All:
Hey.
First things first: the facts.
I wasn't there for the first time because I had to drive to work, and now Hamlet says he's not entirely sure, but we're reporting here that Izzo, as of Friday's check up, stands 31 and 3/4 inches tall and weighs in at 24 pounds and let's call it 6 ounces. Which makes her slightly "better than average," as Daddy put it.
...
Izzo was way sick last Sunday. Barfed all over everything all morning long. She got down to her very last clean warm outfit. No fever thankfully, and just her second time being that kind of sick, and through it all she was, characteristically, a trooper. Finally, she escaped to a nice, long naptime, after which she was her normal happy self, except that Momom made her take it easy still. And still, within the ensuing 24 hours, she happily downed a whole bottle of grape Pedialyte and another whole carton of juice....
Izzo's new thing: Dragging us along.
She will take your hand and literally pull you wherever it is she wants to see you. And, yeah, you go, Oh, how cute. Or, OK, just let her lead you somewhere and then let go.
Hardly. Little homegirl gets the vice grip on and will not let up until she's good and done with you.
To break the spell, you've not only gotta pry your finger out of her hand, you've gotta deal with the psychological warfare that comes with it: tears.
...
...Add pigeons to the list.
The list of things that Izzo's afraid of.
That list is two things long now. Pigeons. Sticks.
Terrifying, freaky stuff.
...
...The bedtime thing. Not too bad last week. All it took: 4,587 renditions of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame, the lullaby."
Who knew?
To keep me from going crazy, sometimes I switch it up slightly and root for the Nitros ('cause Hamlet's set on Izzo going to Glendale High), the Ducks (but that kind of ruins the flow of the song) and often, for sweet Izzo herself (no explanation needed.) I think I'ma start rooting for peace in the Middle East or a cure for the economic crisis, 'cause it couldn't hurt...
Sometimes, and this is weird, I accidentally root for the Angels, my childhood team. And that has me convinced that someday Izzo, as an adult, will be at a ballgame having a grand ol' time with some buddies when the middle of the seventh inning will roll along -- and she won't be able to explain it, but she suddenly will get very, very sleepy.
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...More and more words all the time. Have I mentioned "lights?" Have I mentioned "waffle?" Have I mentioned "bird?" "Hot?" "Tree?" "Shoe?" "Teeth?" The more pronounced version of "shopping?" "Jersey?" "Touchdown!" And my favorite of late, "silly?" (Which sounds a little something like, "Shillllll... hahahaha!")
...
...Not to depress youall around the hip-hip holidays, which is why I saved this segment for last, but I gotta throw out some correspondence into the future, aimed at you, 11-, 18-, 30-year-old Izzo. Just to let you know what the heck was going on way back when...
... almost every evening lately, after I've exited the freeway and made my way most of the way down Brand Blvd., closing in on my delicious, long-desired, hello-again hug with you, Izzo, there through the banister at the top of Tatik's entryway stairway, I drive past the sparkling, glittering consumer light show that is The Americana at Brand.
Which, to Southern Californians, can be explained as "Glendale's version of The Grove." To everyone else: It's SoCal's second fancy-schmancy outdoor mall by Rick Caruso, a real estate developer who does things BIG: a million-dollar chandelier hanging above on entrance; a Disney-esque fountain show every half-hour; buildings designed (somewhat haphazardly) to remind of other famous shopping districts around the globe; bellmen manning the elevators; and oh, and the 100-foot, real Christmas tree that was lit, in the midst of Southern California's raging firestorm, to a show of fireworks...But, unlike Los Angeles' Grove, which incorporated an old, beloved Farmer's Market into the mix, our Americana, which opened in early May, features on-site dwelling. Which is to say: Condos and apartments. Cheapest apartment? A single there above the fray would run you, when we checked earlier this year, $2,250. A two bedroom? More than $5,500 a month. Who, we wondered, would pay those prices to live at a mall in Glendale? Glendale is great, don't dare get me wrong, but it ain't Manhattan or Paris. (And phooey on anyone trying to push prices in THAT direction; rent here is steep enough!) Anyway. Last I read, the units were at, like, 20 percent capacity.
