I think this is pure genius and I’m going to order a couple. In a previous blog entry, I went through a major purse detox that was very cathartic. I had all sorts of good intentions that I would keep my purse clean, but alas, I’ve already fallen off the wagon. Within a week, my purse was filled with goldfish and petrified raisins yet again. So when I was flipping through InStyle magazine yesterday during a mani-pedi, I saw this Ultimate Purse Organizer featured and I surreptitiously tore the page out so I could go home and order it STAT.

This is an insert you can stick into your purse, it comes in two different sizes - original and mini and there’s tons of different colors and textures to pick from. And right now, thanks to the Cyber Monday deals, they are now 25% off. The classic fabric ones are only $15.96 and the luxury ultra suede ones are $19.96.

LINK (ULTIMATE PURSE ORGANIZER) 

I was having dinner last night with another mom friend of mine who was lamenting the proliferation of plastic products in our lives and how in light of the dangers of Bisphenol A, she was converting her toddler’s sippy cups to aluminum sippers and throwing out all her tupperware and replacing it with Pyrex instead. My understanding is that plastics made of polycarbonate - the hard, clear variety found in Nalgene bottles and baby bottles - were the plastics to avoid since they leached Bisphenol A. Also, other hard plastic toys like rubber duckies and dolls were potentially dangerous due to phthalates.

The safer plastics made from polypropylene or polyethelyne are more opaque and recyclable and can be found in Rubbermaid containers and sipsters as well as Playtex Straw cups and Avent Magic cups. But still, is “safer” really safe enough? My girlfriend was concerned how everything was plastic, from sandwich bags to all the containers our food is packaged in. Could all this plastic really be good for you? I had thrown out out all my Avent baby bottles several months ago and resorted to using Rubbermaid straw cups instead. But this conversation with my friend got me thinking and wondering (which is a dangerous habit of mine that usually doesn’t end well), am I really doing enough?

When I think about how much plastic infiltrates our daily lives, it seems futile to resist. Everything and I mean everything I buy seems packaged in plastic. Toys, food, medicine - you name it. But aside from the dangers of plastic, it seems that whenever I try to make generally healthy choices for myself and my family, I am thwarted by some new hidden danger that cancels out the benefits. For example, I started getting bottles of Arrowhead water delivered in cases to my house so I would be motivated to drink more water while working out and packing in my son’s lunchbox and just stashing into my purse. Well, this turns out to be an environmental no-no as well as a health no-no due to the plastic and since bottled water is unregulated, do you really know what’s lurking in that bottle? Yet toting tap water around in a Nalgene bottle wasn’t an option due to the Bisphenol A and who wants to carry a metal canteen or thermos around that weighs a ton?

Going to the grocery store is a potential minefield as well. Picking up a carton of milk used to be so simple, just check the expiration date and drop it into your cart. Now I pore over the labels to make sure my milk is not only organic, but hormone free and antibiotic free. I even try to find the milk supplemented with DHA as an extra bonus. I used to drink soy milk but ever since I read about the potential anti-thyroid dangers of the isoflavones and the phytoestrogens, I decided to take a pass. I’ve even started to regulate how often my son can eat his beloved Morningstar Chicken Patties (made of soy protein isolate).

Peanut butter and nuts are a healthy staple but due to the proliferation of allergies, you can’t pack it in lunches or bake it in foods for school parties. Instead of soy butter, I’ve discovered sun butter (made of sunflower seeds) which is delicious and healthy, but I’m waiting for the news that there’s something toxic about that as well. I’m careful to pick cookies and crackers without transfats or hydrogenated oils. In an effort to get my kids to eat more natural foods, I buy tons of fresh fruit. But I’m careful to buy organic in an effort to reduce exposure to pesticides and wash everything carefully to avoid e. coli contamination. Dried fruit like raisins are a big favorite, but my dentist was quick to point out that they’re among the worst food for cavities since they stick to the teeth like glue. So although they’re healthy, they rot your teeth. Same with fruit juice. One serving a day is fine, but after that, health experts warn that children risk obesity by drinking too much juice.

