Merry Christmas

I confess: I cheated. The whole purpose of this blog was to keep our friends and family up to date on our many goings-on, to share the news that's sometimes awkward to share, like our struggles with infertility. But when it came down to it, I had trouble writing down some of the biggest breaking news, like the results of our first pregnancy test...which actually came on December 23rd.

Yup, that's only 11 days after the ZIFT procedure. I had been warned not to take a home pregnancy test, because they're not always accurate that early, and my nurse actually went through emotional hell herself when she was going through IVF and peed on a stick and initially got a negative result -- when in fact she was pregnant.

Somehow I managed to stay calm until the 23rd, and calmly went in for my blood test that morning. Then my dad (who was visiting!) and I went down to Palos Verdes to have lunch with Hana and her parents, which was quite lovely and a perfect distraction. The test results were going to be in that afternoon, around four, so I left my cell phone turned off -- I just couldn't deal with the prospect of answering the phone in front of ANYBODY and getting news of a negative result. I asked that the nurse leave a message instead, which Mark and I could then listen to in private.

But...when I checked my messages... nothing. And Mark tells me the only message he heard, on our home machine, was the nurse saying, "call us." I had asked them to leave me a message with the results, so this was all very vexing. And wouldncha know it, it's after 5pm and no one's picking up at the clinic.

So, nerves drawn tighter than ever, I emailed both my nurses in hopes that someone would get our plea for an answer.

Within the hour.... I had it: we were pregnant.

Cheers! Champagne!

...sort of. It was INFINITELY better news than NOT pregnant. As good a start as we could hope for. Christmas was not the nightmare I thought it might be. But looming in the next two weeks were more blood tests, to a) confirm we're still pregnant and b) make sure my hormones were rising appropriately -- i.e. at least doubling, every three days.

There was nothing to do but hold our breath each time. And with each positive test, each hurdle cleared, we grew more hopeful. In fact, my hormone levels were skyrocketing to the point where Mark seriously began doing some research... and found that my numbers suggested we had twins in the oven. (That doesn't sound right....)

Then, on January 9th, it was the moment of truth: our first ultrasound. At this point, I was (theoretically) six weeks pregnant, so the heartbeat should be visible. Maybe there would be two...or more heartbeats.

But there weren't. There was just the one. But oh man, what a relief it was to see that one, beating away at a healthy 160 beats per minute! Our little peanut:


And this peanut has been busy growing. Growing into a fava bean, at 7 weeks...


...and the craziest of all, into a "big bouncy baby"!!!!


OK, so you can't see it bouncing, but I swear that when the doctor was scoping it out, taking measurements, our little baby moved its arms (yes, arms already!), did a little jig, and flipped over. It wasn't just me, we all saw it and yelped HEY! Hello to you too!

So....that was at 9 weeks. Tomorrow we'll be at a full eleven - almost the end of the first trimester. I'll have the last ultrasound with our fertility doctor next Friday, just after 12 weeks; after that, we'll be with our prenatal care provider... which is a whole other, um, thing. Plus, we got genetic testing coming up (for Down's and other abnormalities) -- all nerve-wracking.

But, for now, we're just thrilled we've made it this far.

FAQ:
When is your due date? September 3rd -- a few days before, haha, Labor Day.
How are you feeling? I feel nauseous on and off throughout the day, but if I can figure out what to eat, I can keep it down. The weirdest thing has been going through a citrus phase, and also now an anti-shrimp, octopus and squid phase. And I loooooooooove shrimp. So weird. Otherwise just sheer exhaustion kicking in at around 6pm, but that's actually already easing up -- I've been getting by lately without full-on naps.
You weren't going to West Coast IVF were you? No. The now-infamous Beverly Hills clinic, behind the recently born LA octuplets, is not where we went. But I do remember seeing that clinic on our list of options last fall. Yikes. I love our doctor. I mean, yes, I love him because he successfully guided us through making it all happen, but I've thought about this, and I truly think that even if we hadn't gotten pregnant this first time -- I think we would have felt we got the best care possible, and made the best decisions possible together with our doctor. Which can be a pretty rare thing to feel. S0, ask us any time you or a friend is looking for fertility treatment or egg-freezing.

'Nuff for now. Dinner's on the table, and I've got to eat for two. Or at least... one and a big bouncing baby.

Oh, and one more thing.

