My Brain. My Blog.

Goodbye To All That

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:20:00 +0000

So here it is! I love it. Covers are really hit and miss, but this one's top shelf.

Thanks to my editor Sulay for working with the art department over at Touchstone. They've captured the tone of Goodbye All That, coming out next August, perfectly. (I guess I'll have to start adding the hyphen in now.)

GTAT will be my fourth book. Four books in four years and the covers just keep getting better and better.

Hello West Hollywood

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 15:54:00 +0000

I like book fairs for two reasons the books and the food. Oh, and the people. As I've been hanging out (way too much) at home lately, I haven't had many opportunities to commiserate with people who understand what I'm bitching about. (Chatting with the woman who also has a skittish dog when we happen cross paths doesn't count--we only talk dogs and I still don't know her name, but I do know her pooch is called Muffin.)

So I was eager beaver for the Chicas, Chicanas, & Latinas: Writers in Action panel moderated by Mary Castillo and, uh, paneled by me, Reyna Grande, Josephina Lopez and Graciela Limon at this Sunday's West Hollywood Book Fair. I was a bit rusty, having not been getting much action of late, but it was a fun time to listen to the other authors and get to talk a little bit about this writing thing I do for a semi-living.

Myself and Reyna listening to Mary expertly moderate.

(from left) Me, Reyna, Graciela Limon, Josefina Lopez and Mary Castillo.

Reyna's latest novel, Dancing with Butterflies is out tomorrow and it's gotten beyond good reviews. Read it!

I got to chat with Mary who made the drive all the way from Orange County and didn't even get a cup of that Urth green tea. She's a trooper and a half.

So what did I end up wearing? Well, a purple cardigan I shouldn't have buttoned where I did and jeans (both from Old Navy and both plucked from the sale rack sometime ago), a pretty embellished tank from F21 (no mater how many times I tell myself I'm way too old for Forever 21, it is my place of last resort when it comes to finding something a little quirky that won't break the bank) and my Clark Malibu Beach wedges . (I recommended them to Reyna who says she's always on the lookout for comfortable shoes with some height. In fact, I just ordered a pair in black so I stand by my recommendations, people.)

And I'm not kidding when I say I'm really considering recycling this outfit for this Saturday's Latino Book Festival at Cal State L.A. and for the Page One Book Festival panel I'm doing Sunday the 18th. Seriously, do you know how loud they crank the music at F21? At this point my hearing is the only faculty I have that's 100% and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

One last pic...

I won't even bother to type out the obvious caption, you dirty birds.

New Site and Blog in the Works:

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 23:36:00 +0000

Yes, this time it's (almost certainly) going to happen. And because change is good, I'm looking forward to seeing this new (web) phase through.

Until the new site goes live, I'll still be lagging on the blogging but I'll keep Twittering to my heart's content and post updates on events and news (if anything newsworthy happens to happen) here.

An update with pictures! OK, one picture.

I've compiled a wish list of changes I want for my new site (which is a re-purposing of an existing but no longer site I had for other projects. See? I'm recycling and thrifty!) There's the home page to your left.

The whole typewriter thing goes way back with me. I started 'writing' on an antique manual typewriter in my teens that sadly is no more. I didn't even think to cart it with me to college. To be fair, I was flying away there on Southwest and even though they were super flexible at the time, I think they would have frowned on me trying to stuff machinery onto my carry-on. Really wish I had, though.

As much as I liked the site the first time around, I still know a few tweaks have to be made to make it work for what I need now. And since I like lists, especially numbered ones, I'll present my wish list of tweaks in no particular order.

1. A new background/color scheme that's less, well, green.
2. A new snazzy header. Headers are really important. More important than I ever realized. A header, like a book cover, can make or break a site. Really, I don't think I'm overstating the importance of a good header.
3. As facebook, twitter and goodreads (at least to me) have become more important, I need nifty link buttons that coordinate with the site. It's like accessorizing a LBD. Even though I only own a few pieces of jewelry that I don't wear, it doesn't mean my site should go bare.
4. The blog conundrum. I like blogging in blogger. I really do. So the only answer is to have a coordinating blog template designed and linked so it opens in a new window.

There are other little things I'd like see happen, but those are just housekeeping. If I get 1 to 4 done, I'd be happy to have the site up as soon as they're done. The rest I can wait to do, like finally painting over that patched spot on my wall. I'll get around to doing it but for now, propping a picture in front of it works just as well.

Why Aren't You Blogging, Margo?

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 18:19:00 +0000

I've been very lax in the blogging department of my compartmentalized life as of late. I have tons of excuses, but the number one is that I can't think of anything to blog about. My summer 'vacation' has turned my brain to mush.

Getting it and me back into shape starting in the fall. Promise.

End of the Hiatus

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 15:04:00 +0000

My oh my, what a week away will do to a person's sense of reality.

I've had to remind myself of what day it is and, I think, I'm finally settled on the fact that it is Monday and tomorrow will be Tuesday and so and so forth. That I have two weeks to polish my partial to near perfection. That I'll be finishing (finally) a draft of the screenplay adaptation of More Than This by November or else. (The or else part comes in the form of a couple hundred dollars and limited public humiliation as I've entered into a bet that I can do it or else. I'm mature!)

A week a way from my reality is making it hard to get back into the swing of things. (This morning I had to verbally cue myself to do things like brush my teeth and pour milk into the kid's cereal.)

Especially since I'm no longer starting my days with a tall (I've downsized) soy chai (no water, no foam) from Starbucks every morning like I did last week in San Francisco. We stayed at the W because the beds are comfy and I like the way the place smells. It's a love/hate thing with the W. For me it ended up being that I wanted to love it but I hated it so much that I wanted to switch hotels. I stuck it out though, but my on my next trip I'll be staying somewhere much less, well, W like.

(Really, who needs to feel as if they're stepping into a club each time they ride the elevator? Turns out that person is not me.)

Aside from the hotel issue, I had a great time in San Francisco. I took very few pictures, instead opting to just pay attention and remember. More importantly, I took a vacation from my computer. I did bring along my laptop, but 'forgot' the power cord so it stayed tucked away the entire time and I was a better person for it.

I got it into my brain that I want to buy a pied-à-terre right smack in the middle of things to use as an escape pad. Not that I have much to escape from as I keep my life deliberately drama free, but I realized how much I miss San Francisco. The fun parts at least which consist of eating good food, walking at will and spending time with friends.