My kids love tuna but due to the high levels of mercury in certain fish, I have to limit the amounts and only buy chunk light. When I buy poultry, it has to be organic and free range. I’m not much of a cook but cooking is healthier since you can control the ingredients in recipes. But what about the safety of those nonstick pots and pans? I try to work out and exercise more. But during cold and flu season, I try to avoid the gyms and other overcrowded and overheated places where people sweat all over the equipment and leave other undesirable body fluids and cooties for me to catch.  I go through Purell by the quart, but the overuse of anti-bacterial products are supposedly creating “superbugs” and it’s now being discouraged outside of the healthcare environment.

I’m fortunate enough to live in a temperate climate so I try to hike or walk outdoors, but since I live in Los Angeles (the most polluted city in the nation, according to the American Lung Association), we only have healthful air conditions 24% of the time. Apparently inhaling pollution is the equivalent to smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. So what’s a health-conscious gal and mom like me to do? All this conflicting data and onslaught of information is enough to throw me into a tizzy of existentialist angst and some days I wonder what is stopping me from curling up on the couch in a fetal position with a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and living like a shut-in.

As a generation of parents, I think we’re the most informed ever. But that’s a double-edged sword. Too much information and too many choices = paralysis. Like most conscientious parents, I try to feel my way through all the information and make the best choices I can.  Between all the recalls of toys and food, it seems like danger is lurking everywhere. If throwing away all tupperware or buying only organic products acts as an emotional talisman against the innumerable evils that threaten our children, then I’m all for it. It may seem silly and superstitious even, but raising kids in this society requires a certain amount of self-delusion, denial and ridiculous optimism. There’s absolutely nothing rational about the decision to raise children in the first place, so why start being all rational now? What good would that do me? In the end, I know I’m just picking my poison, but at least I have choices and for a control freak like me, it’s all I can cling to.

Liven up your Turkey Day festivities with this turkey centerpiece made entirely from tampons! Whenever that awkward lull in conversation inevitably occurs, you can always say, “so… how about that tampon turkey, eh? It took 4 boxes of Tampax to create this masterpiece!” It’s the ultimate conversation piece and small talk starter that’s guaranteed to make your in-laws and grandparents blanch with horror.

But seriously, I am thankful for feminine hygiene products like tampons and it’s a genius invention. That’s why I love this website called Tampon Crafts - which showcases ingenious crafts for anytime of the month. Some of my other favorites are the Tampon Toupee and the Halloween Ghost. You gotta love tampon technology - not only are they super-absorbent, they’re also multi-tasking craft accessories!

LINK (Tamponcrafts via Neatorama)

I cannot believe that this actually works, but it really truly does. My dear husband has always snored somewhat mildly throughout the 14 years we’ve been a couple. But a good nocturnal poke or kick usually worked to get him to turn over onto his side. But this year, the arrival of our second baby and long hours on the writing staff of a tv show brought his sleep deprivation to a new level and elevated his snoring to new decibels. We tried everything: nose strips, throat sprays, sudafed - you name it. He visited a couple of different ear nose and throat specialists in search of remedies. One recommended surgery, while another diagnosed allergies and plied him with different sprays and antihistamines. There is probably a hereditary component since his father suffers from sleep apnea and is hooked up to a machine every night. Although this wasn’t the issue for him, the results were the same - crappy, restless sleep for both of us. Some nights, my poor husband was forced to sleep on the couch just so I could get some peace and quiet. I briefly considered a Mia & Woody scenario - which seemed so forward-thinking at one point, but look where they ended up.

It was a cruel irony for me that my 14-month old son was finally sleeping through the night without a peep most nights, yet I was still deliriously sleep-deprived. Most days I was irritable and tearful from waking up hourly. I tried foam earplugs briefly but I could still hear the snoring through the earplugs. Out of desperation, my husband saw an ad for this Sona Pillow at Brookstone and although it was $129.00, he figured it was cheaper than surgery or a mouthpiece (and divorce) so it was worth a try. I was skeptical but what did we have to lose besides another night’s sleep? It looked spectacularly uncomfortable since the pillow appears to be overstuffed to elevate the head at a steep angle. The pillow forces you to sleep on your side with loopholes you thread your arm through. But that first night, he slept through the night without snoring once. I had a blissful night of unbroken sleep for the first time in over a year. In the morning, we just stared at each other in amazement. Could the answer to our nightly conundrum really lie in a stupid pillow? It seemed to good to be true, but in the past two weeks, his snoring has been negligible.

