Celebrity SUCCESS-ability!

It worked! IT WORKED! LeVar Burton is following me on Twitter!

Wait, stop. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go no further until you read this post.

It's been two weeks since I wrote that entry, and I was starting to give up on the idea of hearing back from LeVar Burton or Wil Wheaton. But then Wil Wheaton tweeted this:

New post on my blog: the spambots on twitter are completely out of control.

I went to his blog and read all about how a recent change in functionality was making it impossible for him to locate his direct messages, because vicious, pornographic spambots were filling his @mentions tab with graphic invitations to do naked-type things. Because of his celebrity and his large number of followers, he was receiving an avalanche of bogus mentions and couldn't possibly sift through them to find my tiny friend request.

Aha! I thought. I'm still in with a chance! I wrote a comment on his blog post:

errin marie said...

Damn. Looks like I picked the wrong time to try and contact you via twitter. It was my first @anybody message and I was very excited about it. I'm glad I saw your tweet.

Anyway, I wrote a blog post about how I would like to be friends with you (and LeVar Burton). And then I sent you a tweet, ensuring you that I am not a crazy person.

It was not my intention to out myself as a supernerd here, but oh well. If you read my blog and decide you'd like to be digital friends, well, that would just be the coolest.

http://errinmarie.blogspot.com/2009/08/celebrity-accessibility.html

Sincerely,
Errin Marie

Unfortunately, my post was not very timely. Some fifty other people had already responded to his entry two days earlier, when he'd actually written it. You've got to be quick in this new digital age, folks.

So I waited a few days, thinking I might try again, but trying to be aware of that fine line between persistent, possible new friend, and annoying, possibly dangerous stranger.

And then Wil Wheaton's dog died. And he was wrecked by it. His blog post saddened me so thoroughly, I decided not to even write a comment below it. I didn't think some stranger's inadequate condolences could help him with his grief, so I just quietly doffed my hat to his sadness. I decided not to bother him anymore with what now seemed like a silly request for friendship.

I'd always thought I stood a better chance of hearing back from Wil Wheaton, as opposed to LeVar Burton, because of his online omnipresence and his interaction with fans via the blog. So when I realized that I'd probably not hear from Wil, I sadly gave up the idea of hearing from LeVar as well.

'Celebrity accessibility' is a joke, I said to myself, even in this digital age. I'm no closer to reaching my childhood hero than I was 25 years ago. The thought depressed me.

But then my buddy George sent me a tweet:

Hey Errin!! "Reading Rainbow is going off the air today after 26 years." Maybe NOW LeVar will have time to write you! ;)

Ha. I doubted it, but it certainly was coincidental timing.

My friend Heidi B. posted a link on Facebook to an NPR article about the end of the much-loved series:

The show's run is ending, Grant explains, because no one — not the station, not PBS, not the Corporation for Public Broadcasting — will put up the several hundred thousand dollars needed to renew the show's broadcast rights.

Grant says the funding crunch is partially to blame, but the decision to end Reading Rainbow can also be traced to a shift in the philosophy of educational television programming. The change started with the Department of Education under the Bush administration, he explains, which wanted to see a much heavier focus on the basic tools of reading — like phonics and spelling.

Grant says that PBS, CPB and the Department of Education put significant funding toward programming that would teach kids how to read — but that's not what Reading Rainbow was trying to do.

"Reading Rainbow taught kids why to read," Grant says. "You know, the love of reading — [the show] encouraged kids to pick up a book and to read."

Linda Simensky, vice president for children's programming at PBS, says that when Reading Rainbow was developed in the early 1980s, it was an era when the question was: "How do we get kids to read books?"

Since then, she explains, research has shown that teaching the mechanics of reading should be the network's priority.

I posted a comment on Heidi's link:

I found that explanation kind of weak. They realized that it's better to teach kids HOW to read instead of WHY to read, and so they cut funding to one of the most popular, long-standing children's shows of all time? Don't say it wasn't an effective method of teaching literacy - I learned to love reading largely because of LeVar Burton, and every book I've picked up since those days is because he taught me to look for the adventure inside. Stupid Bush administration.

Sorry, my politics are showing. Anyway, a few days later LeVar himself posted a link to the same NPR story on Twitter. And then today - TODAY, folks, he tweeted:

Tell me... What is your favorite episode of Reading Rainbow? #ReadingRainbow

Oh my. Oh my, oh my.

I wasn't entirely sure what the #ReadingRainbow tag meant. I scrolled through Twitter's FAQ section, trying to figure out how to interpret the # symbol, but I couldn't find any text that addressed it. I figured it was just some way of signifying a topic of conversation.

Quickly I wrote back:

@levarburton, you can read about my fav episode here: http://bit.ly/CUil4 . #ReadingRainbow

Oh! I was newly excited! Maybe this #ReadingRainbow tag would allow LeVar to find my message! I bet it was a direct link to all tweets concerning Reading Rainbow, and would bypass any nudie spambot traffic. Experimentally, I clicked on the #ReadingRainbow portion of the message, to see if I was right.

Oh crap. I was right, all right, but a bunch of people had already responded. I kept clicking at the bottom of the screen to dredge up more messages. Good Lord. It looked like this post had already generated hundreds of responses, and he'd only written it 26 minutes ago!

I sighed in frustration. Then I tweeted:

Man, I don't think I have a shot with LeVar Burton. He tweeted, 'What was your fav episode of Rdng Rainbow?' About a zillion folks replied!

I shook my head sadly in defeat. And as I closed the lid on my laptop, I closed the lid on my dream as well.

Ah. It had been a long shot anyway.

I ate some lunch. I had some soup and toast. Took a shower. Got ready to leave the house for my desk shift at the belly dance studio.

Moments before leaving, I was missing my cell phone. I scoured the living room for it before remembering that I'd never unplugged it that morning. It was still charging beside my bed.

Oops. I'd had it silenced all day. It flashed at me as I unplugged it: 2 TEXT MESSAGES.

Uh oh. I hoped nobody had been trying to reach me urgently. I plopped down on the bed and scrolled through my texts.

1/2: Direct from levarburton: I thought you had learned by now how silly it is to abandon your dreams. I am now following you so that we can keep in touch!

I started. I jumped off my bed, heart racing; my hand flew to my chest. The second text message read:

2/2: Direct from levarburton: BTW I LOVED your blog. 2 days well spent. You're a good writer!

Holy crap! Holy crap, HOLY CRAP!

But wait, this can't be real, I thought. I bet it's a prank. Yeah, you know, it's probably George, just trying to wind me up. Don't get excited.*

But my heart was beating like mad. I ran to my computer and pulled up my Twitter page. With shaking hands I clicked on my Followers tab.

HOLY CRAP!

It wasn't a prank! It was the real LeVar Burton! He was following me on Twitter!

LEVAR BURTON IS FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!

I ran in a circle. I picked things up; I put them down. I punched the sky in jubilation. I cut an honest-to-God caper. And then I realized I was going to be late for work. I grabbed my things and ran out the door.

Who to tell? Why, everybody of course! But who to tell first? I scrambled through my purse for my phone and dialed Monte as I walked my bike up the street.

