Yep, I'm still cruisin'

It's been so long since I've been here, that I didn't even realize my age had changed.

Yep, I'm now a 55 year old wife and mom. Still eating too much ice cream and watching way too much t.v.

Still love American Idol. Dancing with the Stars? ah, not so much.

I miss feeling inspired to write here. But who knows, maybe this little post will bring forth some inspiration.

Stay tuned. But, if I don't receive comments, I probably won't feel inspired.

(uh, that's a subtle hint...let's see who takes it)

You "can" go home again

(thanks to Hey Joe, who keeps harassing, oops, I mean encouraging me to write a new post)

This is a follow up to this post I wrote 3 years ago. In order to make sense of what I'm about to say, you should probably read it first.

Sometimes, when you least expect it...a wish comes true.

It has taken me over two months to sit down and write this. And, this is the first thing I have even been inspired to write about since my last post in March.

This past August, my brother and sister-in-law came for a visit from the east coast. My brother, who of course grew up here in L.A. with me, was on a mission to revisit every section of the city that had meaning to him. And since they were only going to be here for 3 days, we were racing against the clock.

I love L.A. (yes, me and Randy Newman) because there is no other city quite like it. There are so many diverse sections within this one city. Some beautiful and filled with opulence, while some are worn down by time and lack of care.

The first day, my mother and I met them at the airport and we were off and running. First stop, Culver City, where my dad owned a children's day camp up until he died. It was quickly replaced with an American Legion Hall back in 1967, and has stayed just that way ever since.

We continued on that first day, through Beverly Hills, Hollywood, and various parts of the "city". And at days end, my brother requested that the next day's journey be to our home in the valley. The home where my father died when I was 10. The home where absolutely everything about life would change for me.

Now, if you read my original post, you know that I have wanted to step back into that home since 1993. So when my brother announced that we'd be driving by there, I quickly gathered photos that would show us in front of the house...proof for the people living there now, that we had actually resided there.

Sunday came, and after fortifying with a nice big breakfast at Jerry's deli, off we went. We drove up to the house, parked and sat. Two cars were home in the driveway, which probably meant the people living there were as well.

We waited. What were the chances that someone would come out? And if so, what were the chances they'd welcome us in to their home?

Well, minutes went by and my sis-in-law says, "let's go knock on the door". I about fainted. How could we possibly knock on a strangers door and say "Hi, we used to live here, we are the original owners, can we come in?".

My sis-in-law was not going to give up. She suggested we go to the door, tell them who we are, and that we were going to be taking some pictures outside, and didn't want them to wonder what we were doing, should they look out the window.

And, we did just that...while my mother and brother waited in the car.

As we knocked on the door, I could feel my heart pounding and my brain flooding with memories. Thoughts swirled though my head...how would we convince these people that they should make a wish come true and let us walk through the house?

The door opened. There stood an older gentleman. We proceeded with our plan, telling who we were and how we would be taking pictures.

I came armed with my photo album and began showing him the proof.

He responded with this: "We are the 3rd owners of this home. I had heard that the first owners moved because the husband had died". My knees became weak, and in the voice of a 10 year old I blurted out: "That was my dad!!"

I quickly took a deep breath, and with all the courage I could muster, I asked if we could come in to see the house. The tears began to uncontrollably stream down my face, as I could feel the urgency to go in.

He. said. yes. of course.

This man seemed to understand the needs of the 10 year old little girl inside me...waiting to retouch what had long ago been lost.

We called to my mom and brother who were still waiting in the car, and in we went.

The same black slate entry floor. The same built in cabinet in the dining room.
The same wallpaper in the bathroom where my dad and I would look into the mirror to make funny faces together.

We made our way through the first floor.

But I knew I had one more stop to make on this journey through time...the upstairs, to my bedroom. My lavender room, where I knew everything was once whole and safe.

We climbed the stairs slowly, my heart once again beating quickly. And there it was, no longer lavender, but familiar and welcoming.