Yeah... we thought moving cross-country and starting up a new business on my freelance salary wasn't enough. We're moving forward with the biggest, most emotionally harrowing gamble of our lives to date: IVF.

Well, technically, it's not IVF -- it's ZIFT, Zygote Intrafallopian Transfer. The idea is to fertilize the egg externally, then rather than continuing to grow it in the lab for 3-5 days and transferring it into the uterus, we return it to the fallopian tube where it grows naturally as the body carries it down into the uterus itself.

Ironically, this more "natural" process is much more invasive to the female (in this case, my) body: it involves laparoscopic surgery under full anesthesia, the day right after getting more anesthesia for the egg retrieval. But our doctor -- director of the Santa Monica Fertility Specialists, who we really like -- has had tremendous success with ZIFT, and considering our history, we decided to go for it.

I meant to start writing this about this a LONG while ago, but ya know, we've been busy. So here's the deal:

I began taking the Pill (yes, more irony) about a month ago (this is to take control over my hormones), along with pre-natal vitamins and baby aspirin:


Then, based on good (i.e. on-track) blood test results, starting on Thanksgiving Day, we began a hormone injection called Lupron -- twice a day with an insulin syringe. Two days later, we added another hormonal drug called Menopur (acquired from the UK to save at least a little $$). This was kind of a mess at first because it's extremely complicated to prepare, and the scheduled time to administer it happened to coincide with our first tasting. Mark and I were fumbling around in the bathroom like first-time heroin users.

Thankfully, it's all become somewhat routine now, and the side effects haven't been bad -- I threw up once on Thanksgiving Day and my abdomen's bruised up and sore, but no excessive weight gain or anything like that (which can happen). Emotional highs and lows for sure, but god knows that might be from the store opening too!

If all goes well, the egg aspiration (retrieval) should be next Monday -- already! -- and the transfer the next day (assuming some are usable, and some grow after fertiliziation). BUT... that's if all goes well. At our appointment yesterday, the ultrasound showed a few follicles growing, but not a great many, and not all that big yet either. Our doctor gave us a 50-50 shot at proceeding next week. If the follicles haven't grown enough, it won't be worth it -- so we would most likely abort (ha ha) the process and possibly start all over again after at least a two-month break to physically, emotionally and financially regroup. But, he did say that he's seen follicles "simmer" and then "soar," so... rah, rah, follicles! Rah, rah! Grow eggs grow!

Just goes to show: you can't plan anything. Dammit.

Another ultrasound and blood test tomorrow morning. Could set the course. Fingers crossed that we can make it happen... happy thoughts. Peaceful thoughts...

Coming up next:

"There are too many cliffhangers in our lives."

Mark and I were nestled on the couch after dinner, watching "the Funnies" -- The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report -- when he blurted this out, half-joking, half-sighing.

The cliffhanger -- that juicy storytelling device that entranced Shahrzād's king, and today keeps TV viewers from "changing the dial" (or at least we try, we TV writers) -- supposedly got its moniker from Thomas Hardy's 1873 serial novel, A Pair of Blue Eyes. Chapters were published monthly, and to ensure readers picked up the next copy, he once left the hero literally hanging on a cliff. The technique was used extensively in the serial films of the silent era, most notably the 1914 blockbuster The Perils of Pauline -- every episode of which would end with the poor heroine Pearl White trapped with a villain (usually a pirate or a savage, i.e. Native American) promising death. Then at the beginning of the next episode she would somehow escape, then get trapped again, then escape again, get trapped, escape... etc. Poor woman, but apparently she was quite resourceful.

No doubt cliffhangers are fun to watch. Our hearts race, our knuckles whiten, we cringe in our seats -- and when the danger is past, we fly high on our hero or heroine's courage and oh, how it's incredible to be alive!

Maybe we even use some of that induced adrenaline to tackle our own lives, get through our own cliffhangers (those of us without that thrill-seeking gene). Because life, being unpredictable, is full of them. What will my next job be? Will the store be a hit? Will I ever get pregnant? Will my dad win the Green Card Lottery? Will Mark ever find the time to get his hair cut? And -- more so these days, on everyone's minds -- can I pay the rent on time? Will I ever get to retire? Will Obama really win the presidency -- and if he does, will he manage to live up to even half of his supporters' expectations?