The only time he snores is when he wriggles off his side and falls off the pillow onto his back. It’s almost comical to see him lying on his back with his head propped onto his chest like a rag doll. I nudge him awake and he gets back into position. The only side effect is the occasional crick in the neck. Admittedly, it’s not the most comfortable pillow, but it’s far more comfortable than sleeping on the couch and better than a sharp kick in his back several times a night.

The statistics are conflicting but anywhere between 30% to 50% of adults snore at night. Yes, women do snore as well, but more men snore than women. I can’t recommend this pillow enough, it has literally saved me from the brink of exhaustion and kept me from smothering my husband with a pillow in the middle of the night.

LINK (BROOKSTONE)

This story made me spray poorly chewed Golden Delicious apple bits all over my computer screen.

Klum appeared on Ellen and said that Britney taught her how to properly diaper a baby. My favorite excerpt from this story:

“We were talking about babies and diapers and she explained to me a lot of things about diapers that I didn’t know,” said Klum.

Britney went on to solve the diaper mystery that was perplexing Heidi.

“You know these sticky things on the side? I never knew that they were there. To close them in the front, I was always putting string around. I had no idea,” Klum said to Ellen.

“It’s very clever,” she added. “I learned a lot of things.”
LINK

World Against Toys Causing Harm (WATCH), a toy safety group, released its annual “10 Worst Toys List” and here are the prime offenders. Of course, I have the first one on the list and saw Asher gnawing on Diego’s head the other day.

The toys on the 2007 WATCH list and the companies that make them are:

1. Go Diego Go Animal Rescue boat, by Fisher Price. Contains lead paint.
2. Sticky Stones, GeoCentral. Magnetized stones that, if swallowed, could “stick together across the intestines, causing serious infections and death.”
3. Jack Sparrow’s Spinning Dagger, Zizzle. Viewed as eye hazard.
4. Dora The Explorer Lamp, Funhouse. Potential for electric shocks and burns.
5. Lil “Giddy Up” Horse — Sassy Pet Saks, Douglas. Contains fibers and small parts that could be a choking hazard.
6. Spider Man 3 New Goblin Sword, Hasbro. Rigid plastic could cause injuries.
7. Hip Hoppa, by Spin Master Ltd. and Vivid Imaginations, Ltd. A combination footboard and bouncing ball that children jump on has the potential for head and other injuries.
8. B’Loonies Party Park, Ja-Ru, Inc. Children blow balloon-like toy out of substance squeezed from tube. Has potential for chemical ingestion.
9. My Little Baby Born, Entertainment, Inc.; Zapf Creations AG. Baby doll comes attached to tiny pacifier that could be swallowed.
10. Rubber Band Shooter, Simple Toys LLC. Shoots rubber bands and presents eye hazard.

For the complete story on msnbc, here’s the LINK.

Now that I’m a mom, I’ve become a freak about food sanitation and personal hygiene - especially hand washing. Children are pint-sized Typhoid Marys and hand washing is front line defense against most germs. Unfortunately, my purse hygiene would constitute a Code Red by the health department. I don’t carry a dead ferret in my purse, unlike the woman in my previous post, but I think the puddle of fermented apple juice, pirate booty, graham crackers and Altoids and God-knows-what-else at the bottom would cause even the most street-hardened purse snatcher on crack to recoil in horror.

Yesterday, I was taking a taekwondo class and my Goody hairband (as usual) exploded on the mat and zinged across the class, nearly taking out a classmate’s eye. I excused myself and ducked out to find a spare in my purse. I plunged my hand into something sticky and gritty at the bottom of my purse and sighed. This was becoming an all too familiar scenario. I finally found another hairband, but it was absolutely encrusted with graham cracker crumbs which were sodden with Purell (which had spilled in my purse). I reasoned that the Purell probably killed whatever nasty bacteria would be lurking on the hairband and brushed it off the best I could and tied my hair up. But I vowed to finally clean out my purse when I got home.

In retrospect, I should’ve donned latex gloves, but I guess I was unprepared for how bad it was going to be. And it was pretty bad. Here’s an inventory of the crap I found in my purse and I was alarmed at how 90% of the contents were expired food items.

4 boxes of Sunmaid raisins - some empty, some half full. But all of them petrified.

1 empty Altoid tin.

7 Dentyne wrappers. 3 pieces of melted gum and 2 pieces of chewed gum.

Toilet seat covers purloined from Bloomingdale’s women’s room. (See previous blog entry)

2 dried out ballpoint pens.

