In preparation for our latest adventure, code name Jessopland 2.0, I am training Mrs. B to use a leash.  There’s a lot of articles and YouTube videos about leash training a cat and they are all very clear about one important thing: you need a lot of time and patience.  They aren’t kidding. 

Mrs. B is actually pretty tolerant of her harness and leash but so far the majority of our time together when doing this activity consists of this: 

Clearly Mrs. B is planning to kill me but I’m still not sure if it’s because of the leash or my annoying voice. 

You know what’s weird? Dreaming about bloggers, people you have never met in person but still know intimately because you see their thoughts every day on Twitter and their blogs.

Last night I had a dream about one of my favorite bloggers, J from Js Everyday Fashion. I love J’s outfits. I see them every day on Facebook and my RSS feed.

It’s bloggers like J who inspired me to think more about what I wear each day.  As a result I have a new weekend routine where I go through my closet and figure out what I’m going to wear for the week. At first it seemed like a huge pain in the ass and also kind of weird. But a few weeks ago I realized that it made my mornings go a lot smoother. Not having to figure out what to wear to work each morning is great! I didn’t realize how much of a burden this was before.

So now every weekend, usually while I’m doing laundry, I check the weather, go through my clothes and plan out what I’m going to wear. When all is said and done I end up with a little chart that looks like this which I print up and keep on my dressing table:

Sharing this chart is probably the closest I’ll ever get to sharing my outfits online because I’ll never have the fashion pizzazz as  J and paralegal extraordinaire, Lynne DeVenny. But going through this process every week does make me feel a little like an honorary member of this savvy gal club so much so that now I’m having dreams about them. Vivid dreams.

Last night I had a dream that I was hanging out with J in her apartment. Of course I really don’t know J nor have I ever been to her apartment. But in my dream it was spacious (like a movie star apartment) and had an amazing view of the beach. I was visiting J because I wanted her to go through my clothes, which I brought with me in a suitcase, help me make up some outfits and then take me shopping. This is not too far of a stretch because according to her website, J will actually do this. And can I also say that J was a lovely host? She brought me a glass of wine to enjoy while I waited for her to finish her latest blog post before we went shopping.

This is where the dream kind of fell apart. Because about halfway through my glass of wine J’s mom and 12 year old sister showed up.  I got tired of waiting so I left, and took the elevator down to the apartment parking garage (which looked a lot like the parking garage from the episode of Lost I was watching on Hulu before I went to sleep).  After wandering around for hours looking for my car I finally got back on the elevator in the hopes that perhaps J would be ready for our shopping trip. The elevator must have stopped at the wrong floor because next thing I knew I was sitting in a law firm conference room with a bunch of attorneys welcoming me to the firm asking me to make up discovery binders.  Even though Lynne DeVenny was sitting across from me, wearing this adorable pink jacket, smiling sweetly and mouthing the words “Trust me!” I sensed I was nearing nightmare state and ran from the room screaming and woke up with a start. 

See what happens when I neglect my own blog? 

Guess what I did this weekend?  You’ll never in a million years guess.  Probably because it’s not something any sane person would do.  I took a plane to Long Beach, got a room at the Westin and attended the Passion and Prose conference.  

I told you it’s not something any sane person would do.  But luckily it’s something ladies just like me would do.  Because the Passion and Prose conference was a gathering of romance readers and the writers who love them.  It was the perfect thing for this wannabe writer. 

Unfortunately I do not have any pictures of this event.  That’s because I was completely overwhelmed at the gathering of so many fabulous ladies.  But honestly, I really was there.  Here’s a picture of the back of my head.  I’m having a great conversation with the up and coming Marissa Meyer, author of Cinder.  Of of the many new books I brought home, Cinder is the one I’m most looking forward to.  Who doesn’t love a good retelling of Cinderella? 

Conversations with great writers was pretty much what the day was about.  In addition to walking around and mingling I got to sit at a table and chat with the very charming Tessa Dare and the warm and generous Judy Duarte.  There were also some amazing keynote speeches given by M.G. Lord, Gail Carringer, and best of all, Meg Cabot. 

M.G. Lord was the event MC and also gave the opening keynote during which she revealed that her name is Mary Grace.  M.G. Lord is actually not a romance writer but rather a well respected journalist and also an instructor at U.S.C.  I had a wonderful conversation with her about being a paralegal, the Mattel v. Bratz case and copyright issues when she signed my copy of Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll. 

