Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

As I write this, it's Sunday, October 10th, just TWO DAYS before Hilary Duff's Elixir, which I co-wrote, comes out.

Am I excited?

Let's just say I'm thinking more about the upcoming book release than the sudden disaster that is the Philadelphia Eagles.

So yeah� seriously excited.

I have a world of deadlines, but I'm gathering all the press and reviews of the book as I come across them, and putting it all up .

And while I won't be home Monday or Tuesday morning, I'm totally TiVo-ing Hilary's appearances on the Today show and Live With Regis and Kelly.

Can't wait!

I have a cold.Ìý Actually, since I have a fever, I can safely take it to the next level and say I am sick.

The world doesn't stop when I'm sick.Ìý I'm still on mommy duty, I still have to work, the house is still a disaster in need of my attention (oh wait, I don't get to that even when I'm healthy).

I used to LOVE being sick.

I have some issues with my mom, but man, she was fantastic with sick.Ìý Granted, I had to prove I was sick.Ìý Fever of at least a hundred degrees.Ìý Barring that, there'd better be vomit.Ìý But once I the hurdles and was deemed well and truly sick, I became the center of the universe.Ìý The TV was moved into my bedroom, the finest delicacies were delivered to my nighttable, and I could while away the hours in glorious peace and tranquility.

I have particularly fond memories of a several-week-long bout of pneumonia in ninth grade.Ìý I was a wreck the first few days, but after that I felt pretty good, just low energy â€� though I still wasn't allowed to go back to school until it was completely out of my system.Ìý I did all my favorite things: I read, I played cards and board games, I watched TV, I spent evenings talking endlessly on the phoneâ€� I even took doctor-recommended super-steamy showers, after which my mom had to pound my back to loosen up the phlegm.Ìý I look back on it like a trip to a destination spa.Ìý I even lost weight, despite the fact that I was eating cookies three times a day (the beauty of a wasting disease).

Being sick back then felt kind of like what going to Hawaii feels like now.

Weird, but true.

Just took a night-time cold medication, which means it's only a matter of time before I get very loopy� probably best to go to bed.

I'll dream of chicken soup.

See the pic?  That's the title page of Populazzi, all laid out with the right font (and backwards, because that's what the camera on my Mac does).Ìý My Amazingly Wonderful Editor (AWE) made her notes, now I'm going through it, pencil in hand, and making mine.Ìý At the same time, the proofreader is doing her notes, then AWE will take the draft with our notes and the draft with the proofreader's notes and combine them into one fabulous draftâ€� that will soon become an ARC!!!!

More to come�

I know, the post title sounds like a Mel Brooks sketch (and I bet it would be a great one), but it's a real museum exhibit.Ìý I saw it about a month ago at the Skirball here in L.A., and my first reaction was that this was the ultimate expression of Jewishness: a museum exhibit filled with self-parody.Ìý After all, that was totally the vibe from the wall of album covers along one side of the room.Ìý Oh sure, there were the requisite hairy-chest big-hair 70′s beauty shots of Neil Diamond; the doe-eyed closeups of Barry Manilow; and of course, Barbra.Ìý But scattered among them were gems like Batman and Rubinâ€�

Hello Solly�

and The Yiddish Are Coming!  The Yiddish Are Coming!

They even had an album that I was delighted to first discover among my husband's late grandmother's belongings, When You're In Love, The Whole World Is Jewish.

Even better, music from the albums filled the room � hits like The Hava Nagila Twist.

It was spectacular, and yet I couldn't help but wonderâ€� weren't they maybe taking the mockery a little far?  I'm Jewish, and giddily sucked up the kitsch like it was a giant plate of  matzo brie fried in schmaltz, but I wondered if the Skirball wasn't trivializing  the culture's musical impact.Ìý Wouldn't people come in, laugh at the album covers, then walk out with the idea that "Jews on Vinyl" is as much of a joke as the title suggests?

