Sugarbread

Wondering Whether To Continue

2008-01-08T13:32:00.000-08:00

Right now, I'm scouring through my old blog posts to look for something to submit to the book Learning to Eat. There must be something somewhere in here that could stand as a proposal, at the very least.

I'm feeling very hopeless and overwhelmed lately. We moved to our new apartment, and thus have spent a great deal of money. Now we are feeling the pinch very strongly. But soon my Latina check will come and all will be better.

I'm also just tired and achey. But I'm sure you didn't come here to hear me kvetch and complain.

I don't think Sugarbread should continue. I know I've said this before. But now I really mean it. It started when I first became pregnant with Plum. And now she will turn one year old the day after tomorrow. So this is probably a fitting time and place to end this account of our journey with Plum. The food. The fights. The poverty and the riches. The revelations. All of that is moving into another phase, as we get settled in our two bedroom apartment, across the hall from our old one.

I don't know what to say anymore. I am posting all of my professional writing and clips at serenakim.com. Things that pertain to my career. I am thinking of starting a blog with my sisters to record the food that we eat. And I need to focus more on that novel, which I'm very motivated to do now. So I am uninspired by Sugarbread. If you see that when you come here in the next few months and I have not updated, then you will know what happened. I am fine. Plum is fine. Sugarman is fine. We are just evolving to the next iteration of the family.

Peace and blessings.

Hear Myself Think

2007-12-26T20:33:00.000-08:00

This is the bibimbap that Mirena and I made for the L.A. Times feature. She composed it, styled it, and photographed it. It's very much her style. She even MADE the ceramic pot. And come to think of it, I think she also made the linen napkin it's on. I wouldn't be surprised if she made the Mission style wood table, too! She's a very good potter and a true artist.

It's a Wednesday evening and Sugarman is out. He's at an RF meeting in Venice. RF is an esteemed graffiti crew based out on the Westside. He and some graf heads are piecing in black books. One of the things that I admire the most about Suge is his graffiti status. I know that might seem trifling, but I think of graffiti as a true artform. And I like it even more that gallery art because it's done on the streets. And that seems more like the point of art, somehow.

Plum, the daughter of a graffiti writer, is sleeping in her crib. She had a bath tonight. Ate some spinach and potatoes. Had a warm bottle of formula. And changed into her jammies. Now she is sleeping very deeply as the humidifier keeps our room moist, because it tends to get very dry here in Los Angeles.

The wind is howling tonight. The Santa Ana's are gusting from the north and the west. It really sounds like hurricane speed winds. The metal fence that divides our carport keeps clanging violently, and I worry that it will wake Plum. I can also hear the crunchy brown leaves scraping the cement in our courtyard. And there are sirens every hour or so. Some dry Christmas trees must be burning somewhere.

I've been so busy, this is the first moment that I feel like I've caught up with myself and I can hear myself think. Inevitably, I'm starting to think about what next year will bring. I want to be more particular about which assignments I accept and stick to what it is that I want to pitch for the coming year. I don't want to feel like every single day I'm just scrambling to get caught up with myself over pointless stories that don't pay well and don't help me in anyway. Then when I stop and look at the mirror I'll be an eighty year old hack that never wrote anything significant. I don't want that, see. So I have to devise a strategy for revising the novel.

Today, I woke up feeling fatigued. I got Plum ready for daycare and then collapsed into a nap. I feel like a narcoleptic. I take a nap in the mid morning. I take a nap in the afternoon. Every chance I get I'm either taking a nap or drinking coffee trying to fight off the fatigue. Then I always wake up in the middle of the night at like 2 or 3 and stress about stuff. Like last night I stressed about a very large check that Mirena wrote me for Christmas. I wondered if it would be appropriate to accept it. She said that it signified that she supported my book, she supported my writing, and the way I am living. That means soooo much to me, because a lot of my therapy is about trying to validate the choices I'm making: the man I married, the place we live, the work I do. I am thankful.

When I finally got up from my mid-morning nap, I walked a mile to my friend Stacie's house. Stacie is my writer friend. She is kind of like my role model, because she has been a freelancer for a very long time and is the same age as Mirena. She's very spiritual and calm and accepting. She lives in a charming bungalow in West Hollywood. And I have been caring for her two dogs, two cats, dozens of fish, and scores of houseplants while she visits her mother-in-law's house in the Bay Area. I've bonded a lot with her two dogs. At first they weren't sure if they could trust me, and now I can tell they like me. They kiss me and they enjoy our walks together. I feel bad that I can't spend more time with them. I want to sleep in the same bed with them, but I have my own dog to sleep with. On Christmas, I thought about taking them and Nigel to my mother-in-law's house, but I think it wouldn't have been appropriate for all parties involved, including Stacie's dogs. But they are very good and gentle dogs.

I came back from the dogs' house at around 2 PM and Suge and I proceeded to clean the house. We did a really thorough cleaning and then we went and had Singaporean food at the Third Street Farmer's Market. Suge talked about how living in New York for five years really cured him of his social anxieties. "It was like boot camp," he said. We drank mango drinks and headed back home, which was now a really nice place to be.

I burned a Christmas candle and talked to my friend Rebecca on the phone, while Suge played Playstation 3 with his older brother. Then before I knew it, it was time to go back to Stacie's house to walk the dogs again and make sure everything was in order. I'm sure that when I go back there tomorrow morning there will be many upturned pots and the cushions will probably have blown off all of her patio furniture. Last time I went after a windy night, the window in the living room had opened and toppled the floor lamp, so it's a very good thing that I go frequently.

Then I picked up Plum from daycare. The Armenian lady with the red hair and the garish taste in clothing reported that Plum had taken two or three independent steps. We've seen it, too, but not two or three. Maybe one or two. So that was exciting news. Plum wore these little pink Uggs that Elaine had given her for Christmas to daycare today for the first time. They are absolutely adorable on her. Now she might be able to retire her Misfit high tops that she had been wearing. They are cute, but very punk. I guess that's not a bad thing.

Then I stopped at Dolores's house to pick up a handmade rag doll that she had made for Plum. I can't believe how pretty it is and that she made it. I almost don't want Plum to play with it. I want to treasure it forever as a family heirloom. I'll try to take a picture of it for you guys.

After I got Plum to sleep, I got to making some baby food. I roasted a butternut squash and then blended it with some roasted chicken breast and froze it into cubes. Now I'm making a chicken broth with the carcass, some leeks, celery heart, and roasted carrots. I'm sure this broth will come in handy.

Goodness, it's almost 9 now. I need to go to sleep. Too bad. I wanted to be productive tonight and work on my Latina edits and my L.A. Times edits. I wanted to revise more of my novel. But I'm always so tired. I'm grateful for the time alone. I don't feel needy. I need to decompress. I'm really drained from Christmas. But I guess it did make me feel very loved.

Early Christmas Eve

2007-12-24T04:52:00.000-08:00

(Plum, 11 mos., one morning in the winter before going to daycare. We play quietly and watch Sesame Street.)

It's nearly 5 AM, and I am up. I'm worried about wrapping presents in time. I just tried to print a whole bunch of Plum photos for my family but failed miserably. I get very confused by the pixels and image size. Every photo I printed was either overexposed or blurry or all digitized looking. I also have to marinate a whole bunch of bulgogi for our Christmas dinner tomorrow at Mirena's house. Elaine and her family is out of town. I don't know where she is. We haven't been in touch much. We aren't mad at each other, but maybe I'm still a little upset. I don't know.

Outside, it's not very cold. Maybe about 50 degrees. The air is very still. A lot of crunchy leaves are on the sidewalk and walkways in the courtyard of our apartment. The Grove, which is like 50 yards away, is finally quiet and closed up for the night. Between our apartment and the Grove is a dark and scary alley where homeless people wander and urinate. Sometimes I can hear their ravings. But not now. It's silent. The Grove is the most crowded, most popular, most hectic, most annoying shopping area in L.A. But it was good for us, because we went without a car. Most of the hassle of Christmas shopping is the traffic, I think.

To the west of my apartment is a quiet residential area, alternately called the Fairfax District or Crescent Heights. It's made up of a lot of modest 2 and 3 bedroom bungalows. But because property values are so high here, the houses are worth millions of dollars and totally unattainable for us. We do get to walk by them and my dog takes crasp on the grass that lines the sidewalks. The landscaping is so nice. The variety of plant life is mind-boggling. There's bottleneck azaleas, aloe vera cacti, roses, birds of paradise, palms and hedges of all sizes and statures. You can hear crickets and see hummingbirds. There are lizards that live in the bushes around here. Many snails, slugs, earthworms. No roaches. Yet you never see anyone gardening except for Latin American men wearing dust masks and wielding lawn mowers and leaf blowers. All the lawns around here are perfectly green everyday of the year.

Suge, Plum, and Nigel are all sleeping. I hope that when I finish blogging I can return to my bed and fall asleep. I'm all keyed up because I drank so much coffee at Stacie's house when I was caring for her creatures and revising my novel.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! (I hear Plum coughing. She is sick again. Yet again!)

I Stole This Photo

2007-12-22T16:42:00.000-08:00

From the Sartorialist blog because it's so damn cool.

Christmas Makes Me Sick

2007-12-22T09:58:00.000-08:00

At last, a moment of peace. Let me take a moment to rage at all the things that REALLY PISS ME OFF RIGHT NOW.

1. What the fuck is up with the CIA destroying those interrogation tapes? I know the White House has more to do with this obstruction of justice than they are letting on. I say we bring the executive branch to trial and make them pay for their war crimes. This is much, much, much worse than Clinton's dalliances with a cigar and an intern. And they made him go through hell and back for that. This is like Watergate and Bush should be IMPEACHED.

2. It makes me heartsick to hear about the despair at Guantanamo Bay. I heard that somebody tried to kill themself using their own fingernail. Can you imagine how much you have to be suffering to get to that point? It reminds me of an animal that is caught in a bear trap and has to bite its own leg off to break free.

3. Babies dying in Lesotho. I read a huge article about it in the L.A. Times. They said that six babies have to share one respirator in a roach filled maternity ward in Africa. So far the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation has done a lot to save people's lives. Their money goes to fighting AIDS and malaria, but because of bureaucratic red tape, more common problems aren't addressed, like 35 dollar breathing tubes or cleaning supplies for the hospital. So a lot of babies die of diarrhea and infections. It makes me sick, sick, sick. When is Africa going to get it together?

Okay, that's not nearly enough raging for all the injustices of the world, but alas, I am done.

This morning I felt very anxious. I woke up feeling terribly lonely and desperate, which is weird because for months I have felt incredibly strong and resilient. Hopefully, it's just the holidays and the quiet that comes after a whirlwind of deadlines and writing.

I have written a lot of articles in the past couple weeks. But the story that has caused me the most happiness and unhappiness is the bibimbap feature for the L.A. Times. It turned into a much bigger physical task than I imagined, because unless you eat bibimbap regularly, it's a lot of manual labor. In fact, Mirena and I spent two days making all of the side dishes that are a part of bibimbap. I would honestly say that it took more work than making a whole Thanksgiving dinner. If all goes well, then the L.A. Times food section should be running the story this coming Wednesday.

The other really big news is that on New Year's Day, January 1, our little family will be moving to a two bedroom across the hall. We are switching with the tenant who currently lives there. The cost of moving in is quite a bit, so I am worried about having enough money to get Christmas presents for everybody. Basically, nobody is getting Christmas presents or cards except my sisters' children, not even my own daughter, I am sad to say. They are the only ones who probably really care anyway. I feel very Grinch-like, but I hope to make up for it next year when hopefully I have more money. But we need a bigger apartment very urgently, and it can't be helped. I'm sorry.

Anyway, sometimes Christmas makes me sick.

Marian Barragan is Cool

2007-12-17T11:09:00.000-08:00

My beautiful friend Marian Barragan dropped by for breakfast one morning a few weeks ago (sorry about the blurriness). She is the photo editor of Complex magazine and she was in town for a photo shoot. We worked together and supported each other during our years at Vibe. When I left I bequeathed my office plant to her. Then when I was pregnant, Marian IM'ed me and said that it sprouted a new green leaf after a long period of dormancy, even before I told her that I was pregnant. So now we think that Marian and Plum have some kind of spiritual connection... Or she's just really good with plants. Here she's hanging out with my little sprout, who's clutching her favorite magazine Frank 151, the ital issue.

Suge in front of our ghetto ass play pen. It's funny how a play pen can instantly make the most stylish home seem all tacky and low budget. But Suge still looks fine in his white Helmut Lang jeans.

Marian is eating the actual bread that I baked from hand in front of our beloved little Christmas tree. And heaven and nature sing!

Simple Crusty Bread

2007-12-14T02:30:00.000-08:00

Homemade bread early last week. It's been my dream to make it and now here it is in all it's blurry glory. Suge said it was the est bread he's ever had. And my heart swelled with pride. It was very crusty like a Blue Ribbon peasant boule, but I would have preferred a lighter inside. I found a very easy recipe from the New York Times. You can even store the risen dough in your fridge for up to two weeks. I've got a little bit left that I'm going to use for making a pepperoni pizza.

I'm delirious because I just filed a Mary J. Blige review for the Washington Post. I don't know if it was any good. But at least it's done now and I can move on to the next insane deadline. I feel like I'm fighting for my life over here. Also my sister Mirena has a career crisis which called for some intervention.

Trying to post more pictures now. OMG it's 3:15 in the morning!!!

(emphatic) YAWN.

Joy to the World!

2007-12-12T05:36:00.000-08:00

It's 5:30 in the morning. The sun is not up yet, but I am writing from the light of our small Christmas tree. It's about 4 feet tall and covered in colorful lights and fragile glass ornaments. Throughout the years, Dolores has given us keepsake ornaments that mark the passage of time. There's one for Nigel; there's one for me and Suge in 2005. Last year, Suge bought a few pony ornaments that now fascinate Plum (who celebrated Christmas from inside my womb last year). I am so proud of this tree. For the first time, it looks like a Christmas tree that belongs to a real family.

I am so happy lately I feel like I'm going to burst out of my skin. Is this what self-esteem feels like? Is this what it means to feel "joy to the world?" I've made so much progress in my therapy. Now I understand the point of it.

I haven't been blogging much because I've been working my ass off to try and make enough money as a freelancer. That means being very disciplined about writing and meeting deadlines everyday, while at the same time hustling up new work. It's not a bad life, especially when I can still make fabulous meals at 4PM (yeah I'm back to that again). And I can make homemade baby food from organic produce. Or Suge and I can just spend a nice afternoon together. But all this professional writing tends to take the steam out of creative writing. So my book continues to languish in a state of paralyzed revision.

I've got really great assignments this week. I'm covering a couple designers for Latina, I've got a big album review for the Washington Post and another big one the Los Angeles Times. Of course I have an insanely low paying one for the KoreAm Journal, but writing for them brings me a lot of gratification, so that's enough for me.

Sorry if being so happy makes boring reading. I hope that my joy doesn't turn me into a boring person.

We like Ethiopian food!

2007-12-04T16:24:00.000-08:00

Dang, I can't find the picture of her actually eating the Ethiopian food. Anyway, she liked it. We all did. Especially the chicken tibbs. We've been eating out a lot so as not to argue about me making pointlessly elaborate meals. It really seems like Plum enjoys going to restaurants.

Bubba Gump Shrimp

2007-12-04T16:22:00.000-08:00

We tried to make the most of our botched aquarium day by drowning our sorrows in shrimp at the Bubba Gump Shrimp restaurant.

My baby, Plum, almost 11 months old.

Miserable Day at the Pacific Aquarium

2007-12-04T15:47:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, I demanded to go to the Pacific Aquarium. We drove for 45 minutes to Long Beach and then realized we left the stroller at home. So we decided to carry Plum raw dog, but when I realized that tickets were 21.50 per person, we decided that it might be better if we came back some other time with the stroller.

Plum felt awful. She coughed, sneezed, and rattled the whole time we were there.

We took pictures next to the interactive fountain thingy and tried not to fight about the stroller.

Chilly Willies

2007-12-04T15:43:00.000-08:00

Monkey see, monkey do. Are you guys all sick of seeing this sofa yet?

It was blessedly cold for a few days. This is Plum going to day care. She is using Maro's old car seat.

Korean Barbecue

2007-12-04T15:37:00.000-08:00

I am full from eating kim chee jigae, which is like a burbling kim chee stew with a little pork and tofu floating in it. Cham Sut Gol does it really well.

Sugarman ordered one portion of bulgogi, Korean barbecue rib eye steak, but it was so much, we shared it. Basically, there's a hot charcoal grill right on the table. The waitress brings out thin slices of marinated steak. Once it's cooked, we wrap it in these silky rice wrappers and add a dollop of salty, spicy bean paste. Good way to get your veggies!

A Free Ipod for Nigel

2007-11-30T11:45:00.001-08:00

It's a glorious rainy day in Los Angeles. I'm keeping myself busy trolling the Sartorialist's blog, which I live for. I can't believe how amazing it is. And all it is is pictures of well-dressed people. Fancy that. Lots of bowties and ankle boots and rakishly tied ascots.

