OK so last Sunday Night I decided to stay home and bang up the two dating websites I’m a member of. Earlier in the day I sent out a few emails, responded to others, and let it all stew ‘till I got home that evening and poured over the results. 

One was a guy from Malibu who looked promising at first, but after repeated photos of him wearing nothing but a tee shirt or flexing in a muscle tee—and reading his ill-written or punctuated emails, I stopped responding.

Another two looked more promising: civilized, intelligent, cultured. I went out w/one last night. He’s an age 62ish writer from Hancock Park (Haleluyah! Lives close by): Journalist and published author. His telephone voice was clear and his words, intelligent. I loved his knee-jerk response to hearing my voice: “Ahhh, someone NORMAL!” I knew exactly what he meant. Because some people’s phone chemistry is so off-putting, you just can’t wrap your head around it. He later qualified it that I was “down to earth”. Yup, I am. I’m not a phony, faker or poser. I am what I am. And maybe that’s why I’m not currently hitched. B/C as much as guys say they hate fakers, they get dumbstruck by it and often inevitably go for that shit.

He called me Monday night while I was eating at my fave Japanese/French restaurant, K-Zo in Culver City. He cut to the chase and asked me to join as his guest at a DGA screening of “The Artist”. Yessss! It’s up for several Oscars; won a couple Golden Globes, and I hadn’t seen it before.

We met inside, arriving at exactly the same tme, to take our place at the end of the line. He looked fine; very much like one picture; a lot bigger gut than the (now obviously) much older golfing picture.

He complimented my appearance, to which I returned the compliment. We launched into conversation, which is easy for two extroverted, verbal Jews to do. He chatted about his work, the books he wrote; the ones he’s under contract to do, and why he doesn’t do anything on spec (because it’s a waste). He continued to elaborate on his work. Then we were let in the stunning theatre (great subdued lighting!) and found some seats. He continued to chat about the work he’d done, from this angle or that. When he plugged his books to a neighboring iPad user, couched into a question he posed to him about the popularity of iBooks vs. Amazon’s Kindle iPad App. The guy preferred iBooks and told him why. That came as a disappointment to Arnie, seeing as he proffered that his books are on Kindle. The guy assured him that any book on Kindle could be ascertained on iBooks. 

Soon thereafter I found myself drifting. I couldn’t help it, but I was now withdrawing from any enthusiastic discourse we may have had. I realized I was with a bragger. And it was not fun. I suppose if the nature of his bragging impressed me, I’d have gone with it. But b/c his “beat” is Medical Journalism—a fascinating subject, but I suppose one wouldn’t exactly call it a “sexy” one—I didn’t see the purpose. But sexy subject matter or not, humility is a noble trait. 

That bragging or showmanship probably stems from insecurity, adds another ingredient to this recipe. But I didn’t even go that far in my empathy. My body just kind of shut down at the bragging, and the rest of the night I felt no chemistry with him. 

During the post-screening panel, I noticed him humming some old-fashioned sounding tunes. He mumbled that he had a question he wanted to ask. As the panel continued on, I noticed him whisper/mumbling some words; I think he was rehearsing how he’d word his question. The moderator asked the Exec Prod a question about the cast, at which point he asked casting director Heidi Levitt to expound. For the first time in a post-movie panel, I got to see a fellow casting director participate. And wouldn’t you know it, right as she started to speak, Arnie tells me he has a question to ask, and this is what it’ll be: ….. I’m sorry, but I had to stop him. I gestured for him to wait; that I wanted to hear the panelist speak. 

Wow. Such chutzpah! To assume I want to hear his question more than I want to hear a fellow casting director chime in.

He occasionally continued to hum. Then he finally stated his prospective question to me. Call me biased, but I think it was an awful one. Had he said it, he’d have been pegged as a philistine w/no sense of the cultural nuance. It was something only a numbers-person would be so bold as to ask, which was posed to the actors on the panel: “Now that you’ve worked for nothing, would you do it again?”

As a Casting Director who’s had to work hard; to pull teeth to get fabulous actors to work for nothing, I hate the presumptuousness of that inquiry. I hate that he’d put them on the spot like that. What did he stand to gain from their answer? What would we have learned from it? Thank goodness he never bothered to raise his hand.

The panel ended and we both went to our respective restrooms. En route, he hummed some silly tune again. This time I asked what it was. An old song that was in his brain, he responded. 

The parking lot was to close 20 minutes later, so there went his offer to go to The Coffee Bean for desert. Good, I thought. Once we found my car, he told me to give him a lift to his (I usually offer, but this time I didn’t have to). Upon arriving at his car, I was shocked to see that it was indeed the same white van I had passed upon entry to the parking garage; forcefully helmed at the wheel by a man with gray hair and a blue shirt he said he’d be wearing. But when I realized he was going in the opposite direction as me (and therefore probably exiting the structure), I figured it wasn’t him after all. Well, it was. Guess he was going up the downstair case? 