Gail Carriger gave the second keynote.  Thanks to my new discovery of this best selling author, who was a hoot and a half, I will be reading the first of The Parasole Protectorate series, Souless.  As I told Gail during our lovely conversation, I’m looking forward to reading about non-sparkIy vampires.  

Meg Cabot was, of course, the main reason why I and probably 90% of all the other ladies came to this event.  However, unlike the other intelligent ladies, being in the presence of Meg Cabot took away my power of speech.  This probably has something to do with the fact that I am a huge Meg Cabot fan-girl. In addition to my current project of methodically reading every one of her books, I follow her Twitter feed and blog religiously and at times fake myself into believing that she is my imaginary BFF.  Clearly I am crazy. 

However, when I put my copy of The Princess Diaries in front of Meg Cabot to sign I tried to forget about all that.  Instead I said hello and introduced myself and even reached over to shake her hand.  Then as I began to recite the speech I’d prepared in my head (i.e.: “I love your work. Thank you so much for sharing your words with the world.”) my voice began to crack and tears welled up in my eyes.  I was crying in front of Meg Cabot!   

Luckily she smiled at me very kindly and pretended like there was nothing wrong with having a 40-something woman cry in front of her.  I returned the favor by shutting my trap and getting the hell away from her as soon as possible. 

A half hour later I sat quietly composed and listened to her amazing keynote during which she talked about, among other things, attending the Princess Diaries movie premier where she met Anne Hathaway who also cried in front of Meg Cabot.  So see?  I have something in common with Anne Hathaway. 

Now that I think about it, extreme sensitivity is a sign of royalty.  Remember the story of The Princess and the Pea?  That princess was so sensitive that a tiny pea hidden under 20 mattresses and 20 feature beds made her toss and turn all night.  Hmmm.  Maybe the reason why I cried in front of Meg Cabot is not because I’m crazy but because I too am a true princess. 

Since my last post many of my Shellac Sisters have come forth with a crucial piece of information:  in order to get the magical Shellac polish off my nails I will need to make another manicure appointment. 

I suppose it makes sense.  If the stuff on my nails is strong enough not to chip it stands to reason that it won’t come off with a simple nail polish remover.  And therein lies the rub.  In order to get this stuff off my nails once it grows out I’ll have to go in for another manicure where they will, of course, convince me to have the Shellac applied again and suddenly I’m trapped in an evil Shellac cycle which I can’t get out of. 

D’oh! 

I rarely get manicures because they never last. Usually the polish smudges within hours of leaving the nail place and I’ve never gone more than a day before getting chips.  However I got one last week and it still looks great. 

There’s a bit of outgrowth at the bottom and close analysis may reveal some wear at the tips, but miraculously there are NO CHIPS!  

I owe this miraculous manicure to the lady at SpaLuxe who convinced me to use Shellac Polish.  It took some convincing to get me to try it.  I scoffed at first figuring it was over-priced nail polish.  All nail polishes claim to be chip-free right?  “That’s OK,” I said “I’ll just take the standard polish.”  I spent the next fifteen minutes listening to the wonders of Shellac while the manicurist clipped my cuticles and filed my nails.  Finally I gave in and I’ve been amazed with the result ever since. 

Applying Shellac nail polish is, admittedly more involved than the traditional stuff.  It’s thicker than normal nail polish, almost like a gel, and prone to air bubbles when applying.  You also need to “cure” the freshly painted nail under a UV light.  The amazing thing is that it dries almost instantly.  After I removed my hand from the UV light the manicurist shined my newly polished nails with a soft cloth soaked in alcohol.  I gasped in horror at such a thing until she showed me there were NO SMUDGES!  Amazing! 

Most of my appreciation for this long lasting manicure goes out to the attorney I work with who gave me the SpaLuxe gift card for Christmas.  I immediately scheduled the appointment for the first work day after New Years so I could have a little post-holiday pick me up.   I am lucky enough to work for a company that closes the week between Christmas and New Years and coming to work after a week off is always hard.  For some reason I didn’t have the back-to-work-blues as bad this year and I’m wondering if my magical Shellac manicure helped?  

The other day my friend Kathryn posed the following question to her Facebook friends for comment and discussion: 

What historical event occurred when you were a child that made an impression on you and why? 