I love the rain, but Nigel doesn't care too much for it. When we went outside, he tried so hard to run back in, but I dragged him by the leash and made him do an entire lap around the block, until he relieved himself. But it seemed like he got used to it by the time we looped around. And he started to look more alive. The only thing I don't like about rainy days is the possibility that I will confront an earthworm.

Today Suge and I have made plans to treat ourselves to a nice Korean lunch. We haven't had vegetables in so long, it feels like we might get scurvy. Maybe that will inspire my lead for the food essay. I was totally looking forward to it, but now that I have the time, my motivation kind of evaporated.

My husband has been quietly at work at his computer all day long, but when I asked him what he was doing, he said he was creating an online identity for Nigel!!!! Now the dog is getting offered electronics and holiday greetings by online marketers. Oh brother.

This weekend, I plan on seeing Elaine and meeting her friend's baby who is only one month younger than Plum. The child's name is Rogan. Maybe I'll have pictures. Maybe I won't.

A really nice gray light is coming into my window by my desk and bathing my anemic spider plant with its gentle luminosity. It's very quiet in here today and it smells faintly of toasted English muffins.

A Brief List of Joyful Things Today

2007-11-28T10:55:00.000-08:00

1. First Meals by Annabel Karmel: Suge bought me this book from my favorite bookstore, Cook's Library. I'm so enjoying looking at the colorful pictures and getting ideas to cook for my baby.

2. The Heater: It was cold last night, but now the heater has warmed up our entire apartment.

3. The possibility of writing a creative essay about food tomorrow.

4. Edits on my Latina feature, which I know will only make it better.

5. A crisp and refreshing fall day, which is all too rare in L.A.

6. Nigel's stinky feet and face. Love that lil guy.

7. How happy my plants are on the sideboard by the window.

8. Good friends to IM with and talk to on the phone. Even though they are far away, they feel very close.

9. Tons of food in the fridge to eat when we get hungry.

10. A husband who is so nurturing and willing to grow with me. He takes care of Plum, takes her to the doctor, feeds her, walks Nigel, helps out around the house, and is always willing to lend an ear when times get tough for his girl from way back in the day.

11. Plum's humorous smile. (This is definitely not in any particular order.)

redemption

2007-11-26T06:59:00.001-08:00

According to the American Heritage Dictionary:

1. The act of redeeming or the condition of having been redeemed. 2. Recovery of something pawned or mortgaged. 3. The payment of an obligation, as a government's payment of the value of its bonds. 4. Deliverance upon payment of ransom; rescue. 5. Christianity Salvation from sin through Jesus's sacrifice.

Whatever!

Pre-Filing Meltdown Narrowly Averted

2007-11-26T02:37:00.000-08:00

Thanks to sheer will and large doses of caffeine, I managed to file my Dania Ramirez cover story for Latina. Of course, I feel like I didn't knock it out the park. But I am grateful that I didn't completely meltdown and fail to deliver on the story. The pressure was on, but in some ways, it's good to have work, because it takes your mind off of the despair.

Of course now, I'm looking at hours of anxious, caffeine-fueled wakefulness, until the baby wakes up at dawn and needs me to prepare her ba-ba.

It's too early to start looking for answers. Maybe all of this is just the result of random acts of stupidity. Maybe there is meaning behind all this. I just don't want to waste my life in unhappiness. I need to find redemption (what does that mean?) and love myself, at least for Plum.

Tomorrow what will I do? Wait for Latina to get back to me with questions on my holey first draft. I will take a few walks with Nigel. Plum will return to daycare after four fun-filled days at home with Ma and Pa and lots of extended family. I will cook the ready made food that we got at Trader Joe's. I will brush my teeth. I will finally wash my hair. I will check my email compulsively for signs of life.

I will commit the Associated Press Stylebook and Libel Manual to memory. Maybe it will help to make flash cards. That way when they summon me again, I will be ready.

Live and Let Live

2007-11-24T21:12:00.000-08:00

Plum's crew. These are the Russian and Armenian ladies that care for Plum during the day in Hollywood.

These are some of Nigel's many friends: Bella and Daisy.

Echo and Elaine cruise by to visit us girls.

Sometimes we torture Nigel by forcing him to wear Plum's clothes.

A usual day at the Sanico house.

The Technicolor Dreamcoat

2007-11-24T21:10:00.001-08:00

The Unhappy No-Thanksgiving

2007-11-23T09:56:00.000-08:00

My Mom was by far the most supportive and coolest person about the whole thing. She said that she still loved me and that she was not ashamed of me. That gave me a lot of strength. The worst part about this was not me losing the job, but the sense that I had failed my family.

Like, I had failed Plum a steady income so she could have the things she needed. I know my Dad was so proud of me, he probably told his friends and colleagues about my job. Now he would have to explain to them that it wasn't so. Mainly I felt like I was letting a lot of people down. Mirena called me and said that it sounded like I was dealing with it well.

But really, I was trying to make sense of the whole weed thing. I was trying to come to terms with my own culpability. I started to ask myself some really hard questions about my weed use, where my life was going, if it was worth it. But I also felt really indignant, because in all my years as an adult, I've smoked weed. Straight up. I graduated in three years with honors in my major, high everyday. I wrote everything high all the time. I used to smoke MJ with my bosses at Vibe regularly. It never seemed wrong to me; it was pretty much my M.O.

For me to admit to the fact that weed wasn't good for my life was to undo everything I believed in. I always thought of myself somewhat like a Rastafarian, who believes in the good of marijuana spiritually, physically, and politically. But now all of that was thrown into turmoil.

I've emerged from all that soul searching with the decision to quit smoking once and for all. And you know what it's not that difficult because there are ZERO withdrawal symptoms. All you have to do is say it's over. Quitting cigarettes is about a thousand times harder.

Anyway, day two: It's the day before Thanksgiving and I am seriously depressed, people. But I found strength thanks to my friends. Rebecca, Todd, Julee, who were so supportive. Rebecca stayed on the phone with me all day and helped me sort through my myriad conflicting feelings.

Finally I felt strong enough to get ready to go to Whole Foods and pick up the turkey and the fixings. It was my responsibility this year to make the turkey, stuffing, and gravy. I was looking at the New Basics Cookbook to put together my shopping list when the phone rang.

It was Elaine. "I'm at Bristol Farms picking up the kale and the brussel sprouts, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's it," I said, "Oh, I know you don't like this but, in case I have a nervous breakdown sometime between now and tomorrow, is it okay if we use storebought gravy?"

"Oh yeah, that's no problem." Then out of nowhere she goes, "Rick reminded me that if the authorities find out that you smoke marijuana, they could take away Plum."

I was stunned again! I couldn't believe she could say something so cruel. All motivation to cook turkey or be around her or her stupid husband completely left my body. To make a long story short, we screamed at each other on and off all night. I was hysterical, screaming, heaving, and hiccuping. We kept hanging up on each other. It was ugly.

Okay, so I'll admit that the first time I told Elaine about losing the job, I said that I wasn't going to quit smoking no matter what (that's when I was on the rebellious part of my spectrum of human emotion; also rebellion is something that Elaine provokes in me). And she was frankly alarmed. And the core of all this is that she loves me and was mad that I had screwed something good up for myself. But I just wished that she could have been nice about it and maybe known that I was mature enough to ultimately come up with the right conclusion for myself. And her yelling at me just made me want to smoke a big, fat bowl. HAHAHA! But don't worry. I didn't.

Among the things she said: "You're a mom now. It's not cute. It's not responsible." Yeah, yeah, yeah. Elaine has always been the parent that I never had. And it's not a fun job, but somebody has to do it.

I decided not to make the turkey, not to go to her house, and to just drop out of society. Suge called his family and they were informed that there was to be no Thanksgiving at the Seireeni house. Dolores quickly made alternate plans and we celebrated Thanksgiving at the Stinking Rose, a garlic-centric restaurant on La Cienega with Grandma Lola, Dave Small, Uncle Tone, Suge, Plum, and Me.

We had a great time. Plum was clapping her hands and laughing. We ate and drank and laughed. Nobody made me feel ashamed. And then we went back to Dave Small's house and let the food digest as we just enjoyed each other's company.

So it turned out to be a happy Thanksgiving after all.

What is the moral of the story? If you don't want to deal with the turkey on Thanksgiving, then don't insult the turkey person the night before.

Do Not Open the Door For Unauthorized Individuals

2007-11-23T09:15:00.001-08:00

Okay, so the last you heard from me I was happily employed at the L.A. Times. Well on the second day of my job, an unfortunate turn of events occurred. Here is how everything went down.

10:00 AM, I cruise into the L.A. Times parking structure, which is so neat and big. I finally found parking on the top floor and happily climbed into the elevator, then walked about one block to get in the building. I confidently swiped my employee badge and found my cubicle on the second floor.

Everybody was so busy and intense because it was "close" which means that they are in production and putting the issue to bed. I know this is all industry talk, but you know what I mean right? So I was kind of just doing my own thing. I found some cleaner and wiped down my cubicle and disinfected my phone. I drank a lot of water. I went to the bathroom a bunch of times. I kept checking my email compulsively. I read a fiction chapter from my dear friend Rebecca.

At 3:00 PM, the food editor Leslie Brenner came up to me and said that she was ready to show me the ropes. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Once we got started, it was amazing. The copy editor sends out an email to all the image editors saying that a proof is ready. Then I print it out at the printers and quickly proof read it myself, then I hustle it over to the two top editors, Booth and Michalene. They make edit marks on the headline, deck, and the caption. Then I run it over to the copy editor and inform her of mine and their changes. Then she reprints it, I take it back to the top editors, and the whole cycles continues at a frantic pace for all the pages until the issue is finally put to bed. It requires a lot of running at full speed and furiously taking notes.

At one point, I really felt like I got the gist of it. So, once Michalene finally signed off on a page, I asked her what do I do with it now? She said, just put it up there on the bank, which is a wall of the cubicles where all the signed off proofs were resting. Then I went back to my desk and waited for more emails notifying me of proofs. Then I started to get all these frantic emails from the food editor asking me about the status of the proof. I met her by the printer and said, "Oh Michalene signed off on it, and now it's done." She got super mad at me, and said, "you need to tell me about every step of this. We are doing this together." I was so apologetic. I was like, "no problem. I won't make that mistake again." I took a note of it.

Meanwhile, I could hear the other Image people saying that I was in the belly of the beast. So I joked, "trial by fire!" And nobody said anything. Inside, I was like, "D'oh!"

Then when I walked towards Michalene's office with the proof, I saw Craig Matsuda, the HR guy talking to her and Booth with the door closed. That's when I started to worry, because I had been waiting all day to hear the results of my second drug test.

I went back to my desk with a sinking feeling. I tried to shake it off and stay focused on the high pressure pace of close. But it was hard, people, I was really scared.

So I guess I wasn't that shocked when Booth came up to me and said, "We need to see you in Michalene's office." In all the years I worked at Vibe, I never had a moment like that. I've never been fired. I've never been reprimanded. All I've ever had in my professional career is praise and recognition. This was the most horrific moment to me.

I sat in her office and waited for the editors to come in: Booth and Michalene. A million thoughts pounded in my head. Finally they came in and said, "The results of your test came back, and it was diluted. Our company policy is that we cannot make the hire if you get two diluted results." I was stunned. I said, "but that's impossible. I hardly drank any water yesterday. I seriously went straight from the office to the drug screen site. I did nothing to dilute my sample. Please, I swear on a million bibles."

Michalene said, "I know. We believe you. And we feel terrible about this because we wish you could stay. But HR is not making any exceptions to this rule. We feel soooo awful. Maybe in six months if the position is still around, and you'll still have us you can come back and try again. This doesn't stay on your record forever, just six months. And we also really want you to freelance for us."

Booth said, "Also, this is totally confidential, between you and us. We won't tell anybody about this. You can tell people that you just didn't like it or whatever you want to say."

I said, "I don't care about that, because I seriously have nothing to hide. I swear to you that I've been upfront about everything."

"We know you've been upfront, and we really appreciate that," said Michalene.

"Well, maybe this is not my path. And I wish the best for your section." I took off my employee badge with my stupid face stupidly grinning on it. And I said goodbye and turned around and left.

Tears were brimming in my eyes, but I'm proud to say that I did not really cry. Back at my desk, I gathered my laptop and my few meager belongings and shook hands with Monica Corcoran. I left the friendly Coke that she bought for me on my desk.

"I'm sure our paths will cross again," I said to her. Adam Tschorn hugged me. And I hopped in the elevator, with my hands shaking and heart pounding. Everything was a blur as I made my way to the parking garage.

That's when I realized I needed my badge to get out. So I started yelling at some guy inside to open it, "Excuse me! Excuse me!" But he couldn't hear me. Or he was pretending he couldn't hear me. Then a nice girl came and let me in. Even though there are signs everywhere that says "Do not open the door for unauthorized individuals."

As I drove home, I had the unhappy task of calling the people closest to me to notify them. I called Mirena, Sugarman, Mom, Dad, a few of my friends. That was one of the worst days of my life. Seriously. I experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion: liberation, paranoia, remorse, rage, sadness, self-loathing, giddiness. I don't know. I was crazy.

We sat and watched TV, but nothing registered. All I could think about was paranoid thoughts.

Don't Ask Me About the L.A. Times

2007-11-20T19:47:00.001-08:00

They sent me home.

My First Day of Work

2007-11-19T19:40:00.000-08:00

So I'm sure many of you are wondering how my first day of work went.

I arrived at the Los Angeles Times building at around 9:00AM this morning, which was about half an hour too early, but thankfully the HR lady agreed to see me. She walked me up to the security desk where a guard took my picture and issued a card that reads: "Sugarbread Kim, Editorial," with my picture on it. Then we tried out the card to come in and out of the lobby.

At around 10:15, I headed over to the computer training area and was seated with some other neophytes, where we were trained on the CCI system, which is the Tribune wide information posting system. It was really neat, because you can basically create newspaper articles there. Soon I found out that I was back to back with the legendary old music critic, Bob Hilburn. I noticed that he was making an imaginary article about the White Stripes. He seemed really knowledgeable about CCI, but needed to brush up on the new, improved system.

My imaginary article was about shoes, since I was going to be in Image after all. Anyway, I turned around and said, "hey I wanna meet you! I cover music, too. I used to work at Vibe for five years." And he said, "and now you're writing about shoes." And nothing else! I thought that was rude and not very nice at all. There was definitely a bad vibe in that computer training room. The IT guy was all annoyed with me because I didn't know my employee number. I also felt really overwhelmed with the computer system because it was PC and foreign to me, and we all know that I'm a Mac baby. But I just diligently took notes and did my best.

When I started at Vibe, I seriously didn't know what I was doing. I couldn't even edit yet! But I learned fast and ultimately won lots of awards and recognition. So I'm not worried. I know I'll figure out CCI and the whole lay of the land.

So then I went back to my desk which still didn't have a computer. And it didn't matter anyway because they didn't have my login ready or any of my applications prepared for me. I sat there twiddling my thumbs, trying to not look stupid. I met all of my colleagues, like Monica Corcoran, Emili Vesilind, Adam Tschorn, etc. My favorite person so far is Ronit. She was the warmest to me. But I must tell you, I was not nervous and I was not intimidated.

Since I have a crazy Latina Magazine cover story on Dania Ramirez due on Monday, I decided to sneak in a couple of secondary phoners. I plugged in my tape recorder and quietly tried to interview her best friend, but all of a sudden I felt a tap on my back and it was Michalene Busico, my supervisor! She said, when you're done with your call, come and see me in my office. I quickly wrapped up and found her. She shut the door and said, "Looks like you still haven't passed your drug screen. You have to go right now and take the test. Let's just get it behind us." She was really nice about it, and prepared me for a full day of editing tomorrow, as well.

I said, "No problem, I'll leave right now." I called Suge and in 30 minutes he was driving me to the drug test collection site on Hollywood Boulevard and Gower. By now I know my way around a drug test, and it was a breeze. Then we went and had Peruvian food. Suge was very stressed out—worried that I wouldn't pass my test, but I wasn't worried at all. I'm clean and sober! And there's no way that I cannot pass. I was so confident, that I almost went out and leased a new Jetta, a salsa red Jetta. But then again... what if I don't pass? It would be wretched to have to deal with two car payments.

So anyway, by about 2:00 PM, I was back home, tapping away at my computer and organizing expenses and stuff. It was a weird day, definitely not what I expected. Suge was very worried that it was a shaky start, but like I said, I am not worried in the least bit. I'm going to nail this.

Three Days 'Til Thanksgiving

2007-11-19T19:33:00.000-08:00

My ten year old nephew Benno. He's learning how to act with Actor's Gang, continuing to excel in hockey, and learning guitar.

Somehow my eldest sister Elaine makes holding a bagel seem lovely. By the way, I stole all these pictures from her. I can't take pictures this nice with my camera. She has a fancy Leica.

Maro, Tiber, Plum, and Echo playing video games at Mirena's house.

My beautiful niece Echo as a mermaid for Halloween.