"Baby! Baby guess what?" I babbled. "LeVar Burton is following me on Twitter! Honest to God. I left my cell phone on silence all day and just now I checked it and it said I had two new messages and I thought uh oh, I hope they're not important and they were from LeVar Burton! And I thought it was George pulling one over on me but it wasn't, it was honestly LeVar Burton and now he's following me on Twitter and I wanted to tell you first but now I have to go because I am late for work and also I have to call my Dad, I love you, buh-bye."

"Dad! Dad, guess what? LeVar Burton is following me on Twitter! Honest to God. Did you read my blog? Dad, you've got to keep up with my blog, there's lots happening, there's much going on and I can't be expected to keep you up to date all the time. Anyway, go read my blog post - no, not right now Dad, I have to go - but just, read it, okay, and then you'll know what's going on. But anyway, LeVar Burton sent me a message and he said 'Don't you know by now how silly it is to abandon your dreams?' and he READ MY BLOG, Dad, and he said I was a GOOD WRITER - no, I don't have time to explain all this to Aunt Barbara now, but go read the blog and it's all in there, I gotta go, I'm late, I just had to tell you this, I love you, buh-bye."

Then I raced up the street to the belly dance studio.

"LeVar Burton is following me on Twitter!" I announced to the owner, Samar, when I reached the studio. She looked at me blankly.

"LeVar Burton," I explained. "From Reading Rainbow." And the story tumbled out once more.

"Oh my God, that's incredible!" she shrieked. And then I shrieked a little, and she shrieked again, and then we wrung our hands in a terribly girlie fashion, and it was all wonderfully exciting, to have someone to shriek with over my truly amazing news.

I couldn't wait to check all the clients into the first class, so that I could turn my attention to my blog. I greeted everyone with an extra-bright smile, and ushered them quickly (but politely) into the studio. I was absolutely bursting to tweet my news.

Samar got ready to start her class. She stuck her head out the studio door and said to me, "Hey, what's that guy's name again?"

"LeVar Burton!" I exclaimed. "You know, Reading Rainbow, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Roots: The Saga of an American Family?"

"Right!" she said brightly. "Woo hoo!" She gave me a double thumbs-up and then shut the door.

Ah, well. I admired her enthusiasm, at least.

And for the past four hours I've been trying to write this post. But it's been an awfully busy night here at the studio and people keep needing things from me. Plus, the music is ear-splittingly loud, which I normally don't mind, but it doesn't do much for my concentration.

Oh, damn. The last class is letting out and it's time for me to close up. I'll have to post this entry when I get home.

Hang in there, world! I know you're desperate to know, and shortly I'll be able to tell you:

LEVAR BURTON IS FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!

So suck on that, Mike Gladis! Ha HA!


*Yo George, I'm sorry for thinking you'd do me like that.

When the moon is in the 7th house

A few days ago I had my astrological chart done and it was a fascinating experience. My friend Linda Rose is an Astro-Therapist and Coach, and she had suggested that I come in for a session after I revealed to her some problems I'd been having relating to a close family member.

I was slightly hesitant. It wasn't that I was a disbeliever of astrology, more that I was not an active believer. My friends Giada and Morgan* are rather serious about it, and they often check in with some astrology website before making big decisions, but after that website steered me wrong a few times I decided that it was bunk. I take an interest in the whole nature vs. nurture debate, but I didn't lend much credence to the idea that the position of the planets at the moment of my birth had any impact on who I turned out to be.

Well, I'm going to have to re-think that.

Linda Rose met me at her front door with a hug, a glass of water, and folder. Inside the folder was my chart, my family member's chart, and a symbol key. "Did you bring a tape recorder?" she asked me. "Some people find it hard to absorb all this information in one sitting; you'll probably want to hear it again later. If you don't have one, I can record this on cassette for you."

I actually did have a little tape recorder on me, and I'm so glad I brought it. Because what she laid down for me was more than a mouthful, a seriously intense session that has given me a lot to think about.

Much of it is too personal to share here, but I'll give you the crux. She pointed at my chart, a wheel sectioned into twelve wedges, like slices of pie. Each wedge was called a 'house', she informed me. "You see your fourth house?" She pointed at it. It was packed with symbols, or planets, I guess. "This house symbolizes family and home life. Do you see how many planets you have clustered there? More so than anywhere else on your chart. This indicates that home and family are very, very important to you."

She unearthed my family member's chart and placed it right beside mine. "Look," she said, plunking her finger down squarely in his fourth house.

"There's nothing there," I said.

"That's right," she told me. "Family is simply not that important to him. He genuinely doesn't understand your need to know him, to be close to him. He doesn't have that need within himself."

I was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in.

"Wow," I said sadly. "That...that really sucks."

She looked at me kindly. "It doesn't mean that he'll never take an interest in you," she said. "But honestly, as long as you make it known that you're always there for him, he probably won't change. Try disappearing for awhile. He's the kind of person who seeks relationships that are slightly punitive. If you're a little bit mean to him, he might take more of an interest in you."

I turned that around in my head, trying to figure out if I could do it. Or if I even wanted a relationship that was won by subterfuge.

As though reading my mind, Linda Rose grinned and said, "It's a little devious. But look. I had a relationship like that with one of my family members. For years she had no interest in me, and finally I reached a place, completely organically, where I just stopped caring. I stopped trying with her. And almost right away, she came back into my life." She leaned forward and tapped the piece of paper again. "She had a chart very much like this one here."

I stared at his chart, not really seeing it. "I don't know," I told her. "It might be too late for me then."

Linda Rose shrugged. "It might. But look, as adults we're often capable of building bridges over old relationships, and appreciating one another in new ways. He's not a fully mature person yet. Give him some time. Meanwhile, you go off and keep living your life. You've got the better chart, you know," she said, eyeing me.

"I do?"

"Sure. Look at this." Again, she gestured to the two pieces of paper laying side by side. "Even just glancing at them, not knowing anything about how to read these symbols, you can see that your chart has a greater balance. Look how his planets are all clustered to one side." I could see what she meant. Although many of my planets were congregated in the fourth house, I also had an even sprinkling throughout the rest of my chart.

"You've done an admirable job of building a solid base to your personal life," she told me. "You've figured out early what's important to you - what you need in your life, not just what you want, which are often not the same thing - and you've gone about pursuing those things, which is smart. So when your success comes (and I believe that it will likely come, as you've been successful in all your past lives) you'll know how to handle it. It won't topple you, because you'll already know what's important to you. And you might look around and discover, eh, this isn't all it's cracked up to be."

I was examining my hands, but listening hard. I could scarcely have asked for a more accurate description of who I wanted to be. It felt like a benediction.

"It's nice to hear you say that," I said, looking up to meet her eyes. "Because at this stage in my life, all my friends are getting married, having children, buying homes... And when I compare my life to theirs, which I've been doing a lot of lately, I seem to come up short. I know that I shouldn't compare, but I can't help it. And those are the societal measuring sticks, you know? You never hear someone say, 'You've done a great job building up a base for your personal life'. Even though I feel like it's true, that's not something that gets noticed. All I see is that I don't have a house, I don't have kids, I don't have a job..."