1 tampon, unwrapped and expanded from absorbing all spilled liquid.

2 broken crayons

2 bottles of Arrowhead water, half empty.

pacifier, covered with pirate booty dust.

3 Thomas the Tank Engine trains - Percy, Henry and Terence (I can’t believe I know their names).

1 box of dried out baby wipes.

a half dozen empty sandwich bags.

1 dead flower. (no idea what that’s about)

Sand.

A spork and pair of chopsticks.

A baby croc and sneaker. Both Left.

Snickers candy wrappers and assorted melted Halloween candy.

And creating a foundation at the bottom were a fossilized collection of cheerios, goldfish, pirate booty, pretzels, melted string cheese packets and other unidentifiable food items. I guess that explains the empty sandwich bags.

If I had a personal theme song, it would be the one from Sanford and Son. I totally disgust myself.

I remember a news story about how shockingly germy the outside of most women’s purses were when swabbed and tested in a laboratory. There was e.coli and even hepatitis detected on the purses.

LINK

Yet, I wonder if there’s ever been a study done on the biohazard lurking on the INSIDE of an average mom’s purse. I’d be afraid to take a culture of the petrie dish that I call a purse. There could possibly be new strains of penicillin or some new life form emerging from the primordial soup of pirate booty and Purell. But more realistically, handling the contents of my purse will probably just give you a very bad rash.
The most depressing epiphany was the realization that there wasn’t a single useful thing inside aside from my wallet and makeup bag and cell phone. I was creating a premature dowager’s hump on my back, carrying a heavy, overstuffed receptacle of toddler detritus. Now that my purse has been somewhat decontaminated, I feel a sense of relief. If any of my intrepid readers have been inspired enough by my post to tackle the contents of their own purse, please post your most shocking and disgusting discoveries here. I’d love to feel less alone in my handbag squalor.

Last night, my husband and I took our boys out for dinner at Carney’s in Studio City and as my husband got in line to place our order, he looked over at the woman at the next table with wide-eyed alarm and flashed me that unmistakeable “you gotta check this fruit loop out” look. I glanced over at the next table as I buckled Asher into his high chair and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I just saw an elderly lady with a short, no-nonsense haircut sitting by herself quietly. Then she stuck a wrinkled hand - actually a gnarled claw with blood-red, acrylic talons - into her leopard print le sportsac purse and pulled out what looked like a dead ferret and started stroking it tenderly. She started mumbling inaudibly to her little dead friend and directed its head around the restaurant, pointing out the sights. I got the feeling that this animal was once a beloved pet of hers.

I prayed that my older son Jonah wouldn’t notice her antics because he would just yell out, “Mommy, why does that lady have a dead animal in her purse?” The last thing I wanted was to attract any attention from that creepy broad. I just wanted to avert my eyes, eat my food and get the hell out of there before we caught SARS. While we were finishing up, my 14 month old son pointed at her and let out a loud yell. She turned around and held up the carcass and said, “Oh look, he’s checking out my fox.”

So that’s what the shrunken, matted little body was, a dead fox. Although it alleviated my curiosity, I felt a strangled scream rising in my throat as she held it up and shook it for my baby to see. Every muscle in my body tensed up in horror, ready to snatch my son up if she came any closer. Thankfully, she didn’t proffer its limp body for him to touch and I didn’t have to karate chop a senior citizen. I smiled weakly and packed everybody up to leave. As we got into the car, I saw her staring at all of us from the window with a serene smile. Her grey-haired husband peered out with a benevolent smile. They both looked so normal and mundane and yet I felt my skin crawl as they watched us intently.

Driving out of the parking lot, my husband shuddered and said, “Ugh, that was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What was that thing, do you really think it was a fox? It looked more like a ferret to me.” I asked. He just shrugged and grimaced and wouldn’t speak of it anymore. On the way home, I kept pondering what her home must look like. Undoubtedly overrun with dozens of feral cats, dead and alive and cluttered with an out-of-control Hummel collection.

Unfortunately, I’ll never look at a le sportsac purse quite the same way again. From now on it’ll be a nylon body bag of suburban doom.

Okay, I know you guys are probably bored to tears about my obsession with the writer’s strike. But everywhere I go, people are constantly asking me questions about the strike. They want to know WHY the writers are striking, first and foremost and how long it will last.