Chang Sun-Young Slices

2007-11-17T21:56:00.003-08:00

Chang Sun-Young is a tiny 67-year-old woman with a booming, raspy
voice. She stands 4'11" tall, so she had her marble kitchen counters
customized to rise to her hips. She lives with her husband in a
luxurious beige house in the affluent Bay Area community of Fremont.

Stationed at the island in her pristine kitchen, her petite hands fly
through a pile of carrots on a vast wooden chopping board, skillfully
slivering them for ease of eating with a small knife with a white
handle. She also makes quick work mincing scallions and slicing
rehyrdrated shitake mushrooms.

She's made these superb traditional Korean dishes countless times
because she is the author of four cookbooks. A Korean Mother's Cooking
Notes sold 100,000 copies in Korea and its English translation sold
13,000 copies. Chang is once again working on her fifth English
language book, but she hasn't yet decided what the title will be and
plans to release it some time in the spring of 2008.

Chang is preparing an elegant feast of braised beef ribs (galbi jim),
nine-section dish (goojul pan), glass noodles with beef and vegetables
(jap chae), and stuffed cucumbers (oi son) for her longtime
girlfriends from Ewha University. She will also serve freshly steamed
rice cakes (dduk) and homemade sweet rice drink (shikyhe) for dessert.
Her husband, Youngil Lee, a retired electronic engineering executive,
is an avid wine collector and has spent days selecting premium wines
to pair with her dishes for the ultimate Korean culinary experience.

Chang pulls out a three pound bowl of English cut short ribs from the
refrigerator.

"You shouldn't marinate this right away," she warns ominously. "Or
else the shape will just fall apart. Make sure you blanch it quickly
in boiling water and then drain."

She sets the shortribs aside and fills a ten quart stock pot with
water and tosses in onion scraps from her chopping board that were too
"ugly" to put in her jap chae.

While most Korean cooks use blanched spinach for the green part of the
jap chae, Chang believes that it's too soggy of a vegetable. She
prefers the snap of brined and hollowed out Japanese cucumbers, cut
into slivers. She saves the centers for cucumber kimchee.

The tiny master chef is flying around the kitchen, but she is calm.
Several dishes are being prepared simultaneously. She moves back and
forth from the chopping board, to the deep stainless steel sink, and
to the giant clay vats of fermenting bean paste parked outside the
sliding glass door.

She massages table salt into the slivers of cucumber peel and after
ten minutes, she squeezes them out vigorously with a cheese cloth. The
veins in her hand pop as she presses the cloth again.

Next she focuses on the silken wrappers for the goojulpan.

"Making these skins are the hardest part, because they always rip,"
she says, as she takes the plastic cover off of a small bowl of flour
dough floating in milky water. She puts the ball into a blender and
pulses. Then she strains the dough through a fine mesh sieve.

"If you don't' strain it, the dough won't be smooth," she says.

Ironically, Chang did not grow up cooking in her childhood home. Her
older sister was the family cook and prepared all the food. She
developed the passion for gourmet Korean food as a 25-year-old bride,
who had to entertain her husband's guests. At that time he was a
branch manager for an American company called Fairchild
Semiconductors.

"Back in 1967, there weren't any good restaurants for entertaining, so
I had to learn how to cook," she explains as she moves tirelessly in
her kitchen like a bumblebee.

She pulls off the lid of the galbi jim stock pot and adds some carrot slivers.

"Nice restaurants didn't start popping up in Korea until around 1980,"
she says as she squints her eyes in the steaming stockpot. "All the
impurities will float up to the surface, so you want to skim them
out."

She scores the short ribs into four parts and lets them rest in a bowl.

"All the blood will drain out, then it will taste very clean," she
says. "I use the inferior ribs for beef stock and I use the best
looking ones for galbi jim. Then you rinse out the blood from the cut
up ribs. The process is really important. All people care about is the
marinade, but the most important part is the preparation. That's the
secret."

She pulls out a soggy piece of paper scribbled with notes and
measurements with the recipe for her galbi jim marinade
(yangnyumjang).

"Even though I've written many cookbooks, I'm getting old, so I still
follow my own list of ingredients. I don't want to make any mistakes
so I always use measuring cups and spoons. I don't estimate. Even when
I make kim chee, I use measuring cups."

The smell of boiling meat and fresh vegetables permeate the air around
her bustling kitchen. Her college buddies offer to help, but she swats
them away like gnats. So they remain in the sidelines, watching and
taking notes.

Chang teaches a master cooking class in this very kitchen every
Wednesday. Eight students come to learn her highly technical
interpretation of classical Korean cooking.

Chang herself learned how to cook in private sessions with the now
deceased Kang In-Hee, a professor of cooking at Myunji University.

"Actually Korean royalty did not eat very fancily because the
population was hungry and it was considered unseemly to eat
extravagantly in the face of such poverty. The people who ate the best
were actually the aristocrats and diplomats in Korean society."

Chang's parents came from the North, and her cuisine reflects the mild
seasonings and emphasis on fine ingredients that is synonymous with
North Korean regional food.

"In Pyongyang, the food is more mild than in the South. Northern food
is less spicy because it's cooler than southern regions like
Kyungsando," says Chang. "Down there, they need to use a lot of spices
and salt to make sure the food doesn't perish. North Koreans really
value the original taste of the ingredients, not just overpowering
seasonings."

Just then, she pulls out a refrigerated drawer of "stinky foods" like
minced garlic, scallions, and ginger juice.

She dregs the scored ribs through the marinade, strains the broth one
more time through a paper towel lined sieve and combines the meat with
the braising liquid and sets to boil. She gradually adds more liquid
and an assortment of odd scraps of daikons and shitake.

"When it's almost done, that's when you add the chestnuts so it
doesn't get mushy. The jujubes add a sweetness that's much more
complex than just plain sugar."

Using a white plastic paddle, she tosses the ribs in the pot to make
sure they get an even deep brown color and continues to add liquid a
little at a time.

"If you take shortcuts and don't boil the beef many times, then you
will et too much beef taste," says Chang. "I never serve the same dish
twice. And I only serve fresh cooked rice for every meal, even casual
dinners at home."

After the broth of the galbi jim has reduced by half, she adds another
round of daikon. But unlike the first batch that were odd scraps, this
group is a pile of meticulously sculpted bite sized chunk, whittled
into oblong capsules, shaving off each corner of the cubes. They are
much smaller pieces than you might see in a restaurant galbi jim.

"The philosophy behind traditional Korean food was essentially how
best to honor the elders in the household. The cooks wanted to make
sure that the pieces were soft with no sharp edges, because they
didn't want to cause discomfort to the grandparents who might have
weak teeth."

Then she shifts her attention to the jap chae and works on a pile of
slick, black wood ear mushrooms on her chopping board. "Some people
just throw these mushrooms into the jap chae whole, but you should
really make sure that all of the pieces are uniformly sliced."

She puts some stiff raw daifun noodles into a bowl of water to soak so
she can later cut them into three-inch pieces. Then she slices shitaki
mushroom caps into quarters so they resemble gingko leaves. Chang
takes a pink can of imported abalone out of the pantry to slice into
slivers for the goojulpan.

Then she reveals a bowl of soaking sea cucumbers. They are black,
warty, and gelatinous. "These have been soaking for a week," she says.
"First you boil and cool, then you reboil and cool. Then you soak for
a week in the wame water. After three days, pick out the intestines,
and then soak in cold water. The really soft ones you can take out and
make sure you keep changing the water.

Once the sea cucumbers are slivered and seasoned, Chang turns her
attention to the scrambled egg garnish. For just this purpose, she
pulls out a square shaped aluminum frying pan from a Japanese
specialty market. She separates the yolks from the whites.

"Americans like to have the froth in the egg whites, but Koreans don't
want bubbles or foam. We scramble eggs with chopsticks to minimize the
foam. You can also use four chopsticks if you want to reduce time."

Then she sieves the egg whites and then the yolks, to guarantee that
every last bubble is removed from the eggs. She lets the yolks sit on
the counter for a while to allow them to darken to a deeper shade of
yellow.

"It's better to use free range organic eggs," says Chang. "Then they
will be more yellow and more flavorful. You can also use your hands to
remove any bubbles. The bubbles cause pock marks in the egg garnish."

"This is the most difficult part of Korean cooking, and yet the most
basic," says Chang as she douses the pan with a drop of olive oil and
rubs it in with a paper towel. She gently pours the yolk on to the pan
and it quickly solidifies. She peels it off with a chopstick and the
tips of her alabaster fingers and carefully flips it over. A few
seconds later, she tosses the cooked egg square onto the chopping
board so it can cool. She repeats the process with the rest of the
yolk, and then she moves on to the whites which seem much more
difficult.

As she focuses on the garnish, the daifun is now burbling in a soy
sauce marinade in a wok, soaking up the seasoning liquid and growing
softer with every passing moment.

Chang thinly slices flank steak, tenderizes each piece, and sprinkles
it with salt.

Soon, Chang turns her attention to the sieved dough to make the
goojulpan skins. She pours the dough into little circles on a skillet.
When they cook, she uses a cookie cutter to guarantee perfectly round
circles. Then she layers each wrapper with ground pine nuts for flavor
and to make sure they don't stick together.

"I know there are Korean dishes that are easier to make than the
dishes I make," says Chang. "But I'm fussy, so everything has to be
homemade."

"It's true," says her daughter in law, Soochin. "When my daughter
Julianna turned one, we made everything for his birthday from scratch.
Other Korean moms plan their kids' first birthdays at restaurants and
hotels and the moms spend the whole day at the salon. But my
mother-in-law and I spent the whole night making homemade dduk! But
Koreans say that if the dduk for the girl is pretty than the baby girl
will turn out pretty, too. And she is, so it was worth it."

Chang has two sons who married Korean women. She dedicated her book "A
Korean Mother's Cooking Notes" to them, to make sure they were
preparing food in the way that her sons were used to. The first
daughter-in-law, Theresa Lee, is Chang's assistant in the kitchen. The
second daughter-in-law, Soochin Lee, a lecturer at UC Berkeley, is
translating Chang's next cookbook.

Chang's North Korean style kim chee is remarkably different than the
run of the mill kim chee served in Koreatown restaurants. It has a
sharp springiness, the seasonings are mild and not too spicy, and the
squares of cabbage are astoundingly crisp, bursting with fermented
springiness.

After days of washing, rinsing, sieving, cooking, slicing, and dicing,
dinner is finally served. The first course is the goojulpan, nine
sections of delicacies to be wrapped in silken flour skins. Chang's
husband, Lee, suggests pairing this course with a white French
Burgundy, Domaine Cheneraie Montagny '04. But because the bottle
accidentally freezes during the chilling process, the guests are
offered a spritely Riesling instead. Shucks.

Then for the next course, with the meticulously braised and sieved
short ribs, Lee presents a hearty red, Alto Cedro Malbec Reserva '04.
It's a phenomenal pairing, casting the meat's hearty flavors into
stark relief against a fragrant berry backdrop.

Chang Sun-Young's tips:

• Use a few drops of sake or wine when reheating mung bean pancakes to
purge the stale oil smell. Use very low heat. Works the same for
assorted chun.
• To slice beef into paper thin pieces, try to keep it semi-thawed.
• Don't use sesame oil for your egg garnish or else it will tint the
eggs the color of the oil.
• You can layer the fried yolks for slicing, but egg whites have to be
sliced one layer at a time because they are so fragile.
• If you're already planning on making jap chae or goojul pan, it's
not too much of a hassle then to make the other one, since it involves
many of the same ingredients, seasonings, and slicing techniques.
• You can use carrot juice and spinach juice to dye the goojulpan
wrappers into pretty pastel colors. It also makes sure that guest
don't exactly take more than one at a time.
• You can turn your cold white rice into jochung, a kind of Korean
style molasses. Like corn syrup, it can be used as a sweetener in a
variety of Korean dishes. Korean children like to eat it as candy.
• When making jap chae or goojul pan, sauté lighter colors first.
• The beef fat that rises to the top of a chilled stock along with
some of the broth can be used as cooking oil. It gives you all the
flavor without too much greasiness.
• Use sesame oil for making goojulpan wrappers and to cook bulgogi.
• All the ingredients of jap chae should be cooked separately and
thoroughly cooled before tossing together or else it will spoil very
quickly.
• Sea cucumbers with lots of warts are higher in quality than the
smoother skinned ones. Those are the kind that Chinese restaurants
tend to serve.

Homemade Granola

2007-11-17T21:28:00.000-08:00

The guy reading the newspaper is Suge. It's 1995, and he must be like 22-years-old. This picture came out in Big Brother skateboarding magazine back then, but it's also resurfaced recently in Mass Appeal. It's the picture that refuses to die. It also kind of captures the times. Back when Fairfax and Beverly wasn't land of the bathing apes.

Cool Betty Inoue. We are having brunch at a casual diner type place in San Jose. I forgot what it was called, but the wait was insane. This is moments before I drive to Fremont to meet Chang Sun-Young.

This is Steve Villata slurping down pho in some Thai restaurant in Fresno, where he knew the owner and all the waitresses.

My good friend Todd with his son and his dog at their home in San Jose.

Okay there are some new pictures. Are you happy, Julee? I'm sorry I keep forgetting to take pictures. Life is a little crazy right now. But not too crazy to make homemade granola which is my new favorite thing. I ate it for breakfast and for dinner.

In approximately forty-eight hours I will start my new job at the L.A. Times. I wonder what it will be like! I hope that people will like me and that I do well. I don't want to be a freelancer forever. I want them to make me permanent. I want to flourish.

Back to the granola.

Okay, so I got the recipe out of Baby Bistro by Joohee Muromcew, another distinguished Korean American cook, but she won't return Corina's calls so we can't get her in the magazine. It's too bad, because her cookbook is the bomb-diggy. So you take two cups of quick cooking oats, the five minute kind, combine it with pecans, pumpkin seeds, whatever nuts of your choice, toss in two tablespoons of veggie oil and half a cup of maple syrup. Toss. Bake on aluminum foil lined cookie sheet for 25 minutes, turning over once halfway through.

After it cools, it will be crisp, crunchy, chewy, and sweet. Yum! I had it with granola and with milk. Both were good. I'm surviving on that stuff now, because Suge and I decided that it would be better if I took a break from cooking. He's sick of my pointlessly elaborate meals and all the accompanying pressure and bad vibes. So we've been eating cheap restaurant meals for two days straight. I hope I don't lose my mind. I miss my organic veggies. But this is the price I have to pay for harmony in the home.

He's agreed to start watching Plum full time. She'll be coming out of daycare in a couple months. He's also seriously stepped up with the housework and stuff. I can tell he is elated that I finally have a job. So we have been much happier around here. We even watched War Games together last night.

A Whirlwind of Activity

2007-11-14T11:22:00.000-08:00

It's been nine days since my last post. I've never gone so long without blogging. Anyway, the whole blogging thing may be coming to an end soon. I'm not sure.

There's so much going on. I don't know where to begin.

Right now the gardener is watering the hedges in our apartment complex. Suge is on his cellphone and setting up some kind of meeting with a twelvepackkiller. I'm waiting to call Julee so we can catch up on some things. I'm procrastinating writing my KoreAm Journal feature on Chang Sun-Young, the esteemed traditional Korean food chef.

The biggest news of all is that I'm talking with the L.A. Times about possible employment as one of the editors in the "Image" section. In fact, it's pretty much a done deal. Except for one tiny thing: I have to pass a drug test, which I'm confident that I'll pass. I'm still under an enormous amount of pressure right now. Our whole family is stressed out because we are in a dramatic transitional period. We need this job desperately. We need to move to a bigger apartment. We need another car. We just need an income for crying out loud. And it would be such an amazing stepping stone for my career.

Speaking of my career, I had a pretty insane business trip last weekend. First of all I rented a beautiful cherry red Infinity G35 that just flew up Interstate 5. I had no problems passing other cars. It was sweet. I just didn't like how it handled, kinda skidding out on turns.

I went to Fresno to meet Greg Mack so we could write the book proposal for the KDAY book. From the moment I got into his silver Mercedes Benz E-class, he started telling me things that made me uncomfortable, like how he was the biggest dog and womanizer throughout his life. I just stayed with it, because I'm no stranger to sexist, misogynistic creeps. But it just kept getting worse and weirder and harder to sift through the whole "womanizing" talk from the narrative of KDAY.

Then at the end of the night I asked him if he read any of my articles online at serenakim.com and he said, no! Well, he said he skimmed them. That's when I realized that maybe he wasn't so serious about the book. Or maybe not as serious as I was? I don't know. I just got a bad feeling. I didn't even stay at the gross La Quinta motel that he put me in for the night. I called my homeboy Steve Villata and escaped. I stayed at his sister's house in Clovis. They are nice people.