Linda Rose waved her hand impatiently. "Everyone is unemployed right now," she said. "But your career is not your life. It's an important part of life to some people, yes, but it is not the whole of life. You may have success," she repeated, leaning toward me, "but it won't be the most important thing in your life. Your home life, your family life, your personal relationships, are what give you the most joy. So keep building those things!" she said. "And spend money on those things. Don't feel bad about it. You want a house. In fact, I'd say that buying a home will be one of the biggest moments in your life."

I wondered if I should tell her how much time I spend fantasizing about my dream home.

"Make your home into the place that you want it to be. You're meant to work out of your home, too," she said, "just like me." She started gathering papers, shuffling them into a pile. "Look, Errin, people are saying that this recession is almost over, that the bad times are coming to an end. I hate to tell you, but the bad time is just beginning. It's going to be here for awhile. So you have to live your life. You can't wait. Live your life now, and pursue those things that you need. That's the way to find satisfaction and peace." She snapped the papers smartly and put them back in the folder, then handed it to me.

"You're on the right path," she said.

It's been a few days since my reading, and I'm still digesting all that she told me. I have a feeling it will take me awhile to fully process it, and I'm going to have to go back and listen to that recording. But the idea, or the gift, that I'm left with, is this brand new way of looking at myself.

Is it because she told me exactly what I wanted to hear? I wondered. But no, she also told me some stuff that I didn't want to hear. I just didn't write much about it here.

I think I feel stronger. And more confident in myself, in whatever inner guide has been leading me down the right path all this time. To hear my life's needs articulated was kind of a revelation, and to be encouraged to pursue those needs, to actually be told that my job is to satisfy those needs, is slightly shocking. I mean, I've always been of the belief that we need to make ourselves happy in order to do our best work in the world, but rarely are we encouraged to do it. And, as Linda Rose pointed out multiple times in the course of my reading, so many people have confused what they want with what they need. A lot of us are walking the wrong path.

One thing that I do know for sure is that I have a brand new respect for astrology. And if you're curious about your own life path, I highly recommend Linda Rose. You can email her at rose@lindaroseastrology.com. She does telephone readings, too.

So go, follow your moon, not your sun! Or wait, follow your North Node, that's the one. Or maybe it's the South Node. Crap. I don't remember.

Well, go follow something, but consult a professional before you do it.


*Names were changed in a previous post.

Live in concert!

I should have posted this earlier, but:


The Glide Ensemble is having a concert and tickets are selling out fast!

Wings of Song, a Spiritual Flight with the Glide Ensemble will take place in the Glide Sanctuary on September 13th at 5:00 PM. We'll be debuting lots of new music, which sounds even more fabulous on our brand new, state-of-the-art sound system! Also, the concert will be recorded for our upcoming Wings of Song CD, which you can pre-order through the Glide website.

And, ahem, I have a solo. A new one!

All proceeds to go toward funding Glide's 87 programs. Glide feeds the hungry 3 meals a day, 365 days a year, and offers assistance of all kinds to the community, from free medical care to free yoga.

This concert really is selling out fast - I learned today that there are only 65 seats left. So go to www.glide.org and get your tickets today!

Hurry!

Celebrity accessibility

When I was in junior high, my friend Karly had a crush on Wil Wheaton. It was a pretty severe crush, bordering on obsession. I'm not saying that she was a stalker or anything, but at one point she did send herself flowers and address the card: To Karly, love Wil.

(It was not her proudest moment and 18 years later I'm still cringing for her. So I've taken the liberty of changing Karly's name here.)

Despite the fact that it rendered her slightly pathetic at times, I was a cheerleader for Karly's die-hard love, if only because she never doubted, not for one moment, that she would meet Wil Wheaton someday. And with the conviction of a besotted teenage girl, she knew that upon meeting him he would fall hopelessly in love with her. I had my doubts about that second part, but I still supported her. I admired her sheer force of will.

Now, these were the days before Twitter and Facebook and even email, and making direct contact with a celebrity was a virtually impossible thing to do, especially for a teenager from Connecticut. We didn't know then how much the world would change in just a few short years.

But Karly was not to be deterred. Late in our high school career she finally tracked Wil down at a Star Trek convention. Thankfully, after 6 years her furious ardor had dimmed to the level of a minor crush. She got his autograph and had her photo taken with him and she was satisfied.

But my admiration for her was renewed. Damned if that girl didn't get what she wanted, even if she had to wait a couple of years.

I myself had only a passing interest in Wil at the time. My father was a big fan of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and we spent more dinner hours than I'd like to recall eating off our laps in front of that show. It drove my mother crazy that we used the kitchen table more for storage than for family meals, and it drove my brother and I crazy because we had no interest in Star Trek. But any time the show was on, my father insisted that we watch it. Sometimes he would fall asleep in front of the TV and my brother or I would sneak the remote control out of his hand and change the channel. No matter how deeply my dad was snoring he would snap awake and proclaim dangerously, "I was watching that."

So I got to know the crew of the Starship Enterprise quite well. Wil Wheaton's Wesley Crusher became one of my favorite characters, in part because he was the only teenager on the show, and partly because of my appreciation for Karly and her steadfast devotion. Later on I saw Stand By Me, and by then I had to concede that Wil Wheaton was pretty cool.

A decade and a half later, someone referred me to wilwheaton.net. It was the first blog I ever saw, and I was amazed. It's like an online journal, I mused. I was struck by what a funny, regular guy Wil was. And what really surprised me were the conversations that sprung up in the blog's comments section. Fans would respond to Wil's posts, and quite often he would write back. How the world changes! I marveled. 15 years ago Karly would have sold a kidney to get in touch with Wil Wheaton, and now she could just post a comment on his blog and he would see it. And he might even write back!

So Wil Wheaton goes down in my mind's history as the first celebrity to really make himself accessible to his fans. And I quite admire him for it.

My other favorite crew member on the Starship Enterprise was Commander Geordi La Forge, played by LeVar Burton.

I have adored LeVar Burton since I was a preschooler. Reading Rainbow was my all-time favorite television show, and do you know, I don't think I've enjoyed a program so much since then. Before I could even tell time, I had a sixth sense that allowed me to abandon my play and rush inside moments before it came on the air. LeVar Burton took me into aquariums, costume shops, bakeries, pet shows and a hundred other worlds, and instilled in me a love of books that will never fade.

I wrote only two fan letters in my entire childhood, and the first one was to him*. It was written in crayon.

Sadly, I never mailed it. I think I had the idea that because my dad worked in television he'd be able to get my letter to LeVar (after all, he'd had no trouble passing my messages to Santa Claus). But Dad didn't know where to mail it either. I'm not sure what happened to that letter.

Oddly enough, it was years before I learned that LeVar Burton's first claim to fame was his role as Kunta Kinte in the TV miniseries Roots.

Growing up, we had a hard cover copy of Roots on the bookshelf in our living room. But who didn't? I developed a theory that every couple who had a child in the late seventies received a free copy of Roots when they left the hospital. All my friends' parents had a copy, but none of us knew what the book was about. I thought it was a dusty old tome about tracing your genealogy, which was my father's pet project.