Today, our main cliffhanger happens to be: will The Curious Palate pass the LADBS inspection? If it does -- the greenlight will launch us into the home stretch to the big open; the final construction, the hanging of all the lights, the installation of the dishwasher and other plumbing-related equipment, ALL hinges on one man's approval. If he doesn't...

To be continued...

one night in the Village

CRRRACKK!

VBOOOM!

SSSSSTTTTTTTT.....

After days of 97-degree heat, this may be the "first," biggest thunderstorm of the year. And I'm just lucky enough to be in cotton clothes that I don't mind getting wet; I throw on flip-flops (specifically slipped into my mini suitcase for tromping through the rain) and run downstairs, onto Sixth Avenue. The raindrops are so big they hurt as they hit, but I couldn't be happier -- in fact, I'm probably the happiest person on the street, since most others (especially those without umbrellas) are gunning for shelther.

I hop into puddles, gape at the sky, lightning strobes flashing but softened by rainclouds thicker than custard. It's raining harder than it did before our wedding, cooling the whole city faster than any air conditioning unit man could ever make.

Then, the droplets falter, but electricity still rips the sky, tearing the heat with a low roar, a duet with the rumble of the subway below my feet, accompanied by the sweeping soothing hiss of taxi cabs gliding over pavement.

The orchestration is perfect. And I am happy to be in New York, alive.

bright sun, dull roar

And she had seemed so well last week.

Uni took a turn for the worse a few days ago. (I already hate how familiar this all is. Someday soon I would like to write a HAPPY, GOOD NEWS entry on the Spiral Life.)

…I started writing a whole long description of what’s been going on but… sigh. Suffice it to say I’ve consulted three doctors now, one in an emergency room yesterday, and she has pain relief now but tonight it’s clear to me that we have to let her go. Mark is trying to fly back from LA, and I will try to nurse her as best I can until Monday, but Monday afternoon at the latest, we will say good bye.

There, the white noise of my heart breaking.

And still, she is so good and beautiful.

nine lives

There is much speculation as to where the notion that "a cat has nine lives" originated. Some say it was in ancient Egypt; others belive it's China. Interestingly, the Arabic proverb only gives a cat seven lives, while others mostly gives nine, presumably because of the number's mysticism (my favorite number, because who can argue with magic?).

All I know is -- I wish the proverb were true.

It started with a little bit of weight loss. Uni used to be slightly heavier than Sumi, but a few months ago, I noticed they'd switched a bit. But, Sumi always fluffs up over the winter (she's Siberian, most likely) and I didn't think much of it. Then, after being in Japan for three weeks in February/March, I swept Uni up into my arms -- and her lightness shocked me.

Blood tests followed; the vet declared "great news all around," all her organ functions were like a one-year-old's (she's nine) -- except, well, there's a chance there's something hard to detect going on there. We could do an ultrasound, or do another weigh-in in two weeks. I decided to wait.

Eight days later, we went in for the weigh-in. She seemed smaller and weaker every night, and I just knew something was wrong. This time, not only was she lighter, but the doctor thought she might have tachycardia, an unusually fast heartbeat (even for being at the vet). We immediately scheduled an ultrasound with the specialist.

The chest ultrasound was clear. But in the abdomen -- they saw that her kidneys were both atrophied, because of tiny growths spread around her mesenteric lymph nodes.

Most likely, it's cancer, and it's inoperable.

"Most likely" because to biopsy these growths would require invasive and specialized surgery, after which we may have a diagnosis but still no way to remove the little suckers.

So... anyway... there it is. She's taking Prednisone, a steroid that acts like chemo for cats, curbing the growth of the tumors, stimulating her appetite and supporting muscle growth. Funny thing is I'd just written about them for work, in a story about a woman who was taking Prednisone as part of her lupus medication... At least, for Uni, they've made a huge difference in her appetite. As in, now she can eat.

"We'll know more in the next 30 days," the doctor said. And when I mentioned that we might be moving in June -- "June is a long way off."

I used to think about how I'd console our kids when she passed away, 10 years from now. And now we're talking about June? This year?

I picked her out of the litter when the couple who rented me my very first solo apartment in Los Angeles had a cat who'd just given birth.

That also happened to be exactly when my mother was first diagnosed with stomach cancer, 9 years ago.

My... "experience" with Uni now shadows what happened with my mother, in many ways. How small and frails she's become, even while her spirit and beauty remain. How she struggles to eat, and tires in a way she never did before. How she yet provides me more comfort and pure joy.

How precious even the tiniest touch becomes.