As the tears continued to pour down my face, the older gentleman went on to explain that they had been there since 1969. They raised a family of five in this house. They now had grandchildren.

We came back downstairs, where we would then meet his wife, who went on to tell us stories of neighbors who had moved away.

You could tell they were touched by our story and they knew they were participating in something important and healing.

As we thanked them and said our goodbyes, I felt complete somehow.

It was a day I won't soon forget.

It was the day my wish came true.

Dave and Me

In honor of David Letterman's marriage I figured I should post this picture. The resemblance between Dave and I is uncanny.

That's me, age 7. Quite a hairdo for a 7 year old, don't you think?

And those teeth...can you say braces?

Caddyshack...Cruisin' Style

For those of you who have followed this blog, you know that Mr. Cruisin's attempts at fixing this house have been great fodder for my writings. And so, once again I present another one of Mr. Cruisin's escapades, only this time it comes to you in his own words. Please give a big hand for my guest blogger...my old man...

Grab a beer or cup of coffee and sit back while once again, I make a complete ass of myself so that my friends can laugh at what a moron I am.

So when they did our landscaping years ago, they put a drain system in which for the life of me I don't understand why as we here in California are always in a perpetual drought.

Anyways, the back lawn has 9 drain spots where runoff water is collected and then gravity fed to the street. About once a year, I have to go around and trim the grass around them so they don't get covered up. I found 8 but the last one of course is MIA.

The typical protocol is for me to walk around with a shovel ( which my mother always told me "if you don't go to school, you better learn how to use a shovel".....so much for higher education...when you get your advanced degree, you will still be pushing a shovel...sorry to burst your bubble).

When you feel your foot fall into a small depression in the area where you think the drain was, you are probably right. For some reason, geologic forces beyond my comprehension have been in force and the area is aircraft carrier flat.

Of course, the walk area is a little compromised as my wife has switched dog foods which seems to be helping the velocity of my dog's digestive tract....enough said, you get the picture.

OK, time for plan B. Since the area is completely flat with no indication of where the drain was, we start punching holes in the area where I seem to recall the drain was.(like anyone even makes such a mental note of those things).

After about 45 minutes, the lawn looks like the last scene in Caddyshack after Bill Murray has blown up the fairways in pursuit of the gopher. Still no drains. No doubt someone has scaled my fence and stolen drain #9. I am telling you, this economic crash is having ripple effects no one even imagined.

OK, so now I am one hour into this idiotic quest. I could say screw it and quit and live with 8 drains, but a quitter I am not. It is the principle after all. Imagine where we would be as a nation if we were quittters......probably on the porch with a beer, but I digress.

OK, plan C. I saw this one in a Sylvester Stallone movie. You take a piece of fabric, wrap it around your forehead which makes you look dangerous, then you take a bayonet (or a big kitchen knife which you have to hide in your pants as if your wife sees you and asks you what in the world you are doing, you dutifully tell her, then she reminds you the dog craps out there and we carve roasts with that knife. You mumble something and run out. You also learn why it is not in your best interest to run with a knife in your pants.

So you get down and gently probe the ground with aforementioned knife at a 45 degree angle like you have seen in numerous war movies when they are looking for landmines. Of course, I have found landmines in my backyard courtesy of the dog but I hate to repeat myself.

Another 45 minutes prove fruitless. Now I am beginning to think one of my idiot friends came in and moved the drain so I could never find it. But they forget who they are dealing with. No doubt, they are perched somewhere with binoculars just laughing their collective asses off. I keep listening for the thump when they fall out of the tree they are hiding in from laughing so darn hard.

Where are we, plan D? Anyways, I grab an electrical fish tape, a small B/W camera which is 2x2" from Alllelectronics and the attendant data/power cable. I attach an led light array to the camera, tape the whole thing to the fish tape and down the drain it goes.