So when I got to her house, I made a list of all the weird things he said to me that I could remember off the top of my head:

1. You look just like Kisu, the woman I would leave my wife and child for.
2. It’s destiny that you are here. It’s a good thing for our spouses that we didn’t meet sooner.
3. I’ve slept with over 100 women.
4. I’m a dog and I have a problem with women.
5. I used to have so many women on the side. But now I only have two or three.
6. I’d like to have a sexual relationship with a woman, but it doesn’t have to be sexual as long as it’s physical.
7. I’ve bought women cars. A Mercedes Benz outright to prove to Kisu how much I loved her.
8. I’ve paid for ten abortions in one year: 1986.
9. Asian women are my kryptonite.
10. Asian women top my list because they are so loyal and want to please. They are the best in bed.
11. Do you think I’m a bad person now?
12. In a jealous rage, Kisu called the police and accused me of assault and rape. I was taken to a holding cell, but never charged. The police apologized to me and advised that I press charges against Kisu for falsifying an accusation.
13. Why is your husband worried, does he think I will rape you?
14. There was only one black girl in my hometown. She only wanted to sleep with her cousin. His dick was this long. (Points to his ankle). In the locker room, we had to step over it to get around.
15. I love my wife, but I’m not in love with her.
16. I’ve been married three times.
17. I lost my virginity when I was 19. I married the first woman I slept with. Cynthia Rios.
18. I married Raina, an actress I was madly in love with. She left me one day, and I never heard from her or saw her again.
19. I think about Kisu all the time. When I call her now, she hangs up on me, but I think she still loves me. She begged to marry me, on her knees, crying.
20. Mentioned putting hands on women’s butts about four or five times during conversation.
21. I didn’t read any of your articles in their entirety, but when I saw how much you looked like Kisu… my Kryptonite wants to write my book, I believed it was destiny.
22. I used to tell my interns at the radio station, I’ll put on a long song, I want to see you naked in the other room. It wasn’t sexual harassment because they were interns, and I was just another employee. And they wanted to do it.
23. I would come in and see lipstick around the fly of my friend’s pants. I’d be like, what are you doing!!!
24. You’re a very beautiful woman.
25. I've always had a crush on Connie Chung.

AND THAT’S NOT EVERYTHING!!!!! He is a scumbag of the highest order. Why didn’t anybody warn me?

I guess I decided that I don't deserve to put up with this crap just to write a book.

The next day I drove to San Jose at dawn and had breakfast with Todd and his family. We also went to the farmer's market and indulged in strawberries and flowers. It was good and pure to see them and try to purge the memory of Greg Mack from my mind.

From there, I went to Fremont to interview Mrs. Chang who is an accomplished cookbook chef. She's written three or four cookbooks in Korea that were bestsellers, and she's got one in English that I'm constantly raving about: A Korean Mother's Cooking Notes. I learned a lot about the secret techniques of preparing traditional Korean cuisine. It was really some next level type of cooking, more appropriate for aristocracy and kings than everyday cooking. I saw my Auntie Helen and my cousin Mina who was astoundingly beautiful. She is in her third year at Cal and a talented cellist.

So that's the latest!

The House of Sand and Fog

2007-11-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

It was really foggy on Sunday morning. One hundred cars piled up on a freeway near Fresno because of the impenetrable fog. Two people died. I could barely even see the next stop light. It's weird because New York doesn't get that kind of fog.

And then I realized that I was going to Fresno on November 10. Suge said it was a bad omen. But I've driven in fog before. All the time between Santa Cruz and L.A. when I was in college.

The fog held up the farmer's for the farmer's market. So on Sunday I was there before most of the farmers. They weren't set up yet and didn't have their tasters out. Everything was discombobulated. But I'm planning on making Baby Ghanoush with this nice Japanese eggplant I found. This morning, I gave Plum some rice with chicken broth and pureed carrots. I think she's full.

Today I revised a chapter that had been kicking me in the butt for weeks. Now I can move forward! Hurrah!

Family Drama

2007-11-03T16:30:00.000-07:00

Mirena is mad at me and I feel dreadful. Now I'm frantically downloading classic hip hop songs on to my iTunes so I can make her a CD. I got all annoyed when she asked me at my Mom's house earlier today because it seemed like she always looked down on hip-hop. And it always seemed like she was trying to talk me out of it. There were times when I would have liked to have her approval. So when she asked me to make her a playlist, I couldn't believe my ears. I guess I got all annoyed. But she totally flipped out and left my Mom's house crying. I understand why she's hurt. I guess I would be too. I know I need to apologize, because she is among the people whom I love the most, but I just have to process it more.

From the picket line....

2007-11-02T21:31:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin Patch

2007-11-02T15:42:00.000-07:00

At this very moment, it's feeling very warm in our apartment. While it's kind of crisp and balmy outside. The Perez Family Ranch is packing up their pumpkins on the corner of Fairfax and Third. Sugarman went to Wasteland with a bag of clothes and sneakers to sell. That man easily has four times more shoes and clothes than me. I am an ascetic and he is a clotheshorse. And he always looks more put together than me.

Today I am hoping to make some beef and bok choy stirfry, seasoned with holy basil, scallions, and mint served with rice. I need to bake some brownies too. Corina is on her way over.

We have two pumpkins left over from Halloween, and given our current state of penury, I was wondering if I should try to make some kind of souffle out of them, but I read somewhere that the orange jack-o-lantern pumpkins taste terrible. I will definitely try to make a pumpkin and plum tart out of the canned Libby ones I still have from last year.

Yesterday I made a really nice sausage and farfalle pasta. The pancetta really added a lot of depth to the sauce, made with small round tomatoes that were so sweet and springy.

We've been eating well!

Who all is making Thanksgiving this year? I'm cooking at Elaine's house and everyone is coming, the Sanicos, the Levine's, the Fizi-Continis.

The Turtle Prince

2007-11-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a beautiful mermaid princess who lived deep, under the sea. She had a faithful servant who was a turtle.

She said to him, Turtle, I want to have a jewelry box made out of mother of pearl, can you find one for me?

He said of course your majesty.

He swam deep, deep into the sea and hunted for abalone shells. He worked night and day to build a delicate black and shimmering cabinet of mother of pearl.

When he presented it to her, she said, Turtle, this is okay, but now what I really want is a pearl necklace to put inside of my cabinet.

He said, certainly your majesty.

He swam deep, deep, deep into the sea until he found the largest, rarest clams. He harvested large pink pearls and strung them together. When he presented the gift to the princess, she sighed and said, this is a decent necklace. But who will I wear something like this for? I want you to find a handsome prince for me, oh faithful Turtle.

He said, it would be my pleasure, your majesty.

So he swam deep, deep, deep into the sea, and deep between the darkest canyons until he discovered the old sea witch. She was brewing a stew with wartweed and sea cucumbers.

Turtle said, oh sea witch, please turn me into a handsome prince so I can marry the mermaid princess.

Why would you want to marry that haughty old thing? said the sea witch.

Well, I have my reasons said the turtle.

So the old sea witch stirred and stirred her slimy bouillabaise. She added lobster claws and catfish and the wrinkled foot of a giant clam. She ladeled it into an old abalone shell and served the Turtle.

He took a few laps and transformed into a handsome Prince.

Thank you old sea witch. And he swam away.

When the mermaid princess saw him, it was love at first sight.

They got married and lived happily ever after.

The end.

It Bloggles The Mind

2007-10-31T20:29:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween. We ate meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and homemade apple pie at Dolores's house. I struggled with the crust because I had no shortening, only butter. Suge said it tasted gourmet; I'm not sure if he thought that was a good thing, because he left the pie half-eaten. A few rowdy trick-or-treaters from Hollywood High showed up. It was a little scary actually.

Lately I've been pounding through my to-do list. Like trying to figure out how to set up a co-authorship deal with this KDAY guy, Greg Mack. It's kind of trippy to just enter into this literary journey with someone who I've never met. But oh well. Let's see how it goes.

Also been reading my friend's fiction. It's really kicking me in the butt, because it's been days since I've faced my own. And hers is very polished and well-considered. I'm just rushing through everything. My mind was momentarily scrambled because of the LA Times thing. I had my hopes up high, didn't I? I just wanted benefits for my family. Is that too much to ask?

I'm starting to learn that as a writer it is too much to ask. But I wouldn't give up what I've been learning lately about the art of storytelling for no kind of insurance or paid vacation. These are lessons that can only be learned one way and that's doing the damn thing as Sam would say.

Maybe I need to take this break from my fiction. I'm not so sure Walter Mosely would think so. I can hear him admonishing the reader/writer now in This Year You Write Your Novel. He is a firm believer in writing every day for three hours. Hey, no problem. Then somebody else can do the dishes, make dinner, go shopping, bathe everyone, walk everyone. It's a lot to ask.

I try to make the best out of it by cooking interesting things. Like this apple pie. I found these really sweet Gala apples at the farmer's market. Only a dollar a pound! I made a whole bunch of apple sauce for Plum. But I have to admit—it was a tad gummy. The pie recipe also called for a little cheddar cheese grated into the crust. And a cinammon sugar topped crust which was pretty light and airy.

I also copped a bag of these super sweet emerald green plums with golden flesh. They were so juicy. Suge said that this was the kind of plum that Plum is.

There was so much delicious holy basil I couldn't resist. Sugarman agreed to pull all of the leaves off while he watched TV. I made him a beef, mint, and Chinese broccoli stir fry with it. And I wanted to make some kind of Southeast Asian green sauce for him, but the leaves taste too harsh raw. I need to find a way to mellow them out before I grind them up in the blender.

I splurged on mint and rosemary. I've gotta figure out how to make that green sauce they serve in Indian restaurants. Sugarman has been hungering for it. Does anyone know the recipe? Do you even know what I'm talking about?

A Sluggish Morning

2007-10-26T11:07:00.000-07:00

I confess that it's 11:00AM and I just woke up. I mean, I was awake earlier, at like 6:30 to feed Plum and get her ready for daycare. But as soon as she was out there, I dove under the covers. I think I'm tired because I coughed all night. My goal is to write fiction today, but I haven't started yet. I'm overwhelmed. That's what's bad about walking away from the book for a few days.

Job Interview Rescheduled

2007-10-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

Friends, the lady who wanted to meet me for lunch has rescheduled. She said she was feeling under the weather. This is the second postponement! I had my nails done two days ago, and now they look bad again. I will probably have to get another manicure next week. This is insanity!

So for now, I have to nurse Suge back to health as he's fallen ill. We are always getting sick now, like every two days or so with some dreadful dayccare virus.

I hope people read this

2007-10-24T12:01:00.001-07:00

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-oe-smith5oct05,1,2495337.story

Bullshit Blood Test

2007-10-23T11:50:00.000-07:00

I just got back from seeing my therapist, who gave me a major pep talk for an upcoming job interview. Sugarman is in the shower, and Nigel is upset at me for not sharing any of my scrambled egg with him. He seems to have gotten over it, and now he is lapping up some water.

Strange, dry weather we are having. All of California is on fire. Bush wants more money for the war. Doesn't he get it? We're not that into the war. People died in Karachi. And the economy trembles.

But my biggest concern right now is how my hair, nails, and clothes will look on my job interview. What's the point? I never get any jobs anyway, which is why I probably won't get anything to wear.

I saw the primary care physician yesterday. He charged me $350 for the visit and a bullshit blood test that I totally didn't need. Now I have no money for an interview suit. I feel cheated. At least I got a few months supply of Prozac, which will keep me half-way sane.

Okay, on Thursday I need all of you blog readers to pray and visualize for me that I kick butt on this job interview and that I don't come off all street and weird. Okay? For Plum's sake.

The Walnut House

2007-10-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

Donovan

2007-10-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of writing this immensely sad feature about a baby boy with a tracheotomy and a ventilator for the KoreAm Journal. I've already cried twice while writing it, which makes it really hard. At the same time, the story isn't sad at all because it's about a really cool kid and a great family. It kind of gives you hope that there's goodness in the world.

I, too, have been sick. But it's just a mild cold. Now it kind of feels like my glands are swelling and I keep coughing. Maybe it's progressing to an infection. Plum's much better though her nose is still runny. I've been using Benadryl to control my congestion, so I've basically been sleeping for the past three days.

I awoke to a strange new world. It's been disgustingly hot all day. I miss New York autumns.

It's about ten after ten at night. Sugarman just left to some weird bar to take pictures for Twelvepackkillers. Nothing much changes around here. Plum is asleep in her crib. All of the lights are off except for the one by this desk.

I've been trying to scare up some more writing work. It's a hustle, but I seriously don't mind it. I like how much freer you can be as a writer, because when something strikes your fancy, all you have to do is follow your instinct.

The Public Sphere

2007-10-19T21:35:00.000-07:00

Corina at the Standard on Sunset.

Shannon, Peace, and Sam at the House of Blues for the Jill Scott show.

Me and Jim at Ruen Pair, a dope Thai restaurant in Thai Town.

We So Happy

2007-10-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

Home Sweet Home

2007-10-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

Here's my mother Soraya with her fifth grandchild, Plum.

Plum plays with the rattle that Tanya gave us. She's finally big enough to hold it.

I've been losing weight.

Plum at the pinnacle of her cold.

Meow

2007-10-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

Market Report

2007-10-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

So I went to Hollywood Farmer's Market on Sunday and I saw that pomegranates were still plentiful, yet somehow more expensive. The sweet potatoes looked small and tender, and were indeed very good. It was the last peaches of the season. They tasted good and sweet but had an unpleasant sallow color. I saw the first apples of the season, too, but they were very small. I'll wait til next week. Sugar snap peas were good, but pricey at 5 bucks a pound. I got a pound. I bought enough broccoli to feed an army, like 6 pounds! I tried out some beets, cilantro, and more squash. Not very exciting. Oh! I bought a farm fresh chicken, too, but it had a lot of blood still in it, which grossed me out. How do you deal with that?

Plum has a bad cold today. There's been a series of unfortunate events that began on Friday. First she threw up for the first time in months. Then she fell off the sofa face first. It was such a loud sound I thought a bag of school books fell on the floor. Imagine my horror when I found out it was my baby. Immediately after she started to get really fussy. She's had a fever on and off all weekend. A terribly runny nose. It's hard to keep up because every time she sneezes it shoots out of her nose and then she tries to lap it up before I can get to her. I think it probably irritates her that I keep coming at her with a scratchy cotton burp cloth. But I don't want her to eat it! She's staying home from daycare today, which means I probably can't be very productive.

Last night we went to another Greg and Corina celebration. Greg's short film, the Fat Girl's Guide to Yoga, won the NBC Shorts Festival and he won a pilot deal through NBC. So they had a big party and screening at the Standard. It felt like shit leaving Plum to go to this. But she was sleeping and once we were out, we had a good time. I met a lot of semi-interesting people.

Last Thursday I went out to my childhood home in Walnut and took some pictures. I tried to get the guy to let me in but he only spoke Spanish. It was jarring to see my old house where I grew up. Of course, it looked smaller. The neighborhood was still a working class Chicano neighborhood. I'm sure everybody thought I was so weird, circling around and taking lots of pictures.

Sugarbread

2007-10-11T16:23:00.001-07:00

Le Coq Sportif

2007-10-10T13:59:00.000-07:00

Coq au vin is my new favorite chicken dish! Sugarman hates it (because he doesn't like bone-in chicken or broths of any sort), but I don't care. Because it turns out that Plum actually likes it, too! Yay! I've finally found an ally for my culinary adventures.

I got a nice organic, free-range, air-chilled chicken from Whole Foods cut up into 8 pieces by the butcher. It was a little over ten dollars. I took it home, skinned it, de-fatted it, and dredged the chicken in flour seasoned with salt, paprika, and black pepper.

I browned the chicken in batches in a combination of olive oil and butter. Removed the chicken and sauteed coarsely chopped onions with a sprinkle of sugar.

I returned the chicken to the pot and added a bay leaf, two cups of red wine, two cups of chicken broth, some shakes of dried thyme. I brought the pot to a boil and then reduced to a simmer for 30 minutes under cover.

You need a very big heavy pot for this. All the recipe books call for a big casserole dish with a lid, which I don't have. But a big pot works well, too.

I adapted my recipe from the one from New Basics, which calls for pearl onions and white wine. I think that sounds elegant. But I didn't have that stuff.

Amazingly you can usually make this fancy French dish with stuff you probably have hanging around the pantry.

I served it with couscous which was okay, but I would've really liked to have had it with some nice little roasted fingerling potatoes. The blue ones would be cute.

I'm going to make this every week for the rest of my life. I'm sick of chicken soup!

In Season

2007-10-08T13:21:00.000-07:00

Some fruits and veggies that I noticed were really yummy and in season right now:

Jonagold at Whole Foods—Crisp, juicy, tart and perfectly in season at 2.99 pound
Pomegranates—Cheap! Juicy. Sweet.
Plums—Jammy and sweet. The last plums of the season, methinks.
Butternut Squash—Bake for a long time, like an hour in 1/2 inch of water at 350 degrees. Yum!
Kale—So hearty, it's almost meaty right now.

Okay that's it. I'll report on more seasonal veggies later. Peach! I mean, Peace!

What's For Dinner?

2007-10-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

It's Monday at around lunch time. I'm nursing a wine headache from last night that refuses to go away. I'm not a wine snob. I thought that Coppola Rosso wine was quite good, but now I'm regretting it.

I've been plugging away at my book for the better part of the day, but there are these enormous obstacles in my path. I do whatever substances I need to have the courage to face them. Mainly Advil and coffee.

