california

I think my life is maybe just a Paulie Shore movie.

Hi. I have been quite absent from this blog and I have no excuse. Well, moving across 3 states over the summer. That’s an excuse. Also, I’m lazy.

As you may or may not know, I’m writing a book. I’m not sure how much I plan on talking about it yet because I don’t want to jinx it, and I’m battling that voice that is very loudly yelling at me that I’m a fraud and nobody likes me. That’s a fun demon with which to co-pilot this trainwreck. So I’m trying to overcome that voice by writing really bad blog posts. I’m sure that won’t make it all worse. Like at all.

So, a couple of months ago, I moved away from the love of my life, Los Angeles back to my hometown of Denver. It’s a bit of a lot of baggage to unpack. I went from feeling like Link (Brendan Fraser) in Encino Man where I’m the weird but super loved new guy to being Crawl (Paulie Shore) in Son-in-Law when he falls in pig poops at the farm and everyone hates him and he’s barely wearing pants. It has been a good move and my family seems to love it and it will be a great thing for our future. However, no matter how many movies, holiday-themed or not I’ve seen on this subject of moving home, I wasn’t prepared.  Sweet Home Alabama taught me nothing.

While there are a LOT of things (people) I’m glad to be away from, there is SOOOOO much more that hurts my heart to have left. Like a bunch of my favorite people. And I’m struggling to get my creativity back. I feel like I’ve fallen back into a vacuum.

Los Angeles has this reputation of being a vacuous wasteland of plastic beauty, soul-less egos, debauchery, and drugs, and gang members harassing old ladies. And while that does all exist, it is a city so rich in personality and friendships, and lost people and found people. And everyone you meet has something they want to share. And they want to support you in your nonsense and you want to support theirs. And they all hug hello. And whether sincere or not, everybody wants to be your friend and share a bottle or 7 of wine with you over gossip and dreams.

I don’t know if I’m going to find that here. People in Colorado are very polite yet reserved and no one wants none of my antics.

And I am, once again, an outsider looking in.

My oldest son came home from school the other day and says, “Kids just don’t think I’m that funny here,” and then he shrugged and went upstairs to play Fortnite.

God, kid I KNOW, RIGHT?

I sound very dramatic. I realize this. I’m going to go have a glass of wine by myself and try to get back to writing the book.

And in case you were wondering, sobbing it out on the internet didn’t shut the mean voice up at all.

And I do love living in Colorado. I’m just going to drop in weird on everybody like Mork from Ork and make them love me.

Maybe this is the same mentality I need to conjure when I’m writing.

Nanu Nanu.

Los Angeles.

“You’ll never run out of things to do in this city. Believe me,  I’ve lived here over 50 years.”

Her Classic Red lips spoke in between yellowed teeth and drags of her cigarette.  The tiny old woman with her wiry, yet styled platinum hair, dark eyebrows, fake eyelashes, sunken nose, and sage advice walked us through an empty apartment in The Valley stopping when she opened a door exposing a huge hole in the ceiling of one of the bedroom closets. The popcorn texture around the hole bled from brown to yellow.  

“Oh. That hole is being fixed next week. What brings you girls to Los Angeles? Actresses?”

This is the first time in my life that I had ever been to L.A. 

It’s been nearly 21 years to the day of this encounter, and I can confidently tell you that the David Lynch side character lady was correct. Los Angeles is massive. And magic. She didn’t tell me that, but I know that’s what she meant.

That brings us to Tree People.

I went to Tree People yesterday. It’s this amazing hiking trail in like, Beverly Hills maybe? off Coldwater Canyon and Mulholland Drive. This place is FOUR miles away from me and I didn’t even know it existed until recently. You are in the middle of seemingly nowhere and YET you can see all of the valley. It’s absolutely…peaceful. 

Except I was hiking and there were bugs around and my kids were walking real close to the edges of cliffs so there might have also been some complaining. But it was peaceful complaining. Everyone we passed was talking to their hiking buddy/on their phone about the last show they worked on and how much they loved/hated the main actor/actress/director on the show. FYI, be nicer if you’re any one of these.

This is when, maybe? my life has been changed, blessed, though I didn’t realize it at the time.  I think that I may have hiked past Lady Gaga. I’m not kidding. She was very dressed down, white tank top, dark sweats, walking a dog and I don’t even know if she has a dog. I was yelling at kids at the time.  I tried to keep my conversation going, unhickuped with Book Friend, who was also there,  because I didn’t want to stare at her or expose that I know who she was, so I can’t be 100% sure it was her, but hear me out, it was her. I searched her name on Twitter to see if she’s even in LA and she’s trending. Also, probably in LA. I’m weirded out that people on twitter know this. 

“Oh my god!”, I think, “She was spotted by TMZ while hiking with some dog! I’m part of her trend!!!” Not quite. 

Apparently, it was her birthday yesterday. I still haven’t accurately located Gaga, which is fine, but I DID find out it was her birthday so I’m forced to assume that, if not her on the trails, then she’s a witch materializing in front of people so they google her. – It’s a birthday ruse. I was visited by Gaga. 