But our copy of Roots was special. Inside the front cover the author Alex Haley wrote this inscription to my father:

October 6, 1976

Matthew, my brother, Kunta Kinte's family wishes the very best to you and your family!

Sincerely, Alex Haley

That was two weeks shy of a year before I was born. My father was producing a show called People Are Talking and Alex Haley was a guest. Roots had just come out and nobody knew anything about it yet.

I don't remember what convinced me to actually read the book. I think my father gave it to me for my birthday or for Christmas one year. He passed it on with such reverence, but at the time I was a little miffed that my present was something that had been sitting on our family's bookshelf my entire life.

But then I read the book, and lost myself to it. It became one of my all-time favorites. In the years since I have re-read it (or parts of it) dozens of times, but I have never been able to re-read the section where Kunta comes over on the slave ship. It was all I could do to read it once; I fought back nausea and tears the entire time.

Today, of course, I know what a treasure that book is. It holds a place of honor on my living room bookshelf now.

In 1977 the Roots TV miniseries hit the air and the greater American public became familiar with Alex Haley's story. But that was still months before I was born. I myself did not become aware of the miniseries until after I'd read the novel and subsequently studied the differences between the book and the series in an African American Literature course in college.

I was amazed to learn that LeVar Burton had portrayed Kunta Kinte on the screen. It seemed like I'd been bumping into that man my entire life, and he was still telling me wonderful stories. Butterflies-in-the-sky, boldly-going-where-no-one-has-gone-before kinds of stories.

Fast forward to the (nearly) current day. "Have you heard about this thing called Twitter?" my friend Katie asked me excitedly last year. "You can follow your friends through text messages and find out what they're doing all day!"

I didn't want to tell Katie how dumb that sounded. I couldn't foresee ever being interested in such a silly waste of time.

Katie, I formally and publicly apologize.

Of course, I'm a constant tweeter these days. I love sending out tiny highlights from my day to whomever may be reading. The challenge to be witty and informative in 140 characters is one that I just can't resist.

All the same, I keep my list of Twitter friends well-pruned. I only follow a small group of people, and among that group are only two celebrities: LeVar Burton and Wil Wheaton.

That was kind of a coincidence, to tell you the truth. Their names popped up on the right-hand side of my screen and I realized that I wanted to know what they were up to.

"I'm surprised you don't follow more celebrities on Twitter," remarked Monte, "since you love that kind of thing." He was referring to my collection of US Weekly magazines.

I shrugged. "Just because they're famous doesn't mean they're clever. I don't want to know what all those people are doing all day long."

"Is Wil Wheaties clever?" asked Monte.

"Wil Wheaton. Well, half the time he writes from the perspective of his cat. And the other half the time I can't really understand what he's saying. It's some kind of geek speak, I think. His wife seems pretty funny though.

"But that's not the point. The point is, I admire the dude for his normalcy, for making his celebrity so accessible. Did I ever tell you about my friend Karly?"

He listened gamely as I regaled him with the tale. "And LeVar Burton," I continued, "well...he was just my childhood hero. And he was Kunta friggin' Kinte, for God's sake." Monte blinked at me uncomprehendingly. "Oh, read Roots," I beseeched him. "And then we can watch the miniseries together and discuss the differences. It's only 12 hours long! We could do that in a weekend!" I called to his retreating form.

I was thinking about celebrity accessibility the other day as I walked home from dance class. I remembered that crayoned letter that I'd written to LeVar Burton. I wished I still had it; I wondered what it said. It's such a shame that I was never able to send it to him.

And it came to me, in a flash, that I could write to him again, today! In fact, I could send him a tweet! I could still let him know how much the stories he's chosen to tell with his career have meant to me.

And - hang on a minute - yes! Yes! Thanks to YouTube I can even show him my all-time favorite episode of Reading Rainbow, the one about teamwork, with the song that I'm still singing some 25 years later:

Oh my goodness, I'm going to do it, I thought. I'm going to tweet LeVar Burton and send him my fan letter.

But before I got the chance, that very afternoon in fact, I checked Twitter and read LeVar's latest post:

At The Soup doing another spot with the cast of Mad Men.

Say what now?

If you read my last blog entry you'll know that my old friend Mike has a role on Mad Men. He plays Paul Kinsey. Was LeVar Burton going to appear in a spot with Mike?

I logged onto Facebook. And sure enough, Mike's entire family had posted the clip:

"Holy shit," I said aloud.

Monte came up behind me. "Whoa, that's Gladis!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," I said, disbelieving. "And that's LeVar Burton."

Monte studied the screen. "Which one?" he asked.

"The black guy!" I exploded. "Jesus - I'm going to make you sit down and watch an entire season of Star Trek.

"Damn that Mike," I said, shaking my head. "First he refuses to come to the junior prom with me, and now he's on TV, palling around with my childhood hero."

"Like, 16 years later," Monte calculated.

"Whatever," I sulked. "He probably never even watched Reading Rainbow. I'll bet he doesn't know the 'Teamwork' song."

"Don't be a pill," Monte admonished me.

"Sorry. I'm just jealous."

"Wait a minute. So Mike does a movie with Harrison Ford and Liam Neeson and that doesn't bother you, but you're jealous of a 30-second spot with LeVar Burton?"

"Did you not watch the 'Teamwork' clip?" I asked him.

Onscreen LeVar declared, "I'm LeVar Burton! I can do anything!"

"Yes you can, LeVar Burton," I murmured. "Yes you can."

I stood up abruptly. "I'm going to write a blog post," I said decisively. "And then I'm going to tweet it to LeVar Burton and Wil Wheaton. I'm going to test this theory of celebrity accessibility."

"Maybe Mike would introduce you," offered Monte.

"He, um, won't return my emails," I said, looking at the ground.

"So what, are you just going to ask these guys if they want to be your friends?" Monte questioned.

"Pretty much, yeah."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Go for it, babe."

And so I have spent the last two days crafting this blog post.

All this to say:

Dear Wil Wheaton & LeVar Burton,

Would you like to be friends with me?

Sincerely,
Errin Marie

I hope they write back.


* The second fan letter was to Mariah Carey. I told her I wanted to be a singer like her when I grew up, and asked her if she was half black, like me.

The new Thirtysomething

You ever wonder what women in their thirties talk about?

From: Giada
Subject: Wow
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

I don’t know what is going on with the world lately, but I had a totally ridiculous weekend and I am still trying to come to terms with it. I spent the whole weekend with my college friend Sara, who has one daughter and is due again in January. We visited our friend Catlin who already has two kids. Then we had lunch with my parents yesterday, and all my mom wanted to talk about was grandkids and Sara’s new little one. I was completely bombarded with baby/pregnancy talk, and I think it finally sent me over the deep end last night. I am seriously wondering if I live in the current century, or if it is still the 1950’s and that is the true measure of a woman’s worth: whether she has a family, and how many kids does she want?