Now for this to happen things have to happen and that's why I'm at my desk ready to write until my fingers go numb. And maybe then, but not until, will I even consider wandering out for a tall soy chai, no water/no foam.

Life, really, isn't so bad but it was better on vacation.

Project Stimulation: Return to Sender

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 18:00:00 +0000

I've hit a snag when it comes to online shopping (my preferred method of procuring everything from underwear to vitamins): sometimes what you see on the monitor is not what you take out of the box seconds after the UPS guy drops it on the porch.

OK, it's no bait and switch because I technically got what I ordered it was just when I got it, I didn't want it because it was what I got. True that, huh.

My first disappointment was a pair of sandals which ended up compounding my disappointment since they weren't the sandals I wanted in the first place. I'd been threatening to buy a pair of Corso Como Fiddas for so long that it became a running joke between me and, well, me. When I was finally ready to just do it, Fiddas in my size and preferred color (cognac) were no longer to be had anywhere on the Internet. Bugger that.

Sandal shy but determined to buy a pair, I began my search for something belle laid, so on the border of being ugly that they're undeniably beautiful. I clicked through pages of websites, visiting the handful of online stores I favor and found myself heart to face with Frye's Vanessas in slate, a version of my now ubiquitous wardrobe color gray or grey whichever you prefer.

I put my order in, went on with my life and like the dog, was at the door the second the UPS truck pulled up a day or two later. Hurray, I thought, I finally have a pair of sandals my sisters will both curl there lips at and admire me having the balls to wear. And that's what I thought until I saw them on my feet. Even with a fresh pedicure, the wonderful color and fine craftsmanship, I knew they weren't going to work out. And it wasn't that the heel part was already rubbing even though I was standing still.

While they are belle laid, they're more laid than belle. They've gone back and I don't even mind the $4.50 it's going to cost me off the purchase price for shipping. Sometimes when a thing isn't right, it just ain't right. Even though I'm sure if I see them on another gal, I'll think those are nice sandals and realize the problem wasn't with the shoes, but with my feet, calves, knees, thighs...

What is it with me and handbags? I rarely have occasion to pull one out, but I still had the overwhelming hankering to buy not only a bag, but a nice one I'd be happy to own and could pull out whenever I needed to.

This is where things started to go wrong. I put way too many expectations on a poor purse. Sometimes a purse is just a purse and I really, most sincerely thought the Campo hobo from J Crew was for me. I liked the shape, minimal hardware and the color, slate again, and, I admit, that I was willing to buy it retail with nary a second thought. Not only retail but online retail even though J. Crew's shipping charges are beyond off-putting.

I did everything I was supposed to. I thought about it for a few days, went to my local J. Crew to see if they carried it, pulled out my tape measure and tried to visualize the size, but in the end all those efforts were for naught. I suppose the size of the box it was shipped in was the first indicator of disappointment to come.

As soon as I pulled the bag out, even before relieving it of its plastic bag then felt bag, I knew it was way too big. As in as wide as my hips and a tad too tall which just made me look like a kid carrying her mommy's handbag. No matter which way I carried it, in the crook of my arm, on my shoulder, by the handle, its proportions and mine just didn't mesh.

It was my mistake for investing so much, and I don't mean money, in a pair of shoes and purse. At my age I should know better. A pretty picture doesn't always make for a pretty reality. But if I see a gal trotting about in my Frye Vanessa sandals and J. Crew Campo bag, I'll feel a slight pang for what could have been but feel OK in knowing that those two things just weren't for me.

More Than This Interview

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 22:51:00 +0000

I finally got around to digging up the link for the Las Comadres interview I did with Marta Acosta. Click the pic of MTT below and up will pop up an mp3 file. Listen at your leisure!

Summer (Writing) Doldrums

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 16:15:00 +0000

I know this feeling all too well, the one where I just don't want to do anything and especially not do what it is I have to do. And it always hits in the summer and it just makes one gorgeous day drag after another gorgeous day. While I don't have a physically taxing job, writing is a little hard on the gray matter between my ears. I don't care what anyone says (except for maybe a coal miner) writing is hard work. And even if I don't have to do it in the hot sun or miles under the surface of the earth, it makes me tired. Mentally which then leads to physical symptoms and bad posture. Mine was already fairly poor, now it's just atrocious.

My current state of dwelling in the doldrums has to do with having spent the last nine or so months sitting here working on one project or another without a break. (No, stepping away from the computer in the middle of the afternoon to vacuum the living room or go to the supermarket is not a break.)

It seems people, besides Europeans, do need a vacation. And even if I wouldn't take six weeks to loll about in the sun in the South of France, a long weekend away from my day-to-day life sounds pretty nice. And, like the husband's European family, I'd leave all technology behind except for my handy (cell phone), but only for use in emergencies.

This is not going to happen and not just because six weeks of vacation anywhere would drive me nuts. But just because I'm home and desk bound doesn't mean I can't make the best of it.

How?

I'm taking a day off, damnit! I'm skipping my Spin class and my tacked on 15 minutes of yoga. (Actually, a nice relaxed yoga session sounds kind of appealing.) I'm taking myself out to lunch and reading a good book. I'm going to wander around unfamiliar parts of Los Angeles and maybe even window shop (the ultimate in brain dead activity for me).

If I had thought to give myself a free pass earlier, I would've considered taking one of those touristy tours in a bus around tourist worthy parts of the city. I've always wanted to do that, but have never had the time to get around to it.

Maybe next week. After all, I'll still be here and a nice German family will be reaching a deep golden brown on a beach in the South of France.

Project Stimulation: Phase Spago

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 03:31:00 +0000

I'm still slowly, painfully spending my way through $2k. I've already found shopping just for the sake of shopping (even done thoughtfully) is a bit boring and, yes, pointless. Because the goal, if you could call it one, was to spend my money on non-practical things, I invited the husband out to dinner. But not just any dinner and definitely not Huston's, but a grown-up, just the two us, eat anywhere he wanted dinner.

Since he got his master of business administration from UCLA, he decided to go with the very L.A. theme and picked Spago. We made 9 pm reservations and arrangements for the kid to spend a long night at his grandparents'. All in all, it was a nice time for us to just sit and talk about stuff we can't converse about when the kid is around. The food was good, the service great but I did notice some very L.A. things.