The universe has a way of guiding us, encouraging us to grow. I can't help wonder if Uni came into my life to help me through from the time cancer hit my mother to now, a year after her death, when I must begin the *real* process of grieving, which I haven't really done yet. Now, I can do it with my girl, my best feline friend. And already, I know that when our time is up -- whenever that may be, and wherever she may go -- my mother will be there to love her too.

rolling the ball

One of the problems I face every time I think of this blog (which would be several times a day) is that there is SO much to share & write that I don't even know where to start.

But a number of questions seem to be on everybody's minds, so here's an attempt at answering a few:

1. How's your Dad? He's doing as well as could be expected; even better. I'm so proud of him. Funny thing to say about a parent perhaps, but it's true that we're reaching that age when the roles begin to reverse. In any case, he's found comfort in time if not solace from grief. His cooking in particular has vastly improved -- and he wasn't half bad to begin with. There's a quiet confidence stirring in him now which is wonderful to see.

2. Is he moving to the States? Ah, such a simple question, fraught with complications. This is certainly a possibility, but a) I've decided not to make or ask others to make big decisions until at least a year has passed since my mother's death, and b) it's really, really not that easy -- mainly because neither my father nor I have U.S. citizenship (I'm on a Green Card now, and my dad's a Bolivian citizen with a permanent residency permit in Japan). And to get U.S. citizenship (to sponsor my father's immigration) I'd have to give up my Japanese citizenship, which I'm not ready to do (never mind the logistical nightmares involving my assests now in Japan). More on this conundrum later.

3. How's the store? Mark has been spending almost all of his time in LA, with Elliot, researching many a possible storefront. All brokers/owners they've met have been superenthusiastic about the business proposal, and they've come close with several negotiations. But each spot so far has had some dealbreaker, like not enough parking (as determined by strict city regulations based on the usage, size and location of the property. That's about all I can understand). We're coming down to the wire, though, and it's turning into a rollercoaster ride -- which hopefully I can start reporting about in real time. Now they're in negotiations on the best location by far -- won't say where just now so as not to jinx it -- and I just have my fingers crossed. If I didn't know better I'd say we should tape this all for a reality show.

4. When are you moving? Where will you live? Mark is pretty much there, staying with his brother Dave, but only with his computer and a few clothes. So I, the cats, and our worldly possessions will be moving cross-country...probably in mid-June. I have a big RCCNY concert at Carnegie Hall on June 5th, and I'm planning on going back to Tokyo again at the end of June/beginning of July for my mom's 1-year anniversary memorial service, which makes mid-June the most practical time to move. We'll rent a place in LA somewhere near the store, hopefully somewhere on the West Side. Just need to give our CT landlady 2 months' notice -- which means giving notice in less than a month. Yikes. La la la la la la la la...

5. Will you work at the store, or...?? I finally bit the bullet and told my bosses and colleagues about the "possible" move to LA (some denial there still, yes -- what can I say, I'm conflicted). Everyone is supportive across the board, and since our show just got renewed for another season (now airing on TLC, by the way -- millions more viewers like you!), they'd definitely like to keep me writing and editing. Either way it will be great to have that steady income until the store's raking in $$. The big question is whether they'll keep me on as an employee even after I leave New York, or if they'll cut my benefits and have me go freelance (though I'd request a higher salary to compensate). We'll see.

6. How are you? WHERE are you? I'm back now from a 3-week trip in Tokyo, during which I spent more than $80,000 of what was once my mother's money. WHOO! It all went to income taxes, construction fees (we had to convert half our garden into a 3-car lot adjacent to the business rental property -- long story), accountant and property lawyer fees, property deed filing taxes... BOOO!!

7. Are you guys still trying? The short answer is yes, and I've been going to regular acupuncture sessions with a doctor prescribing herbal teas and such too. But really I can't imagine going through more "serious" treatment now and starting up with a new doctor (our company health insurance changed YET AGAIN, and the new provider is practically the only one that my OBGYN of 6 years does NOT take).....only to move and have to explain the whole emotionally charged history all over again to another doctor full of the same damn questions. Probably best not to get pregnant right now anyway, considering all that too. So all in good time. My only regret will be that any baby who finally makes it to my womb will miss out on the weekly rehearsals with RCCNY. I'd been looking forward to that.

I'm sure other questions will come up but it's after midnight now and I'm sinking deeper and deeper in between the flannel sheets. It's time.