That's what I thought, but then I scanned the wall and read every album title, not wanting to miss a deliciously ridiculous word.Ìý As I did, something strange happened.

The Hava Nagila Twist started sounding really good.Ìý So did the Hava Nagila Mambo.Ìý And Fiddler On The Roof as interpreted by the Temptations?  Don't get me startedâ€�

I wasn't the only one.Ìý The room was filled with listening stations, and my daughter and her best friend literally started fighting over which one of them would next get to listen to Louie Prima and Keely Smith's Meshuga.Ìý And believe me, you haven't lived until you've seen a perfect little six-year-old shiksa holding headphones to her ears and singing "I'm meshuga for my sugarâ€� and my sugar's meshuga for me."

We stayed in the exhibit for a full hour, and left not only determined to buy on which it was based, but also aching for recordings of almost everything we heard while we were there.Ìý We were out of luck on that score â€� most of the music is only on obscure LPs, and impossible to find.Ìý I did, however, find thisto the Temptations doing Fiddler, and I'm rocking out to it as I type.

In other words, my concerns amounted to bupkis.Ìý Just like the Mel Brooks sketches the exhibit title seemed to parody, the absurdity of the exhibit roped us in, then kept our attention long enough to appreciate things we might otherwise have ignored.

As a writer, I hope to extend that example.Ìý In Populazzi (yes, I knowâ€� segue back to ME), I write about some really dark issues, but I do it with a sense of humor and absurdity that ideally makes them easier to face, but doesn't lessen their impact at all.

You'll have to let me know what you think when it comes out.Ìý But in the meantime, I leave you with something .

RILEY'S IN THE OFFICE!!!

I think there's a real Take Your Dog To Work Day, but luckily, I'm on the Henson Lot, and they LOVE dogs here (one more reason to worship Jim Henson â€� even posthumously he's doing great things).Ìý Riley came with me to take my daughter to school, he came to work, and in a little bit he'll come pick up my daughter and come with us to my grandmother's assisted living facility.Ìý From thereâ€� off to a dog-friendly restaurant for dinner!

In other words, a phenomenal, phenomenal day.

Your turn � do you bring your dog with you during the day?  Where's the strangest place you've taken him/her?

So I live in L.A. and I have a kid, which means I'd be a fool if I didn't subscribe to .Ìý The thing was started by a regular Valley Mom (or as regular as you can be with FIVE KIDSâ€� oyâ€�), and it's a daily compilation of absolutely everything a mom might want to know: events, sales, campsâ€� everything.Ìý It also lists a few casting notices.Ìý Now, I'm no actor, and I have proof of this.Ìý An episode of California Dreams.Ìý â€� I appear about 3:13 in for all of a nanosecond, saying "Whoa, that guitar player is hot."

So that said, casting notices don't usually have a lot of pull for me.Ìý Still, my sort-of stepmom (who's all of a year older than meâ€� long story) and sort-of stepsibs love acting, so I always read the casting notices so I can forward anything good to them.

Today's notice was for a makeover show.Ìý They wanted women too busy to pay close enough attention to their health and beauty regimen.Ìý Given that I pretty much live in comfy pants, T-shirts, and hoodies, get my hair cut once a year, and often can't be bothered to put in my contact lenses, I thought I might qualify.Ìý Plus it said the host is Holly Robinson-Peete, and I loved 21 Jump Street.Ìý More importantly, she's married to Rodney Peete, who used to play for the best football team in the NFL, the Philadelphia Eagles.

All in all, it was a package too good to resist.Ìý I applied.

Who knows if they'll contact me, but I'll certainly keep you posted.Ìý I did direct them to this site to look at pictures of me, so in case they check it out, I figure I'll give them a "Before," here in my natural writing habitat, Panera Bread:

I know.Ìý It's hard to improve on that kind of polished perfection.Ìý But Holly Robinson Peete's practically an Eagle, which means she's all about getting very close to the ultimate goal and then choking at the worst possible moment making miracles happen!