I didn’t participate in the discussion but I did think about the question and was reminded of the Watergate scandal and President Nixon’s subsequent resignation from office.  I was only 8 years old at the time of this event and clueless to the fact that political history was being made.  All I knew was that there was nothing on TV that night. 

I was in the back of the house in the bedroom we had designated as the “toy room” when my friend Lisa, who was staying for dinner that night filled me in on the significance of what was going on and why the president was hogging all four channels of the television.  She told me that we were getting a new president because the old one, Nixon, was a bad man.  The new president was Mr. Ford.  And while it was already clearly established that Lisa, also age 8, was way smarter than me, she did qualify her information with “My dad told me.” 

I responded back with something along the lines of “Good! I hate Nixon.” 

This was my first political discussion.  I’m still annoyed about missing The Waltons. 

Jerry and I had a great Thanksgiving holiday as usual, spending it with family and feasting on Peruvian style turkey, pumpkin pie and the best, most addicting pate known to mankind. 

When we got home we retreated to our appropriate corners and for the rest of the weekend focused on our individual activities which for Jerry was this: 

and for me was this: 

So different and yet so close and reminding me how great life can be. 

You know how a few weeks ago I got the shock of my life when Jerry got me a new car for my birthday?  Well last weekend I got to pass on some of the love by doing the same for my nephew Jonah on his birthday.  Since he is only turning 15 and doesn’t even have his learner’s permit it was most unexpected.  And if you’re going to be technical, the person I actually gave the car to is my brother Harlan, who will own the car and let Jonah drive it.  But the thrill factor was still the same for Jonah.  I got a huge kick out of it as well. 

The car I gave him was my old 1994 Ford Escort.  When I first broached the idea with my brother I was half expecting him to laugh in my face and tell me "No thanks” since the car is older than Jonah himself and pretty beat up.  Instead I got an overwhelming “Hell yeah!  That’s the perfect car for a teenager.  He’s going to be stoked!”  The more I thought about it the more I realized it was.  And based on Jonah’s reaction when he unwrapped the key, Harlan was right. 

What 15 year old wouldn’t look forward to driving this beauty into the high school parking lot every day? 

In addition to having air conditioning and heat, this vintage Ford classic also has a digital clock radio AND tape cassette.  They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. 

And get a load of this ADJUSTABLE cup holder:

It also came bundled with a few extra features.  This FREE water jug will come in handy during the summer months when the coolant level of the car runs lower than the rest of the year. 

We also included a brand new, easy-to-install bumper and left front fender. 

But the best part about my old car is it’s new driver. 

Luckily he is no stranger to the car.  Jonah was 3 months old when he first rode in it.  Packed up in his infant car seat and securely buckled in the back seat by his Grandma Sharon (“Maga”) he was entrusted to my care for the day while his parents moved into the house he would grow up in.  Two years later that car took him the hospital to see his little brother for the first time.  That car was also where Jonah said the cutest thing ever…the story of which will be saved for his birthday next year.  For now, I’ll let him have his glory. 

Safe driving young man! 

What little girl doesn’t want a dollhouse to play with?  When I was 3 or 4 I had a metal one that looked a lot like this: 

In addition to the painted on furnishings it also had a collection of plastic furniture that I spent hours arranging, although the painted on toilet paper roll in the bathroom always seemed to dictate where the toilet should go. 

I’m not sure what happened to the metal dollhouse but it didn’t last long.  I then spent several years with dollhouse envy.  One of my friends, an older girl named Lisa, had an amazing dollhouse for Barbie built by her dad.  It was three stories tall with curved staircases and carpeting.  It was open with no exterior walls and very few interior walls.  It was very modern looking, of course since it was for Barbie.  I didn’t spend much time at this girl’s house but when I did I could not be pried away from her dollhouse. 

Another friend, also named Lisa, and her sister Lynda had a beautiful dollhouse built by a family friend.  This was a more traditional looking dollhouse with partitioned walls and one side that opened.  It looked like a traditional farmhouse, painted white with green shutters and it was beautiful.  I don’t ever remember playing with it and I often wonder if Lisa and Lynda ever did. 