Since the LA Times has had nothing but craptacular coverage on the strike, I feel a responsibility to fill in the information void. In response to this first question, here’s a link to a video that breaks it down in the simplest way.WHY WE FIGHT

This Entertainment Weekly article by Mark Harris is by far, one of the most astute and accurate articles written about the writer’s strike. I’m not just saying that because he sides with the writers. He also justifiably criticizes the WGA for its own ineptitude along the way.

And lastly, how can you show your support? If you have spare time, why not join a picket line? It’s a great way to meet your favorite celebrities and the wga would be happy to have you. You don’t have to be a member of the WGA or any union. You can go to www.wga.org to find a location near you.

Lastly, why not turn off the tv and stop going to movies and stop buying dvds until the writers are fairly compensated? It’s asking a lot, but someone wrote all of those tv shows and movies that you are watching. If writers didn’t write, you wouldn’t have that entertainment in the first place. Only the most hardcore supporters would turn to this most drastic measure but it would send an unequivocal message to the studios. Public support is what’s missing from a labor battle that affects everybody in this country who watches television and goes to the movies.

LINK (via Entertainment Weekly)

As a lifelong Angeleno, I live in an insular, smog-filled bubble that’s out of touch with the rest of America. Maybe that’s why I am surprised at the general public’s venomous animosity and lack of sympathy for the writer’s strike. I am totally bemused by the angry comments posted by non-industry readers to various blogs and online news stories about this strike. Most are disgusted and outraged at the crap that passes for entertainment and blame the writer. Others feel that writers are rich, spoiled brats who just want to get richer.

This defies logic. If writers were rich and powerful enough to decide what the public sees on tv and in movie theatres, they wouldn’t need to go on a strike. Like most American workers in this country, writers are at the mercy of their corporate employers. The press has been singularly one-sided in their reporting (but that shouldn’t be surprising since most media outlets are owned by the the very media conglomerates the writers are striking against). If you don’t like what you see on tv or in the theatres, don’t blame the writers. They aren’t “the deciders.” They can only write what their bosses will let them and the studios, networks and producers are the guardians at the gate. They have none of the power yet receive all of the blame for the shit you see on tv - convenient, huh?

And it’s been widely reported that the average “working writer” could make $200K a year. And yes, that’s a lot of money. But most writers in this town aren’t making that kind of cash. Believe me, I should know. My husband has been a working screenwriter for the past 13 years and you never know when or where your next paycheck is coming. That giant $200K paycheck doesn’t sound like so much money when it has to last you for five years. Writers work sporadically and unpredictably. Some years are great, but most are not. At the top of the heap, are those filthy rich showrunners pulling in $5 million a year. But 99% of writers are struggling to maintain a middle class lifestyle and are perpetually hustling for their next job.

Just because writers aren’t wearing hard hats and constructions boots doesn’t invalidate the hard work they do. It’s a different skill set and a talent to be able to create something out of nothing. I challenge anybody who thinks writing a cohesive, tightly plotted script with sparkling dialogue, vivid characters and rich themes and emotional resonance to try it at home. Sit alone in a room (with nobody but your personal demons to keep you company), day after day for hours in front of a blank piece of paper or computer screen until you come out with 120 pages. It sounds easy, right? Then give those pages to your employers, to everybody whose opinion you value deeply and to people whose opinion you don’t value at all. Maintain a plastered smile on your face and listen to them tear it apart and then tell you they could do better if they themselves didn’t have a “real job.” Proceed to nod and take notes as you are forced to incorporate everybody’s dumb ass opinions you don’t agree with into your beloved script. Continue to smile pleasantly as the script turns into a diluted mess and take all of the blame graciously.
It’s easy to be an armchair critic and I agree that most of what you see on tv is utter crap. But please don’t blame the writers. It’s the system that’s so broken and so f-ed up. If you don’t like what you see, blame Big Media. If they could find a way to outsource creative talent from India or Mexico, they would. All across this country, jobs are being outsourced, pay is shrinking and workers rights are being taken away. Writers are also victims of this corporate phenomenon. Their fight is the same fight that’s being fought daily by laborers everywhere and a reflection of our times. Okay, so maybe some are picketing in designer sunglasses with an extra-hot Starbucks latte in hand but this doesn’t mean it’s a high class strike. This may not be Detroit, but it’s still about laborers vs. corporate greed.