Ha ha, White van. So much for bragging about your successful career, buster. I mean, I don’t require a status car at all. But “van” just screams “soccer mom w/passel of kids”, or industrial worker carting around supplies, or, God-forbid, pervert prowling elementary school yards. So how could that image NOT make one cringe?

When he exited my car, I extended my hand to shake his and thanked him. He shook it but leaned in to give me a kiss. On the lips. And then muttered something like, “There. I kissed you.” I suppose he felt that was necessary b/c I must have had a look of discomfort on my face. WTF is it w/men? Why do they need that kiss? What can they possibly derive from it? I don’t know the guy. I’m not his g/f, let alone his friend. And if kisses are “owed”, I didn’t owe him a one; he didn’t buy me anything. That kiss was probably the last straw. He’s a quality guy, an upstanding, smart professional. Not bad looking for his age. Has his shit together. But for me, I need more. More humility, for starters.

I’m so glad we didn’t prolong the date into a coffee or dessert afterwards, as he’d suggested. It was cold/windy outside, and I was tired. How glad I was to get home, and cook up some healthy alternatives instead.

And my oh my, was I surprised when I saw 2 emails stating that I’d been chosen to be in “Chai B’La La Land”, the Israeli Reality show I met with earlier that now-auspicious Sunday.

Onto guy #2 of this phase: One “Michael”; an (allegedly, but we’ll find out for sure later) 53 year old real estate developer from Valley Village, who wants to take me out tomorrow (Thursday), or if I’m n/a, then next Tuesday.

And guy #3, one “Tony” from Beverly Hills (probably an apt. though), is to call me later tonight and we’ll go from there.

I’m a middle sister and I’ve always been a bit of a rebel. So when Amy & I each received this wine as a holiday gift from HRI Talent, we rejoiced in its appropriateness. I’m now sipping my last glass from the bottle (it took me about a week to finish it so little wonder the wine’s seen better days) with my dinner entree of cappellini pasta w/artichokes, mushrooms, fines herbes, grated parmesan and Trader Joe’s Calif Estate Virgin Olive Oil + spices.

Today was one of those days when you just do the tasks at hand; nothing more and nothing less. Got up around 8:30 am, drank french roast over emails and articles and photos about last night’s Golden Globes. Did some work stuff (we’re about to launch into casting hair models for a 3-spot L’Oreal Campaign featuring Eva Longoria, Gwen Stefani and Aimee Mullins), but not a lot b/c tomorrow’s the official prep day. Why? Because today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day! Wish I’d had it in me to join a festivity, as I did when I first moved to the ‘hood and went to the Simon Wiesenthal Center’s MLK Day Event. Hmm, there’s always next year, I suppose. But thankfully I do keep up on civil rights—any infractions thereof that I may learn about, and what’s being done to assuage them. As bad as it may get at times here in the U.S., it’s heluva lot worse outside this country, where anything that wreaks of “civil” and “rights” don’t exist.

This morning Sonya my housekeeper made her biweekly visit. I then went to my house in Silverlake to check on the progress of the housepainting. I was surprised as to just how bright the ultra soft shade of pale aqua-y blue I chose, appears. I had a sample, I bought a small can, I had Puf put it up on a wall, and chose it against 7 others. But still, it looks waaay bright. Oh well, as mom said, blues fade. And my last light blue did too. So there ya have it! He didn’t have his standard team of workers today; he had his son Jovencio, who was out of school b/c of the holiday. I noticed Jovencio’s mistakes, and even though he’s a sweet kid I must admit I was pissed b/c I had told Puf before the job’s onset that I didn’t want his son assisting him on painting and he agreed.

After paying him another chunk of the total $4,000 painting fee—plus 2 days work on the balconies—I went to Trader Joe’s to get a few things. Then home to unload and change, then to Yoga. Yoga was great. It started very remedial (done when there’s new students in class) but then caught up when we did headstands and shoulder stands. The time went fast, which is great. I then went to CVS and got some bathroom sundries. Then home, where I caught up on email, made dinner, and now you’re up to date on me. Oh, and the Rebel Red is now…..consumed.

I’m trying as best I can not to dip into my savings to pay for all this home-improvement, but unless I get another paycheck soon, I’ll have to. After all, I still have my new iMac to pay for when the next credit card bill arrives.

Ok so today is Sunday, and thank goodness I got everything done I wanted to today, which wasn’t much, but I did it: Read, showered, went to a meeting for consideration to play a casting director in the Israeli reality show “Chai B’La La Land”, as per friend/actress/currently casting director of the show, working out of Jerusalem. So I met w/the director Ilan Aboody and then his Editor Shabby. Bati stayed in the room, laptop before her. We had a decent conversation, but all said I’m not sure I impressed them enough to switch from whomever they initially had in mind. I was excited, however, to find out Ilan was the director of the fabulous documentary, “Shakshuka System”, a Michael Moore style expose on the corruption in Israel of the Ofer Brothers, and how during privatization, Israel sold themselves out cheaply to these two megalomanical elite thugs, who soon came to own everything in the country—utilities, television stations, shipping, et al. So perhaps it was worth it just to meet him and, who knows? Maybe engage w/him in the future via FB, Linked In, et al, to create a professional relationship somehow.