Of course, I have taken the small 12" tv out to the backyard with what can only be described as enough electrical extension wire to secure an aircraft carrier to a dock. Amazingly, I can see the inside of the pipe as I advance the camera. I think I could do colonoscopies!!! And with a 2" camera, some of my friend's are such big a##holes, well, let's save that for later.

12 feet later, I see the coupling which contains the missing drain. I mark the cable, pull it out, extend it on top of the grass, adjust for windage and plant my shovel. Eureka, there she is. The damn gophers must have dug a hole and covered it with dirt and the grass grew in. This is what happens when you leave the newspaper on the driveway, the gophers get it and read it thereby increasing their IQ's. But I fooled them, I canceled the paper.

So I spend the next 45 minutes replacing all the grass plugs I have dug looking for the stupid drain. I estimated my total time spent at close to 3 hours, but that's not the point, I did find the drain. Today I will measure and plot the location of my lawn drains on a plot plan of the house using GPS and a sextant.

Never give up, never quit (I think that would be more impressive in Latin)

I'm facebookin' you

Wanna freak your kids out? Get yourself a facebook account.

One of my friends told me I MUST get on facebook. Who am I to not follow the directions of a good friend?

So, I did.

What started as a place for college students to connect, has blown up into a monster of "cool connections" for every age. Even old fogies like myself.

But here's what I've noticed about Facebook.

People write little comments constantly updating you on their every move and thought.

Susie is: about to take a dump, feeling constipated.
Debbie is: in the mood for a massage...anyone willing?
Sandy is: going to watch American Idol (okay, so that one I can understand)

and on and on...

People seem to be even more addicted to this phenomenon than blogging.

It's crazy. This whole six degrees of separation is quite extraordinary. It's amazing to see how many people you can find if you just keep going through people's friends.

And yet, it's all just a little scary. The amount of detail you learn about people on Facebook sometimes falls into the category of TMI (too much information).

So, what is this phenomenon all about? Are we all so desperate to find people from our past?
Is this the only way we can connect with people?

Maybe it's comforting to know we can connect in a moment's notice in this great big world.

If you have any thoughts about this...I'd love to know.

Cruisin-mom: is off to the bathroom.......

Put another candle on my birthday cake...I'm another year old today

What's a cheap way to get people to comment on your blog? Well, remind them it's your birthday.

Yep, had to go and change my age at the top once again. When I started this thing, I was 50.

I still love ice cream. I still love t.v.

I'm much achier than I was 3 years ago. Probably not much wiser. I'm skinnier, so that's a good thing. Even with all that ice cream and sitting on the couch.

My son brought me home a quart (not a pint, that smart boy) of chocolate Haagen Dazs last night...so there goes the skinnier.

When my grandparents were this age, I thought they looked so much older. That's because they did. They were gray, and dressed matronly, and thought and spoke old.

But not me....uh uh, no gray here. No matronly clothes. Hey I even watched the final show of MTV's TRL...doesn't get much cooler than that does it?

When I look in the mirror, I'm not sure who or what I see. I don't think I see a 25 year old anymore. But I certainly don't see a 53 year old.

I am much more tired, and that scares me. I suppose it's because I work hard...my job takes alot of emotion and heart. I never imagined I'd be doing work so gratifying though, and for that I feel grateful.

I can still make my husband laugh, so I suppose that's a good thing at the age of 53.

My kids, well, I imagine that what they see when they look at me is a tired old woman.

I wonder if all kids should have a Back to the Future or Field of Dreams moment, where they get to see their parents as they were when they were young, and fun, and full of life.

Well, I think I've rambled long enough. It's time to go and get my annual birthday breakfast donut...a tradition I started on my 50th.

So, I leave you with this little story, which seemed appropriate as I reach this ripe old age of 53.

Oh, and don't forget to comment :)

A stunning senior moment
Apparently, a self-important college freshman attending a recent football game took it upon himself to explain to a senior citizen sitting next to him why it was impossible for the older generation to understand his generation.