I don’t mean to be insensitive to my friends, but really! I felt so outside of the conversation, I was starting to wonder if they could even conceive of the idea that maybe that was not the only type of existence that one might want at age thirty-something… It made me just want to rebel against the whole thing. I have resurrected my idea of moving into a warehouse and turning it into a painting studio. All the baby talk was stifling to say the least.

Do I sound totally ridiculous? Part of the problem is that I think that I am supposed to want that life, but now I am wondering if I have just been brainwashed.

(No offense meant, Heidi!)

Not to mention that work is unsatisfying right now, and I just don’t seem to have enough creative energy left at the end of the day to paint. I’m not sure if that is an excuse though, or if it is the brainwashing.

Signed,
Confused and Uninspired


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

No offense taken.

I just got back from dropping Leo and Patrick off at the airport. They are off to Maine for 3 weeks. I got a little teary eyed, but I stopped myself from crying by thinking about my 3 weeks of freedom.

I’m so sorry if any of you are feeling baby pressure. If that is a role you are ready for, then it really is wonderful. You guys would all be amazing parents and I think any kids you may have in the future would be irresistibly lovable! Yes, it is a wonderful experience, but I do believe that my life could be just as satisfying and fulfilling without ever being a parent. Maybe that's why I'm such a good candidate for surrogacy - I don't get too attached. (Well, that and the fact that I have such easy pregnancies.)

Regardless, I love you guys for who you are today and how you impact my life in a positive way, not for who you may become in the future.

Thank you for accepting me, and Leo, with open arms, despite the fact that I'm the only mom (and to an 8-yr-old, no less!). You never made me feel like I was different. You are all perfect just the way you are – no babies (or even husbands) needed!

Signed,
Knocked up with Someone Else's Kid


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: Wow
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

My mother would say that our problem is that we all need to find rich men to marry, so that we may live lives of leisure, be they child-full or child-free. I think she's only partially kidding.

Anyway Giada, I think converting a warehouse into a painting studio is an awesome idea. You should totally look into that, and later on, if you discover you haven't been brainwashed after all, you can clear a little corner for a baby. I hear they don't take up much space.

I made the mistake today of Googling my friend Mike, who's on that TV show Mad Men. (Anybody seen it?) Well, I didn't realize he'd become such a big deal. Dimly I'd understood that a character role on a popular television series is a fairly big career move, but being that I don't have cable, I haven't kept up with the show. And when all these articles and photos popped up on my screen I was mildly shocked. The guy's had a photo spread in Playboy's Style Section, for heaven's sake! And all thoughts of babies just flew out of my head as I thought to myself, "God, I've got to get going on my career. Like, NOW."

Mike and I used to walk around New York City and ponder the distant future, wherein he was an eminent actor and I was a successful singer. Now he's broken out and I'm just broke.

I bought a secondhand guitar yesterday. I was determined to master it and launch myself as a singer-songwriter. I spent today staring at the guitar, too overwhelmed by it to actually pick it up. Yeah. These career plans are skyrocketing.

Signed,
Not Famous and Childless to Boot


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

Giada, I love your warehouse studio idea. You should go for it. The world needs more of your art in it.

Errin, don't get discouraged. You have the talent, and now you have the guitar! You'll get there.

So I went house hunting this past weekend. It was my second time going out with a realtor. The first time I took Justin, which seemed like a good idea in the moment, but was probably not.

There was a cute little house that I had my eye on and we went to take a look at it. But when we got there, the realtor couldn't open the door. She jiggled the key in the lock for several minutes but it just wouldn't budge. We considered going through the doggy door but eventually opted against it. So we left that neighborhood and went to look at some other houses, none of which I liked quite as much. Some weren't even in my price range.

I found out today that another couple made a bid on the house, and I was surprised by how disappointed I felt. I wonder if they went through the doggy door? If they did, they probably deserve it more than me.

In other news, two of my closest work friends are leaving this month, which has hit me hard. And Justin's sister and her kids are coming to stay with us this weekend, which, I must admit, doesn't thrill me. I've only met her a couple of times and she wasn't super receptive to me. I guess I brought this on myself, but it still feels like life is particularly tough lately.

Signed,
House Hunting in Utah, of All Places


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

Okay! Well then, the search is on for a live/work space!

Signed,
Stuff It, Baby-Makers


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

Morg, I just want to point out that your Facebook status update yesterday said how much you were enjoying life in Utah. Not to undermine what you just said about life being tough, but just to remind you that life can seem really tough one day and be really great the next day. So just hang in there till tomorrow and there might be a shift!

Unless of course you want to ditch it all and come back to California, which seems like an entirely sensible decision to me. : )

Regarding Justin's sister, I think you just have to embrace the awkwardness. Just be your usual open and sunny self, and if she treats you strangely, give her a big smile and hit her with a statement like, "Guess I'm not going to marry your brother after all! Funny how life turns out, isn't it?"

She's not going to be your sister-in-law and you don't have to be friends. But she does have to be gracious and appreciative when she's staying in your home. Don't hesitate to remind her of that, if she forgets.

This might be a good opportunity (after they leave) to re-visit the topic of your living situation with Justin. He might see the merits of having his own space after such a crowded weekend.

Signed,
Not to Be Blunt, But it's Time to Kick That Man Off Your Couch


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

Yeah, well, I went for a really great bike ride yesterday, which is why I was so upbeat. I guess I was trying to focus on the positive.

I know that I need to move out. I get that, but our current situation has been working, for the most part. Sometimes I enjoy it and it's reassuring, but other times it's hard and very confusing.

Giada, have you made any headway finding a live/work space?

Signed,
I Don't Really Want to Talk About It


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

Not really. But I think I'm looking more as an exercise than because I really want to move. It just feels good to consider my options.

I'm thinking about going off the pill. It is giving me weird brown spots on my skin and I think that it kills my desire to paint. Am I playing with fire here? I haven't talked to Curran about it, but I've brought it up in the past and he never seemed too worried.

Or maybe it's just my dumb job that's sucking the creativity out of me.

Signed,
I Was So Happy Not to Get Laid Off But Now I'm Having Second Thoughts


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

Do you really think the pill has something to do with your lack of desire to paint? I've never heard a claim like that before, but I find it really interesting. Does it make you feel lax in other ways?

I've been on the pill for so long, I'm not sure if it's affecting me in any way (other than the way it's supposed to). I'd probably just consider it a personality trait after 14 years. Jeez, I hope I can still have kids. 14 years is a long time to be on medication.

I do remember when I first started taking the pill - I was on an emotional roller coaster for a solid month. I felt completely out of control. After a few weeks my mood stabilized, but it's a large part of the reason why I haven't messed with my prescription since. I never want to go through that again.

It's kind of funny how you have a new-found fear of babies after having wanted to start a family for awhile, and now you're considering going off the pill. Maybe, deep down, you do want kids soon and your subconscious is acting for you! I'm only kidding, but it is an interesting thought.

Signed,
Who Do I Sue if it Turns Out I'm Infertile?


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Wow
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

I hate the pill! I realize that it has been very effective in limiting my number of offspring, but it really does have a negative impact on me. I always feel much better when I'm off it.