Other than that I just want to jump back a bit to last Monday. So as they say when one door closes, another opens. Upon realizing the Sunday date went so badly I decided the next day to take up the JWed discount offer and join up. Once there I was able to read the letter that one “Gary” wrote to me. He seemed above-board, although his message was an obvious system-generated “ice breaker” letter, in which case I assumed he sent out a lot of others as well. He seemed so much like my (20 years younger) friend Vera’s dad, and some of the info paralleled his, but others didn’t. The age of 63 seemed too young; he stated he was born in Denmark and yet Vera’s dad moved to Denmark only after marriag. Also Vera’s dad lives in Cesarea, not Jerusalem, as he stated. One of the pictures looked like him but the others must’ve been old pictures as he looked to be in his early 50’s. And the name Gary? That was far too anglo for this (as he stated once) “poor boy from Mea She’arim” (or was it B’Nei Barak?). So if that’s her dad, he sure is starting out his online dating career on a bang: full of “half-truths”.

I responded in my best English. The next day he wrote back. This time he signed it Morris. Jackpot! That’s Vera’s dad’s name—which I found out how? On the tribute page to the memory of her glorious mother and his wife, who passed away about 2-3 years ago, and whose Levaya (funeral service) I attended. 

I wrote again and he wrote again. This time, he gave me his email address. Before I wrote back to him, I kindly contacted Vera by email to essentially ask for her blessing before I proceed. And that she was uncomfortable with it, I’d surely curtail it. She wrote back that evening, saying that her dad hadn’t been happy since her mom died, and that she really wished he had a partner, and how “funny” it was that he chose me.

Armed w/her blessing, I wrote to him again last night, with the intention of telling who I am. But before launching into it, I told him there was a coincidence at play here, and that it might be better for me to tell him on the phone so I gave him my #. But I haven’t heard back from him. So I have a feeling either she got ahold of him, told him, and now he’s ashamed it was me he solicited. Or perhaps he’ll write later. Either way, hey—it’s in God’s hands. If he doesn’t like the idea, then the idea shouldn’t go forward. If he’s okay with it, then we’ll meet and see what’s what. I haven’t seen him since her mom’s 1st Yahrzeit. He may be too old for me, anyway. 

The Golden Globes were okay tonight. Enjoyed getting back into the groove a bit I suppose, esp. in light of the fact that this year I’ve seen a lot of the film contestants. Certainly not the TV shows, however, as I don’t watch.

Ok folks, pursuant to the last couple paragraphs on my last entry, I herewith give you the update: YIKES! Was I wrong about the guy! Or perhaps I was right in all the points I made, but the end result was wrong. OK, some of what I said was wrong b/c he was wrong. Case in point: so intent on waxing nostalgic about various TV trivia was he, that I soon found his references dated. Some of the TV shows he harped on were a couple years too adult, or advanced for my then-young age. But it was when we compared graduation years that he stated he graduated 3 years before me. That should put him 4 years older than me (since I skipped a grade). Yup, turns out he lied. But then he had the audacity to excuse himself, under the guise of, “but that’s okay b/c everybody does it.” “I didn’t”, I responded. “I stated my actual age”. The place was dull, unhip, and didn’t have a nice vibe in the least. In fact, on a street constantly modernizing itself, we ate in the place that seems to have stood still through time. His conversation was dull, his voice monotoned, and he never stopped talking. His subject matter was even duller, or perhaps “inane” as my mother said when I recounted several of his talking points. The full head of hair he so proudly remarked about in our pre-date conversation, was styled so poorly that it resembled a bad toupee. I was so aching to get out of there when we were done, that I agreed to the walk he suggested. But not the “to the beach” option; that would’ve been waaaay too much time spent w/him. Instead, I asked to turn around when we reached Lincoln, where we circled back. Hey, at least I got to experience Montana Ave. from a walker’s point of view for the 1st time.

When we departed he asked if I’d want to go out again. How could I hurt his feelings and bring down an entire 25 mile drive back to his home in so doing? I quickly decided I’d say yes, and then opt out later w/some sort of diplomatic reason. Soon after he left, he texted me, “great conversation with you today!” 

It was? Obviously he went on a different date than I did! Or, did he feel it was great b/c he chose all the subject matter and I just responded? 

Thankfully my mother was still enjoying her day-trip to The Palisades when I called her right away. This way I could join her! I got to the bench she described, and there she was, so darling. So adorable, in her little white hat, enjoying the gorgeously sunny winter day. The light was amazing, low sun and all. I discussed w/her the anatomy of said date, and she agreed w/me completely. That listening to someone talk about how and why they dry-clean their clothes; where they shop for bargains, and other mundane things in their life, did not a good date make. I had such a good time parlaying our conversations to mom, however, that it truly enhanced my day and turned a bad one into a great one! An hour or so later, mom opted to leave before darkness. I then went for a jog, which was a most gorgeous one, setting sun and all. The townspeople were out in full force, enjoying the view, photographing the sunset, walking dogs, jogging, sunning, reading, picnicking.

