Showing posts from November, 2007
MAISON D’MASON I’ll be watching Mace’s place until after Christmas – and last night was my first night there. Ya know, I thought that spending an hour and a half on Monday night, learning about his state of the art lighting remote controls and fan controls and dimmers and TV/TiVo/Cable/DVD/Mac remotes and how to use the fire place and what plants to water and how his cat Buddy likes his food and where the cat supplies are and who to call if I lose my key or there is a plumbing issue and how to use the electronics and heater/air in his editing bay/gym out back and what gates to lock and which to leave open and when the maid comes and when the gardener comes and who his bookkeeper is who will let himself through the back to the editing bay/gym and the contents of his fridge which he firmly instructed me to eat so that he didn’t have to come home and throw it out. All of this while I was sipping a mighty delicious margarita with pomegranate seeds floating in it and crystals of yummy sea
SUNDAY CATCH UP: DIM SUM AND THEN SOME This morning I walked to meet Erika, her sister Raquel and Raquel’s family, who were visiting from Switzerland, across the street at The Grove/Farmer’s Market for breakfast at DuPar’s. I was a bit surprised by the destination because Raquel and her husband Michael are international foodies who actually write restaurant reviews… and DuPar’s is only popular with elderly people who can’t taste their food and are comforted by the fact that the restaurant hasn’t changed since the 40s (which I guess makes it a landmark by LA standards). So I wasn’t surprised by the call on my cell just before I crossed the DuPar’s parking lot – it was Erika who was with Raquel at Starbucks because they’d not been impressed by DuPar’s after all. They were now thinking of Dim Sum. MUCH BETTER PLAN! I headed through the door of Starbucks and met up with the girls. Then we headed into the Market to meet up with Michael and Diego. Before heading to China Town, we wandered
THANKSGIVING OK, this will be a rolling blog. Couldn't sleep again this morning after around 4:30 so I just chilled with Evadnae who was so happy to have company in the dark. Then it was searching for my iPod Shuffle and into the kitchen for a date with deviled destiny. I started by cutting the eggs in half and dumping the yolks into a big bowl to Amy Winehouse's "Rehab". Then I minced scallions, seasoned, mayoed and mustarded the yolks while doing my own version of Erika gettin on down to Michelle Lewis' Little Leviathon album. Yeah! Must have been the prefect combo because I only offered Joe one taste of the mixture around 7:30 AM and he roused partially onto one elbow and pronounced it "perfect". No more mayo? No more mustard? Pepper? He only shook his head and fell back asleep. He better recall that he blessed the eggs or he'll think I'm fibbing. Good good good. So I cleaned up and got straight to work on my oyster stuffing a la Roger. It
THE GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE Yay! Little brother has come through. Oh, and happy birthday Lloyd! Thanks for indulging me with the "Hey yeah, Lloyd, I gotta have your recipe for the green bean dish you brought to the faimly reunion a few weeks ago" sounding more desperate than I meant to in the fashion of a coke whore asking, "do you have any party favors?" So he tells me what the ingredients are and how to prepare it and I thank him and hang up. Only to realize what a horrible big sister I am and call him back, "I'm so sorry sweetie! I just realized that it's your birthday! Happy birthday! How old are you any way?" "As old as I feel" was his sardonic reply. When on the phone with Mia I assurred her that I'd gotten Lloyd's recipe. I explained what it contained and she laughed. "Oh honey. Are you kidding? You have to find another name for that dish. Green beans play a minor role in that extravaganza!" True. True. I tried to
THAT'S A BREAST?! So tomorrow is the big day of feasting and I'm fearlessly charging into the breach of cooking for Thanksgiving Day. I tooke the day off and got up before dawn this morning and double-checked my menu and shopping list. Curled up on the couch in the dark, I cancelled the sweet potato plan for sweet carrots with butter and maple syrup instead. Call me a rebel. Go ahead. I almost scrapped the mashed potatoes for baked potatoes but I got a hold of myself and stopped getting crazy with what should be a very traditional meal plan. Don't over think Ivy. Just set the menu down and get your ass to the store. So that's what I did. Joe was in the kitchen pouring his morning coffee as I headed to Ralph's. I went straight to the butcher's counter and asked for a turkey breast. Not a whole turkey, but a breast was all I needed. Bruce (that was what was on his name tag and I don't think they're allowed to lie or wear someone else's name tag) took