'You grew up in a different world, actually an almost primitive one', the student said, loud enough for many of those nearby to hear. 'The young people of today grew up with television, jet planes, space travel, man walking on the moon. Our space probes have visited Mars. We have nuclear energy, ships and electric and hydrogen cars, cell phones , computers with light-speed processing...and more.'

After a brief silence, the senior citizen responded as follows: 'You're right, son. We didn't have those things when we were young........so we invented them. Now, you arrogant little snot, what are you doing for the next generation?'

The applause was amazing.....

sax appeal

Is it just me, or does anyone else notice that every song released in the 1980's had a sultry sax jump in at some point?

Can I call you Joe? Say it ain't so...

I don't care who you are voting for...this is hysterical.

Blue Eyes

Sad news today.

Paul Newman has died at the age of 83.

Gorgeous and generous.

He will be missed.

I read the news today, Oh boy!

Originally written over 2 years ago, I was inspired to re post this after reading SuperRaizy's post. The first 29 comments are from the original post...back when I was, ahem, popular.


Paul McCartney and Heather Mills agree to split.

When I was only 8 years old, something life-changing happened to me. (okay, it happened to millions of others too, but when you're 8 years old, you're pretty sure it's only happening to you).

The Beatles

Yep, that's what happened. I saw them. Well, not in-person, but as close to in-person as you could get...I saw them on Ed Sullivan.

I can still remember it. The t.v. picture was black and white. You actually had to get out of your chair to switch to the right station.

They stood there, singing to an audience of screaming fans. Girls ready to faint. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before.

And there he was...PAUL...he was the most gorgeous male person I had ever seen. How did I even comprehend that, at eight years of age? His hair was thick and dark and funny looking. (yes, in 1964 that was considered funny looking). But his eyes, oh his eyes. And his smile...he melted my little girl-sized heart.

My neighbor and I were so obsessed with Paul, that we would play a game, for hours, called "I married Paul". Can you imagine? All I wanted was to marry him. Thank goodness the Monkees came along a few years later, so Davy Jones could take my mind off him...for a little while anyway.

I was convinced Paul would find me, swoop me into his arms, and propose. I mean, why not?
Wasn't Paul looking for a little Jewish girl from the suburbs of L.A. to marry? Why, of course he was!

Until he met Linda, that is. It all went down hill from there. In 1969, he and Linda married. Female hearts around the world had been crushed and shattered. It was devastating. He even seemed happy.

How could I be so angry, at the age of 131/2, that Paul had decided to marry Linda? Wasn't I supposed to be happy for him? Afterall, he was the man I had loved faithfully for over 4 years. And when you truly love someone, aren't you supposed to be happy when they're happy?

HELL NO

I knew it was over. I had to accept it. My dream would never come true. Paul would forever be lost to me.

So I mustered all the emotional strength I could and proceeded to get on with my life. Boyfriends would come and go, but no one could tweak my heart the way Paul did.

Until the person in the picture above, at the top, came along. This was amazing...he had the same dark hair. His eyes were those "sad" eyes, just like Paul's. Something about his lips looked familiar.

This man resembled Paul. Could it be? If I could not have Paul, was I destined to have a look-alike?

As fate would have it, this was to be the case. Because the picture above, at the top, is...

Mr. Cruisin...in all his Beatle-like glory.

I had found "my Paul". Okay, so he didn't have a gazillion dollars, and wasn't one of the most famous musicians in the world, and couldn't serenade me to bed at night with "If I fell". Hey, a girl can't expect absolutely everything right?

Anyhow, I bet Paul can't swing a hammer, or turn a wrench. He probably doesn't even watch American Idol. "My Paul" can do all that and more.

Life was good. Status quo. I had accepted gracefully, that I would never be married to Paul. But how many women can say they married a look-alike of their childhood fantasy? Not many, I suppose.

Sometimes life goes on without a twist or a turn. But sometimes, everything changes.

Once again, fate would present me with a dilemma.