It's a bit disconcerting to walk into a place, have conversation cease for the few seconds it takes people to figure out if you're someone. Since I'm not and I don't mind it, I wasn't offended when people realized it and went back to chatting while keeping one eye on the door. This went on through dinner, people eyeballing each other and trying to connect a name to what they thought was a vaguely familiar face.

I didn't participate because I figure the only people who would be at Spago on Saturday night were people like me. Those out for dinner to celebrate a special occasion. And how special did it end up being? $207.32 worth of special and well within in budget of $250-$300.

With a nice cushion, we went over to the W in Westwood where we had our eardrums melted by music so loud it was distorted. It was kind of funny to watch the recent MBA grads (who are all well beyond the age where trolling for a hook-up at a trendy bar is fun) try to have conversations about what happens next when no one could hear each other unless you leaned in and screamed in each others ear. One beer (him) glass of water (me) and a discounted $10 valet tab later, we bailed. (This I let him pay for because by that point I'd spent 9 hours in 3" heels and my ears were ringing. Plus, I only had plastic, no cash on my person.

We drove to pick up the kid, got home and divested our selves of suits, ties, heels and one, by then, very fitted dress and went to bed.

I was never 100% on board with the husband getting his MBA and it caused an endless amount of stress and annoyance (a kitchen cabinet drawer front fell off it's hinges 7 months ago was off of 'em until this Sunday), but I'm glad it's over. I'm excited to see what happens next and to start nicely and subtly pointing out all the handyman projects my Mr. MBA can start taking care of since his life doesn't revolve around school anymore. Also, I've made him sign a piece of paper that states if he ever even thinks about going back to school, I have the right to punch him in the balls. And I'll do it, too.

Project Stimulation: Phase Nixed

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 03:54:00 +0000

Who knew spending $2k on (just about) whatever I want would be not as easy as I though it should be. I guess what's tripping me up is that I'm watching every penny (every single one!) and making as thoughtful decisions as possible. I don't ever do this, spend money just on me (me! me!) without thinking about what other good (due to make my yearly donation to Planned Parenthood and Doctors Without Borders) and useful (the dishwasher is close to kaput) things I could/should with the money.

But no. I've set a goal and I aim to met it with some items not making the cut. This time it's all about jackets.

I took the Boden Biker Jacket, $168 in black, off my list not because the site takes so damn long to load but because my sister used the death word, "boxy." As in "It's a cute jacket but it looks boxy." Boxy is not good when you happen to be (a) short and (b) busty. I am (a) and (b).

Plus, I'm not familiar with Boden's cut and sizing and with no way to try on before I click to buy, chances were it would be too boxy and the wrong size. So this was an easy nix.

This velvet blazer from J. Crew , Eden, $148, in indigo almost made the click and is still on my "If I have any money left over list," but I nixed it. It's a pretty jacket, fitted but a tad short and I already have a velvet blazer. (OK, it's in boring black and from the gap, but it still fills the need for a velvet blazer.)

J. Crew is already on my "I'm seriously buying" list so I figured I would venture out of my comfort bubble to see what else is out there in the blazer/jacket world.

What I really want, covet almost, is this Vince Boyfriend Jacket in herringbone, $498. There's really nothing stopping me, besides work, family and self obligations, from wandering down to my nearest fine department store and trying it on. And this I would want to try on. Just because I've fallen for it online, doesn't mean it won't be totally wrong in person. (Ain't that the truth.) I have the feeling that my first Vince item of clothing will lead to many others so I want to be extra sure where a big hunk of my $2,071.59 would go.

If I could dress in just Vince with flats from London Sole and get everything else from Barney's Co-Op, I'd be a happy gal. For that to happen, I need to do more sit-ups and rack up some serious book sales. Until then, the blazer will stay on my "Am I serious?" list. And I think I am.

Project Stimulation: Phase One

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 18:47:00 +0000

I watched a lot of crap TV in my youth but some of it still stands out in my mind as classic crap. Like the episode of Fantasy Island where a group of gal friends ask Mr. Rourke to grant them the wish of a bag full of money (each) they can spend as they wish. So he does and then they do. The catch is (remember there's always a catch) that they have to spend all of the money or they lose all the stuff they shopped for.They lose everything because they got all greedy and sneaked a wad of bills from the others stash.

Great fun and entertainment but I also learned a moral: Make sure it's your money you're spending so no one can take away your stuff when it's time to leave the island of fantasy.

So that's just what I'm going to do. I recently got a check for $2,071.59 in the mail. Where I got it and why it took me so long to get it is, as they say, irrelevant. The fact remains that it's my money and my money to spend. But just like on the Fantasy Island there's a but to this tale, I'm going to lay down some ground rules for my self. As follows...

1. No buying anything ordinary or practical. Meaning no groceries, anything I can get at Target or that is of general use for the household.

2. No waiting for an item to go on sale. If it does within the price adjustment period, fine, but I won't beat myself up for not waiting around until it does.

3. Nothing trendy or cheap. Whatever I buy has to last and be considered 'classic.' Even if that means spending the whole thing on a good watch. A good watch can last, like, a while. Or so I've been told.

4. No fudging the numbers. It's all well and good to make a list and add up the prices, but in the end I'll have to take taxes and shipping into account. I've set up and spreadsheet to keep the numbers and items in order and the aim is to get as close to $2071.59 as I can.

5. No stress and no guilt. Online shopping is ideal for me because I don't have to deal with traffic and clerks who are stressing out about making a sale. Even if I could get what I wanted by physically going there, I'll let myself attain it via a couple of clicks and then be happily surprised when it shows up at my door a few days later. Sorry bloated Calif. sales tax and environment, but that's how I roll these days.

6. No rush. Even though I want to get this project over and done with by the end of summer, I won't talk myself into buying something just to buy it. (Made that mistake in the past and now the house cleaner lady is sporting some very nice jeans.)

That being said, I've already fantasy spent $976.12 (not including tax and shipping), plus another $250-300 to take the husband out to a nice dinner after his graduation. Some items are still up for debate, like a Boden jacket that might be too boxy, but I know I'll be adding a couple of J Crew pants and a new watch to my wardrobe.