NO EXPRESS LANE BEFORE 9 It all started so innocently. Erika asked me to grab a birthday card for Scott on my way into the office. Cool. I can do that. I head into Ralph’s and there are more people shopping than I’d expect for a Tuesday morning at 7:30 A.M. I make my way to the greeting card aisle. Hmmm. Selecting a card that is supposed to come from someone else is a bit of a challenge. Not too silly. Not too heavy on the ‘old as dirt’ theme. Not too mushy, don’t want to give Scott the impression that Erika has inappropriate feelings for him. Not the one about the birthday wedgie (Why? Why would a greeting card company green-light that particular card I wonder?). I found a nice card and headed to the checkout area. I stopped mid-stride as I got near the front of the store and evaluated my choices. Aisle 5: A man in his mid-30s buying about 20 items. Followed by a Hispanic woman in her mid-40s buying about 20 items. Followed by an elderly black woman buying about 20 items. Aisle 7
AN LA SUNDAY I have no idea why I woke up at 6:00 A.M. yesterday morning, but that was it. My eyelids went up like window shades. FLIP! Woah. Awake. OK. Fine. I wandered around the perfectly clean apartment, sipped coffee and juice and showered and basically drifted through my Sunday morning unconsciously. Looking up at the clock I realized that I was going to be late for my date with Erika & Spike for manicures, pedicures, brunch and whatever other trouble we could dream up. I pulled on clothes that would A) allow for easy access to my legs for the pedicure massage and B) look effortlessly hip as we’d no doubt be mingling with The Hills and that general crowd in that area of WeHo (West Hollywood). Actually some of the cast lives in my complex – but they don’t hang here. Button down t-shirt and baggy GAP workout pants. Aviator sunglasses. Ah well, hip-be-damned! I’m me. Spike was already being serviced when I rushed into the salon. I quickly snagged my polish selection and then
PROPERTY OF All Red Ivy compositions, posts and blog content Copyright protected.
HATE YOUR NEIGHTBORS? TRY THIS... I'm breating deeply. It's been very warm here in LA lately. Yes, I came back from Chicago and I've set aside the long sleeves for my tank tops again. We all have our windows open to get any little wisp of breeze that might happen along. Joe is out tonight, and I'm doing the first phase of a white tornado on the apartment. Why bring up the fact that the windows are open? Well, I'll tell you why I mentioned that. One of the apartments either directly above me, below me or on either side has an alarm clock going off. A really loud shrill BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! BRRRIIINNNG! Why? Why would you set your alarm for 6ish in the evening and then not be home to turn it off? It's been going on for 35 minutes. The alarm decibels are ringing off the outer walls of the high rise and boucing into my apartment and slamming into my ears and making me want to throw knock myself
OH MARIO My big birthday treat from Joe was dinner at Mario Batali’s 2nd LA restaurant: Osteria Mozza. Sigh. It was beyond what I thought food could taste like. Months ago one of my directors, Mason called and asked if I wanted to have our next off-site dinner meeting at Mozza. Just casual like that, “Hey Ivy, it’s Mace. Wanna do Mozza for next Thursday’s off site with Spike?” My head was filled with visions of Mario Batali from Molto Mario to Iron Chef, and I knew it wasn’t possible for normal people to get reservations. “Ha! Very funny Mace.” “Why not?” was his response. I mulled this over and figured that I was being presumptuous since I am the normal person and Mason is a documentary film maker, who probably could actually get reservations at Mozza. “Well, because there are websites devoted to Mario’s LA endeavors and all the press says that unless you’re an influential foodie – which I’m not – or currently sleeping with Jake Gyllenhaall – who is one of Mario’s best friends –