Sadly, she was NOT hiking in Louboutin’s. If it was even her, but I’ll tell you I was upset when I googled and found out that that was a thing that I could possibly have witnessed.

So whether Gaga was in LA, hiking on her birthday or not, I was visited by her astral projection on her birthday so I’m forced to believe that Lady Gaga is of supernatural skill if I was not blessed by Gaga, herself.

I also re-fell in love with LA, as if I needed another reason. I did drive on Mulholland Drive which is always a strange drive, and I reaffirmed the truths of my probable guardian angel, Old Lady Lynch Character. Also, the Essence of Gaga came to me on her birthday.

Los Angeles is as magical and weird as the first time I stepped foot in it, creepy apartments and all. The platinum blondes have blessed me.

The Ghost and Mrs. Ferg (that’s me)

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Yesterday I was having a day. One of those days were I question everything, my writing, my sense of humor, my lack of talent, etc. as you do, but instead of spiraling down THAT hole,  I set the timer and made myself write it all out for 30 minutes. My goal was to just stop thinking and letting the thoughts grow, but releasing them into nature so they can go bug someone else, like a weed. One of those dandelion seeds. Woosh into the wind, mean thoughts.

It’s raining, it has been and the light is weird and I think it’s making me feel. The sky is too light but not sunny or blue skies. It’s just that dull white/light gray and I hate it. It feels like dusk.

And then a woman started coming through. She just started showing herself, turning on a light, her rings clanking against the emerald colored glass of the lamp. Not a real lamp, by the way, this isn’t an Official Haunting. I would be screaming a lot louder if it were, this is just a mental haunting. I can’t see her yet. I’m only getting glimpses of her like mist. Like a dream teasing you hours later with tricky flashes of memory. Like a peep show. That’s what I imagine dementia feels like.

I wrote down everything she was showing me.

I see an older house. In the foyer looking in from the door, huge staircase on the right, does it wind up? Sometimes yes, but curved only slightly. Table with phone and lamp sit against the wall underneath. Library a bit down to the left. I’ve written about this library before… There was a man in a red velvet chair last time. No, it was a burgundy chair. Smoking. Does he belong to the woman??? Does she live here? Who was that guy?? Will I be able to remember? I wrote about him when I lived in Denver. I think. Why does it matter if I remember him? Why does he want to be remembered?

This woman is coming through like a spirit. Like I’m the medium and she’s trying to tell her story and I can’t hear her properly like I’m Whoopi in Ghost when she has to yell at all the other ghosts to be quiet so she can hear Sam. Except instead of ghosts being too loud, it’s the internet. 

I’m going to try to listen to her again today. She’s probably going to be spilling all her secrets when I’m in the back of the Uber on my way to this fancy gala I have to go to in Hollywood tonight. Because of course she will. Everyone else will be drinking and laughing and dancing to “Havana” and I’ll be sitting in the corner of the party typing this woman’s entire life into my phone on 23% battery, with my clumsy, drunken fingers.

God, I don’t have anything to wear.

 

You’ve Got the Look, LA Gear

If I could get into a time machine, I would go back to 1987 and buy these in every color. 11 year old me had these and 41 year old me is so completely jealous, I want them back by any means necessary. Especially the ones that have those fancy shark-gill looking things on the sides. Except I want them new. I don’t want the “gently used” pair that Jennifer in Palmdale is selling on ebay for $400. How do you do a shake-down of the she-devil that controls fixed, linear time?

I need these shoes! Look how cute they make a foot look. If I had them, I would stand like that a lot, I bet. Toe down, heel up, side angle view. And I’d get some chunky socks that I could multi-layer up my calf, giving the illusion that my legs are in shape.

I’ve been walking around the neighborhood lately with various friends trying to find celeb homes and keep eyes out for the usual Encino gossip. We’ve been actually walking a lot and I got yelled at by my podiatrist friend because I wear my Converse All-Stars to parade the streets. Apparently these are not approved walking shoes and I’m going to ruin my arches. I hate athletic shoes. I hate them, I won’t be seen dead in them. I would rather lose my arches, I’m that serious about it. They look totally normal on other people, but when I put them on I feel grotesque and monstrous. But the 80’s knew how to style an athletic shoe. I don’t know that The LA Gear high-top shoe is actually made for actual athletics but neither am I, and they’re super cute. I can throw a Dr. Scholls in there and what’s the difference?

Where can I get a pair of these fine lookin’ shoes?? Do I know anyone that knows anyone that has a time machine or works in a shady outlet store that’s been hoarding old (NEW) LA Gear sneakers that wants to hook me up from the back of a van in a dark alley somewhere late at night?? Cheaply? Do I know any shoe designers that want to make these for me? Do I start my own brand??? HELP MEEEE.