The Happiest Place on Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 16:55:00 +0000

First off, it was my idea that the kid celebrate his 9th (!) birthday at Disneyland. Why? Well, I'm not sure if this is a recent thing or a Southern California thing, but children (and parents) around here expect not only hot dogs, juice boxes and cake, but a bounce house and take home goodie bags at a birthday party. Having a balloon wrangler or magician make an appearance is also becoming expected.

As the kid has his birthday in the middle of summer (completely and totally planned by me with the aide of an ovulation kit), his guest list ends up being feast or famine. For these last few birthdays, it's been feast. First off his best friend and good friends from school top the list, next his entire boyscout troop is invited and then his summer camp friends are slipped an invite. This ends up being a lot of boys (and one girl who is a tomboy). Do you know how man hot dogs boys eat? Too many.

This year I put my skills of motherly manipulation into practice by suggesting a tasty option to the kid. And it went down a little like this...

"So whadda ya wanna do fer yer berfday?" I asked while he was watching Cyberchase.

"Oh, I don't know. Same thing as last year..." Cyberchase is a math based PBS cartoon so he actually has to pay attention to keep up with the plot.

"I guess we can do that or..." Heavy emphasis on the 'or'.

"Or what?"

"How about a trip to Disneyland? Wouldn't that be MUCH MORE FUN? We can then have a family birthday on the weekend where your dad will barbecue MEAT and then we'll all go see HARRY POTTER? Doesn't that sound like SUPER FANTASTIC FUN. But if you want to have a horde of kids over to paw your toys and then get kicked in the face in the bounce house, it's really up to you, babe."

"Let me think about it," he said and went back to his cartoon.

It took a bit more of me speaking in all caps to make him see the light, but he's a smart lad and he did. Yesterday, he skipped camp and off we (me, him, the husband and the best friend) and the AmEx went to Disneyland.

I had a bottle of water ($3) and a Mickey pretzel ($3.75) a bit after we arrived. It was almost 11 and I'd skipped breakfast. While I ate this, the kid and the best friend sat in for the Jedi Knight show. And, yes, I got really excited when the kid was picked to participate. According to him, we were going to have to go back for every show until it happened.

The best friend didn't get the nod but he knew it wasn't his day so he declined my offer to come back for the next show for him to try again. Bless him. Really.

Even though I was good, after some wandering around and riding Star Tours, it was decided by majority vote that lunch had to be eaten a quarter to 1. It was also decided by two nine-year-olds boys and the adult male to have salads for lunch while I was the chump with the slice of cheese pizza ($5.99) and drink of fake lemonade ($2.69).

The only redeemable thing about that meals was the fake lemonade only had 10 calories.

Hours and hours of wandering around, including a good hour each on Pirate Islands and in Tarzan's tree house, left me hankering for more fake lemonade. Obtaining some became my sole purpose in life. But I refused to walk and sip at the same time. I wanted to enjoy mine like a civilized person. So I suggested getting the kiddies a snack and letting them loose in Toon Town.

I purchased my lemonade ($2.69), sat in the scarce shade (I swear that part of D-land runs 15 to 20 degrees hotter) and took a few sips before turning to the exhausted husband and saying, "What this needs is a churro. I think I saw one a few carts back. Don't drink any or I'll kill you."

So I took off and found out that a few stands back meant the heart of Fantasyland. I dodged people of all sizes, wheelchairs and strollers, got my churro ($3) and didn't take a nibble until I was back under the scarce shade of Toon Town. A bit and a sip quickly revealed that fake lemonade and cinnamon and sugar do not go together. I was forced to eat my churro dry but I learned a valuable lesson that day.

I'm not totally cognizant of what happened for the next few hours, but I snapped awake enough to find myself repeatedly dipping my hand into a vat of plastic jewels ($6 for a tiny bag) in a pirate themed gift shop.

They were pretty and the shop was air conditioned that I wanted to find a place to curl into a fetal position until it was time to go home.

A few hours later and after a bumpy trip on the Indian Jones ride in Adventure land, we settled on dinner at Cafe Orleans. Why? Because the map blurb said crepes and I'm a sucker for crepes.

I ordered a cup (not a bowl) of jambalaya ($3.99). Why? Because the menu said banana bread pudding and I'm a sucker for bread pudding. A cup turned out to be just enough. The waiter tried to talk me into a bowl, but I wanted to reserve space for dessert. Hey, I know my priorities.

I love bread pudding and it takes a lot to disappointment when I order it. The Cafe Orleans banana bp was just dandy. I could have done without the swirly (but pretty) sauces on the plate which I didn't bother to taste. I'm also not a fan of caramel sauce, preferring just a drizzle of creme anglaise.

All in all, with a fresh glass of ice cold water, I felt almost human again.

Finally, after being brain washed by a sales pitch to get into Innovations and spending a good hour wandering around the Star Tours gift shop while the boys put together double sided light sabers, it was time to go.

And leaving Disneyland means taking home a peanut covered caramel apple ($?, I didn't snag the receipt but whatever the price, it was almost worth the exercising I'll have to do in the next few days to pay for it).

So we capped off the day, after dropping off the sleeping best friend, with a couple of slices of candy apple as I Survived a Japanese Game Show played on the TV. Nice.

Any Second Now...

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 19:50:00 +0000

I'm not sure if it's me or that it's summer, but whatever it is, it's not giving me much to blog about. So instead of faking it (if I can't be real here then where can I?), I'm giving it a rest. But rest assured, I've devised a little blog friendly project to get me typing once again. And, as soon as my mail guy delivers what I've been waiting for, my blog friendly project shall commence with much enthusiasm, posting and pictures.

The Big Fake

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 15:18:00 +0000

To cap off the husband's MBA program, his class had to do a week long seminar in Shanghai. As he was preparing to leave, he asked what I wanted him to bring back for me. Other than something amusingly communistic, like a Chairman Mao postcard, I couldn't think of anything.

"China is the capital of counterfeit everything," he said. "I could get you anything. Anything."

"If I don't want the real thing," I countered, "why would I want a fake version of it."

"That's not the point," said the husband clearly exasperated at my lack of enthusiasm for what he was offering me.

After a few moments I thought of the ultimate in fakeness. No, not a heart or liver, but the ultimate in status handbags. Yes, a fashion accessory.

"Fine," I said, "get me a Birkin."

"A Birkin?" he asked having the balls to look surprised (and maybe a little impressed) by my request.