I went home fulfilled.

Monday night, I joined Marie-France as her guest at 2 events: The first, a reception thrown by Salma Hayek and Antonio Banderas at the Red O on Melrose for their feature animated film, Puss ‘N Boots. It was lovely! The food was great, drinks were amazing, and guests—mostly members of the Academy—were friendly. The restaurant’s vintage and rare “tequila museum” in a transparently-walled, swirling hall, was a high point for me.

Then we high-tailed it over to Soho House in West Hollywood to attend a screening of the Belgian film “Bull Head” with a discussion w/its director thereafter. What a brilliant film! Perhaps it’ll take the Academy? It’s received quite the buzz, I understand. 

Tuesday I missed out on a UCLA lecture I wanted to attend, as I had to go to my house to oversee work being done on it, as well as pay Puf a deposit on further work. I finally chose the shade of paint color! His team are also currently reinforcing and retro-fitting the balcony railings, patching and repairing problem areas, warped gates, doors, etc. It’s not cheap but if it was anyone else, it’d cost more. And the quality wouldn’t be as careful and solid. 

Wednesday we prepped more casting for our Bobble Bots job, for the next day—a combination of new talent and more callbacks. This super ultra low budg spot cost us more aggravation than any of the big ones we do, but with these clients, we’ve come to expect it. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier when they ask for the impossible and micro-manage our work each step of the way.

That night Marie France took me as her guest to another event: 2 more foreign film screenings, but this time back at the Academy—which is so close to me that it’s like a neighborhood visit. We saw the long, dull, impossible to endure Georgian contribution and a very good Moroccan contestant to the Foreign Language Award, with a respite in between with coffee and deserts in the lobby.

Thursday I had a doc appt. w/Dr. Anand in the morning, which was quick and went well. I spent a damned hour waiting in the lab, however. I ran my Thursday errands including my local farmer’s market shopping, showered, and then went downtown to pick up my at long-last repaired bracelets and ring. They all came out stunning! From there I went to the famed “The Gorbals” restaurant in the storied Alexandria Hotel, where I joined 19 other diners at our huge table and had a blast enjoying chef Ilan Hall’s brand of “Scottish Jewish” cooking. Wow, how inspired he is! His dishes are savory and filled with inside jokes, if you get Jewish cooking. After dinner, most of us then went on the illustrious Downtown Art Walk, which happens on and around that very block once a month. Wow! Can’t believe it took me so long to finally participate! Throngs and throngs of people meander from gallery to cafe to bar to performance space to DJ event to club, to perhaps the missing food trucks, and then more  of same. The weather was great for this winter night. The art was pretty awful. The crowd was super cool. But in many ways, just like a metro version of Venice Beach boardwalk. Boardwalk-at-night, perhaps. Less the bulldogs and gangsters. Super arty looking folks, mostly hispanic though. But great to see them, and other “urban” folks get out and see and be art….

Friday slept in, worked out, and eventually made it over to the “East Side Jews” inaugural monthly Shabbat Dinner at Atwater Crossing (ATX), despite Amy & Family’s having opted out. It was a really nice event, albeit much better enjoyed if you bring along your posse, which I hope to do in the future—perhaps. I did meet a couple nice folks though, and perhaps will meet more at ensuing events.

Today (Saturday), slept in. Woke up w/a headache (probably from last night’s mashka?). Read, read read and watched clips online. then went to Vladimir’s yoga class, which was good but I’m still so rusty it’s embarrassing. Now I’m back and plan to just chill at home tonight. Went out 4 times last week so i need a rest. Tomorrow I meet up w/Bati Parnass at an interview to play the role of a “casting director” for a Mizrahi Israeli reality contest/show. Oi vey I’m so unprepared. Oh well, I’m playing myself, so what’s to prepare?

It’s been months since I last wrote. Is it any wonder that so many blogs fall victim to their authors’ apathy? We conceive these blogs w/the greatest intentions, but soon get distracted with life’s other tasks, allowing them to fall by the wayside.

I wish I’d kept it up so the postings had been fresh. And I hate looking back and rehashing the past. I prefer springing forward. But since it’s a new year, I’ll try to make this post do both, and in a nutshell.

Work: our last official day of work was Dec. 14, when we had a gorgeously memorable GMC Terrain callback, at the Annenberg Pool on Santa Monica beach. Start time was 8 am and we cast ‘till a winter-season dark 6 pm. The sunset was stunning, from the 2nd floor conference room where the director & producer had us oversee their selection process. Upon completion, Amy went home to her family and I high tailed it over to Ocean Park Casting Studios, were I oversaw the edit. I got home probably around 9 pm. The wrap process took about an hour a day for about a week, during which Amy & I prepared ourselves and family for the holidays.

