* I took the girls to work with me today on the train. They went to work with me because, 'member, I have no day care yet and school starts tomorrow after which I will still have no day care. But I'm brainstorming, yo. Today though, I said, "Come on girls, you're coming to work with me AND you're gonna work." Maya actually labeled boxes for the warehouse and I gave Mina some projects to do for her "work." They can't wait until school starts. On the train, I gave them an LA River lesson (duh) and a young man with a great shaggy haircut and black-rimmed glasses who was sitting behind us listened intently. Then he got on the cell phone, and I listened intently. But he talked about a pair of shoes he was planning to buy that were really "part of his palette." I almost laughed aloud, but that's bad train etiquette.
* Sunday the girls and I saw the movie Step Up. Husband refuses to see this kind of horseshit, but the girls and I? WE LOVE THESE MOVIES. Usually we are freestylin' in the aisles as the ending credits roll. I'm like, "Mina, you got served!" And she says pointing to her rear end, "You can't shake your booty like this . . ." And so on and so on.
* After the movie, we picked up some food and stopped by a booth selling bumper stickers. Stickers like, World Peace and Bush Bin Lyin. My kind of stickers. I told the girls they could pick out three and the guy selling the stickers -- an Allen Ginsberg replica -- guided them through the sea of sayings. Maya picked out Girls Can Do Anything and Create Peace, and Mina picked out a heart shape with the peace sign in the middle. Mr. Ginsberg tells Maya she CAN do anything, saying it like she's never heard THAT before, and he adds, "You can even be president if you want" which seemed an antiquated thing to say. But she likes that idea and get theatrical with it: "Yes, President Maya!" He asks, "What's the first thing you'd do as president?" Before he finishes the question, she says loudly and dramatically, "NO MORE WAR." Mr. Ginsberg gets misty eyed. He says to her, "When you become president, may I be the Secretary of Peace?" And Maya says, "When I get into office, call me." I nearly roll on the floor.
* We spent all day at the beach yesterday. It was a perfect day. Our New Couple, Tee & Matty P, have turned into our Regular Couple, and we're loving them. It now seems as if we've known them forever. They asked us to join them at the beach with some of their other friends who all seem to be jet-setting, down-to-earth doctors. Or medical students slash night club owners. Smart partiers? Crazy multi taskers? One guy who could've been a chemist was a little gangsta. He was all but throwing up signs for the periodic table. A fun crowd any way you slice it. We played three-on-three football in the sand. I forgot how fun it was to dive to catch a ball. I also put the girls on boogie boards for the first time. Maya was a natural after she got more acquainted with the ocean and Mina would've gone out as far as I would've taken her. There's really nothing cuter than releasing a boogie board holding up a tiny seven-year old body to the moving white wash until she is beached and squealing. I even got on myself though I haven't been on a board in five million years. The ocean rewarded me by pantsing me any chance She got. MattyP was like, "Do you wanna hit the bigger waves?" And I said, "Uh, no because I'll be naked by the time the wave is over." A two-piece suit is not designed for waves clawing at it. Husband got in the water -- to his knees. This was a huge feat for him considering he, in general, doesn't like the beach and complains about the Pacific Ocean regularly: Too cold. Too nasty. Too this and that. He hates sand too. I mean, no one likes sand in their suit bottoms, but laying out I said, "Honey, doesn't the sand feel good on your skin?" He said, "No" and wiped off his feet for the eighty-fourth time.
* I've been tearing through a book called The Way We Eat; Why Our Food Choices Matter. (Excuse the italics. I don't know how to underline.) Anyway, guess what this is about? Dudes, you don't want to know! But all I can reiterate is that factory farming is the devil. Wait, wait, wait -- I just have to tell you a couple things: Firstly, did you know that a pig shits four times more than a human, but there are no regulations on how to treat pig waste? So, guess where is all goes, untreated like? Yea, who knows. It's kind of a multi-part answer including streams and the neighbor's soil. Hey, do you know what they do with hens after they've squeezed every last egg outta her? You definitely don't want to know the answer to this, but let's just say one farm's answer included a wood chipper.
* I'll talk to you guys tomorrow.
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