"You do know what a Birkin is, right? Handmade in Paris by Hermès with a hefty price tag and a frickin' waiting list." By this point I was just being pissy, but at least I had the upper hand in the conversation...until my insecurities got to me. "But don't get me one that's too big or in an obnoxious color. And only get me one."

"Fine," said the husband.

"Fine," I replied to the husband.

So he got me one. He got home from his trip on the 4th of July and unpacked his bags just before the local fireworks extravaganza. He handed over the bag which was inside an orange felt bag (of course) I thanked him for it, fussed around with it for a bit, then put it away in my closet where it sat underneath my slightly damp gym clothes.

"Where's your Birkin?" the husband asked a few days later.

"Oh, um, I put it away," I said. It's a nice bag, leather, as well made as any of my other purses, but the fact that it's so beyond fake, just made me feel a little off toward it. "Why?"

"You put it away?"

"Am I supposed to carry it on my person with proper reverence or something? Why?" I asked again knowing there was a reason why he was asking after it.

"I talked to my mom," he said. "She hinted that she wanted one. I should have gotten her one, too."

"No," I said.

"Why not?" he asked genuinely clueless.

"Because," I said working myself into a lather. "Because I asked for a Birkin and I asked you to get one only for me. There are somethings you should never ask a woman to share. This is one of them."

"You're crazy," he said. "And I bet you stuck it in your closet and forgot about it."

"Maybe I did, but it's my right to do with it as I want. It's mine. If I want to stick it in my closet, I can. So there."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why not," I answered.

"Like I said," he said, "crazy."

The fact is, I couldn't live up to the fake Birkin. To carry it off, I'd need to worry about what I wore or else have it scream "Fake! Fake! Fake!" Because, you know, it is a fake.

The problem is, I don't get off on thinking that I'm pulling something over on the world enough to enjoy the thought of carrying it around. It was in my closet because I just wasn't willing to make the effort to even pretend that it wasn't counterfeit. I mean, I'd have to up my whole grooming and dressing game just to avoid outing myself.

If anything, that would be crazy.

Now, if I had a real one, one that I'd earned, paid for myself and waited for and gotten to celebrate something monumental in my life (a New York Times best seller, movie deal, etc) I could see myself toting a real Birkin around to the supermarket unapologetically.

It'd be a really nice handbag that meant something to me and would remind me of what hard work, perseverance, talent and luck can lead to. Yeah, sure there are other less ostentatious ways to commemorate a life achievement, but tattoos are so over. These days who doesn't have one?

If I wanted to reward myself with a $6k handbag, at least I would have earned it and would have to justify it to no one. Least of all my Old Navy T-shirts. And if whatever great happens to happen, maybe I will get one and maybe I won't, but I certainly won't feel the need to live up to it because the idea of a Birkin is better than me.

And that's what the fake one is, an idea of Birkin. And, although I appreciate the husband venturing into the dark and twisty passageways of Shanghai's knockoff alley, I would have rather had the postcards.

Conversations about the bag continued with me being the one to bring it up. I tried to explain to the husband why I was completely justified in stashing it in my closet. He, of course, had lost interest in discussing the issue. But in a rare burst of insight he did ask, "Why has this become an issue?"

The fake Birkin had turned into something entirely too icky for me, giving rise to all sorts of issues that started to get wrapped around it. I just didn't have an issue that it was fake, but that I couldn't carry off a fake without feeling like one myself. (Oh, the sense of relief when I finally put that together and got it out of my system.)

So I gave it to my mother-in-law. The lady loves a bargain and she'll use it in good conscious and health. When it comes down to it, she has the balls to carry off a fake Birkin.

Me? I'm just happy to have a little more space in my closet. Both in the one where I keep my clothes and the one otherwise known as my soul.

The Eyes Have It

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 17:26:00 +0000

I am by no means a make-up expert. My skill due to a serious lack of Sassy, 17 and YM during my formative teenage years are sadly rudimentary. For this I blame my mother. To her face, but only once a year or when she points out that I might think about a little color here or there to liven up my face.

Either way.

It's been left up to me to figure things out which I, think, have done to varying degrees of success when it comes to maquillage. As a result I keep things pretty basic and most of my make-up can be applied with my fingertips. That works everywhere except when it comes to my lashes where implements are called for. Sure, I know how to put on mascara even if I don't do the wiggle the wand back and forth. And I've pretty much settled on a brand, L'Oreal Voluminous, but there only so much a product can do. There are 'curling' mascaras but, in my experience, they don't work and even I can tell my lashes need a bit of a lift to make putting on mascara worth the effort.

I was at my local Sephora perusing my choices in eyelash curlers when a fellow shopper came up to do the same. She watched me work various curlers for a moment and then said, "I've tried them all and this one," she picked up a compact Sephora Go Curl that I'd passed over with a glance, "is the best one I've ever owned." "Really?" I said, trying to be polite. "It looks weird, but it really curls from tip to tip."

Not really liking my options I decided to give it a try and, yep, I'm a believer. It really puts a kink in my lashes and most days when I don't wear mascara, I do bother to give my Go Curl a go. Next on my list to master? Liquid eyeliner that doesn't look sad and scary.

Trendoids

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 16:11:00 +0000

So what the hell is up with publishing? Even I, who admittedly, keeps myself as ignorant as possible about the ups, downs, ins and outs can tell things just ain't too peachy. When I started out in 2003 I queried lots, lots, of agents. (By lots I mean more than 10 and less than 100.) The only thing that kept me going was knowing that there was a market for my book, if not my style of writing. (By market I mean editors where looking for Latina-centric commercial fiction.)

Finally an agent said yes but editors said no. By my third agent and after a major revise and a half, Underneath It All was sold and, if all goes well, my fourth book, Goodbye To All That, will be out next year. What's changed since 2003 and 2009 is that I'm no longer chasing trends. I'm writing what feels, sounds and reads right to me and then, taking in consideration notes and critiques, revising based on what initially drew me to the writing the story in the first place.

This is why I never ever considered writing paranormal, vampire or over-worked mommy books. Why? Because I don't read those types of books. (Well, except for over-worked mommy books, but only the really good ones.) I've learned that, for better or worse, I write what I like to read and, unfortunately for me, it's never followed or, much less, started a trend. I proudly write commercial fiction aimed at women. (If I was the tattooing type, I'd get that inked somewhere on my person.) And right now that may or may not be the sexy stuff agents, editors or readers are looking for. (By the way, I hear erotica is, pardon me, going down in popularity. Figures. Just as I start reading it...)