Holidays: I stayed in town, b/c I spent too much on my last trip and need to save up. Because I decided to curtail my synagogue visits (for various reasons which I might go into later), Chanukah was for me, rather quiet. But the important part was that I spend it w/family, and that I did, on 3 occasions. One of those occasions happened to be on XMas, since the 2 holidays overlapped. Morley, Mom and I visited Amy & Family on their XMas to view their display of presents, and we stayed long enough to light the Chanukah candles, which was for me, the fun part.

The Kidlets: (Nephew and Niece) Bix and Scarlet are changing everyday, getting cuter and smarter and more clever and imminently watchable. Their overall wonderfulness is absolutely disarming, and hard to resist! Amy finally cut Bix’s gorgeous long wavy locks of hair the color of a July Flame Peach. I was so sad to see them go, but the cut she gave him is just adorable! All of 4, when he looked in the mirror afterwards he stated, “Oh my God, I look like a new boy!”

End of Year Plans: Prior to New Year’s, I’d tried to attack as many items on my “get it done by 2012” agenda. Each day things got delayed, but I finally did some crucial ones, like

- clear out my closet and donate the clothes

- get my car fixed

- get my clothes altered to fit

- get my silver charms purchased in Israel made into jewelry

- get my gold jewelry repaired

- resume my PUVA appts

- attend a follow-up appt w/my doctor

- purchase a new desktop computer (yesss!)

After 2012, I’ve continued on this trend, finally getting the 20 posters I got in Israel over the summer, framed. This is a big custom job that’ll cost a lot of money, but it needed to be done. It took me four vendors to find this place, as recommended by the mgr at Pearl, and it’s called Universal Frame on Lincoln in Venice. That visit was unusual! Everyone there had these gorgeous Portuguese accents, which I recognized right away since they sounded like that DJ on the Brazillian Hour on KXLU. What a nice respite from L.A., for the hour it took me to choose my frames and matt colors with Fernando!

Physical Fitness: Other than that, I duly attended yoga every day of their special holiday schedule, save for one. So, each morning I attended the oh-so-convenient 10:45 am class, each day w/a different teacher. They were all super well-attended, since there was only 1 or 2 classes a day. I got to see our two famous students, who rarely attend otherwise (probably b/c they can afford private study at home!), Belinda Carlisle and Annette Bening. I’m assuming their private teachers both took the holidays off, so they came out of their opulent domiciles to join us at the Institute (IYILA, that is)! But other than the pride associated with increasing my yoga practice, I also suffered some setbacks this year, as my back is now officially chronically stiff, and any back-bending pose, while amazing for the body, creates discomfort so great I can barely get up off the floor, let alone walk. My right arm is now suffering from a rotator cuff problem, an ailment I’d only heard about in the past.

Entertainment/Arts: I attended a lot of cultural events throughout 2011, many of which were films at the Academy courtesy of my host, Marie-France, a costume designer in the Academy. We also went to dinners, concerts, and have a lot planned for January already. I also enjoyed all the art exhibits and gallery openings I went to this past year, mostly in Culver City.

My Pet House: I planned, then delayed, then resumed my plan to repaint my house, which is a rental. I’m putting far more attention and cost into it than most other landlords would. Maybe b/c I treat it like the gem it is, and know that to keep it in its price-point, it needs to look great. But as with everything else w/that house, every project grows to include tons of other repairs or plans. So what started as a few planks of water-damaged wood balcony railing pieces needing to be replaced, I ended up having the entirety of the balconies redone (their heights weren’t up to code, and it’s bothered me since I found out). So, rather than save money, I’m now putting it into the “bank of the house on Lucile”.

Today: It’s now the 7th of January. Whereas I had designs on going out to eat at my favorite fabulous local restaurants each night, I stayed in pretty much insead for the past week. See, I ended up going into emergency last month for stomach pains so great that I let them give me Morphine. Big mistake. It constipated me for 8 days! I’ve been on a major mission to only eat fibery, mild foods since. That included cooking massive quantities of greens from my local Farmer’s Mkt and eating them every night as an entree. My plan worked. But skip a day, and the results show. I have to adhere to it, or else!

Lessons learned: So, good digestion plus regular yoga attendance give me equanimity, calmness and pride that I succeeded in my challenges. May I continue to succeed in whatever challenge arises, Amen. 

It’s Saturday night and I’m passing on my plan to go to the valley to hear a speaker give a talk on the Kabbalistic comedy of marriage. If I had more motivation I’d have gone. But staying in and avoiding the drive, the commute, the $25 fee; the prep time and effort; the late night it might’ve been won out. Besides, I need to catch up on a few creative thing: reading, writing, and viewing some films:

- Eden (a film we cast this past summer. It’s now complete and the prod/dir sent us the link! I can now watch it on a lovely monitor.)

- Room at The Top (it’s free to watch in entirety on Hulu, and features my 2nd cousin, Laurence Harvey)

- Chai B’La La Land (an Israeli reality show that my friend Bat asked if I’d like to audition for the role of a casting director on. Ha! I meet w/them a week from Sunday so I gotta get armed….!)