Yesterday I went to Gladstones with Samantha, her mother, and a few friends. It was scorching hot in Malibu. There was a school of about 6 dolphins frolicking in the water from our view. I had linguine, but the noodles were overcooked, which I hate. I always crave seafood, but I never know what to order. Plum gnawed on a piece of sourdough bread until she threw up. Therefore, I missed the Farmer's Market and am sorely in need of organic veggies.

Plum has been very, very cold at night. It drops down to about 50 degrees at night in our apartment. The dog and adults are buried under a disgusting down mattress that I think I'm allergic to. Plum sleeps like a frog at night with her face mushed into her crib mattress. When I pick her up in the morning, her hands and legs are icicles.

I just did a massive load of baby laundry which I should have done a week ago. But I can't put the Corrections down.

Tonight I must make a roast beef. I'm planning on scoring it and imbedding chunks of garlic into its flesh and then probably crusting it with coarse black pepper. Mainly I'm just looking forward to having roast beef sandwiches with fresh horse radish all week.

Plum has begun eating cheese. I put some melted cheddar cheese on her broccoli puree and she gobbled it down. This morning I put some peach puree in her Cream of Wheat. And she liked it until she stopped liking it.

I'm also planning on making a Coq Au Vin. I hope it doesn't give me a headache.

Revisionist Theory

2007-10-05T03:30:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't been blogging lately. All of my writing energy is pouring into these exhaustive revisions. I've been working with Rebecca who's been giving me a painstaking read of the first draft. I think we've settled into a good rhythm of read, edit, revise, but at first it was a little bumpy. I was being all stupid and sensitive, even though she was being perfectly supportive and everything.

Gigantic problems of plot and character are now becoming apparent. I'm trying not to despair, and just remain committed to seeing this through... for better or for worse.

It's a quiet time right now in terms of assignments, but I'm working hard on this draft nonetheless.

There's nothing much new to say: I'm still stressed about money and our Future.

But I'm happy about the big decisions I've made recently. Especially to put Plum in daycare. And to get some therapy. All these things have helped me enormously.

My sister Elaine has opened up a little studio near my apartment so she can start designing clothes again. That's a big move for her. And I'm proud. I'm going to bring her some lunch today since she is so close. Maybe I can just walk over. I want to bring something really good, like maybe a roasted vegetable sandwich. I don't know. We'll see what kind of time I'm working with..

Goodness, is it already Friday again? That means I have to pay day care for the week again already! These child rearing costs are seriously NO JOKE.

Plum Claps

2007-10-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

Plum clapped for the first time this weekend! It's so cute. It makes this soft little sound, like skin touching. She's so proud of herself for learning how to do it.

I've been reading my novel and making notes in the margins. Today I hope to rewrite at least one of the chapters and make lunch for one of my colleagues, Stacie Stukin. We worked on a lot of great stories together in the olden days.

I hope you all had a nice weekend. It's hard to get motivated today.

Plum and Papi

2007-09-26T16:49:00.000-07:00

Oliver Wang took these photos.

Much to Report

2007-09-25T09:02:00.000-07:00

I know it might be a little premature to be poppin' the bubbly, but the book is more or less finished. There's a couple rough patches. And I'm sure it's got to be revised for days, weeks, months. I'm sure it will be grueling. But yeah, there's a story there. And that's all I ever asked for.

I've sent the book to two people. Rob Kenner has agreed to edit the book. But since it's sort of an informal arrangement. I'm not sure how farreaching his edits will be. Also, I've sent the book to Rebecca. She's shared so much of her brilliant book with me. And she's been by my side, giving me inspiration and support with this creative writing endeavor since before I even started this book. I wonder what she'll say.

This is not the last you'll be hearing about this book. Yes, I must revise, revise, revise. And then I've got to try and find a way to get it published. I don't know exactly how I'll go about doing that. But I think the most important thing is making sure the book is as good as I can personally write it before I start reaching out to literary agents.

Today, I'm going to cook like crazy. I have to make several pounds of peach puree and applesauce. I want to roast a chicken. I want to make cauliflower and broccoli puree.

A couple days ago, I splurged on a New York strip steak. Me and Suge stretched that little steak so it fed both of us for two dinners. LOL. I made a nice gravy out of the little burnt parts stuck to the pan.

Popcorn Love

2007-09-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

It's a perfect Sunday morning. All day yesterday, sheets of rain fell on the streets and rooftops, blowing the dead fronds out of the palm trees. Today, it's crystal clear. You can actually read the Hollywood sign.

I got to the Farmer's Market this morning so early that the Bread Man wasn't even set up yet. It's good to go early. That way you can find parking.

I've been cooking a lot lately. I don't know what happened. But lately I've been on a cooking bender. I baked a bunch of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Baked a third and froze the rest. I made a heavenly chicken soup from a recipe in my Mario Batali cookbook. The way I used to make chicken soup was with the carcass of a preroasted chicken. This time, I did as told and chopped up a whole chicken, skinned it, and trimmed it of all its fat. I browned it in olive oil. Took out the chicken pieces and then added the trinity of celery, carrots, and onion (and a little garlic for the sick one). Once the veggies were soft and browned, I returned the chicken to the stockpot. Got it going nice and ferocious, then added a bunch of water and a teaspoon of tomato paste. The paste makes a big difference in terms of color and flavor, making it more robust. Ah yes, and a handful of peppercorns.

After it had been boiling for about an hour, I fished out a nice chicken leg and pureed it up with some of the cooked veggies and broth. Plum absolutely loved it. I've been feeding her variations of it all weekend. Her favorite so far was combining the chicken soup with a cube of pureed peas. It looked very pretty and delicious. But she's been having some stinky garlic burps. It's pretty funny.

With the leftover broth, I made a kind of paella or pilaf with the Italian sausage leftovers. It was like all the ingredients for fried rice, but made pilaf style. Suge liked it. He tends to like really carby, starchy things with lots of rice. I also baked up some corn bread muffins. I tell ya. I'm on a roll.

I want to make a pumpkin and plum tart and some fudge brownies at some point. It's like when I'm writing a lot and cooking a lot I'm happy. But when it's all clogged up and nothing is happening is when I'm sad.

Anyway, I'm very happy today. Plum is basically completely better. I'm starting to realize that she was probably not even that sick to begin with. Just your run of the mill runny nose. The true test will undoubtedly come later in the winter. But I already have my hands full because Sugarman seems to have contracted a full blown cold. He said last night was the worst sleep he's had in years. He looks miserable.

Now all of my family members are slumbering in our only bedroom. This is my chance to eat a little breakfast and organize all of my lovely purchases from the farmer's market. I want to make a cauliflower puree. I've got loads of white peaches and white nectarines for baby food. And many, many organic Fuji apples. Ten dollars worth of apples! I managed to get everything I wanted for basically 60 buckaroos.

This morning as I was driving back, I saw an old man crossing the street on Melrose and Fairfax in front of my car at a stoplight. He had a cane. He looked not unhappy but not particularly elated either. He was holding a box of Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn. And for some reason a wave of sadness washed over me. There seemed to be nothing in the world more sad than this man eager to get home and microwave his box of popcorn. Alone.

Pickin' Boogers

2007-09-21T09:20:00.000-07:00

Plum has her first cold! Last night I heard her snuffling and rolling around violently. I wiped away a flourescent green booger from under her nose. I decided not to send her to daycare today. I'm planning on making a chicken soup from scratch and trying to hydrate her as much as possible.

She seems like she's in a good mood though. No fever or anything.

Good news on the book front. I wrote about 1300 words yesterday. I was able to give myself a gold star and maybe another one today if I can write while Plum is home. Word count: 63,268. It's tough going, but it's going.

Have a beautiful fall day.

Finito!

2007-09-20T12:11:00.000-07:00

My essay is finished and even edited. The editor used words like "fantastic" and "thrilling" to describe my writing. I am elated.

Now I am reading a Walter Mosley book about writing novels and trying to get inspired. For some reason I am terrified to open the latest draft of my book and look at it. I haven't looked at it in weeks. I don't even know where to start. This is the time when I have to write the end.

But it's a big job. I realize that. I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. Trying not to have too many "shoulds" in my life. My life is just what it is. No more, no less. Instead of worrying so much, I'm just trying to wake up to the present moment. I'm also trying to come into acceptance that Sugarman and I are basically artists. We are not successful, mainstream yuppies. We are fringe dwellers. And I'm just trying to come to terms with that. Yet again.

Since that big essay is finished, I've been giving myself a break.

Corina took me to see Ira Glass of "This American Life" radio program last weekend. He spoke at Bovard Auditorium at USC. I learned so much that night about my craft. The basic structure of storytelling. How to look for story ideas. The gap between what you perceive as being high quality work and how you judge your own work. Very cool stuff. I've been marinating on those tips very heavily.

Live at the Barbecue

2007-09-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

I just wolfed down some pork ribs, potato salad, and barbecue beans. De-licious! And it's not even noon yet. I'm a beast.

I'm happy to report that Plum's first day of daycare went off without incident. She came home in good spirits. Her hair was a little messed up. But she looked unscathed. What exactly happened yesterday however is a mystery to me because she didn't arrive with a report card of the day's doings and do-doings. She's back there again. Today I feel more relaxed, but that's when things happen. When you let your guard down.

Also, I made a lot of progress on my essay. I'm not finished, mind you. But at least there is something there. I've written about 2400 words. Which means I still have another 600 to go. Last night ideas for the conclusion danced in my head, but I couldn't actually get myself up to write what I was thinking.

It's been really cold around here at night and in the mornings. I love it. I can't stand the heat.

The other good thing is that Plum went to sleep pretty easily yesterday. That was another sign to me that she was well cared for, or at least didn't mind if she received sub-standard care. Suge thinks they threw her in a crib and kept the door closed all day, because her hair was tangled. But I don't know. She might be a lot more upset if that was the case.

CVS had a sale on Enfamil with Lipil today. 22 bucks for a big jar of it. Pretty good, right? I stocked up for the next couple weeks.

Okay, I gotta return to this friggin' essay. I'll talk to y'all later.

A Letter From Tiber

2007-09-17T09:52:00.001-07:00

My nephew Tiber is so grown up. He can write a letter like this. I'm very proud of him.

Today is Plum's first day of daycare at Gardner Little School. My husband dropped her off about half an hour ago, and I'm wondering how it's going. I'm trying to get started on this crazy essay. My sisters are in Paris to attend the fabric shows and get inspired.

God, give me the inspiration to write this thing.... please.... (whimper).

Last night I baked up another deep dish pepperoni pan pizza. It came out really well. Now I'm inspired to make all kinds of pizzas with different kind of doughs. I feel like I'm finally proficient with yeast dough.

Edith Pilaf

2007-09-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

Today I handed Plum to Sugarman and said I'm not dealing with her anymore today. And I felt very upset. I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted him to wake up and just be there. But now he's pretty much taking full care of her. He'll take her over to his Mom's house later on today. Meanwhile, I'm just left with myself and this essay that needs writing. I'd rather do anything else in the world. I just can't get in the hip-hop headspace right now. I wish I could write a comparative essay about sippy cups and purees.

Last night I made a really yummy rice, broccoli, and chicken pilaf. I had some cold cooked chicken breasts that was marinated in lime, soy sauce, and chili powder, which I diced. I diced up some onion and half a seeded jalapeno, too. I sauteed one cup of basmati rice in hot olive oil until it was opaque and golden brown. Then I added the onion, chicken, and pepper. When the onion was cooked through, I added two cups of water and some small broccoli florets. I brought the heat down to a bare simmer and let it steam up for about 20 minutes. When it was done, I tossed it with a fork, revealing perfectly cooked grains of rice. I seasoned with salt and pepper. And boom, another inexpensive dinner prepared and ready to go.

Blown Away

2007-09-14T16:24:00.000-07:00

Reading mediabistro's revolving door newsletter makes me so depressed. All these people getting hired at their dream jobs. (sigh)

Today I am doing a ton of laundry. Sugarman took the little Plum out for a walk. She has been in a snit all day because I won't let her chew on the wire of my mouse. I suspect that she has teething pain. Lately she has been crying for emotional reasons, not just because she is hungry or tired. This is a whole new level of stress.

We decided to move forward with Gardner Little School. Thanks in part to the outpouring of support coming from you guys, my loyal readers and dearest of friends. It takes some of the guilt off when all you guys are in agreement that it's a good thing. For real, you guys are so supportive. It's whats keeps me going these days.

There's not much else to report on. Plum starts on Monday. Dolores is back on babysitting duty for the weekend so that I can write my musical rivalry essay for Crown.

I have all these fantasies that once Plum starts daycare I will start freelancing with a vengeance, hitting up all the editors, maybe finishing my book, getting it published.

Oh speaking of books. My girl, Rebecca Louie is at an artists colony in Kentucky working on her book. She let me read the first chapter, and I am postively blown away.

Looks like Suge and Plum are back. Gotta go.

Sleep is the Cousin of Death

2007-09-13T00:45:00.000-07:00

I've been sleeping too much lately. Last night I slept ten hours. Today I took a two hour nap. And I think I had a two hour nap yesterday, too. I wish I could just wake up and get a grip. I have a 3,000 word essay to write for an anthology coming out on Crown books. The deadline is literally the day after tomorrow. I have not written a single word. This is the worst case of procrastination I have ever had. But I don't want to say that, in case it feeds into it more.

Instead of writing, Suge and I watched a DVD of Project Runway. It was infinitely entertaining and stressful. I kept reminding myself to breathe. Maybe it reminded me too much of my childhood.

So now it's a quarter to one. The ghetto birds are making a lot of noise outside tonight. And occassionally they shine their police lights into our window. The bank has been running a generator for the past two nights. Not very peaceful around here. I long for country nights.

My dream house would be like the house that Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin inhabit in Beetlejuice before they die. A perfect little country house.

Earlier today, Suge and I went to check out Little Gardner School Daycare. Echo went there for her whole entire babyhood and she turned out pretty okay. Which makes me think that it's a pretty good daycare. It's run by these Russian ladies with heavy accents. Now Echo speaks with a faint Russian accent, it's hilarious.

I would put Plum in Little Gardner in a heartbeat, except that it costs $200 a week. And they were giving us a break, because it's actually $230/week. There's just no way in hell that we can afford that. I mean, I guess technically we could pay for it with our savings, but then it will run out even faster than ever.

But if Plum is in daycare then I could be a more productive and prolific earner.

Is $200 a week reasonable? I don't know. I have nothing to compare it to. But I told them that I would give them an answer by tomorrow. I don't know what the right thing to do is in this case. I just know that I can't keep going this way because I'm sleeping way too much. I don't know if I'm exhausted or depressed. It's just weird, you know?

Peaceful

2007-09-11T13:16:00.000-07:00

At last, the weather has cooled off in L.A. I'm loving the chilly mornings and the balmy evenings. Though the days are still quite hot.

I'm forcing myself to blog even though I haven't much wanted to write since I've gone on the anti-depressants. Besides that, its worked out remarkably well. Don't get me wrong, I'm still occassionally consumed by rage and self-pity, but that's a good thing. It lets me know that I'm still me. Like Todd says, Prozac doesn't cure Korean.

Right this very minute, it's about 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Plum is in her Pack'n'Play wearing a wonderful little blue sundress and cooing and gurgling at her pacifier. She just had some summer vegetables and apple sauce for lunch. We went outside and spread a blanket on someone else's lawn and sat in the shade for a spell. But Plum started yelling and I took it as she wanted to go back inside.

I've turned on the air conditioner and some jazz lullabies sung by Chet Baker, Nat King Cole, and Judy Garland. I don't know if Plum likes it but it makes me feel really good. Good enough to write in my blog.

Later on, I'm planning on going to the market for some shrimp, eggs, and scallions to make shrimp fried rice.

For lunch I ate mung bean pancakes that I made myself. I made them with some old kim chee dregs, scallions, and a tiny amount of pork. Really good poverty food, because I think it costs like a nickel per pancake which are hearty and packed with protein. Koreans know how to eat healthfully on a very small amount of money. But it takes a lot of soaking and forethought.

That's fine, because I have a lot of time right now.

Kiddie Pool

2007-09-07T04:17:00.000-07:00

Man, I can't sleep. Every night for the past week, I've been waking up at about 2 and staying up until 4. While I'm up I have all this anxiety about work and money and our future.

Oh yeah, that picture up there is cute, right? Plum is on the verge of turning 8 months old. She can pretty much crawl forward, like scoot and push herself to get where she needs to go. She can pull herself up into a sitting position and stand very well while holding on to something. It's almost scary how fast she is growing. Like, are we ready for this? It's a wild ride.

Things with Sugarman are at an all time high right now. The little things that used to aggravate me have settled down considerably. I just let it roll off my back like water on a duck, which is something I could never do before. I always had to nitpick, even when I knew it would get me in trouble. Now we are trying to get much more clearer about communicating our expectations.

Honestly, I've been feeling a little embarassed about writing so much about myself. That's why I've slowed down on the blogging... it's like, isn't there more important things in the world than my stupid little life?