This is all well and good but the truth is, getting published is harder than ever. The publishing industry is in the pits and people are freaking out. Me, I'm just waiting things out and sort of keeping an eye on what's going on.

Still, there are ways to get published and not have to worry about trends or even writing talent: Either sleep with, marry, divorce, work for, get fired by, be related to or kill someone of note and you got yourself a book deal.

The rest of us have to rely on luck, timing, talent and perseverance.

City Switch: Sleep Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 17:20:00 +0000

Next to what I'll be eating on my upcoming birthday trip to San Francisco where I'll be laying my head at night is just as important. I'm a hotel slut. A vacation is not a vacation unless a halfway decent hotel is involved. In fact, nothing kills my vacation buzz faster than hearing that we'll be staying with family or in a condo (like happened in Big Bear and South of France trips).

In fact, checking into the hotel has sometimes been the highlight of trips, just like the breadbasket before dinner, so I'm weighing my hotel choice rather heavily based on just how much hotel I want for my stay.

I stayed at The Palace Hotel for a weekend before a trip to either Kauai or Maui. (It was a for my birthday, as I remember. Man, those dot.com days were fun!) It was very nice, big room, great service and they have a glassed in pool I made use of. It's very classic San Francisco, right downtown going toward the financial district, but other than the chilly temp of the pool, I don't remember much about my stay. At around $179 a night for a Superior Room, it's a good price but I'm feeling rather blah about The Palace.

You'll never hear me say anything bad about The Mosser. Especially since its right around the corner from my beloved Old Navy flagship store on Market. It is a very basic hotel. In fact some rooms have shared bathrooms, but rooms with in suite facilities aren't much more expensive.

We stayed at The Mosser for a week or so right before we left San Francisco for L.A. We'd moved out of our flat, but the kid still had a week of pre-school to attend so we hung around and had a nice time playing tourists. The Mosser is great for an extended stay and feels as close to actually living in San Francisco instead of staying in a hotel as you can possibly get without bunking down with friends or family. An Executive Suite goes for a rate between $151-189 a night. I'm assuming executives get their own bathroom.

I like W Hotels. They smell good and have a nice minimal tidy aesthetic. They also stock their bathrooms with Bliss Spa products that, yes, I load up on.

The W in San Fransisco is located next to the MOMA and within walking distance to just about everything else. Especially the in-house Bliss Spa which I want to visit as much as possible. Plus, they usually leave a plate of kick ass cookies and milk if you mention you're coming up for something special. Room rates go from $228-309 so it's a chunk of change to drop for good smells. But the sheets and pillows are more than worth it.

Right now it's between the Mosser and the W. It's going to come down to is how many nights we stay and how much spa I want to enjoy while I'm there. Not a bad dilemma to have.

City Switch: Food Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 20:29:00 +0000

My grand plans to spend my birthday in Paris have been done in by, what else, reality. Since I took an extra month and a half or so to turn in my last manuscript, it's gummed up the works. My poor overworked editor has to read the thing and like it enough to give it a place on next year's publishing schedule before I'll see a check cut for that first third of my advance.

If she doesn't like it, as is her esteemed right, there won't be a check, so ha! But it's only been a week (8 days to be exact) since I emailed it over to her and I'm going to play it cool and wait at least another week (7 days to be exact) before I make the call or send an email asking for reassurance that I don't suck as a writer.

But this (my writing career) is all beside the point. What's foremost on my mind is my birthday and where I will be spending it. Paris was a grandly romantic idea full of long aimless walks and no agenda other than to just see what vacation life is there while most residents have fled for the south to crackle under the sun. I also wanted to stay a while, no four day three night trip for me, and had budgeted all of my advance toward the costs of making my fantasy birthday a reality.

Well, there is no advance (yet?) and things like airline tickets and hotel reservations usually don't turn out as happy when made last minute and in desperation. So I've nixed Paris (for this year) and instead have turned my sights toward...San Francisco!

Yes, I'll be going back to where I lived for a decade and moved away from four (?!) years ago. And that's more than dandy with me because I've found that I really enjoy visiting San Francisco. I love the city, the sights, the food and friends I took for granted when I could have enjoyed them on a daily basis. If all goes well (my editor likes my book), I'll be spending a week and my advance there and this is how I plan to do it...

I ate Aqua when I was something like six or seven months pregnant. I took the husband there for his first almost Father's Day and all I remember was having to stop a few times on the short walk from the parking lot the restaurant entrance to clutch my belly. Things, the kid, were shifting around and I'd decided to wear high heels. In the end, I had a damn good meal that was all about fish and other sea creatures. It might be just a coincidence but the kid has turned out to be a seafood fanatic.

During the dumb and heady days of the dot.com boom, I did things with my paycheck that I really regret (a pair of really uncomfortable $300 handmade French flats? Dumb), but eating at Jardiniere on a regular basis was not one of them. It became our go-to place to celebrate things like anniversaries, elopements, unnecessary salary bumps, etc.

It is a strong contender, purely based on nostalgia, to see me again chowing down on my birthday but I also really want to finally give Fleur de Lys a try. I never got around to it, always saying "Let's just go to Jardiniere." Maybe now that I'm older, I'll be able to appreciate it. (But I'm not sure I can handle three major restaurant meals in the span of four or five days that I'll be in the city. I do plan to do a lot of walking but I'm not sure it'll compensate for all that I'll eat and enjoy. Unless I walk the 400 miles home to L.A...)

When I lived across the street from Dolores Park, I had so much wonderful eating within blocks of my door step. One of my favorite places was Slanted Door either for a last minute to-go dinner or for a Sunday late, late lunch where I'd hog the Five Spice Chicken and start every meal with a Spring Roll. To this day, I measure all spring rolls against Slanted Doors and have found them all lacking to be lacking. (Really, a tight roll makes a big difference especially when it comes to dipping in the peanut sauce.) I've been to the three of Slanted Door's homes (first on Valencia St and then on the corner of Bryant(?)) and found it's current location at the Embarcadero to be a nice walk to and around, but the inside is kind of cold and way too noisy.