I also have a date tomorrow. My first in quite awhile, which is my own doing, I suppose, since I completely ignored my obligation to find myself a companion, for the past couple months. I resumed the search during the holiday period, connecting w/a guy who ended up an annoying asshole on the phone, that I couldn’t bring myself to go through with the stupid-ass Starbucks date this millionaire set up (on New Year’s Day, noch!) and ended up canceling. I won’t go into the horrific conversations I had with him, leading up to that point, lest my heart palpitate with anger. (Try to focus on the good, Jane!)

Tomorrow’s date is with someone my own age (which is unusual b/c guys my age usually want someone way younger), who approached me. He also grew up in the west valley, albeit Chatsworth. He now lives in Woodland Hills and teaches English at Parkman. This is all crazily local. I look forward to being in the presence of someone with an upbringing similar to mine, for a change. I’ve dated all manner of guys from other parts, who’re beyond successful, but haven’t a clue how to dress. And btw, he loves wine and foreign films—which is nothing to take for granted these days. So many men in my dating demos don’t drink anymore (if they really ever did), and few “get” foreign films. Although teaching isn’t lucrative in the US, it’s stable and secure, and offers great benefits. Over time I’m sure he’s actually earned far more at it than I have at my spotty brand of seemingly glamorous yet ultimately freelance-based employment. And he enjoys it, which is great. Horrible to do a job with rancor, that’s for sure!

He suggested a place because he said it “has a good vibe”. It’s about time someone use that as the reason. All other guys usually say, “what kind of food do you like?” What kind of bs question is that? It’s not about what kind of food a person likes, it’s about the atmosphere; the environment. Is it conducive to conversation? Is it comfortable? Is the lighting soothing? Is it in an interesting area? 

Hopefully I’ll be motivated to report back, soon thereafter. I have a busy week ahead, with lots of stuff planned by day and night.

Happy 2012 to everyone out there. May you all get what you want and deserve in the coming year. 

Robots! (like the one JPL is sending to Mars next August!)

I went to Brentwood Restaurant for the first time last Thursday night, for my second date w/Bob, the guy I went out with the first time two Sundays before. We poured over scores of options, but he wanted a quiet place where we could hear each other talk, so he pitched that one and I agreed.

I got lost en route b/c I opted to get off the 10 fwy to avoid insanely backed up 405 construction traffic that for some reason was still going strong in the pitch dark of 8:15 pm. So arriving 1/2 hour past our 8:30 time put me in an anxious huff. Meanwhile Bob was hating the fact that this quiet neighborhood restaurant was packed to the gills and noisy as ever. He wanted to go elsewhere but I urged him to stay since it looked dark and cozy and I didn’t want to walk in the cold air. (Me? Lazy?) I desperately needed, and therefore ordered a drink at the bar as we awaited our table. He didn’t partake since he doesn’t “drink and drive”.

He complained of hunger the whole time we waited. He never eats that late! He’s not used to it! Finally we were seated. I gave him the view seat as I faced the wall. The menu prices were crazy high, but since he chose the place I figured he was used to that. 

But after I ordered my next drink, a glass of red wine to go with our steaks, he protested, in full disclosure of his feelings which I then realized were bottling up inside him. How could I order something without knowing how much it costs, he queried. Bob then went on this big lecture about intelligent budget decisions and making a “cost/benefit analysis”, and so forth. As he continued on, my stomach tied into a knot. I’m nothing if not cost-conscious (see my previous post, “When I Toldja So” becomes “I’m Sorry For You”). But if a man takes me to a pricey joint, I’ve no choice but to assume this is his S.O.P. Besides, how odd it would have been to look up the price of every glass of red the waitress suggested or let me taste. And what good would that have done me anyway? How would I respond to her: “uh, do you have something cheaper?” A man who’s used to going to restaurants like that would be insulted I asked such a thing.

Now remember: Bob had been hitting on me hard since he met me. Texts, emails, links, phone calls, messages. A bit much. But I never complained. I figured, let him do this until we’d meet for a 2nd time and we’d see—in person—what’s what. 

Well that pit in my stomach told me what was what. Believe me, I plan to be cost conscious in any relationship I have. But the courtship phase is supposed to be a bit frivolous. That’s what attracts a person into your sphere. When both parties are comfortable with each other should discussions like that be broached. But this guy was dead set on disseminating his frugal manifesto to me. It was off-putting. And he’s a $445/hour attorney! 

I was over him right then and there. Or put it this way: at that point, it’d take something huge for him to win me back. Of course, it didn’t help that he was dressed all geeky too, which I got to see that night for the first time outside our “hike”. A dept. store sale-looking leather bomber jacket (yes, w/the stretchy fabric waistband) encasing his overstuffed belly, revealing some sort of boring shirt tucked into boring trousers and rubber soled shoes. I mean, the guy has zero tastes. And to think it was his beige linen suit in his picture that helped attract me! That must have been a one-off.

It didn’t help that the recessed ceiling light above his head had cast dark shadows under his eyes so deep that, in his baldness, made him look JUST like Uncle Fester from The Addams Family. With that image in mind, it took all I had from cracking up. Yes, the lights could’ve been doing the same thing to my eyes. That’s when I changed my posture. But still, at that point, there was no going back.