In 1998, Linda McCartney, beloved wife of Paul McCartney, died from breast cancer.

Feelings swirled through my body. What sad, horrible, devastating news. POOR PAUL...the love of his life, the woman he had never spent a night away from, the mother of his children...GONE.

"Hmmmmm", I thought to myself..."SHE'S GONE!"...

My head snapped. What was I thinking. Paul, the man I had loved faithfully, was in deep pain and all I could think about was the fact that Linda was gone...out of my way...

Of course, there was one tiny problem. Unlike back in 1969, I now had a husband and children, and a name in my community. How could I dump all that for Paul?

I knew that Paul was probably needing me now in his hour of grief. But I was resigned to my fate. We were not meant to be and that was that.

A few years later, Paul would meet a British model, fall in love, marry, and have a child. I suppose I was happy for him, but there would always be a longing in my heart.

Fast forward to today. I woke up, turned on my radio, and there it was...the ANNOUNCEMENT..."Paul McCartney and Heather Mills agree to split".

Oh my God, poor Paul...my heart sank. This man had found happiness once again (without me)...and was now going to lose it.

Fate has presented me with another dilemma...Paul is FREE again. What to do? I mean, Mr. Cruisin is still here...faithful all these years.

Did Paul stay faithful to me?...don't think so. Did Mr. Cruisin? Through all of life's ups, downs, twists and turns...he stayed faithful to me.

Sorry, Paul...you had your chance in 1964...and even though you're free again...

I guess you blew it.

Father/Son Bonding

I don't know about you, but when my children were small, we were always searching for new ways to "bond" with our kids.

Perhaps reading a book together, going outside for a "catch", building legos, solving a jigsaw puzzle, or riding a bike.

As they grew older, this became a little more difficult because, of course, they were more interested in spending time with friends than with mom and dad.

Of course we found this impossible to believe, why, being the cool, hip, baby-boomer parents that we are.

Now, we're lucky if we can get them to go out to dinner with us, and if they do, I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that we pay.

So, imagine my excitement when the news flashed the story last night that Ryan and Redmond O'Neal were arrested together for possession of drugs.

What a fabulous bonding activity. Maybe they'll even get to share a jail cell. Think of the hours these two could have to spend together, just shmoozing and sharing and well, simply being together.

Wow, the 21st century continues to surprise and delight me.

off track

Update: Robert Avrech, over at Seraphic Secret, was kind enough to link to this post. Thanks Robert!

It's not often that large scale death and destruction comes to your own "back yard".

But on Friday, Sept. 12th at 4:23 p.m. that's exactly what happened.

An explosion, a mushroom cloud of smoke, helicopters overhead, were the first signs that something had gone terribly wrong.

I quickly turned on the t.v. to find that a commuter train had collided with a freight train.

My brave husband, along with two other selfless neighbors, were first responders. Forgetting that the train on fire could have easily blown up, they ran in the direction of danger, doing what their hearts told them to do...

...to help save someone's child, or spouse, or sibling.

They immediately began pulling people out of the train, blocking the death, and groans and cries of people all around, in order to do what they were compelled to do.

Just regular people, who will never admit that they were heroes for a day.

I dedicate this post to:

• the ordinary people who lost their lives just simply trying to get home on a Friday evening after a long work week.
  
• the people who were injured and may have a long journey back to health.
  
• the families who will never again see the people they loved.
• the firefighters, the police, the rescue workers, the emergency room doctors and personnel, the news reporters, and the brave neighbors who all worked tirelessly to save lives.

Firefighters who had responded to the Northridge earthquake, the train disaster in Glendale, CA in 2005 killing 11 people, stated that they had never seen anything quite like this.

My husband and the others were asked to leave the scene as soon as rescue workers arrived. They came back home overwhelmed, out of breath, tears falling down their cheeks.

They came back home as ordinary heroes.

Who's your daddy?

