Here's to Happy Women...

I recently ca me across a cata log my husband had set aside rather than toss in the recycle bin with the thousands of other catalogs that arrive this time of year. I was intrigued with this catalog on two counts. One reason was that my husband, who throws everything away, actually saved it—and the other reason was the tag line prominently printed in big block letters on the front cover. It said, “STUFF GUYS WANT.” What woman could resist such a direct challenge? Not me. I sat down and started perusing the pages of this catalog in hopes of finding out what kind of stuff guys really want. After all, this could be my chance to find the perfect gift for my husband this year. Boy was I surprised. If this catalog is true to its word, and its pages accurately reflect stuff guys really want, then my husband is sure to be disappointed come Christmas morning. After digesting this “stuff” for a while, I decided to make a Christmas list of my own—of all the stuff my husband apparently wants

I’ve got a secret. I ’ve kept it for many years, but it’s time to fess up. No, it’s not an earth-shattering secret. It’s just something about me that I’ve kept hidden for several years. I’ve recently decided that in order to move on I must share this secret. Get it out in the open. I need to “own” it, as Oprah would say. Perhaps people not from Southern California won’t care about my secret. The locals probably won’t care either. The point is that I care and in the interest of clearing my conscious and recognizing that my secret doesn’t necessarily make me a bad person, I’m going to “out” myself. I have many quirks. I’m a bit claustrophobic and I don’t like confined or crowded spaces. I always need to sit so that I can see the door…even if it means turning my back on a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. Not my secret. I am a native Californian, and no, that’s not my secret, either, but I’m getting close. Let’s stay with the Californian theme, because it’s warm and getting warmer—a

Why is it that some people, armed with only partial information or information from unreliable sources, assume they are knowledgeable enough to weigh in as experts on specific subje cts? It goes right along with getting unasked for, unnecessary and uninformed advice…especially in the up close and personal department. This is a pet peeve of mine. It also hits my husband’s radar. It’s as if these people are judging us and finding fault with how we live our lives. Perhaps they think we have a problem because we don’t conform to their lifestyle...or maybe they weigh in for other more altruistic reasons. Either way, I think it’s best to keep these opinions to ourselves, unless someone asks for our advice. I say, “Ask not, want not.” I am reminded of the well-known and arguably incorrect phrase, “Mother knows best.” I say “incorrect” because no one person, mother or not, can know what’s best 100 percent of the time—not for themselves, for their children or for their extended family and f

I can’t tell you how many times in the last few months I’ve heard someone say, “Life is a hig hway.” Well, if life is indeed a highway, then some people need to drive a little better. Scratch that. They need to drive a lot better. I’m tired of the road hogs, the tailgaters, the speed demons, the oblivious (to everything but their world) drivers, and the honkers. I’m especially tired of the honkers. Am I talking about real drivers here or will this be another metaphorical column with ducks and trash? Since I’m currently perturbed with many of the drivers in my neck of the woods and a few people in general, you be the judge. Read between the lines or drive between them. Both work for me. Let’s start wit h the road hogs. A road hog is someone who thinks that he or she personally owns the road. They seem as if they’re not paying attention as they hog the road. In actuality, they just won’t make eye contact with other drivers. To do so would be to concede something. What they’re conced

(This article was originally posted November of 2005. I know that some of you have already read it, but I know that many of you have not. I wish you all a wonderful, safe and delicious Thanksgiving. And now, I am off to Hollywoodland to enjoy the view and my brother's hospitality...and yes, I am bringing the dessert!) W hy is it that the invitations we don’t get can be as agonizing as the on es we do receive? We’ve all experienced the pain of not getting an invitation. Like the Christmas party that all of your friends were invited to, but not you. How about the time when several of your friends got together for a movie—without calling you? This always h urts, so we put on a good show and say that we were busy and wouldn’t have been able to go anyway—even if we weren’t and we could have. Sometimes not being invited is due to miscommunication. Someone was supposed to call, but forgot. Perhaps the invitation was truly lost in the mail. Other times, you just weren’t invited. As hurtf

Recently I was thinking about the similarities between people and food. We’re all familiar with the famous saying, “You are what you eat.” I brought this up with some of my chicas and we had a great time putting some interesting cuisine in front of our friends’ faces, including our own not so innocent little mugs. We decided to plan a menu for a friendly dinner party. We didn’t base our bill of fare on the food we eat on a regular basis. It was personalities and other little quirks that set our table with an eclectic variety of chow. We started with a snack...and a friend that always has a dilemma in her life. Nothing on her plate i s ever easy. She’s invariably stuck in the middle of something difficult or controversial. Perhaps it’s stealing a bit from the late, great Erma Bombeck, but we decided unanimously that this chica is a bowl of cherries…complete with all the pits. Once pitted, she’s smart and funny, but getting there is a challenge for even the most experienced chefs. But