These Boots are Made for Walkin’, or How I Plan to get my Own Category on NextDoor

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I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve become a walker. It’s ridiculous how much I have taken to it. I walk now. That’s a thing I do regularly. I had walked 5.32 miles yesterday before it was even 11 am. Out loud, that doesn’t sound like I’m living up to my original, diva-esque, Mariah Carey year plans, but in looking back over that resolutions list, I’m not actually that far off. My vision of the year probably involved a lot more champagne and foot rubs, however, as I am sorely lacking in champagne and foot rubs. I also noticed from that old post, we were just about to Supermoon.  And here we are, capping off the whole month with another Supermoon. This one yesterday was all eclipsy. I did not turn into a werewolf, sadly. I did not Thriller dance in the streets. My eyes, they did not yellow.

So fun news! I have a new, additional walking buddy, because, let’s be honest, if I’m not able to gossip and laugh while I walk, then what’s the point. I’ll look like a random hoodlum and will wind up on NextDoor under a “Suspicious Character” titled email. I mean, I might be on NextDoor anyway but I don’t need to prompt them.

Or maybe I do. Maybe I plan an elaborate prank that will last weeks that will get all the neighbors riled up and cause them to go all Hardy Boys. I’m going to tell Nurse Friend about this new plan. She’ll be thrilled.

So new walking buddy that hasn’t replaced Nurse Friend will hereby be known as Book Friend. Book Friend and I like to walk on the other side of Encino. The super rich people side. The house James Dean lived in when he died side, the Liberace Piano Pool house side, The Jackson Family Compound side. Two of those are actually in Sherman Oaks, but not the Jackson house. That’s Encino and speaking of the Jackson house, Tito has not come out and greeted me with a warm cup of tea yet, but it might happen if I wish hard enough.

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Liberace Piano Pool house

Yesterday Book Friend and I accidentally (on purpose) walked onto a live car commercial shoot. They yelled “HOT SET!” at us which I think meant, “shut up about your bad life choices and get out of the shot, pajama girl”. That was not exactly how I’d dreamed of being discovered, but we can’t all be Marilyn.

The rich people side is super nice though and we even saw one of those Little Free Library things that look like a bird mansion with books that people set up around the city. The one we came across had nice books in it like Hamlet and Jane Eyre. I’ve wanted to set one of these Little Free Libraries up around my side of the tracks but $10 says that someone would throw a Playboy and a used condom in it and then hit it with a baseball bat.

Look, my side of the Boulevard isn’t so bad. It’s real nice, actually. They have chairs out for you when you need a rest. Give me a glass of champagne and a foot rub, and it’s like, Tito and his tea, who?

That emerald toned, Lazy Boy is as, if not more lavish than any piano pool, don’t let the lure of Hollywood sway your perception.

The next time Book Friend and I walk, I’m going to pick up one of those Maps of the Stars so I can gawk and awe. Do they have a Valley edition? If they don’t, TMZ Tours better look out. They’ll have some Valley competition soon.

I’m going to get kicked out of Encino, aren’t I?

Home

I missed two blog days because my schedule is all off. When I was in Oregon, I was writing about my day at the end of the day when everything was quiet and I had pictures to add to posts and the only worry I had was if I was wearing enough socks.  Now that I’m back in California, I have dinner to make, dishes to do, children to bathe, bedtime stories to tell, and a cat that’s been waking me up at 5:00 in the morning. So when it’s time to put my 6 year old to bed, I end up falling asleep right next to him and waking up at 3 in the morning with my glasses still on my face, a full bladder, and teeth that haven’t been brushed and a full glass of wine next to me on the nightstand. I’m a disaster. And when you fall asleep at 8:30 pm, 5:00 am is EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS LATER.  I have to force myself to go back to sleep when I wake up at 3am because my body only really wants 6 hours of sleep. I’m turning into night people, but like the opposite way from when I was a cool 23 year old.

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I have no idea where this picture was stolen from originally but I stole it from a dude on tumblr who stole it first.

This year has already gone off the rails. I’ve spent the majority of 2018 not home and in someone else’s space, living someone else’s schedule. And not showering because it was too cold to be wet.

But I’m home now, I’m warm, and I’m buckling back down.

I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness or contentment or whatever that is. That place. The Calm. And I think I’ve discovered it. All of it comes down to living your own life and allowing other people to live theirs. Live and let live. Like when you were young and your heart was an open book.

It’s not healthy or peaceful to comb through everyone else’s business looking for things to be mad about. Negativity breeds negativity. It just does. New rule! Ignore it. In this great year that is The Year of Me™️**, I think this is my official tagline: Ignore and move on.  No more unsolicited advice. I’m a notorious advice giver. I wish I could shut up, but the pull of the demons in me that wants to advise others is too strong. But facts are, advice is annoying. No one wants advice, advice is the worst and it makes you want to punch the know-it-all in the mouth. I officially ignore everyone from here on out. Except in the case of NextDoor. Those people are asking for judgement.

New year, new me equals butting out of people’s business. I’ll still probably have something to say, but I will keep it to myself from here on out to the best of my abilities. I mean, still give me the gossip, I love the gossip, you know this, but I need to be done with the acting like I know everything part. I’ll still know everything, obviously, but I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.

I’m still going to blog everyday.

I’m still not going to exercise.

**is the trademark meme out? Is it too 2017? Let me know, I can’t look out of touch with the youth