2008

May the year bring great blessings to all!

So much has happened since the last entry, and all emotional energy was devoted to just carrying on. Thank you for your patience...hope to bring you all up to speed and get the blog back on track soon.

Just a quick hello to say...hello.

Love and peace,

Emi

rage, rage against the dying of the light

i am at the end of the most intense 36 hours of my life. been up since waking up for breakfast on the plane, not knowing whether my mother had passed away while mark & i were somewhere over the pacific ocean. but when we made it to narita airport, and i called, she was still hanging on, and another LONG two hours later, we ran into the hospital, family friends waving us in from the sidewalk. and when i fell on my knees by her bed, she saw me, and gave me the most brilliant, unforgettable smile. but that's not all: she hung on for another 16 hours, defying the doctors' expectations by more than 10 fold -- and under the constant vigil of my father, mark, and two close family friends, spent a whole night and daybreak with me/us until her last labored breath at 8:01am Pacific Time. it was the most torturous and beautiful experience i've ever survived. she is truly a formidable, courageous woman, and i learned more from her in the last three days than i ever imagined possible.

and i know it would never have happened were it not for the powerful prayers from all continents, filling her spirit with the precious extra strength. so thank you, everybody. you know who you are.

thank you.

on a lighter note...

...it was Mark's birthday on Friday! We kicked off the weekend with a smashing dinner (starting with a kumquat mojito, left) at the New Leaf Café, up by the Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park. It's a non-profit restaurant where all the proceeds go to the upkeep of the park. One of my favorite spots in New York, especially for brunch in combination with a concert at the Cloisters. But this evening, we went for the live jazz they have on Thursday nights. Several thunderstorms passed through, but as you can see we had a few dry minutes to walk around, and once it was pouring, the rain just made the rustic restaurant even cozier.

While Mark's grown a sweet tooth since I started baking more often in the suburbs, I still figured the oysters were a better bet for the birthday candle. The kitchen gave us a bonus oyster for the occasion, which made it not a half dozen but a lucky seven!

It was a night -- and weekend -- of mixed emotions though. More on that to come...

call me jack bauer

I imagined today what it’s like to be hanging off a flying helicopter. Say off the bottom of the ladder, swaying as the chopper rises higher over cliffs and a churning ocean.

Sometimes I feel like all I can do is hang on. My hands hurt, I’m trying not to sweat, I’m looking up at the body of the helicopter, and through the roaring winds and blades my only coherent thought is that if I can somehow hold on, and climb up, there’s safety, sanity within reach.

But I’m at the mercy of this machine, this force that is barreling in directions I cannot control. And as the ladder swings, and I flail to get a foothold, fear like ice, I instinctively wrest my gaze from the helicopter.

Suddenly, I see.

The burning sunset. The emerging stars. The horizon, patient, gently curling beyond. And the ocean, the beautiful abyss breathing beneath a million bright lights.

Things I couldn’t see from any place else.

And it occurs to me: how lucky I am to be hanging from this helicopter.

...and again

It's another downpour. And this too will pass. The day has been a perfect reflection of my emotional moods: clear skies, swift clouds, dark storms and violent, cleansing rain. Actually, it's a perfect encapsulation of life -- how one follows another, then shifts again.

A trite sentiment perhaps, but struck me this moment nonetheless, as another to-ri ame rolled through.

p.s. you may have guessed: I got my period again.

when it rains...

...it's a DOWNPOUR. I have a great view from my hard-won castle corner edit bay, and I love it. At one point I could see blue sky reflected on a skyscraper beyond, while huge drops of rain plummeted onto the stone terrace just outside my window. Now, the entire sky is silver gray, and the sounds of growling thunder and pounding rain are soothing, filtering in.

20 minutes ago, I was under the trees and sun with my friend Dave M, blissfully chomping down on the famous Shake Shack burger in Madison Square Park.

This is what I'd miss about New York.

city of angeles, pt.1

It’s 2am ET, and we just got back from California. (Granted, we were up till at least 4amET for the past few days, so actually it’s “early.”) I had all sorts of grandiose ideas about diligently reporting from the front lines in Los Angeles. But truth be told – every minute there was too precious to spend writing on the computer. So, I’m going to cheat and do it now – as though we are still there. Stay with me.