Seeing the dollhouses of these lucky girls only made me want one of my own.  One year my father did make one for me out of left over paneling.   It had no windows or or doors or even a staircase accessing it’s three floors.  The bottom floor was tall enough for Barbie to stand it but the top two floors where only tall enough for a Dawn doll.  I’m not sure why the inconsistency and when I pointed out that Barbie was unable to stand up on the upper floors Dad told me “Those are the bedrooms.  All she has to do is lie down and sleep.”  I solemnly played with it for a few years until one day I admitted to myself that it was not pretty at all.  (Sorry Dad!)  It was simply a bookshelf with a peaked roof, so that’s what I ended up using it as. 

When I was 12 Grandma Teetsel finally got involved.  We were having one of our talks one day and she asked me, “If you have anything your heart desired what would it be?” I told her and two years later she presented me with this:

This dollhouse, called The Harrison, was built from a kit you can still get today.  It wasn’t a complete surprise. We picked out the house style together and in the two years it took her to build it Grandma sought my counsel when picking out paint colors, shingles and wallpaper. She even added extra rooms. We were both troubled by the fact that by designating one of the rooms as the nursery we had sacrificed a bathroom. 

So Grandma built a new one.

She also added a kitchen with see through walls so as not to impede the view to the dining room.

By the time I got the house I was too old to play with it but it did spark a passion for miniatures. I started collecting furniture and even made a few pieces from kits. Then real life happened. Boys, then college and then career took over and The Harrison kept getting shoved aside and for years was ignored entirely.

Last month, shortly after the two year anniversary of Grandma’s death The Harrison came back home and just like that first time in 1982 my passion for miniatures has been reignited.  Unlike before I have a great new source for ideas and pieces: the internet!  There are tons of blogs and websites about miniatures and of course eBay, oh my!  I will keep you updated as I furnish the rooms of The Harrison.  You can be assured, it will be done pursuant to it’s intended glory and in honor of Grandma Teetsel. 

Jerry and I made a pact early on in our marriage: we don’t buy each other gifts for holidays and birthdays.  It’s a pact that works out quite well, especially for me when Jerry decides to break the pact.  Because when Jerry buys me a gift he does it right.  Like this year for my birthday, he bought me a car.  Yes you read that right, Jerry bought me a car.  A new car.  A 2012 Ford Focus.  Not only that but it was a complete surprise.  

He bought the car in secret last Saturday when I was at the hairdresser.  He was still gone when I got home but I thought he was  at Fry’s Electronics.  It was about 4pm when he got back and we decided to go out for an early dinner at our favorite pizza place in San Leandro.  Halfway to the pizza place Jerry decided to stop at the Ford Dealership on Marina Boulevard.  “Let’s kill a little time before getting that pizza,” he suggested. 

We start walking the lot and as expected a sales guy approaches.  “I hate these guys,”  Jerry mumbles. 

“Welcome to the Ford Store!” You could see the sales guy gearing up for his pitch.  “How can I help you folks?” 

“We’re here to look at the Focus,” Jerry told him.  “My wife has been nagging me to get one for her.”  (I have not!) 

So the guy took us to a white Ford Focus, Jerry handed me a key and said “There’s your new car honey.” 

I  was confused as hell.  What new car?  We were just there killing time before dinner. 

“So we’re going to go for a test drive?”  I asked. 

“There’s not test drive,”  Jerry said.  “You’re going to drive it home.” 

Suddenly I was surrounded by Ford salesmen congratulating me on my new car. They kept telling me my husband bought me a  car.  My husband, Jerry, bought me a car.  A new car.  I stood there for close to 5 minutes in complete shock and disbelief.  I kept asking Jerry, “You bought this?”  And Jerry kept saying, “Yes, I bought this.” 

I think they were starting to get annoyed with me and they kept telling me to get in the car so I finally did.  And that’s when it finally sunk in that Jerry bought me a car.  A new car.  So then I burst into tears. 

There was a guy sitting in the passenger seat of the car and he had to wait another 5 minutes for me to stop crying so he could show me all the features.  (new cars are complicated these days; you can’t just get in a drive)  It was by far the most memorable birthday I’ve ever had.  And two weeks later I still have that “new car feeling.”  You know what I’m talking about right?  It’s that “oooh, I want to drive somewhere in my new car” feeling.  I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to last but considering I had been driving my old car for close to 20 years I’m sure I’ll have it longer than most. 

I also happen to think I have a better husband than most.  Thanks honey!