This is why I almost peed my pants when I found myself enjoying the height of mall food at Slanted Door's Westfield Shopping Center offshoot. Out The Door. There I can get my Spring Roll and dine in without having to rush over before they switch to the dinner menu because, really, it feels funny to ask for a table when you're only having an appetizer and glass of lemonade for a meal. That's right, the fancy mall has a kick ass food court and is reason enough to visit the city. The last time I went, I beyond enjoyed wandering in with a book and a shopping bag and ordering a Spring Roll and lemonade for lunch. (The lemonade is the perfect blend of tart and sweet that only comes from real lemons, limes and simple syrup.) I swear, it's what I ate every single day (once twice in a day). It's what I plan to do again because they still have the best damn Spring Rolls I've ever tasted.

Next week I'll go over my bunking down options. And, yes, my options range from the thrifty to the "Are you serious?"

The Mrs. MBA Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 17:18:00 +0000

The husband is counting down the remaining days until he can almost officially close the checkbook on his 2 year MBA program. His last class session is sometime in the next couple of weeks or so (I stopped paying attention a long time ago), but he won't be getting his receipt, sorry, diploma until later this summer. Right smack in the middle of summer, to be exact, when it's usually extremely hot in Los Angeles.

Because this is something of a to-do (even though I was never 100% enthusiastic about him doing it), I have to, like, wear something besides jeans and a long sleeved T to commemorate the occasion. As I have no desire to keel over from heat stroke or buy something I'll never wear again, I've been considering my choices. I'm not looking flashy (it's his day), want comfort, but I still need to look nice.

And where to find a damn dress that is MBA Wife-ish? Why at Nordstrom, of course.

My initial goal, a small one, was to stay away from black. I amended it to staying away from all black. This v-neck black and white printed sheath by Maggy London, $119, is a very nice shape and is interesting enough to make it more than just a dress I threw on. I have a thing for modest v-necks and cap sleeves. But, I would need to buy a new pair of shoes and, most likely, get it hemmed to hit just the right spot at my knee. Still, this is in my definite maybe category.

Another Maggy London dress, $104. This one is also in the all not black category. I like the high neckline, cap sleeves and high waist of the skirt. And that it pretends to look like a shirt and skirt when it's really one dress. Easy for me since I wouldn't have to worry about tucking and, as everyone knows, I never tuck anything. Again, I'd have to buy a pair of shoes but it's a nice shape and it's simple. I like simple.

This cap sleeved, high necked, seamed dress by Adrianna Papell, $122, is by far my favorite. Why? Well, it's navy blue, has those cap sleeves, a high neckline that is just slightly boat necked and the seaming and tucks makes it interesting up close. The sheen gives me a little pause, but I suppose I can deal with it. What does give me a little worry is the sizing. I'd have to order it in two sizes, 6 and 8, and will be returning the one that doesn't fit quite as right.

As for shoes, oh yeah, my Delmans would work. They are in a need of a trip to the shoe guy for some sprucing up, but they're the only truly high heels I can stand wearing for more than an hour. I should have gotten them in black as well as purple. If I had an MBA it might have occurred to me, but I don't and it didn't and I'm OK with that.

Musique de Formage

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 20:02:00 +0000

I've taken a break from Netflix hoping to come back to my subscription in August and find myself with a slew of movies I want to watch. In the meantime, I've been reacquainting myself with what iTunes has to offer.

True this means I've been ignoring my Roku Soundbridge but I do use it as my desktop clock, so it's been getting some attention. The other day I listened to my accumulated podcasts, mostly really heavy news programs, and then halted my subscriptions. With nothing to play in the background and thoroughly depressed at the state of the world, I clicked on the Radio button.

Hot dog! I had no idea the vast array of noise that was right there on my desktop. Being that I've been jonesing for a spa getaway, I tried a selection of stations from the Eclectic category before stumbling on France 80.

France 80 plays exactly what its name implies. Some of it is really bad but since it's in French it sounds nice enough and I'd forgotten that the 1980s were such an upbeat decade. Even the logo, linked to the left, is wonderfully 80s and French. It almost makes me want to buy a pair of slip-on Vans, tease up my bangs and do the Molly Ringwald Breakfast Club dance.

I can't say listening to France 80 doing anything for my writing, but since I don't understand the lyrics, I can largely tune it out. I'll move on from 80s France soon enough, but it just nice to know it's out there when I'm ready for another dose.

Loaded Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 15:15:00 +0000

I made the mistake of asking the husband if I looked skinny. To which he answered, without looking up from what he was doing, "Mmmhmm."

Sigh.

When I complained that he didn't sound very convincing, he glanced up and tried again. "You look as skinny as you did yesterday, the day before and before that. You've always been skinny." He, of course, couldn't understand when I said that his follow up to "Mmmhmm" just made things worse.

He then asked the eternal man question: "What do you want me to say?"

Was there a right answer to my question? Yep, there was. What he should have said, after checking me out, was "If anything, honey, you're too skinny."

Which I'm not but I'm starting to feel the good consequences of my regular workouts and eschewing bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream after dinner. What I was looking for was acknowledgment that my work was paying off, not only in terms of how my clothes fit and what the scale told me that morning, but in the way he saw me.

To make things easier (for him) what I should have said was "Man, I'm looking skinny. Nah-nah-nahnahnah!" And he would have said, "You do, you lucky bitch."

This would have given me an opening to list all the ways I had to go about to stay/look/become skinny. He could tune me out and think about whatever it is he thinks about and I'd get to list my gym routine and the fact that abstaining for grande soy chais has not only saved money but a whole pound and a half on the scale. Then we would both have been happy....or at least he'd gone about the rest of his day (life) in blissful ignorance as to how big of a relationship landmine he'd managed not to have explode in his face.

I suppose I have to accept that the husband will never be able to tell the difference between my feeling/looking skinny and my feeling/looking fat. To him I look the same because my weight has never fluctuated more than five to seven pounds (besides when I was pregnant) during the course of our relationship. And, you know what, that's taken a lot of hard work and effort on my part! I deserve some sort of pat on the backside for it, not a weak ass "Mmmhmm"!

But I won't be getting it from him which means I'll be getting a new pair of shoes. Shoes are much better for me than ice cream. I think we can both agree on that. Shoes like...

...these Clarks Malibu Beach wedge sandals, $80, in my new favorite color grey. (Grey is my summer black, yeahhuh!) So when I ask him if I look taller in my new shoes, he'll say, "You look the same as you did yesterday but I feel a little poorer." And I'll say, "That's right, you lucky bastard."