Update: Just watched Sarah Palin's speech...She is articulate and certainly not afraid to go after Obama. She might even hold her own against Joe Biden(?) Well, these next weeks will certainly be riveting...

Is this not the most amazing time in history (aside from the appearance of the Beatles on Ed Sullivan of course) to be living through?

Who would have ever thought we'd see a black man running for president, having won the nomination from a woman to boot.

And a woman selected as the opposition's vice presidential running mate.

A black man and a woman all in one fell swoop.

What progress we have made.

Why, just 16 years ago Dan Quayle, while running as the Republican vice-presidential candidate, was quite clear that (the fictional) Murphy Brown, successful career woman earning enough wages to care for herself and her baby, was committing the heinous act of having a baby out of wedlock and planning to raise him as a single mother.

Isn't it wonderful that in just 16 short years, it has become acceptable and actually something to applaud, that a 17 year old high school student has become pregnant while unmarried?

But wait, I guess it's okay since the baby's daddy, an 18 year old self-described f-ing redneck is forcibly, 00ps, I mean willingly, going to step up to marry the young mom. You know, the guy who "doesn't want kids"...has come around. Isn't that sweet? Won't that just make for a wonderful marriage?

I think every woman should have the right to choose. I admire someone who takes a stance for pro-life or pro-choice. But it should be each individual's choice.

Did anyone consider adoption for this baby? Just sayin...

Is it better to thrust this young 17 year old into the spotlight and have her marry this redneck- not so kidloving (his thoughts, not mine)-young 18 year old who would rather be hangin' with the guys?

I know that many feel that the children and families of the candidates should be off limits. And yet, it is the candidates themselves who put these things out there. Not unlike John Edwards telling us all about family values, and well, we know how that turned out.

When politicians impose their values on us, then I think their behavior and that of their families become fair game for discussion.

I guess you could say we've come a long way since the days of Dan Quayle and that mess of a gal, Murphy Brown.

Politics makes strange bedfellows

well, I had a political post up, and then I chickened out. I could still post it, but I'm not sure I want to risk starting a fight here.

Any thoughts?

It's a mystery to me

post inspired by Wendy...

Remember the games you played when you were little?

I do.

Mouse Trap.
Monopoly.
Parcheesi.
Candy land.
Life.
Checkers.

But of all the games I played...MYSTERY DATE was the best.

Now, since I seem to be the oldest person who reads my blog, I'm probably the only one who remembers this game. So, most likely I'll be talking to myself here...but what else is new?!

Mystery Date was the answer to every little girl's dream. Since you couldn't date for real at the age of 10 or 11, the next best thing was pretending to date on a board game. Yikes, that's pathetic.

But then again, there are some advantages to dating someone in a board game. They don't talk back. They can't cheat on you. You can tell them how to dress. They aren't (eh hem) flatulenty expressive. They don't try and hog the remote. They don't leave their clothes on the floor, or the cap off the toothpaste.

Now of course, I was lucky enough to find Mr. Cruisin...a man who is none of those things I just mentioned.

He never talks back can't get a word in edge-wise.
He wouldn't cheat because he knows I wouldn't hesitate to then kill him.
This man dresses like he's just stepped out of the pages of "Car Mechanics Weekly", so no need to tell him how to dress.
Of course he never has any of those nasty bodily functions.
He knows better than to try and pry the remote from my "never cold because I'm always flashing, not so dead" hands.
His clothes neatly make their way to the laundry basket each and every night.
And that toothpaste cap? Well, his breath is made of roses, so no need to even brush.

Thank goodness for Mystery Date...it obviously taught me just how to find my dream man.

WTF

CLUNK!

That's the sound you could hear my last post make.

FLAT!

That's where my last post fell.

SURPRISED!

That's the color I turned when only 2 people responded.

What the hell? WTF?

Am I (and the 2 people who commented) the only one who had an opinion about John Edwards?

As I wrote that last post, I thought:

"Oh yeah, Cruisin-mom, you are brilliant. EVERYONE'S gonna want to comment on this one. This one will kick everyone in the gut, and bring commenters out of the woodwork".