After the date he wanted to take me on a little walk of the Brentwood Village grounds. For the first time I saw this quaint and popular area, so late however that everything was shuttered. Finally he walked me to my car and I gave him a hug and peck, got into my car and that was that. The freeway onramp was blocked due to construction, so I took Sepulveda to Pico to home. En route I conjured what I’d say to him. 

At 12:18 am he emailed me another 2 links, both having to do with something he brought up in conversation—neither of which did I ask about, but he felt a need to send me the links regardless. 

The next morning he called, but I just didn’t feel like answering. So he left a message. On my landline. Which means I could hear it. And in that message he articulately explains that he and I have “different ideas on how to order food” or something like that, and arrives at some sort of conclusion that it might not work out for us, but that I may have already come to that decision myself (yes, lawyers are smart). 

That he detailed all this on a message machine that anyone present could have listened to was shocking. And yet, I felt a huge sigh of relief because the ones was no longer on me to convey my disinterest in continuing. Ahhh, I felt.

And yet he asked me to call him back. “You know the numbers” he concluded with. So, he wanted to discuss it further?

I opted for email instead. I simply found his latest email, hit reply, and responded. But then I explained that I was confused about his costs outburst, in light of the price-point of the restaurant he chose.  I covered some other ground, and ended it on a nice note though.

And so of course, he called me back. By then it’s 2 pm on a Friday and I’m working from home and so I haven’t gotten out of the house yet. I needed to get out to do my shit before it got dark. So when he asked a question of me so deep, that only a two hour conversation could do it justice, I asked him if I could call him at a later time to give it—and him—the attention it deserved. He acquiesced. I got out of the house—did my errands—and came home. It’s now Sunday night. And I have no desire to finish that conversation.

[Cost/Benefit analysis my ass! Honey, IIIIIII’m the benefit!]

Over the past 12 years we’ve been hearing about how the Jewish district of Fairfax Ave. (between Melrose Ave. and Beverly Blvd.) was fading fast because its shop owners couldn’t keep up with the landlords’ rent raises, which were effected by news of the area’s newfound popularity as a trendy location.

I moved into the city long after most Jewish businesses vanished, but perhaps a dozen still stood, if not more. Some still hang on to. Others saved on rent by combining two shops into one space (Chabad Bookstore and Atara’s gifts). But many—like the only Jewish record store in the state if not the country—shuttered. What’s left are a restaurant (Simon’s), a grocery store/meat market (Western Kosher), possibly the fish market is still there, a 24-hour non-kosher but still “Jewish” deli (Canter’s), Schwartz Bakery and Cafe (who’s also an owner/landlord), an Israeli Market (Sami’s), a charitable non-profit organization and thrift store (NCJW), and perhaps a couple others. Solomon’s gifts moved to Pico in a much smaller space; others may have folded. 

I walked the strip for the first time in awhile yesterday. I couldn’t help but be surprised as to what moved in in their stead. I was already familiar with Golden _______, a hip burger eatery, Animal, a beyond-cool meat-heavy restaurant featuring two star-chefs, and a bar. What I noticed that’s even newer is a hip, authentic English Pub manifestation of today’s gastropub trend; a veritable saloon!, a DJ-based turntable and record shop manned by trendy boy-men; a couple minimalistic men’s fashion shops, and a couple galleries. 

What impressed me however, was the subject matter of most of these joints: they all skewed masculine. Testosterone-heavy commerce. A rarity in L.A. Most shopping destinations brim with women’s furnishings. Whereas stats would show women account for most the world’s shopping, Fairfax’s new shopping district is decidedly guy-friendly. Cool dudes in flannels, hats, 4 day stubble, thick-framed glasses and skinny-jeans flit around from storefront to storefront.

Huge change from the shtetl Jews of the past that probably scooted from store to store to buy their Shabbos and holiday provisions. But the good news is, if the old Yids can still hang on, there’s an interesting mix going on. Possibly a micro-mini version of Brooklyn’s Williamsburg—but without the angry sectarian divide. And I hope it thrives. 

Economically, I suppose I’m considered middle-class. If you look at the frequency of my paychecks however, during some seasons I’m lower class. But because I have a couple assets, I guess the books might say Middle. It’s been a struggle, acquiring and holding onto said assets, but so far I’ve pulled it off. Other than a stable income, primarily what it takes is a stop-renting, start-buying mindset, and all the benefits that come along with that.

As incapacitated as my brother currently is with his damned Parkinson’s, and as far-flung from metro- and family-center as he chose to live, at least he has property. My other two siblings, not.

One of them, it’s not for lack of desire. But back to her another time. The other simply never had that mindset; property ownership wasn’t a goal. Apartment living was fine for her. Even the much smaller benefits of automobile ownership she didn’t appreciate; instead, she leased.