But that's not what I've been thinking about as I stop at the light in front of the shopping center and watch the lights and people going around. What I'm thinking -- rather, what I find myself imagining, is what that place would look like if it were empty.
Not all-the-stores-are-closed-'cause-it's-early-Sunday-morning empty, but deserted because, well, no one has any money. Or because the money we have left is darn near worthless.
Yes, this is totally histrionic, but I find myself imagining what The American at Brand would look like during a 21st century depression. All those flashing lights? Dark. A distant memory. All those carefully arranged storefronts? Boarded. All those folks carrying bags and talking on their cell phones? Uh, poof. Standing in a bread line someplace?
What the heck is Momom's problem this week?
I downloaded, because I'm a full-fledged, card-carrying layman (woman?) and I wanted to try better to understand, This American Life's pair of recent shows on the economy. And then I gave both CDs a good listen to on my drives around SoCal.
(If ya don't know, This American life is, to use the New York Times' description, "a public radio show that specializes in old-fashioned storytelling about local slices of Americana." They generally do shows about, like, summer camp or first days on the job. They're spectacularly entertaining, in a really wholesome, honest way. Check it out: thislife.org)
The first economy-focused broadcast: "The Giant Pool of Money" aimed at explaining the subprime housing mess. I listened to the show twice. The first time it felt kind of good, like, "Whoa, I get it (mostly)!" The second time it made me angry: "What the hell did everyone expect to happen by loaning hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of dollars to folks with no realistic shot of paying that off? And then selling those toxic loans on up the food chain so it'd infect as much of the world's finances as possible? Uh, big fat DUH."
The second hour of programming, "Another Frightening Show About the Economy," lived up to it's billing. This one, which I'd listened to once before while cleaning the house, dealt a lot with credit default loan swaps, which make the complex, convoluted housing situation seem like child's play.
Here's a part of the show that so rattled my senses:
Reporter Alex Blumberg: "When you think about the current global crisis, is this a credit default swap crisis? Is this a mortgage-backed securities crisis? Is this something bigger than all of those and they're just symptoms?"
Satyajit Das, a 30-year risk consultant veteran for big, international hedge funds: "Oh, I very definitely think all of these are just symptoms. Essentially the world just has far too much debt. What has happened over the past 30 years is essentially the amount of debt in the financial system has exploded and I think the problem is the amount of debt that has been created has been made extremely complicated by the financial engineers. There will be enormous, enormous losses which will beg your belief. When economic historians come to write the history of this period, they will look at this and go, 'My God! How did they manage to do this?'"
... chances are you know someone who's been hit already. Lost his or her job in the midst of this crisis. Being journos, Hamlet and I know quite a few -- in and out of the shaky newspaper game. And it's cynical, yes, but especially after listening to those pair of broadcasts, it really feels like our time is coming. Hamlet's paper is owned by the Tribune Co., which went bankrupt last week. My paper is owned by a company that, like every other newspaper group and so many other businesses too, basically is hemorrhaging money. So it feels like when and not if. And then what?
I guess I'm scared.
... and so I think I'm going to let it alter my lifestyle. I might actually keep to my only-once-a-week Starbucks pledge -- or make a new one to stay out of there altogether. I'm going to stop angling so hard for a way to get out of the house to local concerts anymore. I'm going to pack my lunch more than twice a week. I'm going to dedicate myself to building our savings account.
But I'm not going to let it ruin my holiday. Not when I've got Izzo twirling and twirling, bebopping and carrolling like a pro, somehow inherently knowing these days to cover one of her ears while she sings so she can hear herself correctly, make sure she's in tune. And she always is.
See, now THAT's rich.
...
Best wishes all. Be safe, be well, be happy.
Us
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