So where are you people? No opinion? Is this subject just a hot potato?

HUH?

I'm a narcissistic scum bag (or is it scumbag)

I rarely use my blog to talk about people in the news, but this story has me hopping mad, yep that's right, I've spent the last hour hopping around my house. Well, not really, but boy, am I pissed.

And why I'm surprised, even I don't know.

John Edwards is an effing scum bag. The lowest of the low.

His wife is diagnosed with cancer, undergoing chemo, devotes herself to his career and his little children are dragged around the country. He repeatedly lies to media and everyone around him...

But sure enough, he CHEATED on his wife.

Oh big surprise...how many others have done the same. FDR, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Clinton.

But this one seems particularly repulsive.

C'mon John...your wife is dying of cancer. She has suffered the death of her son. She has devoted herself to you and your career.

C'mon, I mean, really? Seriously?

All I can say is blech, argh, yuck.

BIG

Some movies can be watched over and over.

For me, "BIG", with Tom Hanks is one of those.

It's too bad he was nominated against Dustin Hoffman that year...had he not been, maybe he would have won.

To be able to access the feelings of a 12 year old boy and act them out in the body of a 30 year old man, is no easy feat. Who else but Tom Hanks could have pulled that off? The charm, the innocence, the honesty of his performance all make it perfect.

An adult longing to return to his youth, I suppose that's not a new plot.

But Big had a twist. It began with a young boy longing to be a grown-up...who soon learns through the eyes of his best friend...that the trappings of adulthood cannot replace the sweet innocence of childhood. (of course that is supposing you had a wonderful childhood).

I guess the movie touched that cord in me. Of course, past the age of 10, life for me was no longer innocent. But I have fond memories of my childhood, nonetheless.

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. I took her to a play and dinner to celebrate, and afterward we took a drive by the house we lived in from the time I was 5 until my father died.

We sat in the car...looking at all the things that remained the same. A little brick walkway that my not-so-skilled father put in himself. A lamppost with the address hanging from it, still stands in the front yard. An awning my parents had specially made for the front window still hangs. And most surprising is the original shingle roof, that is now considered a fire hazard in Los Angeles.

I have driven past the house before, secretly hoping the owners will walk out, and invite me in.

I have dreamed of going into the house, to capture, even if for one moment, what it was like when I felt "whole" as a child.

Maybe what the movie Big does, is remind us not to forget that innocence. Not to forget the child inside. Not to forget what it's like to play, and have a best friend, and a family...

and know that nothing comes before that...

The Beat Goes On

Today is the first day of a new law here in California.

You must talk on your cell phone "hands free" or...

you get nabbed with a nice little fine. Close to a hundred bucks, is my understanding.

Thank goodness for this new law. After all, now we'll be safe.

Because...while that mom in the mini-van is turning around screaming at her kids, and that guy over there is smoking a cigarette while shaving, and that new teenage driver is applying her mascara while gazing into the rear view mirror, and that 50 something business man is downing In and Out on his way to his next meeting, and that salesman is fiddling around with (no, don't go there) a CD...

at least they won't be holding their cell phones!

So, this afternoon, I crawled into my car, put my earphone in my ear, strategically placed a bag of jelly bellies on the seat that I could easily attack, and set out for the ride home.

As I drove down the infamous 101 Ventura Freeway...I happened to look to my left.

And there it was...I thought I had seen it all in my 52 years. But, apparently I hadn't.

The guy next to me was "playing the steering wheel".

Playing the steering wheel you ask? Yep, that's what I said. He had a set of drumsticks and was drumming on the steering wheel.

And keeping a pretty good beat, I might add.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for safety...I even think it's a good idea to enforce this new cell phone law, but hey...

Seriously? Do you really think cell phones are the only problem out there?

I'm just sayin'.

NO...You come on...

LOVE THIS COMMERCIAL