me likey

I'm going to the Samuel Toe lecture tonight. Then I'm passing out. I've been up since 4 am for no good reason. I can vaguely remember when I used to stay up 'til 4 am for lots of good, albeit bad, reasons. Now I'm just one of those people who randomly get up at the crack of dawn and wander around. I did write a little. And attempt to read. And watched a truly heinous movie on cable. And walked the dog. And drank coffee. So that was productive...like 80 million hours ago.
If you miss the lecture (which you shouldn't), SFR is podcasting them on our website. So check it out yo.
OK, gonna drive home and liste to some more of Kanye West's new album. I don't care what that article says, I ain't listening to Reba Macintyre. Sheesh.

random thoughts

1. I never knew that Native Americans' feet were different than other people's feet. I also would not have imagined a story about such would spark more than 50 comments.
2. It is really bothering me that I am being phished by people using my actual local bank as their scam.
3. Domenici's ratings continue to slide but, more importantly, that is a really bad picture of him. Also, Heath has some nice analysis of this, and Richardson continues to insist he's not interested in running for the Senate. (Didn't he used to insist he wasn't running for president?)
4.If I didn't know better, I'd think Mr. Terrell is trying to get my goat..
5. Is "get my goat" an actual expression? I just said it outloud and it sounded kind of crazy.
6. I miss the beach.
7. Stories like this one depress the shit out of me. Why would someone bite their child?
8. I like this new advice column on global warming that Slate is rolling out. I almost think we should do something like that.
9. If you're not sick of reading/hearing about Ahmadinejad's visit, this Slate piece is pretty good.
10. I think I'm going home now.

gore's next move

Wow, Christopher Hitchens has just about convinced me that Gore really will run for president.

Warning: Vacation pictures ahead

The boy's impressive, albeit very odd, sandcastle.

A room with a view. An ocean view.

The hotel had a great pool, where one could sit and have drinks. Correction: Could sit, have drinks and smoke. Yes, folks, we had to go to LA to have a cocktail and a smoke at the same time. They even had ashtrays on all the tables out there.

My sister and her boyfriend took us to a great sushi restaurant in east LA.

And, although it rained one day we were there (apparently it never rains in Santa Monica in September, except while we were there), we did get lots of nice beach time on Friday.
And now I'm back at work. A little tanner and very envious of those who live on the beach. My new fantasy: A $4 million home along the boardwalk in Venice. The pricetag isn't my fantasy, that's about what it costs to live there.

We are on the beach

And it's pretty darn nice. Ps I'm sending this from my phone so I'm not
really on the internet

counting down

As of 5:30 today (or whenever I get out of here), I'm on a three-day hiatus. The salient features of this hiatus will be: lots of beach time (a) and no Internet (b). Before that can happen, though, I have a shitload of work, I am fighting a headcold and, out of the blue, the cute boy for whom I became a vegetarian is on a motorcycle tour across the US, is in SF for the first time, and he and I are getting together tonight. We figured, via phone, we haven't seen one another in at least 20 years, if not 25. Apparently, though, he, like myself, is under the illusion that he looks exactly the same.
My boy, upon hearing this news, said he was not jealous, although, he pointed out, "this guy did have a huge impact on your diet."
It's been a super hectic week or two, and I'm way too beat and headachey to recount it, although one highlight was attending Sarah, of Hollis Wake's wedding last weekend (Sarah also is an SFR alum, and a wonderful and talented person, and I think she and Micah make a great couple). I attended the wedding as the pseudo/platonic date of my old pal Mikey Baker, with whom I slowdanced to a cover of Crowded Houses's "Don't Dream It's Over" as performed by Amazing Larry, so it was kind of like attending my own prom. It was actually a beautiful wedding and a fun time.
But not as fun as lying on the beach with my guy for uninterrupted hours is going to be. Vaya con dios y'all. I'll be back with my report on Monday, Sept. 24.

my big fat to-do list

Laundry
Shopping (coffee, half and half, dish detergent, laundry detergent)
get pedicure
find something to wear to wedding on Sunday
attend wedding on Sunday
go to bank
pack
pack the boy
have dinner with friends visiting from Scotland (one of whom introduced me & the boy)
edit this week's cover story
Edit this week's paper
edit next week's cover story
talk on phone internationally to oldest friend
talk on phone to ex-husband/house-sitter/dog sitter

Jeez, that's totally doable in five days. What am I stressing about?

another tuesday

So it's Tuesday morning and I am, once again, trying to write 7 days. Sometimes, to entertain myself, I calculate how many sarcastic comments I've made over the last decade since I created 7 Days. I have written almost every single one, so that adds up to, well, lots of sarcastic comments.
Six years ago, 9.11 fell on a Tuesday. We basically had to throw out the whole paper and replace it, on deadline, with information responding to what was happening. It was one of the few weeks I didn't write 7 Days, since it didn't seem appropriate. Then Graydon Carter announced that, as a result of 9.11, irony was dead, and I kind of thought I was screwed. (Although to this day I'm not entirely sure of the relationship of irony to sarcasm. Is it symbiotic? Can one exist without another?). Anyway, I think Carter was wrong and irony continues to live on, it's positively flourishing. And here we are, six years later, on deadline on 9.11 and I hope that it's a quiet day. I watched a little news this morning, but I could only take so much. Despite the travesties of our government over the last six years, and a war I believe we shouldn't be fighting, and the twisting of 9.11 in order to pillage our civil liberties, there's no taking away from the sadness, the truly heartbreaking sadness, of that day. And I am thinking about the lives lost and the survivors and all of us. Which makes it hard to write 7 Days...but the show must go on.