DAY 1

We got up at a semi-ungodly hour (5:30am, me officially sick with a nasty sore throat) and pushed to get to Newark Airport in time (parked in P6-31, P6-31…) – only to then sit on the tarmac for close to an hour. But, these days airlines pad the estimated travel time so much that we landed at LAX technically only about 15 minutes late.

Still, our clock was ticking on a tight schedule: we were to meet Mark’s friend Elliot at his place by 1:30pm, go up to Santa Monica and check out a market/deli called Bay Cities and have a sandwich, and then split up into two cars – they would continue on to look at possible store fronts for rent, and existing gourmet markets, while I headed down to USC for a conveniently scheduled career seminar at 3pm.

Unfortunately, despite not checking any bags, the whole trip to the rental car agency, etc took as long as these things take, and I ended up scarfing down an avocado, cheese and baguette at Elliot’s before scooting onto the good ol’ 10 freeway. (Apparently I didn’t miss much at Bay Cities except an inexplicable spectacle – Mark says it was mobbed, despite serving mediocre sandwiches.)

I won’t go into the details of the seminar itself, which was fruitful, but I must say it was really… refreshing, to go back onto campus after a good 5 or 6 years. It’s summer vacation now, so the place was pretty empty, which allowed the shadows of my time there to bubble up wherever I looked: the walks down 34th street, the improvised lunches, the hanging out around the Lucas building and the sound stages, and mostly, the loading and unloading of C-stands, ARRIs, camera cases, sandbags, etc etc into the hatchback of my little blue Acura (which I totaled one day on the way to a sound mix) or giant cube trucks – whatever the shoot called for. I also felt young and excited again as I descended into the courtyard where I met and bonded with lifelong friends, and poked around the post production building, where I spent many many afternoons, nights and weekends either editing my own films or earning some tuition by “supervising” the joint. I suppose there’s always a sense of nostalgia when returning to a school or other place that defined you, but this had an unexpected effect – of reminding me how damn fun it is to make movies.

Anyway, after basking in the ticklish feeling of being old and young, wise and naive, jaded and dreamy-eyed all at once, I drove the natsukashii (memory-laden) circuit back to the 10 and up to my dear dear friend Hana’s place. She has been my partner in crime from the early days of film school… and had just gotten engaged last Saturday!!...to, um, some guy named Kyle (lol) I’d met for about five minutes (OK, one evening) about two years ago, when they first started dating. Granted, at the time, I’d immediately had a vision of their wedding, but the engagement was still surreal, considering that other than the fleeting meeting, this man was merely a construction of words Hana had told me over the phone. So it was absolutely the perfect time to be visiting her, and make sure this man actually still existed.

Unfortunately, Kyle had a work engagement that night (so Hana said…), so we headed for an LA girl’s night out to – wehre else? – Koreatown, land of smoky BBQs. (And, ok, soon tofu, but that was not the point this evening.) Normally, I insist on going to Soot Bul Jeep, which provides an authentic and delectable experience over flaming charcoal at the table, but we opted for her favorite new kalbi spot, Chosun Kalbi. And I must say, everything was top notch, from the fast but not overbearing service to the selection and sophistication of the panchan (side dishes)…. Not to mention the star of the show, the short ribs, which were incredibly tender and juicy.

Eating all this “stamina” food, including lots of garlic, gave me a boost of energy to go to downtown Los Angeles to check out Cicada – an art deco restaurant/event space, possibly for Hana’s WEDDING. There, I (think I) had a celebrity sighting: Mary Lynn Rajskub, aka “Chloe” from 24. Ran into her as she was coming out of the bathroom. Anyway, the place was gorgeous: old Hollywood glamour, lush, sexy, elegant, but not over the top. Considering it’s the first place she’s looked at, it seemed a real contender; my only concern is that it might be tough to photograph people in the low light during dinner/dancing. But what do I know…

Alas, at this point, jetlag and the cold (now attacking my sinuses) got the best of me. So we climbed back into the car and swung by a drug store, where I loaded up on a convenient half-and-half pack of daytime/nighttime meds, and some orange juice for the next day.