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME How My Morning Began by Ivy Nothing earth-shattering really. Got into the elevator on P3 at the office with my pal John. You haven’t heard about John but he hasn’t been working with me long, but we bonded instantly. He walked into my office as my friend Danny was leaving. I didn’t even know John’s name and he closed the office door and slumped against it dramatically, “Oh my GOD! That guy saw me having sex once in South Beach at the Delano hotel!” “Huh? How can you be sure?” “Oh, me and my boyfriend saw him sitting on his balcony and thought he was hot so we ripped off our clothes and started having sex.” “Well, yes, then maybe he saw.” “No maybes, we put on a SHOW and he saw the whole thing. Both acts if you know what I’m saying.” “Gotcha.” I held out my hand, “Hi I’m Ivy, who are you?” “Oh! Sorry! John. I’m here to help you with the shoot you’re doing today.” That was it instant BFFs. But I digress. We were in the elevator on P3, yawning and smiling at each o
OK LA I'M BAAACK I actually slept in my own bed with Hanni last night. Joe was on Evadnae duty in the study. Rolled out of bed this morning and promptly tripped over Hanni's ponderous bulk. Y'all recall the post of how I'm going to die? Well, I'm not kidding. 'Death by Cat Misadveture' is going to be what the coronor hand writes onto my death certificate. Fa real. After picking myself up off the bedroom floor I showered, grabbed iced coffee out of the fridge and fed the cats. Still feeling disconnected from this city, I got ready for work and a whole new day of workout video QAing. YAY! I crowded into the elevator in my building with 7 of my closest Korean neighbors and gave them my general chin acknowledgement (raised my chin slightly in the international symbol of "hey neighbor what's a goin on?") and soon we were in the lobby. You know I LIVE for the elevator rides in my building. At least I haven't seen my nemisis Ms Cougar in a while
WANNA WATCH A VIDEO? WANNA DO A VIDEO? WASHING MY CAT AND WATCHING MORE VIDEOS WOW! What a long day. I got paid for watching videos. Sounds cushy? Well, it was, but I watched them over and over again them with different features turned on to ensure that there was no problem with the authoring process. Would you like me to recite the dialog from the interval cardio workout? Nah? Are ya sure? Well, OK. But if you reconsider, let me know. So at 5:00 I grabbed 2 buddies and we did our quality assurance pass on a martial arts video in the office gym while getting our stress out and hollering "HUH!" as we kicked and punched. Ahhh. Just what I needed at the end of a day of sitting on my ass. Rushed home to Evadnae who is still sequestered in the study. Scooped Hannibal into my arms at the apartment door and pounded on him as I cruised around the apartment dropping mail on my desk, Joe's desk and into the trash. Fuck! You can tell what time of year it is politically when the
CHICAGO WHIRLWIND ALONE AND NOT Whew! I'm back from my windy city. Not really sure where I am yet or who I am. Seemed I was more of myself back in Chi. Not strange considering that's the place I consider home. Joe met me at LAX with tacos and Vitamin Water. Ah. I was starving and thirsty but for some reason couldn't finish the food. Just completely out of whack. So I'm sitting at my desk trying to catch up on the tidal wave of work I couldn't do remotely before the avalanche of meetings that start in less than 1/2 hour. I ran around the city with Uncle Stu and got to hang out with Matt, Lloyd, Ethan and Dad & Gail. Connecting with family is strange and wonderful. All the old jokes and connection just fall back into place although we've been strangers for years. Guess that's just family... Dancing and doing chick stuff with Lana and Jen. Meeting Lana's cool hubby Dave and eating Roger's flippin fabulous cooking. Running through my mind are co
LIFE IS LOOSENING ME UP Yeah, I know in a perfect world I'd get to be rigid. If left to my own devices, I'd be impressively rigid. I'd be a motherfucking statue. I'd be a freakin' lamp post so rigid I'd be. But there are several influences and occurrances in my life right now that I'm being forced to be all fluid and flexible. Mentally that is because while I have long limbs, I consider it a nimble feat to touch my toes during a post exercise cool down. So back to the currents and winds of life knocking the ramrod out of my spine. My job revolves around schedules and deadlines. I plan and I communicate the information to internal team members and external companies and individuals... and then learn that everything has changed. Spike has set the priorities that drove the schedules, but then she'll re-prioritize due to information that I'm not privy to. My life at the office is nothing but shifting dates and I race to make them. Then there are traffic