and so it is

Well, here we are at Monday after a quiet weekend (by choice). I spent most of the weekend not doing things I had sort of thought I might do, but secretly knew I wouldn't. For example: I was invited to a party on Saturday that was billed in such a way as to sound exceedingly sporty (bring a racquet, yada yada yada). I basically knew I wasn't going to attend (bring an ashtray!), but I humored myself otherwise. The boy and I finally saw The Simpsons (not as funny as I wanted it to be), had a fancy dinner ("The elk is divine," the boy said, which is when it struck me that my punkrock Pittsburgh guy has been Santafeized, possibly beyond repair). I also daydreamed about the beach. The boy finally bought a bathing suit, and didn't fight me when I went into his closet and picked out the clothes he should bring on the trip. I am not normally quite so controlling (ha. hahahaha!). But I have an unbroken track record of air travel without security hassles, and most of the boy's t-shirts have extremely long anarcist statements on them. I mean, apparently the government can tell us how to dress now, so you can't be too careful. Also, the boy is so messy that I can only imagine security going through his luggage and not letting us board because all of his clothes are wadded into little dirty balls. At any rate, I'm obviously being kind of pyscho, but he said I could pack for him if I wanted. Because I have this great system that involves not just a baggie for liquids, but different sized baggies for everything! (I may be the only person around who is consciously trying to catch OCD).
Anyway, our trip is still a week and a half away, but that's like 10 minutes in real time, with a shitload of things to do between now and then (too many actually).
Guess I'll go do some of them.

so what actually burned?

Really enjoyed Kate Nash's podcast on Zozobra.

a wrinkle in time

Madeleine L'Engle died.. Wrinkle in Time was one of the first books I really LOVED as a child. And then I went on to read, I believe, every single thing she ever wrote. Multiple times. Some years back, I read a New Yorker profile of her, somewhat reluctantly as I considered my love of L'engle's work one of those things I'd prefer to not have disrupted by one of those disillusioning pieces of journalism. Anyway, as suspected, the article revealed L'Engle, whose work was filled with lots of imagination, compassion etc., to have a personal life akin to the more extreme borderline personalities I've known. But at least she wrote some great books in between making everyone in her life miserable. Goodbye Madeleine L'Engle. Thank you!

ps: And yet JD Salinger lives on. What is he? 107?

best zozobra ever

I had so much fun collecting glooms, helping people, kids and then, the best! I got to actually stuff the glooms IN Zozobra (to be candid, I got to stuff them in along with a handful of six-year-old boys. It's important to have a peer group). People mostly just wrote stuff down, although some people brought documents (one guy brought his marriage license), more than one person brought ashes. It was such a fun night. And the burn was amazing.
Here's some video from Channel 7, which interviewed me and others.
(Photos courtesy of Patricia Sauthoff)

Counting down

This box is stuffed!

Our gloom box

Live from ft marcy, trisha @ our gloom box
--juliagoldberg

five hours until the burn

I've made my feelings about Zozobra well known along the years. I'm heading over there at 4 pm to deliver the glooms to be burned (SFR collects people's glooms each year, a task that grows increasingly onerous. (Is that how that's spelled?). Someone dropped off an entire bag earlier!
But I did have a fresh ephiphany about Zozobra today: It's the only time I go somewhere not wearing heels (except the gym). Oh my god: so profound!
Que Viva! See ya there.

kind of makes you wonder

How it is that I can't take shampoo on a plane, except in three ounce measurement, but somehow the government can "accidentally" fly nuclear warheads across the country. It's amazing anyone can ever sleep at night. And by anyone, I do not mean me. Up since 4:30 am thanks to Nero, who seems to have insomnia. Seriously, I let him out at 430, expecting to watch him race down to the yard, and all he did was lie down on the porch and sleep there. It's like, look, wake me up to avoid an accident, don't wake me up 'cuz you need some fresh air.

give it away

I like the idea of giving away a possession a day for a year. Although I somehow doubt I have 365 things that anyone else would want. Still, an interesting thought to mull over. I've actually been cleaning my office and it's almost reasonable at this point. Almost.

bbback

A Tuesday (deadline day) following a long weekend is always disconcerting, particularly when one has made a concerted effort to not work and stay away from the office. It's like, "hello 3,000 pieces of spam." Not to mention just trying to get back to things. But so far, so good, knock on formica.
The weekend was pretty damn chill. Lots of dog walks and soaking up the last of the pool time sunshine (D's pool closes today for the summer. Wah!). I did not clean my house, despite my best intentions. I played the piano slightly fanatically, to the point that the dog now has a particular pained expression I think of as, "oh god, not that again." I read the entire New York Times on Sunday, which I hardly ever get to do. Would have read the entire New Yorker, but it's their damn double food issue, in which I'm not very interested. About which? I don't care about their food issue.
This week comes Zozobra, to which I am very dedicated. With one caveat: If it rains like last year, I will not go. I have barely recovered from how soaked I was last year. It was pretty crazy. Other than that, I'm there.
And now, back to TTTTuesday.

Overheard yesterday at the boy's house.

The boy: Tells me long, ridiculous plot to horror movie he's rented (boy is horror film fanatic). It's a sequel, asks me if I saw the first one.
Me: No, obviously I did not. Have you noticed that we have nothing in common?
The boy: We're both extremely good looking. (Pauses). For our age.