I remember when I first qualified for Writers Guild insurance, I was amazed and elated that the mental health coverage was spectacular.Ìý I raved about it to a writer-friend, and she laughed.Ìý "Of course it is," she said.Ìý "Writers are all crazy!"

Made sense to me.Ìý I've been on and off a therapist's couch for about ten years now.

Now the obvious response to that would be an incredulous, "Ten years?!  Aren't you fixed yet???"

It's a reasonable question.Ìý The short answer is no, but the longer answer is that I don't think any of us are ever fixed.Ìý (Except maybe those of us who are cats and dogsâ€� but that's something else entirely.)  We all have our mishegoss, and for me, working through it and trying to become a better person is an important part of making the most out of life.

I know people who hate the idea of therapy, who find it self-indulgent and useless.Ìý Some of it is.Ìý If therapy is a place you go to talk about yourself and look for simple validation, that to me is self-indulgent and useless.Ìý However, if you're looking at therapy as a weekly catalyst for change, a place to evaluate yourself, challenge your beliefs, and find active ways to improveâ€� to me that's invaluable.

Still, ten years is a little extreme, so I want to clarify that while it's true I've had the same therapist for all that time, I have not seen her every week for the whole decade.Ìý I've gone in spurts, anywhere from three to eighteen months.Ìý I always start when I'm dealing with something that has me in a mental tailspin, and keep going until I feel like I've reached a new plane of understanding.Ìý Then I stop, and have gone as many as 20 months without it.Ìý I know it's 20, because my therapist â€� whom I adore â€� has a policy that she can't hang with an ex-patient as friends until he or she has been therapy-free for two years.Ìý We've promised that when I reach that plateau, we'll have a whole social play-day together.

20 months is the closest I've gotten.

I'm fine with that.Ìý I'm a big fan of therapy.Ìý Having a great therapist is like having a great mechanic.Ìý Whenever I need a psychic tune-up I go back, and by the time I'm done my brain is purring happily and I'm good for several thousand more miles.

I understand therapy isn't for everyone.Ìý The benefits I get from therapy are the benefits some people get from religion, or yoga, or Ironman triathlons.Ìý I'm all for that â€� whatever gets you into that space where you can focus on yourself in a kind but critical way, evaluate who and where you are, and take strides towards becoming truer, clearer, and therefore better to yourself and the world around you.

How about you?  Are you a therapy person, or do you find clarity in other ways?  What works best for you, and what have you tried that didn't work at all?

I HAVE A BOOK COVER!!!!!

Here it is�

Do you love it?  I LOVE IT!!!!

It's okay if you don't love it� but I hope you do.

It's getting more and more real by the second � I can't believe it doesn't come out until August!

So� what do you think?

The mile-high blogging club, that is.

What did you think I meant?

To me this is the coolest thing ever.Ìý I'm on the airplaneâ€� and I'm online.Ìý It's like my grandmother's reaction when I pull out my cell phone â€� all giddy and stunned by the wonder of technology.Ìý Look â€� here I am:

Have any of you experienced this?  This particular service is called gogo, which could refer to either a cage dancer or a Samuel Beckett character.Ìý Or the Samuel Beckett character dancing in a cage.

I'm completely overwhelmed by everything I should be able to get done with six hours stuck in a chair with my computer, my noise canceling headphones, and WiFiâ€� and yet I often find it difficult to work on a plane.Ìý Maybe it's the recycled air, maybe it's the close quarters, maybe it's just my self-thwarting tendency to procrastinate, but I find it hard to concentrate.Ìý So while I could conceivably write a chapter of my next novel, or a new draft of an outline I've been assigned, or a pitch I've been noodling with, I'm far more likely to relax and catch up on some blog readingâ€� which actually sounds like bliss.

So tell me� can you work on a plane?  Is it for you the absolute perfect environment for concentrated work, or does it lull your brain into sleepy mush?

Talk to you when I'm back on the ground!