Happy New Year! Out with the old...in with the new!

I am so excited that we are rolling into 2011. For one thing, my horoscope says I will end a long career draught (putting it mildly) and finally make money by being creative. I'll drink to that! Secondly, I am grateful to enter the New Year a healthier person. Thirdly, I am seriously glad to be 50 years old...really...because at my ripe young age I am less self-conscious and don't give a hoot what people think of me. It's much easier now to say "no" without guilt than it used to be!

To bring in the New Year I am cleaning and decluttering my house, one section or room at a time. For me, starting the year with a clean slate, so to speak, is of the utmost importance. Fortunately, I only have 1100 square feet of house to clean (seriously, this is a SMALL house). Though I love to look at and visit big houses, I have to admit that having a teeny tiny home keeps me from being a hoarder. I begin my weeding out process by picking a particular area of the house. For instance, yesterday I worked on my bookcase in the corner of my living room. I threw out a lot of old books that I never read and that no one else in their right mind would want to read, either. I bagged many children's books that my daughter has outgrown...those in good shape will go to my neighbors across the street who are expecting their first baby. Then I organized what was left and made it fit onto my shelves.

I try not to be too sentimental when I toss stuff. If I'm not using it anymore, and it's gathering dust, it goes out...within reason, of course. There are a few books that my daughter or son wanted me to read over and over again -- those priceless gems of books remain close to my heart and I keep them for my future grandchildren.

I once read in Anne Barone's Chic and Slim books that whenever she found herself eating too much, she noticed that her house was too cluttered or messy. She attributes having a neat, orderly house with having a slender figure. Personally, I can say that when my house is a mess, I feel more inclined to lose track of what I eat. It goes without saying that when most women are frustrated, frazzled and feeling out of control in many ways, they too often turn to food for comfort. Chocolate, anyone?

Another one of my favorite lifestyle writers and gurus, Victoria Moran, advocates a clean, uncluttered abode. Victoria says that it is necessary to clear some space so that new things can come our way. I like her metaphysical spin on materialism! When I go on some of my tossing out tirades, I imagine the beautiful new things I am attracting.

I am not usually one for New Year's resolutions. But this year I have decided that I want to walk more (I'll buy a pedometer to measure my steps), cook more (hopefully, that won't negate all the walking I want to do) and spend/save my money wisely (I've been watching Suze Orman's show: DENIED!). Also, I want to visit more museums (I love museums and haven't had the time to go much these past few years...), hit a concert or two, and take time to smell the roses.

Speaking of roses, today I bought a bouquet of yellow roses. Usually, I go for the traditional pink or red ones, but these bright beauties shouted out "Buy Me!" when I passed by them in the market. I succumbed to their command. I think their cheerful color is the epitome of what I want for the New Year: a happy outlook and lots of sunshine!

A Happy New Year to one and all!

Christmas Eve and My Mom

I dedicate this blog to my mother, Betty Sherman.

First of all, I'd like to wish you a Merry Christmas! I hope you finished your shopping and can now relax by the fire with some hot chocolate and/or spiced eggnog. Although I'm Jewish, I have always loved the festive decorations and the good cheer that Christmas brings. Many of my friends are celebrating the birth of Christ. Ironically, nine years ago on Christmas Eve, my mother passed away at the age of 80 years old. So, in the Jewish tradition, every December 24 I light the Yahrzeit Memorial Candle to honor the anniversary of my mother's passing. The small white candle burns for 24 hours.

I will not sugar coat it: when a parent dies it is hurts like hell. More painful, too, if you are close to that parent, as I was with my mother. It is no exaggeration to say that she was my guardian angel: supportive, kind, generous, gentle...I could go on and on describing her wonderful qualities. I'd also like to believe that she is still watching over me with her protective and loving wings.

