Post-Partum Pitch Perfection

I know… it’s been over half a year since I’ve posted anything on here, but I’ve been too busy being pregnant.  So now that I’m enjoying the sleepless life of mommyhood, I’m carelessly throwing away my time (aka “unwinding”) watching trailers for upcoming films. But this time did not go wasted, my friends, I am excited to post this practically-perfect-right-up-my-i heart musicals and bad dance films-alley trailer that I found.  It kicked my post-partum blues (at least for 2.5 minutes) as I imagined myself sitting in the theater watching 30 year old actors play college freshman that dance around having back alley acapella sing-offs.  In reality, I’ll most likely just wait till it’s streaming on Netflix which will most likely be several years from now.

To all my fellow Step Up/Glee/SingOff dweeberoonies out there… you’re welcome.


Destruction Party: The Party Guests

This last summer, I had the privilege of working on a short film called Destruction Party.  My awesome and remarkably talented film industry big-wig friend and producer of the film, Trent, brought me on as the music supervisor to test the waters in the world of film making.  What an amazing experience and a fun film to work on. The artistic cast and crew really brought Director Amanda Meyncke’s vision to life with this beautifully shot piece of art.

The film is about 4 girl friends that get together to have an emotional catharsis through the destruction of breakables.  Think Anthropolgie meets Jackson Pollock with beautiful plates and teacups for paint.

Here’s a behind the scenes video about the inspiration to Destruction Party.  I even have a cameo.  I think I should stick to behind the camera, though.

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Gobble, Gobble

Stop stressing over the 30 green-bean casserole recipes you’ve got open on your desktop and take a minute to laugh at this chart.  For all the non-hosts this Thursday, here’s a nifty chart to help you figure out what to bring to the turkey feast.  Not sure if the vegan, bean loaf will go over so well with the parentals, but it may be worth a shot.

This Bites!

This last weekend, my parents and I took our first family trip together in years.  This was my parents first domestic trip in decades where they wouldn’t be staying at the home of a family member.  I think the last time they slept in a hotel room was sometime in the 90s when we drove cross-country to New York in their navy blue ’90 Ford Aerostar van.

Growing up, my parents never let a summer pass without us taking one big family trip.  And by “one big family” I mean- my parents and me (their one and only).  When my little cousin was born, we started caravanning with my aunt and uncle and the 6 of us would head out on these treks. Each summer we would pack up that Aerostar and drive to whatever adventurous location my mother would so carefully choose after visiting her trusty AAA agent.  We never flew.  If it was a driveable distance, we would always drive– and my parents considered the contiguous 48 states driveable.  If there was a bridge to Hawaii, we probably would’ve gone there too.  Sadly, they’re in their mid 60s-early 70s and they have yet to go there.  I think they’re waiting for a bridge.

One trip, we made it from Southern California to Wyoming in one day!  We started at 2am and arrived in Evanston, WY by 7pm.  Crazy, right?  I digress.  The point of this story is this:

Since we were going to be staying somewhere “unknown” my dad purchased this trusty device and packed it in his suitcase.  That, my friends, is a UV wand to kill bacteria and bugs that may be lurking in old hotel rooms.

The best part is that I see my mom unraveling napkins to find her vitamins/meds and she tells me that she didn’t pack a pill bottle because it would be too “bulky”.  The irony is astounding.

The best part is that I stumbled on this art installation in NY where people are creating little bedbug hotels that are placed outside of hotels that have reported bedbug infestations.  Fun way to artistically warn people that this establishment bites!


Blow Me Away

…and that it did; that being the “Windy City”.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of finally setting foot in Chicago for a work trip.  It’s not often that I get sent to big cities, so I was overjoyed to be traveling to a metropolitan area versus some heartland fishing town. This was the first trip that I was completely on my own;  no real travel companions.  I loved every minute.  Ha! Not sure what that means on a deeper level, but traveling all by my lonesome was quite lovely.  Chicago was my oyster and I went diving for pearls!

What I loved about Chicago: Chicago Dogs (mmm… sweet relish, tomatoes, and onions on top of a grilled sausage? YES PLEASE!), an oversized, metallic coffee bean, and the Art Institute of Chicago— MIND BLOWING!

The photos won’t fully capture my awe, but here’s a little taste of the wind…
Art Institute of Chicago.  Best museum I’ve been to since Florence & Rome.  That sounds a bit dramatic, but it’s true. I have never had so many goosebumps while gazing at framed art since the day I snuck photos of the Sistine Chapel.  The Impressionism gallery was unbelievable.  I spent a total of four hours in this museum– at least two of those hours were in the impressionism hall.
Now here’s where my mind got blown.  Just a day before I went to the museum, I blogged about Paris and posted Gustave Claudeboitte’s Paris Street, Rainy Day.  There I was admiring the French Impressionism section and I turn a corner and see this:

I coerced a super nice guy to take at least 3 photos of me staring at this painting.  I could have stared at it for hours.  I’m weird like that, but I love my art…I love my French art.

Hopefully the winds blow me that way again soon.


2 years ago I wandered into a small boutique in San Diego and was drawn to a display of photographs depicting young African children.  Vintage brushed metal whistles hung from the display and sitting on the ledge was a small booklet that unveiled the story behind their purpose.

Engraved in script on each whistle was an “fw”, which stands for Falling Whistles.  The Falling Whistles campaign was started as a response to the growing need for peace and refuge in Congo.  The war in Congo has affected thousands; many of them young children.  These children are either trying to find refuge from the war or are forced into the the center of it against their will.  Those too small to carry a gun are pushed to the frontlines and armed with only a whistle– taught to make as much noise as possible to warn the rebel armies if enemies were close.  These young, small, innocent whistle blowers are the first to fall.

Falling Whistles has worked towards morphing this symbol from death to life.  As a symbol of protest, these whistles have become a weapon to fighting for peace in Congo.  Proceeds from whistle sales go to helping rehabilitate war-affected children.

Tonight, alongside 50 or so other whistle blowers, we posted our protest and voices for peace on a wall in downtown Los Angeles.

Read the story. Become a whistle blower.