I don’t think I ever came right out and told her her priorities were skewed. Siblings have a way of deflecting—if not becoming embittered by—advice. Yes, she’s envied & commented on my ability to have acquired a house, so the value of owning assets aren’t completely lost on her. But as mom once said, “Morley just never wanted to own a house”.

That’s well and good if you’re financially successful. For those people, monthly rent and leases are a drop in the bucket. But when 80% of your income is allocated to such expenses, something’s terribly wrong. 

Through a series of misadventures and misfortune, this erstwhile upstanding sister, who is currently unemployed—is now down to her last $32. Several years ago she lost a previous job and therefore used her savings—mostly from a worker’s comp incident—to pay for her apartment for several months thereafter. When that dried up, she realized she had no choice but to move back to our now 87 year old mother’s home. It goes without saying, that not a day goes by that she’s not depressed about her lot, stressed about living in the province of the elderly, and dragged down by the constant reminders she failed in life.

Through all these incidents, she had a boyfriend. Sure, they were on-again, off-again. And not without problems. But she had this guy. When they met, he conveyed to her marriage wasn’t his thing. You’d have to be living under a rock to not have heard or read the memo: “you can’t change a man”. But she apparently didn’t. And she stuck it out with him for about six years, in hopes he’d change. 

The only changes he made were attempts at his own self-improvement. Not only did he never change his mind, but he wouldn’t even let her move in! That’s how much he valued his own propriety; placing it above all else. Companionship needs held priority over commitment.  And Morley was right there whenever companionship needed to be fulfilled. Eventually she’d had enough and severed it. I’m sure to him it was no love lost.

All the while she was driving a leased car. Perhaps the notion of lower monthly payments appealed to her at the time of acquisition, along with the fact that the car would never get old enough to warrant repairs. Which is why rich people like to lease. And when the lease was up and it was time to get another, she was working so get another one, she did. Or gosh, maybe as I remember it she wasn’t working, but may have been on disability. I do remember it odd that someone in her financial position could afford to lease. Her response was that she didn’t have enough money to buy. The notion of the car as asset, fell flat with her. I knew that one day the lease would run out, and with no automotive assets to her name, she’d have to start from scratch again. Huge deposit, monthly payments, no equity.

Perhaps that defines her relationship with the guy: huge deposit, monthly payments, no equity. Meaning, she invested all her time and energy; all her hopes and dreams, but walked away with nothing. Not a divorce settlement, not alimony—that at least a marriage would have effected. Nothing. Nada. 

Well, she just told me yesterday that her lease is due next month. And so, w/$32 to her name, she has no capital to even put down a deposit for the next one, let alone the monthlies. Meanwhile, I drive a 10 year old Ford Focus. It’s paid for. Which compared to her, is like me earning $300/month. Sure it has no resale value. And I don’t exactly look slick at the valet park. But it’s an asset nonetheless. It gets me from A to B. Which saves me taxi fare or public transportation headaches. And when it dies, I’ll buy another.

Like all of us, my sister has bills. Not a crazy amount, but about $1,000 worth. For that, mom reluctantly agreed to advance her money. 

But mom is hardly going to advance her the approx $4K a lease might require. Knowing her, she’ll solve it by finding a lease w/no down payment. And we all know what that means: extraordinarily high monthlies. Again, with no equity. And that’s if she even qualifies. A bank would have to be pretty desperate to qualify her. But as sleazy as car salesmen are, they probably will.

Fortunately things are looking a bit brighter for her. She seems to have found a job, and it’s in a field she formerly worked in and wanted to return to. She’s currently in the process of executing necessary documentation and tests. I hope she passes all phases, qualifies for the job, is a quick-study at the new systems she’ll be trained on, and performs the job well. Amen. 

Not sure how she’ll solve the car problem, but I suggested she take the metro to her impending job. L.A.’s metro, while new-ish and impressive, is hardly complete. It serves only a few areas and routes. Lets hope it can take her East and deposit her to the employer’s block. Amen.

But that’s not all. I hope she not only earns enough money to, but in so doing also learns the benefits of property ownership and asset acquisition. Money thrown away on rents and leases leaves the broke, broker. A chain that’s impossible to get off of, especially in today’s market of astronomical real estate and car prices. Had she gotten off the wheel decades ago when she had steady work, she wouldn’t have been in this position. 

I’m sure readers might think she’s far luckier than many if not most, in the world. That I’m crying a river. And I get that. The world’s majority are impoverished. And our forbearers might have been as well. But through blood, sweat and tears, we Sotnicks and Szabos were to have gotten over. So seeing a beloved family-member drop back several ladder-rungs en route to economic liberation, is saddening. And so, I’m extremely sorry for her. And I hope she has the strength to pull through. Living with your 87 year old mother is demoralizing. But she’s lucky to have that safety net at all. Or not. Maybe it served as a disincentive. I’m terribly sorry, and I wish she could get over. And find a man who loves her so much he’d go out on a limb to provide for all her needs and wants. Amen.

Last night I went to American Jewish University to attend a combination Shabbat Dinner and interview with Gilad Sharon, who just wrote a book about his father, Ariel Sharon. Stay tuned for details.