There is something poetic, however, in the fact that she died on Christmas Eve. Mom loved the holidays, just as I do, for the beautiful decorations and the opportunity to give presents to those people whom we love and want to show a little extra appreciation. Every X-mas Eve, she would take me and my family to a splendid buffet dinner at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. We would be dressed in our holiday finest, and dine on scrumptious food. After dinner, we would walk around the hotel and check out all the fancy trees with their lights and ornaments. My mom cherished every minute of our time together!

Writing is my main source of self-expression, however, I still miss Mom more than I can ever express in words. One of my favorite pictures of her is when she is at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel restaurant, where she used to dine everyday for breakfast or lunch. She worked at Tiffany & Co. in Beverly Hills for 28 years, and everybody knew her there. In the picture, she is with an attentive waiter. She is elegant in her black coat, bright red scarf and Jackie O sunglasses. I had numerous people say to me after her death, how well dressed and poised she was -- always. I think this picture captures a little of her joie de vivre. When she retired (only after her doctor MADE her retire for health reasons), the Tiffany employees threw her a wonderful party at this same hotel. Many of the hotel staff who had come to know and love her, also attended the retirement party.

My mother endured many hardships in her life including cancer and the loss of three babies to the devasting Tay-Sachs disease (this was before genetic testing). I can honestly say that she didn't complain about her losses. She never wanted to worry or burden her children, or impose her problems on someone else. She was a true paradox: soft and caring, and yet as strong as the proverbial ox. Two weeks before she died, she said to me that she wanted to visit New York in the winter. "I want to see the snow again," she said, wistfully, "and the lights." She was originally from Detroit, Michigan.

I fed her her last meal on December 23. She was at the Sherman Oaks Hospital. She was cheerful but weak. The nurse commented that her skin color looked good. My mom had overcome so many illnesses in those last few years, that I thought she would rebound once more. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I got the phone call from her doctor that she had "expired" at 2:20 am, December 24.

It took me many years to mourn my mother's loss and transcend my pain. Now I see the holidays as a time of celebration -- and I know mom would want me to enjoy this time of year with my family, just as she did when she was alive. I try to instill her appreciation of life on to my son and daughter; my seven year old daughter, especially, loves to decorate for the holidays and "oh and ah" at all the pretty lights. My son loves shopping at this time of year, too!

I realize that as much as I miss my mother, I am just as grateful that I was (and will always be) her daughter. A blessing, indeed.

Ode to New York for the Holidays

A recent article in Oprah, the magazine, talked about the importance of "awe" in a person's life. The physiological benefits of awe are being touted by scientists as truly life enhancing. Awe brings with it strong, indescribable feelings, but for me I think awe is experienced as an overwhelming feeling of fullness and expansion. Like my guts are exploding but in a warm, fuzzy way; how poetic is that? So that leads me to my "Ode to New York." The holidays, especially, make me want to reminisce about The Big Apple and share a short holiday tale of awe.

I lived in New York for five years after I graduated college. I lived in a big brick building in Sunnyside, Queens, behind a fish processing plant and the Long Island Railroad. Sunnyside is a hop, skip and subway train ride away from the daily grind of Manhattan. The importance of this is that it had been my biggest childhood dream to live in NYC, and luckily for me, the stars aligned at that moment in time so that I could fulfill that dream. I had grown up watching Marlo Thomas on the TV show That Girl, (and I know that dates me - the show ran from 1966-1971). As a little girl growing up in West Los Angeles, watching Marlo (playing wannabe actress Ann Marie) swirl around in her umbrella on Broadway made my whole eight year old body swoon. I wanted to BE her. I couldn't help it! One of my favorite all-time movies, too, is West Side Story, the brilliant Romeo-Juliet story told in a modern New York setting. But I would always (and still do) get goosebumps at the beginning of the film as an aerial camera scans the canyons of steel while Leonard Bernstein's amazing score begins. Sigh.