So, see? In the end, everything evens out.

Sunglass Hunt

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 15:10:00 +0000

The other day I took a rare and hurried trip to the fancy mall with the husband. He'd lost his sunglasses and was in dire need of another pair and I more than agreed. He'd taken to wearing a pair of sporty wrap-arounds he'd gotten to wear on his bike rides. I hate those sunglasses...and the outfit he wears so the last thing I needed to see was him walking around those when he's out of his bike shorts and shirt.

He ended up getting an attractive pair of sunglasses that were very different from his gold wire framed Persols and they didn't break the bank. At around $120 the Mad Men-esque sunglasses he finally picked, by Ralph, I think, were a good choice. Hopefully, he doesn't lose these anytime soon. While he was looking I had time to browse for myself.

It's been a while since my last pair of new sunglasses and I've thinking about getting something new but not new. I tend to stick with what I like and what I like are black frames, thin arms with a slightly square shape. What I don't like are lots of establishments or really obvious logos. So even though I thought the Tiffany & Co sunglasses were very pretty, they had the logo on the lens and at $430 I think the choice to tell anyone who my sunglasses are by should be left up to me. I mean, they already had sparkly bits on the sides so it's not like I was attracted to them because they were subtle.

In the end, knowing time was ticking away, I narrowed my browsing to my staid criteria.

Prada, yeah sure whatever. But my old sunglasses standbys of Coach and Kate Spade have left me feeling blah about buying another pair. I tried the PR17IS's on and couldn't help feel a little bit chicer. At $245 they were well worth the investment since the shape is great and the plastic is, well, extra shiny. The arms, though, are slightly on the chunky side so I kept looking.

I don't do Dolce & Gabbana. I've never been interested or intrigued by their clothes or the image they're stuff imparts. It's always been a little too much for me. But when I tried on the DG4049' ers, $260, I was pleasantly surprised. So surprised, I took them off to make sure they were Dolce & Gabbana. They have skinny arms, which I really like. The logo is very discreet and they're big and square.

As the husband was settling the bill for his new pair of sunglasses, I finally made my way to the corner of the store and, knowing my time was short, stopped fucking around and zeroed in on a pair of BE4051's by Burberry, $225. I kept them on my face and almost very nearly walked up to the counter and said "And we'll take a pair of these, too."

But I didn't. We weren't they're for me and the kid was due to be let loose from school in 7 minutes and we were at least 15 minutes away from where he'd be waiting for a parent to pick him up. But I will be going back, trying these three on again and maybe a few more because summer's coming and I may even buy a pair of aviator's as well.

Writing Under Obligation

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 15:20:00 +0000

I'm participating in the Leimert Park Village Book Fair this Saturday along with authors Sandra Rodriguez and Sarah Rafael Garcia. Look for us at booth #25 in the author's pavilion. (Besides sponsoring our table, AuthorsDen is also hosting a panel talk or reading, I'm really hoping it's a panel talk, at 2 pm.)

Aside from chomping down on huge bag of kettle corn, I'm looking forward to being around people who really like books. It's always heartening to see how many folks come out to book fairs to celebrate a love for all things reading...and eating. (Book fairs have the best eats, man.) As I'm supposed to be hot and heavy with my polish of Goodbye To All That (Touchstone, '10), it'll be a nice break to just get out and about and talk about books and, yep, writing.

Right now, though, I might not be the best ambassador for writing as I'm in the final push of revising and polishing my fourth or fifth manuscript. The last thing I want to do is bitch and moan about having the luxury to be working on a novel, but I'm going to anyway. Whenever I tell people what I do for a living, even though I don't make much of one at it, they always say how they wish they could write a book and not worry about anything else. Me too!

Writing a book is not easy. It can be rather draining and rewriting a book until it works is even more of a drag. That's why you really have to either love your story or, hopefully, believe enough in it that you're willing to knuckle down and do the work. Right now, I'm vacillating between love and stubbornness and hoping a little of both will be enough to carry me through the next 28 days or so.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to meeting readers, other authors and all the kettle corn I can manage to eat.

Frayed Nerves No More...

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:42:00 +0000

I admit it. Sometimes I get as skittish as a wet chihuahua. I think it has to do with my choice of occupation, too much time spent imagining all sort of drama and then being too exhausted to deal with life's minor dramas when they invariably occur.

Some of my panic, though, is self inflicted. A couple of months ago I was at an event with Jamie Martinez Wood and Reyna Grande when I found out we were going to have to read excerpts to about 150 conference attendees. Guess who slowly started to freak out?

But I'd come prepared...with Xanax. I cut a tab in half and then settled back to wait for it to do it's job. Jamie on the other hand was flabbergasted at my semi-casual use of pharmaceuticals. And the next time she saw me she said "Open your mouth." Into which she sprayed...

While it has a strong alcohol taste (27% of it is made up of the stuff), it's chock full of all sorts of calming ingredients derived from flower essences and it's all homeopathic which I'm a fan of. Plus, the marketing copy on the back of the box reads like a modern person's dream. I mean who doesn't want a quick and natural 'cure' for terror and panic, irritation and impatience, inattentiveness and irrational thoughts? I sure do. Though, since you spray it on or under your tongue, my sister said it would probably trip a Breathalyzer test to the 'you're fucked' range.

Now, it doesn't work like Xanax does, but it does work for me. Maybe it's the blend of flower essences or the alcohol or just the act of acknowledging that I'm stressed, most likely a combination of the three, but it does make me feel better. And since my doc is way stingy with the 'script refills, it helps me make due and save my pills for when I really need them. Prices vary widely. I got my 20ml bottle at whole foods for about $18 (which freaked me out) but I found it on amazon.com for under $9. There's also a Rescue Sleep version I'm beyond eager to try.

Not a bad finish...

noreply@blogger.com (Margo Candela) — Thu, 28 May 2009 22:29:00 +0000

I'm pleased to share the news that More Than This came in second at the 11th Annual International Latino Book Awards in the Best Novel-Romance category. The winners were announced today during BookExpo America which is taking place in New York this weekend.

It's the first time I've come close to outright winning anything...and, actually, the first time I've ever entered in a contest. Hooray all around!

Special thanks to Mary Castillo who helped me noodle on which category to enter in.