And I've been so busy. Now I've pretty much given up on the book. I'm half-heartedly looking for a job. But taking care of Plum is a full time job. It's like I'm always either washing the dishes, putting her down for a nap, or making her some kind of food.

I made a huge batch of pureed chicken breast with carrots, which tastes damn good to me, but she's not so crazy about. However, I'm really trying to get her to eat it because it seems like she needs protein.

During the heatwave, Plum wasn't able to sleep through the night. She was so hot, sometimes she just needed to be cooled off next to the a/c before putting her back in the crib. I think babies get much hotter than humans. Their little feet get so hot and their heads are like steaming. It must be dreadful. It's like she's a miniature fat person.

Hot, Hot, Hot!

2007-09-04T08:56:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't blogged in so long. First I went out of town to Ojai with Samantha and then, I've just been soooo busy with Plum. This heat is absolutely unbearable. I went to Best Buy to get an a/c but they were all sold out. I feel like I'm in a Spike Lee movie or something.

I hope you all had a nice Labor Day. The Sanicos spent the day with Corina and Greg and their in-laws. They have two beautiful children. I need to show you this picture of Plum with all of them in the kiddie pool.

It's funny because I finally scored a session with a therapist today at 10:00AM, but with the meds and everything I feel pretty good. What am I gonna talk about?

Cheers!

Quiet Time

2007-08-29T09:02:00.000-07:00

This morning I read a crazy article in New York magazine about an arty couple who committed suicide in New York earlier this summer. They reminded me a lot of Suge and me although we are a much less fabulous version. The woman, Duncan, kept a blog and wrote short stories and scripts. She had a two picture deal but she was continually disillusioned by the Hollywood machine. She was an uncompromising artist. Her husband, Blake, was a well-known and accomplished artist, who designed the cover of Beck's album, but they were both totally paranoid about the Scientologists. They thought there was an elaborate conspiracy with the Scientologists and Beck and the CIA totally out to get them.

First they lived in New York and then they lived in Venice for a little while. Then they moved back to NY, to the Nolita area. Then one day, Duncan took a bunch of Tylenol 3 and Bourbon and left a suicide note. And then a week after discovering her dead body, Blake walked straight into the Atlantic Ocean without his clothes on. He left a suicide note, too, for Duncan.

It reminded me of Romeo and Juliet and/or Sid and Nancy. Sid and Nancy were a very important couple to me and Suge; we had our wedding drinks at the Chelsea Hotel in their honor.

But I don't want to go down that road. It just sounds so pretentious and meaningless and empty and frankly, scary. The best things in life are the smell of your babies and good homemade food and genuine connections with people you love.

Magic Beans

2007-08-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

Sugarman left for Magic earlier this evening. Plum and I drove him to the airport. It will be our first time staying home without him. It's coming at a good time, because we have been driving each other crazy. Well, it's not so bad now. But last week, we bickered all day everyday about the tiniest things, literally the tiniest baby things. And then when he gets back I'll really miss him and there will be lots to talk about.

Magic is a big urban fashion convention in Las Vegas. "Everyone" will be there, although I've never gone. But I'm not a fashion person, so I guess that makes sense. Sugarman hopes to get a lot done, hopefully for Magnificent Failure and 12 Pack Killers and all of his solo, independent web design projects. The man is hustling like nobody's business. There's rarely a moment in the day when he isn't working on something.

Anyway, I'm doing much, much better. This is day four of the Prozac. Yep, I'm on Prozac now. I got three weeks worth from the OB/Gyn who delivered Plum, our old friend Dr. Kim. He didn't charge me for the prescription and I got a generic which wasn't too expensive.

I'm still trying to locate a psychiatrist who can consistently prescribe me the medication and maybe do some talk therapy too, which I'm highly apprehensive about.

I don't think the meds have fully kicked in yet. But on the second day, I felt all kinds of strange side effects. I was slightly nauseous, dizzy, and tired. Everything I ate tasted bad. Things still taste kind of off, which is good, because I'm losing weight. And when Sugarman isn't here, it's hard to get motivated to cook for only myself.

I still have anxiety, rage, paranoia. I'm still mad at everybody. I can't seem to let go of all these knots of resentment. I don't know why I'm so profoundly disappointed in people. It's not like I didn't already know that they weren't perfect. And it's not like their crimes were so great. They were quite trivial actually. As trivial as you can get.

Hopefully the Prozac will come and wash everything away.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention that Plum fully says "Mama-mama," "Mom," and "Meh-meh-meh." And she means me!

Plum's First Watermelon

2007-08-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

Grandma Soraya (aka Halmoni) feeds Plum her first watermelon in the loft in Downtown L.A. Everytime Soraya would slow down, Plum would grunt, like asking for "More! More!"

Another Greg and Corina Wedding Celebration, AGAIN!

2007-08-24T08:34:00.001-07:00

Suge and I had the privilege of being invited to Corina and Greg's Wedding Party at Chaya Brasserie in Beverly Hills last week. Her boss, James Rhyu, the owner of Koream Journal, really knows how to throw a big bash.

Here they are giving a speech to the party. They're on Cloud 9 because they just got back from their honeymoon in Jamaica.

Your favorite dysfunctional couple!

James and his wife Judge Tammy. She was the first Korean American woman judge in Southern California! She works on juvenile crime in Compton. I toasted her accomplishment.

Suge and I both ate filet mignon, which was simply transcendent.

Yuri's Baby Shower

2007-08-24T08:08:00.000-07:00

Sugarman's principal source of income is this website/skate crew/organization/support group called TwelvePackKillers.com.
The guy that owns it is this really young, prematurely gray skater kid named Louie whose girlfriend Yuri (or Catherine as her name is in English) is pregnant!

They had a baby shower at Elysian Fields in a grassy knoll overlooking Dodger Stadium. Here are some pictures from the event. There was no bathroom except for a graffiti covered porta potty that I heard was disgusting. But it was amazingly cool and wonderful in that spot. Lots of nice breezes, tons of delicious food, and many wonderful babies and children to play with.

Here we are enjoying pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw. There was also pineapple upside down cake and homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Wally, Tim, and Rick. Wally is a legendary Hollywood area skater. Tim is another local skater who had two little twin boys with a woman who reminded me somewhat of G-child from the White Rapper Show. And Rick is a DJ.

Here are Tony's twins: Tiko and Koti. Both boys who are the same age as Plum, about 7 months. (Why are they like half her size!?! Is my baby obese?!?)

The original Twelve Pack Killers: Sugarman, Tio, and Louie, the owner of TPK and the expectant father.

The blonde woman is also pregnant and a wife of a Twelve Packer, actually an original founding member. The girl in the middle is Meg who organized the whole shower. And on the right is Catherine aka Yuri, who is the beautiful expectant mom. I can't believe she is due in about a month. She still looks small to me!

Plum making friends with a little person. I don't know her name because she refused to speak to me, but she liked Plum. The woman who is holding Plum is Wally's girlfriend, Violet. Mad cool.

Plum Says Hi!

2007-08-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

Homemade Pan Pizza

2007-08-24T07:56:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard of Cook's Illustrated or America's Test Kitchen? Mirena is obsessed with that cookbook series. Actually, come to think of it, getting her a subscription to Cook's Illustrated might be a good gift idea. She won't see this because she's not an invited blog reader. Heheheh.

Anyway, I found in America's Test Kitchen, a recipe for pepperoni pan pizza like what you might get at Pizza Hut, deep-dish, Chicago style. I was really nervous about making it because of my fear of yeast doughs. But it turned out to be really easy and relatively fast. Once the dough is risen and in the pan everything else is just piled on and boom, it's done.

And you know how when you make homemade pizza you need a stone and a paddle? All that is unnecessary with a pan pizza. You just need two round cake pans, which for some reason I don't have, so I used a springform cake pan and a square brownie pan. It worked just fine. You could probably also squish the whole dough on to a big 13 x 9 casserole dish, too, if you wanted one giant pizza.

It was delicious. We could control how much cheese and pepperoni we wanted. Sugarman basically ate half of one pizza for dinner one night and then the other half heated up in the oven for lunch the next day, amazing for someone who basically shuns leftovers. I highly, highly recommend this. Because it's pretty much like a real flesh and blood delivery pizza but without the unnecessary grease and it just tastes about 1,000 times better: crispy golden brown crust, tangy, garlicky tomato sauce made from scratch. These two pizzas cost well under $5.00.

But it was shortly after the baking of this pan pizza that I had my nervous breakdown. Rebecca and I were joking around about how making pizza from scratch tends to precipitate women falling apart, maybe it's the unabashed domesticity of the act of making dough.

What Plum is Like...

2007-08-22T12:32:00.000-07:00

Plum has a wild mop of jet black hair that's never been cut. It curls into waves and ringlets, especially when it gets damp.

When it's really dry, it's pretty much straight and fine with light reddish brown tips.

Sugarman and I always joke around that she looks a lot like Robert DeNiro and makes many of his expressions.

She has super big cheeks. Mirena once said they need their own zip code. She's also the auntie who calls her "Plump."

Plum reaches out for everything and especially loves the remote control and the cord to my laptop. She likes to remove people's glasses but I'm trying to teach her not to do that.

Plum can roll over like five or six times in every possible direction. She's very good at sitting up now. She looks like a little panda in the forest examining a bamboo leaf with a very serious expression on her face.

Her nails grow too fast and are always scratching everybody. She uses them to scratch Nigel and twist his ears really hard. But he seems to appreciate her attention and is always very gentle in her presence.

Plum has had a terrible rash in her armpit lately, because of the heat. We've been bathing her a lot and applying diaper cream there so it's gotten better.

Plum loves to eat homemade babyfood now. She eats chicken and peas, pureed carrots, applesauce, pureed zucchini, all things that I made for her with a blender and freezed into cubes with the ice tray and then stored in individual plastic bags.
She drinks out of a sippy cup to wash her food down. She still breastfeeds a little and has an occassional bottle of Enfamil with Iron.

She goes through her food very fast.

Plum smells like good clean baby sweat a lot of the time and sometimes like dirty diapers or spit up which isn't the best smell.

She can say "Da-da" now. And I'm sure she means her father because she only says it when he is in the room. She babbles very coherently and beautifully now with her soft voice. But most of the time she grunts very aggressively and impatiently like she's Sasquatch.

New Lows

2007-08-22T08:29:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I officially have post-partum depression. I went from kind of bummed out to certifiably looney in about ten days.

Yesterday, I was even driven by my despair to visit the Department of Mental Health, Hollywood headquarters. There were all these crazy homeless people smoking cigarettes outside.

So I waited and when they called me in I told them my story, sobbing. They said not to minimize what I'm going through but they were used to seeing people who had been institutionalized and heard voices and stuff. Man, I don't feel like that's too far off for me at this point. A lot of pain and craziness. I don't know how else to describe it. I've been pulling my hair out in clumps and wanting to cut myself. I haven't felt like that since the eighties!

Then the caseworker was like if you can't take care of your child, I'm going to have to report you to DYFS! I was like oh hell no. All I want is some antidepressants. I had to get out of there quickstyle. Now I will never go to a public service place with something like this.

There's nothing in the government system for people who aren't as troubled as Skid Row inhabitants but who are having a hard time and need help and struggling to survive.

I asked her if you could help a family before they fall through the cracks why wouldn't you?

Anyway, don't worry about me too much. My family knows about my struggle. I'm going to see a psychiatrist and try to get on medication. I'm not ashamed to say it. I'm not a bad person. I happen to have a hormonal imbalance that's making me crazy. I think if I can get on some kind of anti-depressant a lot of this anxiety and insanity will go away. One hopes.

Made in China

2007-08-15T15:15:00.000-07:00

It's so easy to tell my sister to throw away her son's toys that were made in China (because her son Maro was a Hot Wheels fiend), but when she suggested the same to me, it wasn't so easy to follow it up with action.

About 99.9 percent of Plum's toys are made in China, and she honestly doesn't even have very many toys. She has one thing, like a wooden star rattle that was made in Denmark. That's the only thing I'm really encouraging her to play with. But there are still some Made in China stuffed animals laying around.

I can't imagine actually throwing them in the trash, but when I see her put them in her mouth, I keep thinking about the nine year old boy who probably made it in some primitive Chinese village and what gross things he probably did to it. Or even worse, it was probably made in some giant gross factory with all kinds of lead and nasty fibers floating around.

I seriously don't know what to do.

What about you guys? Are you seriously throwing away ALL of your kids' toys that were Made in China? Inquiring minds wanna know.

Leos of the world unite!

2007-08-15T14:20:00.000-07:00

It was Joanne's birthday on August 11, which she celebrated at Tart, a supercute restaurant around the corner from our place. It's the hotel restaurant of Farmer's Daughter. They have yummy Tart burgers which are just perfect.

As long as I've known Joanne, we barely have any pictures of us together. Because in our heyday, I would take pics of her or she would take pics of me. And nobody was around to take pics of both of us. But here we are in our 30s, still looking good though!

Here's the cake. It was extremely rich and almost leaden. They gave me the leftovers and I snarfed it down the next day with coffee.

Unfortunately the service at Tart sucked real bad.

Joanne, her Irish singer-songwriter husband David, her longtime friend Marites, and her boyfriend, whose name I forgot.

Here's Joanne's mom, Mrs. Hwang and her other longtime friend Basil, who looks just like a Chinese actor. Mrs. Hwang treated us all, which was so splendiferous in every way imaginable.

The Doo-Doo Theory

2007-08-11T12:27:00.000-07:00

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Plum turned seven months old yesterday!

I'm really excited about this revelation I had this morning during meditation. I'm calling it the doo-doo theory. I feel like I've made a humongous discovery that will help me for the rest of my life. And that's why I'm trying to share it with you today.

So I was sitting there on my purple yoga mat, legs crossed, eyes closed, heart in turmoil, trying to breathe. Last night I almost got into another fight with a loved one, which was Corina. Every time I mention Giant magazine, which I write for regularly now, she always has to criticize either the photography or the angle of the magazine. She always says how much she liked it before Smokey Fontaine took over. He's the editor who commissioned me to start writing for them. She's done it about two times before and last night she did it again when I was talking about writing for them. Every time she does that, I try to give her a sharp sarcastic comment to indicate that it's a boundary being crossed. It hurt real bad. Like I had smashed the pinky nail of my soul. Thankfully, I didn't say anything really serious and confrontational to her then. I was just kind of reeling silently.

I kept thinking about that this morning and about how I must probably be nuts if I get into three conflicts in one week. I'm definitely the crazy one.

So I was thinking about our fundamental smallness as humans.

I love Plum so much that her doo-doo diapers don't disgust me. It reassures me that her system is in working order. So when people who love you hurt you, they are just giving you their psychological doo-doo.

The psychological doo-doo reflects our babyhood. The part that we cannot control and the poison in our systems that we cannot contain.

For instance my sensitivity, my clinging, and loneliness are all my own psychic doo-doo. Elaine's belief that she is poor is her doo-doo. Dolores's obsessive intrusiveness is her doo-doo. We all have doo-doo. Even Ghandi and the Pope.

It reflects how we are still babies. Those hurtful comments are just showing where Corina is still a baby and maybe feeling kind of small. Maybe she thinks I'm strong and I can handle stuff like that. Maybe she thinks I have a really great journalism career and what do I care what little criticisms she has. What she might not know is how babylike I've been feeling these days. And now she has to deal with my doo-doo which is being so touchy that I read an attack into something that probably isn't an attack.

When it hurt me, I thought it was knives, but it's just harmless doo-doo.

Like my baby, I fundamentally love all of these people in my life. Although they might not be as cute nor smell as good as Plum. Still they are my babies too. So to an extent I have to receive their doo-doo, occasionally. I don't have to love it, but at least I can see it for what it is. After all, they deal with plenty of my doo-doo.

When I realized this in my sitting meditation, first I laughed and then I cried.

A Difficult Time

2007-08-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a hard time and this photo was the only thing in my iPhoto that sort of reflected that. I don't think Tiber wanted to wear this costume. I think he must have been two or three. Anyway, I feel like how he looks! Like a baby that's struggling even though he has his candy.

Okay, so in addition to fighting with my mother-in-law, now I'm fighting with my sister, Elaine. Neither of them are like serious fights. They are more like little tiffs in which no one is really wrong, but for some reason it is bringing up all these ragged feelings.

Mirena said I have strayed from Pema, "Boy have you strayed," when I tell her about how I've been feeling lately. Grasping. Resentful. Self-righteous.

So I went back to the book, Places That Scare You, which initally brings a measure of relief. But then I become overwhelmed at how difficult staying is. I mean, just sitting there and experiencing the pain and not running to the phone to call someone or to blog about it or to drink some coffee or eat something or pick a fight with Sugarman.

I've been trying to change the story line from "this is why Dolores is wrong" or "Elaine is wrong" to "how have I gotten myself in this pickle?" What is this experience telling me about myself?

I've arrived at this: To be perfectly honest with myself, I try to give a lot but with this sense that somewhere along the line it will probably be reciprocated. Maybe not necessarly reciprocated, but that if I happen to need something then the recipient of my past generosity would indulge me. I guess that is reciprocated. Sigh.

