shoe section and find the absolutely most fabulous shoes.

Yet another note. When I was 15, I got my first pair of Chuck Taylor's - Converse High Tops and they were RED! I loved them. I took them to Israel when I was 16. When I was 18 I wore my red Chucks to my first(ish) breakfast as a freshman in college. This was a very expensive private college and suffice it to say, I was at the poverty end of the cash-ola scale. So, everyone looked wonderful at breakfast, all made up, dressed well and coiffed to the hilt.

I showed up in jeans, a sweatshirt, probably a baseball hat and my red Chucks.

I made a friend that day in 1986. She and I are friends to this day. We attended each other's weddings - FB brought us back together - still close and I love her dearly. She knows me in a way no one else does. She was around for a lot of "firsts" and downsides. We've started to help each other with issues that arise as an adult ways now, but it's the same us with new issues. Love her. And best of all? I know she loves me too. Kewl.

Anyway...I'm a Chuck Taylor fan from way back. The problem is that Converse High Tops have zero redeeming value with the exception of how they look. So when I saw these Chucks - I about fell over.

They screamed, "try me on! come on, you know you want to!!" I looked at them and thought, "wow, those are cool". Having that gift card helped the process along because they cost far less than Aha and I thought they would. So I played the I'll-try-it-on-if.... game:

I'll try it on if:

* they have my size (always the first)

* I can come up with something to wear it with

You then move to the flow chart of shopping:

I'll try it on if they have my size ==> I'll walk around in them to see if they feel 0k (I'm a runner and shoe comfort is KEY) ==> Now I need something to wear with them.

Here is where it gets interesting.

I have the shoes on (which took an act of teamwork and a lot of loosening of laces (there are zippers along the back), patience and a shoe horn and now decide I am going to walk over to the Junior department (nee: Brass Plum) and see if I can find something to wear with them. I'm thinking long shorts and/or a denim shirt.

I walk over to the cash registers - wearing the shoes with my jeans folded up to my knees so see the shoes - and wait my turn. But what happens is that when a 40-something stands there wearing x-tra high top Converse is that a hush falls over the area. Young women in line with their moms turn and stare without staring and then look away and kibbutz with each other.

And don't tell me that's not true - my mom and I wrote the book on the "look and kibbutz!"

So I'm standing there, waiting patiently, and a lovely young woman, Tia, looks over and says with a ton of energy (as I would have), "I have been looking at getting those! Aren't they great?"

"Yep," I said, "I love Chucks, but I need help from you finding something to wear with them". "O.K." she says and we're off.

"I'm thinking skinny jeans..." she says.

"I was thinking of maybe shorts or a denim skirt." I say.

"O.K, I have a denim skirt right over here" she says.

So, we head over to denim skirt land. Now, I'm thinking a denim shirt comes to just above my knee or a little shorter. She had a definition that was decidedly different. She showed me a denim skirt that was 6" from the top of the skirt to the bottom.

"Oh, um, o.k." I said. How about some shorts?

We turn around and find "long" shorts:

"Um, o.k." I said and off to the dressing room I go.

Well.....

Never even bothered with the skirt. I mean...please.

Tried the shorts - here's the issue - the issue was 4" of my skin between where the shorts stopped and the shoes began. I looked bizarre.

"Hmmm...what do you think?" I asked Tia.

"Um....hmmmm. I don't know" she said.

"Oh I know what you do here" her partner in crime said. "You wear really tall socks and it covers the space."

"Yeah, no. I'll look like I belong in a Dr. Seuess story" I said.

"How about skinny jeans?" Tia said. "I can really see skinny jeans with that."

"O.K." I said. and Tia bounces off to get my 'skinny jeans'.

For those of you 40+ you will recognize 'skinny jeans' as those jeans where one of three things has occurred:

1. Your Mom spent serious coin and bought you Guess? jeans that zipped at the bottom and made them 'skinny' around the bottom of your leg. (I sooooo wanted these. I prayed my cousin got them because I got her hand-me-downs. I didn't care what was in style when I got her stuff...life was going to be perfect.)

2. You folded the bottom of your jean over tight against your calf and used safety pins to secure them thus creating the 'skinny' look.

3. No safety pins, you pulled them 'skinny' and you folded them into themselves that way. (Least effective in my opinion - the fold could come out and that would annoy me all day.

Well, these skinny jeans are sure skinny - all over. I got into the jeans in a size in regular people that I wear. My legs lost their blood flow pretty quickly, but the waist was o.k. So, I tried on the next size up. Too big a waist, but legs better.

So, what was I able to do? I bought a pair of shoes that Aha says look good and I don't look stupid wearing them. I got a new pair of pants that came from THE JUNIOR SECTION! Best of all, I got to wear them to girl's night and show my friends.

Me and my skinny jeans - I guess Tia was right when she said nothing should compete with the shoes - the shoes are the accessory. I think that's advice for life. The Chuck Taylor's are the accessory.

Ladies & Gentlemen take my advice; pull down your pants and slide on the ice,

D.