Well, back to the concept of "awe." One night after work, I was walking alone along Park Avenue. The Christmas Season was well underway, so that lights were draped across store fronts en masse, people had shopping bags galore, and even a little snow was underfoot. Hustle and bustle everywhere. This was my first time living away from California, and my first east coast holiday season. I had never seen so many people, so many lights, so much excitement at once. All I can say is that I had as close to an "awe" experience as I have ever had: I vividly remember thinking to myself, "Pinch me!!! I'm really here!!! I'm not dreaming!!!" I wanted to shout out loud to share my sheer joy, but I just walked on soaking in the sights and sounds as if I were a kid again. I felt small in the scheme of things, yet paradoxically, connected to people in a whole new way. Another way to put it, I was high on life. And that is what awe is all about.

No wonder. According to the "Awe" article in Oprah, spending time in large groups -- i.e. concerts, rallies, etc. -- often stirs feelings of awe. For some people, going into nature presses the awe button. Listening to beautiful music, visiting an art gallery, and star gazing on a clear night are also awe worthy. Why is awe so important? For one thing, it is healthy for our bodies. Positive thinking is supposed to be good for our gazillion cells. Being in a state of awe also can give us a new prospective to life's uncertainties, as well as sending out happy karma into the universe (is that New Age enough for you?). But also, the article states that awe "can help a person reflect on how an upsetting event fits into their philosophy of life, or how their personal experience unites them with humanity." This according to an assistant professor of psychology at Arizona State University.

Being awe-struck is soul food without the calories.

To recapture that awe-some evening in holiday time New York, I sometimes listen to Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York." The rendition I've shared on my blog has Tony Bennett joining in for a duet with ol' blue eyes. As the holidays are upon us in full swing, and everyone is shopping without stopping, I hope that we will have a moment of awe to enhance our lives. Since I can't go to New York this season, I have brought it to my blog.

"I want to be a part of it..."

Oh, Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel! by Guest Blogger, My Husband

Happy Hanukkah!

Tonight I am celebrating the first night of Hanukkah with my family. As it is a special occasion, I am giving this blog to my husband. In it, he gets into some of Hanukkah's history, the significance of oil, and hot things. Please give a warm welcome to my guest blogger:

Tonight the menorah is burning bright as my daughter and I spin a dreidel hoping it lands on the winning Hebrew letters gimmel or hay. She is prevailing in this round since my dreidel keeps landing on the letter nun (which means "no pay out"). In this game of Jewish roulette, we are using actual coins instead of the traditional milk chocolate ones. At least, she can review her arithmetic skills by adding up her winnings, as well as reduce her chances of getting cavities.

You see, the Hebrew letters on the dreidel are abbreviations for the phrase, "nes gadol haya sham" or "a great miracle happened there." "There" refers to Eretz, Israel, our ancestral homeland, when in the 2nd century BC, a zealous group of priests known as the Maccabees, rebelled against Syrian-Greek rule of the country and cleansed the holy temple in Jerusalem of its Greek statues. In the temple, the Maccabees discovered a small jar of super duper olive oil, which instead of lighting the menorah for one night, miraculously kept it lit for eight crazy nights, as Adam Sandler would later describe the holiday. Thus, Hanukkah is a holiday about religious freedom and miracles. The oil in the menorah is the miracle maker.

As our menorah's candles are burning low, my daughter and I take a break to enjoy my hot wife's hot latkes. Even these customary fried potato pancakes symbolize the importance of olive oil in the holiday celebration.

Although there is a great abundance of olive oil produced in Israel today, it would be an even greater miracle if the country discovered black oil beneath its surface. In recent months, a large amount of natural gas was discovered off the Israeli coast. Some Biblical scholars and a Texas-based oil and gas exploration company claim there is actual oil in what was once the land allotted to the Israelite tribes of Asher, Zebulon, and Manasseh (based on passages from Genesis, Chapter 49 and Deuteronomy, Chapter 33). The questions are how much oil and what's the cost to extract it.

Now, I've dabbled in the stock market and there is probably a 1 in 20 chance that some company will turn a profit in this oil-seeking endeavor. I truly hope for the sake of Israel and the Jewish people that a momentous, even miraculous, event like this will take place soon. In the meantime, I'll stick to playing dreidel with my daughter. The odds of winning are better.