Both of my conflicts are telling me this, but in vastly different ways. I give with expectations. I don't mean presents and stuff, but big things like childcare, rent, longterm financial support, my heart and truth. I give these things to the point where I feel vulnerable and cheated. I'm sure everyone who knows me well is like, yay, she finally realized what we've known all along. And the way people give is all different. Some people give money, time, thoughtful gifts, whatever. What hurts is when my expectations of how people give back is skewed with reality.

Giving can be extremely powerful. Maybe one of the most powerful things there is to do, which is why it shouldn't be taken lightly, flinging checks and time around like it's nothing. When it is something. Maybe today I will try not to give anything to anyone unless I am absolutely 100 percent sure that it is with the purest intention.

When you give to a child, you never, ever, ever expect anything in return. Simply giving to them is the gift in and of itself. It's so gratifying. But when it comes to adults, it should be the same because aren't we all still children in so many ways?

I also learned that when people feel poor they cannot give back even though I feel like I've given everything I can to them. They might be as rich as a Rockefeller but if they feel lacking they will sit and watch the next man starve and instead of helping him, they'll say, "that's just like me. I'm so hungry, too. I wish someone would feed me." And it's true if they're thinking like that they are starving.

I think to a degree I can be like that, too. Like when I'm walking down the street and a homeless person asks me for money, my first instinct is like, hell no. Get a job! I'm unemployed. I'm barely feeding my family! But compared to him, I have so much. I have a comfortable home, a sweet and supportive husband, a gorgeous and healthy baby. I've got lots of cute clothes and cookbooks, pots and pans. The truth is I will never go hungry.

Feeling poor is genuinely not my issue. I grew up experiencing both great wealth and great poverty. Yet I always knew that I was okay and well-educated and for the most privileged. I even felt guilty about how privileged I was.

Acutally I feel very, very guilty about how hard my Mom worked raising us three girls by herself. I feel guilty about how much my sisters gave and gave to me when I was growing up. Oh, I see, guilt is my issue!

Anyway, I don't know what I'm getting at. Maybe just that this life business is hard. It's hard to face the reality of the situation. Or the reality about myself even though it's unflattering and I always want to be little miss perfect. But I'm really just a messy, selfish beast.

I don't want to get out of bed today. But my sheets are too gross. Thanks to the bed-pug.

How will I find the strength to do everything I have to do today and every other day? To work on these painful edits. To try to be civil and flexible and understanding to people who inadvertently hurt me.

Grandma Dolores and Sugarplum

2007-08-09T04:36:00.000-07:00

Sugarman's mom, Dolores has been watching Plum on the weekdays. She's really great, reliable, and basically it's helped me write much of my book. But now I'm ready for this arrangement to end. We've had some differences of opinion, as to be expected between in-laws. And suffice to say, it's DRIVING ME FRIGGIN' CRAZY!

Signing off at 4:38 in the morning...

Chillin' at Farmer's Market... Again

2007-08-08T17:05:00.000-07:00

My dear friend, Todd and his adorable family came to visit L.A. last weekend. I absolutely adore his wife, Betty. She is so down-to-earth and cool and unflappable. They live in San Jose, Calif. Todd helped me break into magazine writing back in 1996. Has it been that long already?

Here's their son, Maceo, who is now 2 years old, I believe. He refused to remove that sticker from his forehead.

I wonder who these people are.

This is actually another time, but I wanted Julee to see Plum in her new stroller, so there you go.

Heartbreaking Adoption Story

2007-08-05T08:11:00.001-07:00

I've been sobbing all morning reading this story in the L.A. Times:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-adoption5aug05,0,893593,full.story?coll=la-home-center

Good Traveller

2007-08-04T08:32:00.000-07:00

We lucked out and got this extra space on the way to Minneapolis.

Crashed out in our room at the Radisson.

Seeing Minneapolis

2007-08-04T08:27:00.001-07:00

This hotel appeared in Fargo, you know when the pregnant cop meets up with Mike Yamagita. That's right, boyeee.

Plum at Nicolette Mall.

Some glass building. Is this supposed to be famous?

We ate breakfast at Peter's Grill. Bill Clinton ate there, too!

The skyways are so that you can walk around downtown without having to go outside when it gets really cold.

Public Speaking Sucks

2007-08-04T08:22:00.001-07:00

This is me trying to give a speech at the rehearsal dinner. Afterwards I realized there was so much more I wanted to say. Then they started doing karaoke at the end. Greg's ninety year old grandfather would not get off the stage. So Sugarman ended up singing a Beatles song with him, "A Day in the Life." It was such a weird, apocalyptic choice. It kind of altered the whole mood of the dinner! Gotta love Sugarman for his eccentricities.

Going to the Chapel

2007-08-04T08:15:00.001-07:00

I don't have any pics of the actual wedding because I was in it. But here we are going to the chapel at Macalester College. Kofi Annan went there! And that's where both Greg and Corina went to college.

Corina wore her flip-flops there.

A closeup of her bridal makeup.

We are all wearing our bridesmaid dresses. We look like little yellow chicks, peep-peep.

Thank God for the Reception

2007-08-04T08:13:00.000-07:00

Me and Plum.

Corina dancing with her father.

Julie, Eric, and Richard, the Koream Journal contingent.

The parents of baby Amina, Eva and Kofi. For a photo of Amina, see below.

More reception photos...

2007-08-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

Greg and Jeff.

Greg and his sister Meg. She was also a bridesmaid.

Corina and her maid of honor, Natasha.

Jaman, who introduced Greg and Corina in L.A. and unwittingly made the match.

Macalester College Alumni House Brunch

2007-08-04T08:05:00.000-07:00

The morning after the wedding, we were invited to a brunch at the alumni house of Macalester College. It's kind of like a boarding house where Corina and her other, unmarried and childless, bridesmaids stayed with her.

Corina was totally exhausted from partying all night with her peoples. Meanwhile, I was in bed by 10:30!

This little baby with Plum is her homie Amina. She's the year old daughter of Eva and Kofi. This has got to be the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Shopping Mecca

2007-08-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

Shopping is a Sanico family tradition.

On our last day in Minneapolis, we drove to the Mall of America which is the biggest mall in the U.S. We spent six hours there! But it was kinda fun. There's everything you can imagine from DSW to Martin and Osa to As Seen on TV. We noticed that there were lots of Southeast Asians, Muslims, and interracial couples. I thought that was pretty surprising for the midwest.

That's me in front of the Extreme Trampoline. Suffice to say, I did not go on. But I did eat a lot of Panda Express.

Corina and her folks met us at the Mall of America. So we had a farewell dinner at Dave's Famous Barbecue. The waiter was irritated with me because I kept asking about the lunch special even though it was 6:34.

We rushed to the airport only for me to bash my pinky on the trunk of our rental car. It now has a black nail. Then we found out our plane was delayed by three hours. So we chilled at the gate for five hours until we boarded. While I held the baby in my arms, my pinky was throbbing and stinging. Fortunately Dolores picked us up at the airport, even though it was 2 in the morning. Without complaint and happily! She is an amazing lady. And she had a birthday present for me!!! (A cookbook holder)

Greg and Corina Sittin' On a Tree...

2007-08-02T09:13:00.000-07:00

Greg and Corina got married on July 28, 2007 in St. Paul, Minnesota. We give them our biggest, most heartfelt blessings and love. They are sooo cute. The wedding was totally personal and amazing, with touches like jumping over a broom for the African American tradition and each table had a comic book theme for the reception. Probably one of the most meaningful things they did was pay honor to their dead ancestors in the ceremony. Deep. Real deep.

Both the Colleton and Knoll families were so warm. Both sides made us feel like we were a part of their families. Man, there's something to be said for Midwesterners. They are pretty cool people.

But I also have to add that I was the oldest and fattest bridesmaid, and the only one who had to breastfeed an infant.

Yes, we travelled back and forth on the collapsed bridge in Minneapolis like six times. It's so weird because when we see CNN, it all looks so familiar and horrific. I'm a conspiracy theorist, so of course, I think that terrorists had something to do with it. Terrorists always strike at rush hour. I speak from experience. But of course they are going to keep it under wraps. They.

Let's see. What else. I'm looking on ebay for a used Miele vacuum cleaner. I'm all caffeinated and ready to do housecleaning today. The ebay search is my way of procrastinating. We had to let go of our beloved cleaning lady Aracely last week to save money. How can I justify hiring someone to clean our house when I don't even make a salary? And I'm home all day! So, I pulled out my clunky Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Housekeeping book to get inspired. As soon as Suge wakes up I'm going to try and get him to join the effort. He probably will; he's cool about stuff like that. Well, as cool as a man can be.

Oh no, the meatheads are back. They blast speed metal in the parking lot behind our house while they do work on the bank. It's so annoying. I swear they are from Godforsaken corner of Orange County or something like that. I'm going to have to go out there and scream on them for waking up my baby.

Hectic!

2007-08-01T06:06:00.000-07:00

I'd like to blog about Minneapolis which was a great trip, but I'm on a tight deadline. I've gotta file a 2,000 word story today! And it's my sister's b-day so we all have to meet up in Little Tokyo. It's six in the morning now, so hopefully I can pound out the rest of the story by the time she picks me up at 11 AM.

Will report on MN later. Promise. For now, just know that Plum was a good traveller. And Corina and Greg's wedding was lovely and meaningful.

Twin Cities, Here We Come

2007-07-26T08:12:00.001-07:00

Yikes. We have to go to the airport tomorrow at 7 a.m. I've never flown with Plum before so I'm nervous and I hope I don't forget anything critical. I hope she doesn't cry the whole way there. And I hope her ears don't pop too painfully.

There's loads of stuff to get done today. So I won't be able to make that austere deadline for the feature, which was tomorrow. There's no way I can make it. Everything is so frantic right now. Just the sheer amount of laundry that needs to be done before we leave is daunting.

I'm trying to just focus on the survival stuff, and leave all the perfectionism stuff for later.

Later!

Will.I.Am's House in Los Feliz

2007-07-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

Will.I.Am lives in Los Feliz, an old money neighborhood in L.A. with huge, luxurious mansions, but without all of the gaudiness of Bel Air or Beverly Hills. There's more quiet elegance and history. It's a huge departure from Snoop's McMansion in the Inland Empire or the Bel-Air rent-a-mansion that Three-6-Mafia has leased out for their MTV reality show.

Will's house is in a gated community that I never even knew existed until we found the address. We follow a narrow, twisting road up the hill until we come upon a three-story, six-bedroom, white Italianate villa with a red tile roof and a majestic terraced backyard. In the front, there is a babbling brook, lined with big stones and ferns with giant furry, fanning leaves. An older blond lady comes out, but does not know who we are or why we are here. I ask for Hillary, the publicist, and she says go inside.

Sugarman brings Plum to the house in his arms because he wants to say hi to SGP, who is an assistant on the photo shoot for Will. SGP and Sugarman are close friends, from the same graffiti crew. I'm sure the publicist was like, why on earth did you bring your whole family? Anyway, the publicist has her own baby so she got a kick out of meeting mine. I hope.

We hang out outside with the stylee photographer guys, Sasha and his two assistants in the patio area which is paved with bricks and furnished with a white canvas daybed and a dark wicker dining set. SGP takes a really beautiful polaroid of Sugarman and my daughter. They both looked incredible. Like why don't they ever look like that when I take a picture? The photographer takes a pretty cool picture of me, too, sitting on the day bed. He says, "there's your contributor's photo." Thanks!

On Sugarman and baby's way out, they bump into Will.I.Am who swears he recognizes Suge from some place. They figure it out, some hip-hop club from back in the day or maybe a record store, and then my family are on their way. Sugarman says he will pick me up later from the studio.

There is no craft table so we are hungry and thirsty in the intense heat.

The landscaping is verdant, like where you might see dinosaurs chomping on ferns under giant palms. There are terra cotta planters with all kinds of fruit trees, limes, figs, sago palms. It's good to be rich. There are fuscia bougainvillea climbing the walls. In the terrace below, a crew of Latino day workers are digging a giant hole for a swimming pool. Some rest on the grass near tiny rose bushes and passionfruit trees.

A narrow stucco stairway leads to the inside of the house, which is done in dark hardwood floors, buffed to a high polish. There are long skinny windows on every wall with tall arches. I think it's a Spanish design motif, because I something like thta at Paulina Rubio's Barcelona house on MTV Cribs. There are also lots of Moroccan vases and designer pieces. It's very "Sheltering Sky."

In the main foyer, the first thing you see is Will's Grammy Award in a little glass case. A money tree grows in a huge wooden planter, meticulously carved into elephants. There's another really alien looking giant bonsai that grows orange broccoli.

The sitting room is all rigged up with a gilded roccoco flat screen television, a mahogany baby grand piano, big gold brocade curtains, leather sofas, and club chairs. The rug is a faded white Oriental rug. Very ritzy. Nick tells me that Will can record from every room in the house. Later I learn that the house itself is a server to which Will can log on from any computer in the world.

Nick Lauher, one of Will's personal assistants, gives me a tour. He's a young, overweight white guy who's kind of dressed like a skater with big, baggy shorts and a Volcom tennis cap. He takes me down a cool circular stairway. The steps are made out of marble. Suddenly we are in like a subterranean foyer with Will's statues surrounding the wall. They are American Music Awards and MTV Awards. They are glowing in their little nooks. It's very impressive. Will's logo is emblazoned in marble on the floor.

Then Nick waves his hand against the wall and glass doors slide open. We are in the studio. Will's workspace, a cavernous, technological meat locker with Victorian-era wallpaper, like fuzzy spiders on a red satin wall. It's kind of like where Batman would work if he had a recording studio. There's a big, futuristic looking control board, lots of computer monitors cleverly positioned throughout. There are also framed photographs of Will with his family when he was a child. It looks like it was the 70s because he is wearing a light blue tuxedo and an afro.

The studio also has a drum room, a vocal booth, a trippy bathroom, a gym, and a lounge area where his uncle was maxing on the sofa and watching TV. Nick tells me that "Songs About Girls," Will's latest album was recorded here.

I listened to the album the day before yesterday. It was definitely a Will.I.Am production. I expected it to be more visionary, but it was still fundamentally a pop album. There was some high quality songwriting and production on there, but it was still too pop for me.

From Will.I.Am's balcony, you can see that L.A. is just a vast, flat land, the squat slums of Koreatown below, beneath a smoggy line, like the lint on a dryer. There was downtown L.A. in the distance, looking small and unimpressive.

The kitchen is being remodeled, also in a dark, inquisition style. There are stern orders to not touch anything in the kitchen.

We go up to the second floor, which is decorated in African art. There are two guest bedrooms. One with black gauze curtains and a black satin bedspread. And another one that has white gauze curtains and a white chaise longue.

The master bathroom has a giant moneky shaped toilet paper holder. Bet you didn't know.

This house has lots of secret tunnels and passageways.

When I come back upstairs, Sasha, the photographer is shooting Will at the piano. He is wearing two different vests and a woolen hunting cap. He doesn't seem to ever mind that it's hot, says the publicist. "He doesn't notice the seasons." The light is coming in softly. The pictures look very quiet and elegant, not like the cheesy exuberance of the Black Eyed Peas. Suddenly, Will.I.Am notices that SGP Is wearing two different colored slip-on Vans, one blue and one with green and black checks. "I be doing that, too," he says.

Will looks at his Polaroid by the piano and says he looks like "Elmer Fudge."

Sasha wants something more active, so Will suggests a top hat and a tuxedo. "That shit will be hot," he says. He says that a lot, like Paris Hilton. "Let's do it," says Sasha.

Will emerges in a vintage tuxedo and top hat with shiny black loafers with silver buckles. "Let's go back outside," he says and lurks in the shadows behind the palm trees. He looks morose.

Will wants to change again. After a few minutes, he emerges in an all-white ensemble, a white vest, white pin-striped pants, a white V-neck T-shirt. He keeps a blue afropick embedded in his locks. He borrows SGP's straw porkpie hat with the $2 bill tucked in the band. It's such a scenester, hipster, fashion style moment. I wanna puke.

Sasha suggests that they take pictures of him in the car. They all climb in his blue Bentley with matching blue rims and go around the block. I can't believe how cooperative Will is. He's giving us so much access. He even lets an unexpected videographer show up and take B-roll.

Shoot's almost over. I go and rest inside at the big dark wooden table in the living room. Will's entourage is busy at work, like little elves. Nick is processing passport applications. The makeup artist is thumbing through Vogue and marveling at a handbag. Seth Friedman, Will's manager, talks through his earpiece and scans his laptop. He is a short white man with long graying dreadlocks. Nicola, his wardrobe person, sips on water and watches the flat screen TV with the gilded frame. The walls look like patina.

Will enters the room. "Ask him about Cee-lo," says Seth. I don't know what they're talking about.

The interior decorator, a tall skinny blonde woman wearing a beige Costume-Nacional sheath, shows Will some fabrics, like heavy brown velvets and tassles. He quickly fires off his opinions. Then he meets with his design partner for his I.Am clothing line, giving her enthusiastic design direction as she jots down notes and sketches. They are considerin a small camel colored vest in glen plaid wool, in Will's trademark old man style. The interior decorator advises him to put on a ruffle and make it more decollete.