I switched pills a few years back and had an awful reaction - I was unbelievably moody and just plain mean-spirited, and I couldn't stand myself. My doctor wanted me to wait it out, but I stopped taking the pill and switched doctors. When I went to my new doctor to discuss other birth control options, I was shocked to learn that I was pregnant with Leo! That was not a conversation I had planned on having!

Since then, I have found pills that have fewer side effects. However, my life is always better off the pill - in fact, that was a big perk for doing the surrogacy!

Giada, you should know that I have only been off the pill twice, and both times I wound up pregnant within a month! Granted, the second time was for the surrogacy and the intent was to get pregnant, but still. I have come to realize that it really is the best birth control method for me, despite the negative side effects. It's a hard decision - I'm sure you'll do what's best for you.

Signed,
No Fertility Problems Here


From: Giada
Subject: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

In truth, I think the answer is a little bit of Errin's message and a little bit of yours, Heidi. I do want kids, and not really deep down either; the desire is closer to the surface. I think my problem was more with my friend Sara's attitude. She acted like there wasn't any other option, and I realized that it is hard for me to relate to her right now, because I don't have kids. And what if I don't ever have them? Would we stop being friends? It just makes me sad that she doesn't seem to understand that a person could want something else.

You're right, Heidi - I would probably get pregnant right after I stopped taking the pill. I am pretty sure that I would feel more creative though, because I have experimented with it before. But then I would be pregnant and probably have no energy, let alone the time to paint. OK, maybe now is not quite the right time to go off the pill. But I am looking forward to the right time!

Signed,
The Brown Spots Look Like Freckles, Right?


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

Now is probably not the best time for me to be talking to you. I just started my second trimester and I feel amazing!Tons of energy, lots of motivation. Honestly, if I could be 3 - 4 months pregnant all the time, I would!

I have another artistic friend who was tremendously inspired by her pregnancy and birth - although, I must say that becoming a mom has changed her a lot. I do find it hard to relate to her at times. That may sound strange, considering that I am a mom too, but we seem to have very different parenting styles and priorities. I guess my point is that even if you do have kids, you may discover that you and Sara are still drifting apart.

Signed,
One of Those Annoyingly Perky Pregnant People


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

Heid, I'm glad you're feeling so great, but I have a friend who's also in her second trimester and she's been just miserable throughout her entire pregnancy. I keep telling her how amazed I am at the differences between your two experiences. She asked me to pass this along:

From: Morgan's Friend
Subject: FW: Please send this to your friend too
To: Morgan

I am 4.5 months pregnant now, well beyond the point where I'm supposed to stop feeling sick. I'm still really sick. Really, really sick. I throw up at least twice a day. I estimate that I've thrown up approximately 211 times since I got pregnant, including this morning.

Everybody says that it will get easier, and it has. I used to throw up five times a day.

Don't get me wrong. I am happy I'm having a baby. I think of my little girl every day. I sing to her and rub my belly and tell her that I love her. But it is not easy. It is the hardest thing I've ever done. (I've done three Ironmans, one with a torn Achilles. I've done one 100-mile mountain bike race without training. I've recovered from a bike wreck that smashed my face and left me without feeling in my cheek for more than two years. I have survived the deaths of my beloved stepfather and my best friend. I know what hard is.)

I also know that I will be happy to have just one baby, because I sure as hell am not going through this again. Ever.

Signed,
Puking in Park City

From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

All I've got to say to that is: Damn.


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

Wow! No wonder some people look at me like I am a saint for carrying someone else's child. Honestly, if pregnancy was at all challenging for me, I would never have considered being a surrogate.

Morg, I cannot believe all that your friend has to deal with. That’s awful. I'm a little embarrassed now for gloating about how wonderful I feel. (Although, I really do feel fantastic!) Don’t get me wrong, I am dreading that last month of pregnancy – it is no fun at all, but it doesn't last that long. (Remind me I said all this when I complain about being miserable at 8-and-a-half months pregnant).

Honestly, my biggest problem with this pregnancy is explaining to everybody that I won't be keeping the baby.

Signed,
Just the Incubator


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

I can see how that would be a challenge. I guess some people will have a problem understanding your decision. But Patrick and Leo are okay with it, right? And they're the most important people.

How did your boss take the news?

Signed,
Slightly in Awe of You


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

My boss is fine with it. I ran it past her before I got pregnant, and she was remarkably cool about it. But because I'm so visible at my job, and because I work with kids and parents, I know I'm going to get a lot of questions about the pregnancy. And some people will certainly not understand my decision. My boss actually suggested that we make an FAQ poster and hang it above my desk so that I don't have to keep explaining myself.

Patrick and Leo have been very understanding. Leo was a little bummed out at first not to be getting a sibling, but after we talked about how babies cry all the time and need so much attention, he sort of lost interest. And Patrick has been great. Very respectful, very "your body, your choice".

The person who's having the most trouble with it so far is my mom. For one thing, she's upset that she's not going to have another grandchild, but she's also not-so-okay with the fact that I'm doing this for a gay male couple. And the interesting thing is, it's not so much because they're gay, but it's because they're two men. She really believes that a baby needs a mother.

I was surprised and a little sad to learn that she felt that way.


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

I'm glad your boss is so cool with this. Although, if you think about it, it's probably the ideal situation for an employer. You're getting outside insurance and you don't need maternity leave. Jackpot.

I'm sorry about your mom though. Have you explained to her your reasons for doing this?

By the way, what exactly are your reasons for doing this?

Signed,
Just Curious


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

It's pretty simple. I never really intended to have kids, but then Leo came along and he's been such a joy to me, such an amazing part of my life. And my pregnancy was so easy, it almost felt like I'd cheated, you know? So many women have fertility problems or difficult pregnancies, and I had neither. Plus, my mom needed fertility assistance to conceive Morgan and I, and I grew up with an awareness that I wouldn't be alive without medical intervention.

Then a year or two ago Morgan and I were talking about babies and biological clocks, and she mentioned that she was worried that she might not be able to have a kid when her chance rolled around. And I just said, "I'll be your surrogate." I said it without really thinking it through, but I've been thinking about it ever since, and I realized that I really wanted to do it. Not for her, necessarily (although I'll still be your surrogate if you need me, Morg), but for somebody who couldn't have kids of their own. Like a gay male couple!

I know some people will think I'm doing it for the money - and don't get me wrong, the compensation is nice - but that's not why. It just feels like something meaningful that I can do, something important to me.

Signed,
Funny Where Life Will Lead You


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

That's pretty incredible, Heidi. And whether you intended to or not, I bet you're going to teach a lot people about selflessness and tolerance as you go through this experience. I'm very proud of you!

Morgan, how do you feel about the whole thing?

Signed,
She Asked Delicately


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

I guess I felt a little wistful at first, knowing that I wasn't going to be an aunt again. I mean, it is a little strange watching your sister go through a pregnancy and knowing that there won't be a baby at the end. (Well, there will be - just not for our family.) But it's something that Heidi really wants to do, and I respect that.

I do think it's too bad that she can't bike the Tour de Cure with me this year though.