Meanwhile, across town, Mark and Elliot prepped 10 chickens for the roast-off the next evening (Friday). Six were regular chickens and four organic, half each of which were submerged in a margarita marinade, and the other half in a Dijon-mustard French sauce. When we spoke, he also told me about the highlight of their day: a visit to Le Sanctuaire, a high-end store that caters to chefs. Located in Santa Monica, a prime shopping/residential/beach district, this was actually a potential venue for our store, and apparently it’s perfect – exposed brick, walk-in refrigerator in the back – wouldn’t need any buildout. BUT, there is already an offer pending… and, it only has what’s called an incidental food permit, which allows for cooking/selling things like sandwiches but not much else. Elliot will go to town hall to find out more, but there seems to be little hope. The good news is that properties like this even exist in LA, amidst all the other horrible places they looked at.

Mark was staying at his brother Dave’s last night, while I bonded with Hana at her place (still no signs of Kyle), so we said goodnight – except THEN I found emails from my dad with recordings of the consult at the hospital, so I downloaded three files, listened to all of it, and learned that depending on how my mom does over the next couple of days, she may have to check into the hospital again. So then of course I tracked them down on the iSight, and got a hold of both of them – and thankfully, she was feeling (and looking) better! My dad and I both thought she should at least go back to the doctor on Saturday as scheduled for another scan, but…let’s just say it doesn’t look like she will. Which is good, I guess. This all got me to about 1:30am PT, meaning I’d been up for almost 24 hours, so it was time to finally crash, without reading Hana’s manga (shocking).

OK. Must post this now and sleep. To be continued….

speeding up, slowing down

It's the end of a precious holiday weekend... and after 3 days of sleeping in all morning, reality is creeping in: pressure's cranking up at work (let's just say I got script notes at 11:54pm on Sunday night); next weekend's busy with rehearsals and an upcoming film project; the weekend after that, we're in LA; we'll also be out of town the last weekend in June -- for starters. You get the idea. I've also got to figure out when exactly to go back to Japan this summer. Really, when or how are we going to pack up and move any time soon? I suppose it will somehow happen whenever we need it to... Just feeling rather panicked. Summers always seem to fly by faster than other seasons, and this one in particular promises to be full of rather dramatic events. I feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Time to go out into the sun and take a few deep breaths. Need to stay focused on taking things slowly, easy, one step at a time. Thank god I have the cats to remind me how.

P.S. I had no idea Sumi had that pattern on the roof of her mouth...

cameo at carnegie

Lest you think I spend all my days moping about rewrites and procreation, here's an entry about my most beloved activity in the Big Apple: singing with the Russian Chamber Chorus of New York.

You can read all about RCCNY on the website, so I won't go into it here. But suffice it to say that I've been in choirs for almost 30 years (yikes!?), and I've never, ever experienced singing as I have with our maestro Nikolai Kachanov. He's a philosopher, a teacher, a father-figure, and above all, of course, an incredible incredible musician. (And that description really does not do him justice...) The group is an eclectic little family. Every rehearsal is not only a mini vocal lesson but also a spiritual exploration, a salve to the all-consuming exhaustion of modern-day existence. My music sheets are filled with notes and quotes that apply to both how to sing and how to live.

I've lately started to think more and more about the power of the universe that draws us to the people and events that change our lives; certainly, finding RCCNY -- out of the billions of choirs in New York City -- was no coincidence. I firmly believe that. It's been an incredible 5 years of performances in Carnegie Hall, the Lincoln Center, and some of the most beautiful churches in the city -- at times with some of the best orchestras, soloists and conductors in the world. But every rehearsal is just as intriguing and mysterious an adventure, and I couldn't imagine life in NYC without RCCNY.

There will be future musings about RCCNY and the life lessons therein; the actual point of this blog entry is to say that our next mysterious musical journey brings us to Carnegie Hall, on Monday June 4th, for a concert performance of Pietro Mascagni's Zanetto -- an opera that hasn't been performed in New York since 1902. It's perhaps the funniest little cameo we've ever made (at least in my 5-year tenure in the group): 4 minutes, off-stage, in a piece with no words. It's like the polar opposite of our all-night vigil performance of John Tavener's The Veil of the Temple, which involved much choreography and ran for 11 hours straight (no joke).

That's it. Just a little announcement, preceded by an effort to describe the inexplicable wonder that is RCCNY. Stay tuned.

the sounds in my house

KCRW/Café LA on the radio downstairs. Mark's footsteps, confident in his flipflops. The rustling of newspapers. Birds outside. Sumi's nails skittering across the floor (I REALLY have to trim them...she's just hard to, um, nail down). The wind, rustling through our (overgrown) yard.

Sunday afternoon. Peace and quiet...without the silence.