The I.Am collection so far evolves around a handful of varsity jackets for women. They are made out of leather and tweed, with lots of little details, like grommets, puffed shoulders, and Will's owl motif. His idea is to sell the album through the jacket. "People can listen to it through a USB port," he says. The album won't be Songs About Girls, but his street album, Black Einstein, which will give him the street credibility he yearns for.

All of the clothes are piled around the big dining table, which displays a framed portrait of his grandmother.

He envisions a little more detail, like little leather piping. "I want it to be more uniform-y," he says. "This vest right now is like Forever 21. I want it to be like Bottega Veneta."

The designer silently takes notes. I feel bad for her because it must be hard taking criticism like this in front of everybody. It reminds me of my sister who is also a fashion designer and must go through the same thing on a regular basis. Her name is Lori. She is wearing a pink sequined jacket, jeans, and pink sneakers worn un-laced. Her nails are French-manicured.

Suddenly the interior decorator goes into a non-sequitur. "I'll never forget what you said about unicorns, Will." He looks confused. She goes on, "A really skinny girl with big tits, that doesn't exist, I said. And you said, it does, it's like a unicorn." A few people chuckle.

The Hurricane Chris video "Abay Bay" comes on MTV. This gets Will's attention. He puts down the vest and starts dancing. Then he says these jackets have to be ready for our tripo to Japan. "I'm goint to take them on Smap-Smap, which is like Oprah Winfrey meets Saturday Night Live."

Nick says, "Smap-Smap are the biggest boy band in Japan. Like N'Sync. And they host their own show."

The interior decorator keeps giving unsolicited opinions about the I.Am jackets. Even as Will is getting into his Bentley and driving away, she keeps suggesting ideas from her black Range Rover. He's like "Uh-huh. Okay."

I get in the passenger seat of the Bentley. The clock says 5:37. Will is talking about wanting to write a book after I tell him that's what I'm doing. His book will be about energy and light, copper and gold, musical sound and reproduction. Pretty abstract, metaphysical ideas. He talks about echoes.

"Color is light travelling," he says.

"You sound like a physicist," I say.

"That's what I'm into," he says.

Everybody warns me about Will's driving, but it's not that crazy. He does seem to drive with a sense of entitlement because it's such an expensive car that everybody looks at. He has no problem with stopping in the middle of traffic to sketch out a question mark and explain the symbology behind it. He also shows me how the Mercedes Benz sign is a pyramid viewed from above. He's really into signs. The Black Eyed Peas symbol was sticks and circles, he explains.

Then we pull up the Record Plant in Hollywood. There are two white guys waiting for him outside. They are Hollywood people from Nine Yards management. We all go inside and Will bumps into Ron Fair the Chairman of Geffen/A&M. He has a strong handshake and he is wearing crazy printed pants and Converse sneakers.

Will bumrushes the snack area in the kitchen, grabbing a bunch of oatmeal cookies.

We go upstairs so Will can pitch his movie idea to the Nine Yards people. They love it. But I promised them that this would be off the record. Suffice to say, he's kind of a genius. I also learned that he is composing with Hans Zimmer for the Madagascar sequel. He raised five million dollars in venture capital for his tech company. When it comes to business, this guy is unstoppable. And he's bursting with ideas.

Sugarman came to pick me up and I went home to my baby.

Just Another Manic Monday

2007-07-23T11:25:00.000-07:00

(This photo is of me at age 17. I went to South Africa with these people: Kamau, Amie, Christa, and Martin. Long story.)

Things are going so well today. Plum went down at 11:15 for her mid-morning nap. Everything is humming along smoothly. Sugarman is gone for a few hours. I'm running the baby's laundry. And I've already accomplished a ton of stuff. If I can just drink coffee and stay focused then I don't fall short. I can have all the energy I need to meet the continuing onslaught of demands.

I've actually lost some weight, too. I think about four pounds. It's good to know that my efforts have been paying off. I've really tried to reduce calories and squeeze in some heart-pounding exercise. This morning Nigel and I walked to the library to return Spot's First Walk. That got my day going.

I have a few freelance projects I'm happy about, an essay for a book about musical rivalries and some really cool magazine articles, for places that I've always dreamed about writing for. Also, I'm stoked on my new resume. I'm going to smooth everything out and hit the labor market with gusto!

I don't want to wither away in novel-writing land. I mean, I do want to finish this book. The word count is 58,178 but I also need to make some money, too. So I'm glad to be going up to Interscope Records today to listen to Will.I.Am's album. See, it's like this gentle balance between the freelance work, the creative work, motherhood, and womanhood.

Yesterday Sugarman, Plum, and I went to the Fairfax Farmer's Market. I had the "special today," half a tuna sandwich, fruit salad, and a teeny-tiny lemonade. Sugarman just drank beer. We took funny pictures of each other. And laughed at these two guys sitting next to us. They both looked like Che Guevara in running shoes. They clicked at any pretty woman that walked by. Of course, I turned red because of my wine.

Word count update

2007-07-18T16:45:00.000-07:00

56,759 words... I'm aiming for around 80,000 now.

I just came back from getting some strong iced coffee and reading a Walter Mosley book at Barnes and Noble. It was a great little book of advice for writing your first novel. I'll have to go back and look at it again.

A bunch of checks finally came through for freelancing work I did in June. At last, I feel like a civilized human being again. Amazing how important money becomes when you have so little of it. When I was working at Vibe, I had really glamorized this poor, writer's life. It's a lot scarier and less glamorous when you're actually living it. Because part of you feels like you are fucking everybody over for being so selfish to indulge in your art. But I have to do it, because this story has to be documented.

However, I am procrastinating right now by blogging. I should be working on the novel while Plum is with Dolores. But it's a big section, the last climactic third of the book, when themes should be tying together. I don't really see where this is going. I mean, I do, but I don't know if there is a human transformation happening.

This is a better week overall. Not as much despair and self-hatred as last week. It's our idiosyncracies that make us interesting characters, so who cares if I am not a stick thin blond actress/model with aquamarine eyes and long skinny legs (like all the bitches at Coffee Bean). I'm a funny old girl that is quite unique and who cares, it's me, what else can I do! Sugarman loves me, and he's pretty cool.

Barebones Broccoli Chicken and Cheese Casserole

2007-07-16T20:13:00.000-07:00

Okay I made up this recipe yesterday and was surprised to find it quite good. I was looking online for something like this, clean, simple, easy. But everything called for complicated cheese sauces. This is just barebones.

You'll need:

2 handfuls of pasta; I used penne
3 handfuls of grated cheddar cheese
1 crown of broccoli, washed and chopped into florets
1 boneless, skinless chicken breast (both sides)

Then:

Cover the chicken breast in cold water and bring to boil for 15 minutes. Salt the water. In the last five minutes, dump the broccoli into the chicken water and boil. Reserve one cup of broth. Drain and set aside once the chicken is cooked through.

Grease 9 x 9 brownie pan or comparable casserole pan.

Dice or mince the chicken breast.

Layer the broccoli and pasta into the pan, top with cheese, salt and pepper. Then add the chicken in a thick layer. Salt, pepper, and top with cheese. Add the cup of chicken broth. This will keep it moist.

Bake for 20 minutes until burbling.

I'm eating it right now as we speak. It's good reheated with some hot sauce. Cheap, easy, not to fattening. Works for me. : )

Polka-Dots

2007-07-16T18:25:00.000-07:00

After much deliberation, this is the stroller that Sugarman and I decided to purchase for Plum. Julee extolled the virtues of Peg Perego, and it seemed like the right ride for us (Julee has been our Mommy-guide this whole time). I never thought I would stress out so much over a goddang stroller.

We found the stroller on Ebay even though it's new. We are saving about fifty dollars or so by getting it on Ebay. But it was still pretty steep for us. I hope that the seller isn't some shady dude. He better come through or else I will have to go out to Brooklyn and jig him in the gut.

Since I don't have my own car, my stroller needs to be pretty functional. Like it has to have a big basket for all the grocery shopping I do at the Farmer's Market. I liked the snack tray and the fact that it reclined. And I really liked the Polka Dots.

The MacLaren Volo ultimately did not work out because it had no sunshade. The last couple walks were pretty brutal and sunny with the light beaming into Plum's squinting eyes. Plus she would sneeze a lot in the sun. You know how that happens.

Elaine tried to make feel like I was crazy for thinking the Volo wasn't good enough. She has different needs than me. Like she gets around in a car. Plus her baby is a different individual. So sue me! I want a decent stroller is that such a crime?

I'm pretty bummed out about the Gerber organic rice cereal recall. That was the very first food Plum ever ate and it's supposed to be unsafe? WTF?!?

Other random thoughts: I'm sad that McCain is probably not going to make it as a real, legitimate candidate. I admired him in 2000, but now I think he is lame. He sold out on the war. He sold his soul to the devil aka Dubya. For what, I have no idea.

We went to our primordial spawning grounds, the Beverly Center, so I could find a dress big enough to cover my enormous girth for Corina's wedding festivities.

I am sad about being overweight, but hopefully it will fall off after the baby is weaned. My self-esteem has pretty much gone to shit the past few days. Ever since those ladies at the salon said I was a fat pig.

Oh! Plum is feeling so much better now. Thanks for all of your empathy. I think your collective empathy helped the baby eliminate the carrot pebble mass that was tormenting her. Now she's a regular champ!

Plum can now roll over with ease, grasp most things with her pincer like fingers, kicks everything that touches her feet, squeals hysterically, and is a drooling, teething fool.

Constipated Monkey

2007-07-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

Plum is all stopped up, so Sugarman just ran out to get a little prune juice. We are planning on diluting it with water and giving that a try. I think it's the transition to solids which is giving her this great grief. If you don't like toilet talk, stop reading right now. But when she tries to poo, it comes out a bit and then goes back in. She has been grunting and straining for two days. This is a baby that hardly ever cries, but she's been crying all night and all day. I know how she feels!

I've also tried massaging her belly. I think it makes her feel good because she'll stop crying for that.

Her poos look like Hershey Kisses, but more carrot colored. That's a big change from the boiling curry cauldron she was producing before.

I think it's my fault. At first we were going easy with the solids, just giving a few teaspoons. But once she tasted the carrots, she went nuts. She was screaming for more. If I tried to put it away, she'd totally freak. She'd finish the whole container. I think that sent a shock to her system after only eating solids for two weeks. I don't know...

Poor baby.

I was also really despairing over two other things: they are raising our rent. I tried to negotiate with them (We are unemployed, we have a new baby), but the landlady was a cold wall. It made me so mad. I just wanted to move right then and there. She wouldn't even hear me out. But honestly it will cost more money to move, so better to just stay and pay this unreasonable rent until I get a job.

The other major bummer is that Plum is outgrowing her newborn stroller, the Graco carseat with the Kolkraft Universal Snap'n'Go.

Elaine had given us this MacLaren Volo stroller a while back, but it's really for bigger kids. That's why I was hesitant to try it, but when I put Plum in, she looked comfortable. We walked a couple miles in it yesterday without incident. In fact, Plum may have enjoyed it more because it was the first time she was able to look out into the world. And she got tons of love from the crowds at the Grove. These Korean tweens started squealing when they saw her. Now we love the Volo Stroller.

I felt a little funny putting such a small baby in an umbrella stroller meant for a toddler. But, we're trying to survive here.

Word count total: 54,000 (see, I'm not slackin'!)

Plum, Officially 6 Months Now!!!!

2007-07-12T04:55:00.000-07:00

Sugarman and Sugarplum at our favorite stomping grounds, the Fairfax Farmer's Market on July 12, one day after Plum turned a whopping six months. Sugarman is a great father, and that's no easy feat.

Ros Gui and Pa Jun

2007-07-12T04:15:00.000-07:00

Can't sleep again. I've got to kick this coffee habit that has once again crept back (but maybe it's good for my writing?). The problem is that in the afternoons I get so tired, and that's when I want to write. So I get a cup of coffee and then I pay for it in the middle of the night, like right now. I'm trying to use that energy now as a force for good, and write off this energy. I must remember that when I'm tired, I should take a nap. It's the best, most logical response to fatigue. And why not, it's not like I have an office job.

Anyway, here's my word count as of now: 52,462. Which means I've finally passsed the much heralded milestone of 50,000 words. I still haven't figured out a treat/reward for myself. It's like I need so much I don't know where to begin. Yet I'm really in no position to spend any money no matter how much I deserve it.

So a few days ago, I started giving myself lots of little treats that didn't cost money, like permitting myself a shower when I felt like I could really benefit from one. I know that sounds like a God-given right, but to a new mom, a shower is the greatest indulgence. Then out of the blue, Corina showed up with all kinds of real treats like shaved ice with red bean paste and fruit (pat bing soo), one of my favorites. She offered to take me out for a pedicure, which we didn't end up doing. But I still felt like the universe was providing me with all kinds of rewards! Oh, and Corina, too I guess... ; ) (fyi she boycotts this blog)

Earlier tonight I went out with some friends, the aforementioned Corina and Donnie, my old co-worker from New York. He's a senior editor now at Complex. Big things. As his "noona" aka older sister, I'm very proud of how well he's done for himself. He brought out his friend Dart, an A&R guy for Shady Records, who I used to know from my Stimulated Records days as well. We all met up at a Korean restaurant called Dong-Il Jang.

Corina treated us to all this nice food (kim chee jigae, ros gui, pa jun, and all the fixings) but it didn't agree with me at all. The waitress turned the bits in the end into a fried rice on the table top cooking platter. She loaded it up with so much hot red bean paste it was like toxic sludge. I mean, it tasted good, but when I got home, I felt it then, boy.

Anyway, they all wanted Pink Berry frozen yogurt so I just watched because I just couldn't stomach another bite. As we talked, I just felt like it was great to see people from New York and gossip about the urban media biz. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed it. It kind of reminded me who I used to be before the big L.A. move and the emergence of Plum. It was a much needed break from the endless cycle of writing, diapering, breastfeeding, and cooking.

To add to the throwback theme of the day, I had lunch with an old, old friend from long ago, Joanne. She was my roommate in NYC, during the height of my crazy DJ/club days. She was a wild hip hop stylist who just got fed up with the industry and walked out and disappeared from the scene, like seven years ago. We spent a lot of time talking about our past. She said she finally understood why I wanted to stop going out when Sugarman and I hooked up for good because now she's married (to an Irish singer/songwriter no less!). And I was sorry, too, for not attending her wedding and basically not being there for her when she was having a hard time. It brought some resolution to our old beefs and issues.

Anyway, I've been up for over an hour tossing and turning. I can hear Plum breathing very softly in her crib, sometimes whimpering and sighing. Nigel must always sleep attached to me, either leaning against my leg or my back. I swear the next dog we get will not be allowed to sleep in our bed. No matter how much it cries when it is a puppy. Now I'm sentenced to sharing my matrimonial bed with a pug for the next ten years of my life!

Strong Coffee and NPR

2007-07-06T08:25:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to have more productive mornings, jumpstarted by a strong cup of coffee and some contemplative listening to NPR. I've reached 49,000 words so far with the novel. 50,000 is the goal for now, although that won't mean that the book is finished. But if I do write that next 1,000 words I have a big reward coming to me, although I'm not sure what it will be. I would like all kinds of treats: a complete cake pan collection with spring form pans and stuff; some new clothes for me or Plum (my shifting weight means I never have anything to wear); some books. What I really want is a fabulous designer handbag, but that's out of the question for the next few years. Starving writers don't carry Louis Vuitton handbags.

Well, we are not starving for now. I went to the grocery store alone yesterday after my haircut and got all kinds of goodies, beer and cookies for Sugarman. I was sad yesterday because the Korean ladies at the hair salon were alarmed at how fat I was. They tisked at the numerous grey hairs that sprout wildly from my head. But I'm trying not to dye it because I have a vision of being a Korean Susan Sontag (I wish! How could they ever understand that vision?). They said at six months I should be smaller. I tried to say that I was already fat to begin with.

Then I tried to tell Dolores about what happened, then she said, "Your sisters are very status-conscious aren't they? They're materialistic." I thought that was weird since I wasn't talking about my sisters, but the ladies at the hair salon.

I screwed my face up and asked her what that was supposed to mean. Like what do my sisters have to do with this? She seemed confused. So I went upstairs and cried. She called me later to apologize. She thought it was my sisters who insulted me and she wanted to be on "my side." My sisters raised me. They are my Mom and Dad. It's not like a normal sibling relationship. So I'm sensitive and protective of them. But I suppose everything is somewhat true. I am somewhat overweight. My sisters are status-conscious and materialistic. The whole sequence of events left me feeling very weak and wasted.

Yet, I still sat down at the computer and worked out some of the kinks to the next step of the novel. I couldn't write a lot yesterday, but I did some research for the book and figured out some of the logistical problems in the plot sequence. I wish Rob Kenner would edit my book. He is the greatest editor I know. But I would have to pay him. Which will be a big expense, though I think he would work with me. That is my greatest wish, after my wish of finishing my book.

Brun and Tiber in Hawaii

2007-07-05T15:44:00.000-07:00