Signed,
I Can Get Over the Baby Thing, But I'm Kind of Pissed That I Lost My Riding Partner


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

I'm proud of you too, Heidi!

This is a very interesting email chain we have going on here. It should be a book or a film. You can't make this stuff up.

Signed,
Do You Think Drew Barrymore Would Play Me in the Movie?


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

Or a TV series. The new Thirtysomething.

You know Giada, I never saw the resemblance between you and Drew Barrymore until you brought it up, but now it's undeniable. I bet she would play you. She would probably also hang out with us and we would become great friends. I see it all happening.

Signed,
I Want Halle Berry to Play Me


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

Who would play me and Heidi? Don't say the Olsen twins.

Signed,
I Can't Think of Any Other Hollywood Twins


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I'm changing the subject
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

How about Katherine Heigl in split-screen? You know, Parent Trap style?

Signed,
Ha, The Olsen Twins


From: Errin
Subject: But seriously
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

That could work!

In all seriousness though, we do have some pretty interesting story lines happening here: pregnancy, relationships, career, home-ownership... Would you guys mind if I blogged about it? I'd probably use some stuff verbatim, right out of our emails. But I'd change your names if you'd like.

Of course, some people might figure out it's you, Heidi, when I mention the whole surrogacy thing.

It's just a thought. I won't do it if anybody's less than comfortable with it.

Signed,
I'll Make You Famous


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: But seriously
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

I'm okay with it, I think - I don't see why I shouldn't be. Happy writing!


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

I don't mind. Take it away! I don't care if you use my real name or make up a name for me.


From: Heidi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Errin, Giada, Morgan

Feel free to blog about me. Like Giada said, I don't care if you use my real name or create a fabulous fake one.


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

It might get kind of personal. I'm probably going to include all that stuff about the pill.


From: Giada
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Errin, Heidi, Morgan

Oh. Maybe you should change our names then.


From: Morgan
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Errin, Giada, Heidi

Hmm. Yeah, maybe you should.


From: Errin
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: But seriously
To: Giada, Heidi, Morgan

Consider it done.

Imaginating

In the lovely neighborhood a few blocks away from my own less-lovely neighborhood, there is a lovely dress shop that sells custom gowns. It is flanked by a bakery and a chocolatier, and on the same block you'll find a small produce market, a flower stand, a coffee shop and a chic little tavern.

I love to walk down this street. I love it in the mornings, when the line for fresh-drip coffee winds around the block and the surplus of customers sit on plastic crates along the sidewalk. I love it in the afternoons when the scent of cookies wafts out the bakery door and little kids are queuing for gelato in the chocolate shop. I love it in the evenings when the open windows of the tavern invite passersby to engage in the dinnertime clamor. And every time I walk down this street, I love to look in the windows of the dress shop and see what the mannequins are wearing. Sometimes I'll stop and stare at the shop window for several minutes, admiring the cut or color of a certain dress. I never go inside, but I always appreciate the window display.

Today when I walked by the shop, the windows were covered in brown paper. A big orange sign was plastered in the center window. The sign said simply:

WE QUIT.

We quit. What a sad (albeit witty) way to call an end to a business. And it struck me what those two words were saying: We have tried to keep this dream of ours alive, but in the current economy, etc., etc. It's not a new story. Several other storefronts in the neighborhood have posted lengthier versions on their own blacked-out windows. It's not a good time for the small business owner.

"I haven't seen a FOR SALE sign in their window," commented Monte when I told him that the store was closing.

"That's because there wasn't one. Literally, it was there yesterday and gone when I walked by today. The sign said 75% OFF, but the windows were covered and the door was locked. It didn't look like they had any stock left to sell."

Monte shook his head. "I wonder what will take its place."

"We should open a store," I said jokingly. "It's great real estate, lots of foot traffic."

"Pff. Are you kidding? I would never open a retail shop. It's a dead industry."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean the future is in e-tail. You can get anything you want online. Think about all the costs associated with a brick and mortar business: rent, taxes, product surplus. It's not worth the investment anymore."

I frowned. "But what will happen to neighborhoods?" I asked.

Monte shrugged. "Restaurants, I guess."

"Restaurants alone do not make a neighborhood." I stared into space for a few moments, thinking.

"Hey," I said to Monte. "If you could open a store and you didn't have to worry about overhead costs or turning a profit, what would you sell?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, if you could run a store that was MONTE'S STORE and sell only things that mattered to you, what would you sell? And they don't have to be things that make sense together. Just things that you love. What would they be?"

"I think you've asked me this before," he said.

"I may have."

He pondered the question for a minute. "I would sell pictures," he stated.

"Pictures? Like photography equipment?"

"No, not equipment. Just pictures."

I grinned. That was exactly what I was talking about: not the things that sell, but the things you love.

"And golf clubs," he added.

I laughed. "Of course."

"What would you sell?" he turned the question back to me.

"What would I sell?" I mused.

Yarn. I would sell yarn. Big colorful balls of it, fluffy skeins piled high in baskets, hand-dyed loops hanging from the wall.

And books. Secondhand books, the kind that have been loved many times over before you find them, and smell of age, with well-worn, oft-thumbed pages. My store would be filled with couches and over-stuffed chairs, and customers could sit and read, or knit, for hours.

And there would be a juice bar, with a counter like you'd find in an olde soda shop, where you could buy green smoothies or fruity concoctions. Or coffee. Because even though I don't drink the stuff I do love the way it smells.

"Hula hoops?" asked Monte, breaking into my reverie.

Yes, hula hoops. And there would be a dance space attached to the shop, with beautiful hardwood floors and a high ceiling. One wall would be mirrored and another wall would be exposed brick, studded with pillar candles on small mantelshelves. I'd have yoga and dance classes all day long.

And I would sell fresh fruit and vegetables, and other farmers market wares. Local honey, freshly baked bread, beautiful flowers. There would be a space, too, for musicians to play as people shopped or browsed.

And just like Monte's store, I would have pictures on the wall. Pictures for show, pictures for sale: beautiful color shots of scenery, stark black and white portraits. And paintings, too. I would showcase my friends' art. I have some very talented friends.

I gave a happy little sigh thinking about ERRIN'S STORE and all the things that I love. What ambiance. Maybe one day, if I ever strike it rich and don't have to worry about turning a profit, I will open a store that exists only for the purpose of serving these pleasures. A place for people who enjoy these same things that I love.

I wouldn't sell dresses. But I would put a mannequin in the window, and I would change her outfit every week. A little eye candy for the people who never come inside but always appreciate the window display.

What would you sell in your store?

Making a miracle

OneMama needs our help!

I got this message from Siobhan this morning:

I feel like a bit of a failure. I have failed to raise the money I need to get everything for the clinic to see us through for the next 6 months. I am short $2,000.

It takes about $9,000 to $10,000 every 6 months to get all the birthing supplies and medicines, medical supplies, malaria tests and treatments, and then pay logistical and legal fees. Since so many NGOs are closing down now, our clinic is seeing an increase in people and we are not equipped. $2,000 will supply the bare minimum to get us through until January.

I know God will provide. It is just hard sometimes to know where to push and where to be still in God's will. I know I can't do it all, but it's not always that simple when people's lives are at risk.

In case you're not yet familiar with her work, my friend Siobhan is the founder of OneMama, a non-profit organization dedicated to bringing resources and awareness to the plight of women in impoverished, rural communities. She has begun this noble work with a pilot program in Uganda, and has opened a birthing clinic where women can go to have their babies in safe and clean conditions, as well as receive pre-natal and post-natal care.

I strongly urge you to check out OneMama's website and learn more about the movement that Siobhan has begun in Uganda. It is wholly inspiring. So it hurt my heart a little today to see her message that she feels like a failure.

$2,000 is not that much money. Not when it's split amongst many people.

Can you donate $5 to OneMama today? Go to www.onemama.org/give and click on Direct Donations to help Siobhan keep her clinic open.

I'm asking people to give just $5 because it's a small sum of money that, multiplied by a few hundred people, can make a huge difference. If you're moved to give more, please do. And please, help me spread the word. Link your Facebook or Twitter account to this post, or to OneMama's website. Tell your friends. This is a very achievable goal, and we can make a miracle happen for a woman who's making miracles happen for women everywhere.

Thank you for your help!

Summer

Today the sun was out when I woke up. Yes, I woke up a little late, but that's not the point. The point is that the sun was out. It was actually going to be a proper summer day.

I don't tend to miss the summer all the much, living here in the Bay Area. I mean, I don't miss those hot, humid days that are particular to the East Coast. I don't miss mosquitoes or the smell of freshly cut grass (which will send me into spasms of allergies), or the hell that is seasonal bathing-suit shopping. I never fared well in hot weather. But I do miss those warm summer nights, the kind where you can head out in your shorts and tank top and not have to worry about catching a chill. I do miss the way a scorching day relaxes into a balmy evening, the gathering of a neighborhood crowd at the local ice cream shop, the sight of people lounging on their front stoops. Brooklyn was a great place to while away a summer evening, I'm remembering.

But lately I've also been missing those summer days, because for all our pleasant Bay temperatures, the sun has not been a consistent visitor this season. It can be shocking to note the date, to realize that August has come, summer is nearing its end, and we've scarcely had a taste of it.

So when I woke up this morning it was with real joy that I spotted the sun outside my window.

Walking home from belly dance class at midday, drenched with sweat and looking a mess, I was so pleased to be exactly where I was. There was such a rightness to it, such a simple pleasure in letting the breeze cool my skin and whip my hair into a tangle. I felt like a kid, and not even like the kid I used to be: I was unconcerned with my appearance, pleased to be sweaty, happy with the flip-flopping noise my shoes made on the sidewalk. I stepped on every crunchy-looking leaf I could find.

I was reluctant to go home and shower, since all I wanted to do was air-dry in the sun. But then the thought struck me that it was Tuesday, and I could get some lunch at the farmers market.

I love a good farmers market. And it was such a farmers market type of day! I purposefully put on baggy, wrinkled shorts and an old t-shirt. I wanted nothing but comfort, and though I'm fond of chastising other bikers for not wearing helmets, I left mine at home so I could feel the wind blowing through my hair. (Don't tell anyone.)

I had a taste for grilled corn with chili and lime, but before I bought my lunch I walked the long lane of market wares, searching for the Early Girl dry-farmed tomatoes that I love so much. When I found them I nearly clapped my hands with glee. How had I gone all summer without tasting them?

For someone who doesn't cook often, I choose my produce very seriously. Something about it soothes me, laying my hands on each piece of fruit, squeezing it ever so gently to test for firmness or give, bringing it to my nose to inhale its scent. The tomatoes were little vibrant globes, so brightly red that they fairly shone; they looked as full of promise as they did of flavor. Do you know what I mean? It seemed as though biting into one of those tomatoes would make me feel more alive, somehow.

Tenderly, I placed each chosen tomato into a paper sack. Although my impulse was to buy plenty - last season I used to buy them by the dozens - I thought carefully about what I would actually eat in the next few days and bought a few less than I thought I'd want. I understood that I would appreciate them more that way.

After paying an exorbitant price for my tomatoes (for all its earthy candor, the farmers market is not cheap) I bought two large ears of roasted corn, slicked with lime and sprinkled with sea salt and chili powder. Almost as soon as I'd passed over my money I realized that I didn't really have the appetite for two ears of corn; my eyes were bigger than my stomach. But I ate them anyway, sitting on the sidewalk with my bags spread around me, dropping burnt flecks of corn husk on my bare legs. I ate like a child: noisily, messily, wholeheartedly, and when a bug wandered up my leg I let it wander, rather than brushing it away. I didn't fuss over the grit that landed in my open water bottle, or the drip of sweat that was starting underneath my shirt. I just sat there and enjoyed the sun on my skin, the tingling of my lips from the chili powder, the repetitive song of the nearby guitar player. I just enjoyed eating grilled corn on the cob on a summer afternoon.

I'd brought a magazine, but I didn't bother to read it. Instead I watched the people around me: the young hippie mothers with coiled dreadlocks sharing bits of their surprisingly un-vegetarian lunches with their toddlers; the white-haired man trying to register voters; the woman who'd dressed incorrectly for the weather in winter leggings and an unforgiving long-sleeved turtleneck dress; the grandmother covered in tattoos. I listened to snatches of conversations about babies taking swimming lessons, what fruits were in season and President Obama. And when I'd polished off my corn and one of my precious tomatoes, I wandered down the aisle again, this time with an intent to shop.

I tasted new peaches and pluots, and bought two large nectarines. (The other night Monte and I ate nectarines baked with cinnamon and nutmeg, and I couldn't get enough.) I snapped pictures of sunflowers and bushels of apples, baskets of blueberries. I prodded several avocados before choosing two that were just shy of ripe. I bought a container of tiny, sweet strawberries. I considered a beautiful purple eggplant. I tossed a dollar into the guitar case of an old man playing Motown tunes.

And then I loaded up my bike and set off for home, the wind still playing with my hair.

Tonight

I must apologize for neglecting my blog for a solid month. I was on vacation for half of that time, and the other half has been spent trying to get back into the swing of my life. I should always allot twice as much time for vacation as I actually need, because even though I've been home in body, my mind is still floating somewhere halfway between here and Wisconsin.

Yes, I was in Wisconsin, visiting family and working on my accent. I sang at my cousin's wedding, which was lovely, and I caught up with all sorts of relatives. I also spent some precious time with my grandmother in the hospital, which is another reason I've been absent here online...my mind is with her as she makes her way through these final stages of Alzheimer's.

There's much to catch up on and much to do, but first and foremost, and of primary importance, I must tell you about my gig tonight with Yung Mars. He's a talented hip-hop fellow that I had the good fortune of finding on Craigslist, and I did the background vocals on a few tracks off his upcoming sophomore album. Tonight we'll be performing at Grant & Green Saloon in North Beach at 9:30 PM. It's a free show, so come on out if it's not past your bedtime (and don't be embarrassed if it is - I'm usually in my jammies by 9:30).

More blog posts to come - I promise! - but for now, I've got some running around to do. Hope to see you tonight!